Chapter Twenty-Two
Marco
Saturday, 13 April 1912, TITANIC
Dawn was lightening the sky along the straight, blue line of the horizon. The chill breeze on his overheated face was pure pleasure, but it did nothing to cool his roiling emotions. He hoped that these few moments on deck alone might calm him, bring him back to centre. However, instead, his mind turned back to the memory of Petra standing on this very spot as she watched the sun rise.
It felt like a hundred years ago. And yet it was only two days past. Still, when every moment of every minute of every hour of those two days had been focused on her, time became skewed somehow. Elongated like melted taffy.
He loved her. That was the decision he had come to after she had dashed away from him the other night. Why else would he propose to her like that? He had never considered courting any girl, no less offering marriage. He wasn’t in a place for marriage he had told himself many times over the years. But in reality, his financial situation had never been the reason he had never made the offer. The real reason was always that he had never been in love. And now he was. And wasn’t that an agonising, ridiculous situation, because the girl he loved did not care for him.
No, that was not entirely true. He knew she felt something for him. She wouldn’t have kissed him the way she did if he revolted her. But instead of being pleased by the thought of him courting her, she was horrified. It was probably because he was not good enough for her and she knew her family would not approve. He understood that. What did he have to offer her but a few pounds in his pocket and a lot of dreams? Foolish dreams that would come to nothing, just as they’d always come to nothing.
Going to America would change nothing. He was the problem. If he had any potential, he could have made a good life for himself in any of the cities he had lived in over the years. If he had potential, he could have become another Gardi and owned his own chain of restaurants by now. Instead, he was a penniless, pretty-boy waiter with only worthless dreams to call his own.
She was right to reject him. She was better off without him.
But no matter how he argued against the foolishness of loving someone who didn’t love him back, his feelings wouldn’t co-operate. And every thought and every breath belonged to her.
And now there was an even heavier weight on his shoulders. He knew something about her cousin’s wife that he wasn’t sure what to do about. He almost dropped the plates in his hands when Mary O’Reilly had walked into the restaurant, dressed in a fine silk gown on the arm of the distinguished Maxwell Ingham. And she had acknowledged him as if it was an everyday thing to see a waiter she knew from third class while she hobnobbed with those in first.
Mr Ingham had called her Eilish all night. He had even introduced her to the young couple at the table as Eilish something… not O’Reilly, certainly. And several of the other men at the table seemed to know her well. Was she a high-class lady of the night? Men often came into the restaurant on the Strand with such women.
But she couldn't be doing something like that with her husband down in steerage. Surely he would know. And Luke O’Reilly didn't strike him as the sort to share his wife with anyone. And what about her son, Micky, who everyone called Bart, who knew a very young doctor in second class and could call on him at will. What about him?
And now that he thought about it – Luke looked way too young to have a son Bart… or Micky’s age. He looked a lot younger than his wife, Mary… or Eilish.
It made his head spin, trying to work out what was going on and what part Petra played in it all.
As if thinking of her had drawn her into being, he saw Petra coming toward him out of the corner of his eye. He spun to face her, his eyes searching her face for some sense of what had brought her here. Was it an accident, or had she intentionally come in the hope of seeing him?
‘I hoped to find you here. I waited on deck last night but you did not come, so I thought to try again this morning,’ she said, in answer to his thoughts.
This was a dream. His sleepless nights had finally resulted in hallucinations. Surely, she wouldn't have gone to such trouble to find him?
Even so, he answered the hallucination, just in case she was real. ‘I… did not know you would be there. I would have come if I had known. I thought you did not want to see me again.’ He sounded so needy, even to his own ears.
‘I wanted to see you. I… have to talk to you, to explain. But first, I need to know if you were serious about wanting to court me.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper and he had to strain to hear her over the sound of the wind and the rumbling engines.
‘Yes. I know I am not good enough for you, but I am a hard worker, and I will prove myself to your family if I have to.’ Marco edged toward her, needing to be close to her after all this time. Needing to prove to himself that she was really here.
Much to his delight, she didn’t back away when he reached out to stroke her cold, wind chaffed cheek.
‘Will you kiss me then? I need you to kiss me again.’
Her words seemed too good to be true and he didn’t need to be asked twice. He drew her into his arms and placed his lips tenderly on hers, afraid to be too anxious, too rough with her, in case he scared her away again. However, instead of drawing back as he expected, she deepened the kiss, opening her mouth so that he could delve deep into her hot sleekness, tasting her with his eager tongue.
When she moaned, he worried. But instead of stiffening, she seemed to melt into him even more, until he was going crazy with desire for her. Kissing was not enough, touching her wasn’t enough. He could breathe her familiar, tantalising scent into his lungs, but he wanted more.
And because he didn’t know how long he could go on before he tried to take more, he drew away from her and set her at arm's distance until he could get himself under control again.
‘Petra, sweet Petra, what does this mean?’ he asked raggedly.
‘My name is not Petra it is Pia. I am not Swedish. I am a citizen of the Gaian Confederacy, although I was born and raised in Norway.’
‘I do not understand. Why tell me your name was Petra if it is not? Is this like Micky, who is really Bart, and Mary who is really Eilish?’
‘Yes, exactly. And Karl Langman, the doctor from second class who is really Karl Ontario. And Carter and Finn, who had dinner with Eilish last night. You will not find their names on the passenger list. None of us are who we said we are. And because of that I could not be with you.’
‘But now you can? I do not understand. Why would you all use different names? How can Luke’s wife be in first class having dinner with another man?’
‘Eilish is not Mary, and she is not Luke’s wife. Luke’s wife is at home waiting for him to finish this mission.’
‘This mission? What mission? The more you tell me the more confused I become. Tell me straight. What is going on? What are you doing on this ship with these people?’
‘Let’s sit down in our little spot and I will tell you everything. I am cold.’
Instantly, he drew her into his arms to lend her his warmth. Then he guided her to their little nook, sat her down in the corner and joined her there on the deck, sealing her in to the corner as he had two nights ago.
‘Tomorrow a very terrible thing is going to happen to this ship. Tomorrow night the Titanic will hit an iceberg and sink, and many, many people will go down with her because there are not enough lifeboats. And even those there are will mostly be half empty because of mishandling.’
‘What? No, this ship cannot sink. They say it is unsinkable. How do you know this?’ His mind was reeling and he couldn't take in all she was saying. And he certainly couldn't believe it.
‘I know this because it is history. I have read the accounts; I have seen the press clippings – the newspaper reports. I know everything about the sinking of this ship from history.’
He sat quietly, trying to take in her words. Did he misunderstand the word “history”? He thought it meant event
s in the past. But such an event would have to be in the future, if it were to happen at all. Was she a fortune teller, a diviner? How could she know what was going to happen in the future?
‘What does history mean?’ he asked tentatively.
‘It is the record of events in the past.’
‘That is what I thought. How can you know it as history if it has not happened yet?’
‘Because I come from the future, Marco. My friends, co-workers really, my team… we come from the future, where the sinking of the Titanic occurred hundreds of years in the past.’
‘Hundreds? Hundreds of years ago? Petra, that is not possible…’
‘Pia. My name is Pia. It is possible Marco because I am here. We are all here on a mission to save some of the victims of this terrible calamity. We are going to save you.’
‘Me? You are going to save me from what? I do not need saving!’ Confusion was giving way to anger and he felt more in control when he was angry. But he didn’t know where to direct the anger. Not at Petra… Pia, he couldn’t direct it at her. So, where? At this crazy story she was telling. That was the only place.
‘Yes, you do need saving, because the stewards will keep all the restaurant staff below decks until it is too late for you to get on a lifeboat. You will die with them unless you come with me.’
That rang true. He could imagine those arrogant pricks keeping them down below so that they didn’t get a chance to take places that they believed belonged to the English or Americans.
But if she knew what was going to happen, why didn’t she do something to stop it? Why sit back and let all those people die?
‘Tell the Captain. Let him know about the iceberg.’
‘We cannot. And, in actuality, he will be told, but he will not take steps to safeguard against it because he puts too much faith in this unsinkable Ship of Dreams. We cannot change history. It is not possible to change history. But we can offset some of the losses. We have come to rescue the forty-eight children in third class that didn’t survive. We have come for pregnant women who do not make it to the life boats.’
‘I am not a child or a pregnant woman,’ he pointed out stonily.
‘That was why I was so upset the other day. I thought you would have to remain and I could not bear to feel as I do about you and have to watch you die.’
‘But you said I was to be rescued…’
‘Because of how I feel about you. The team have agreed to include you in our number. You wanted to take me to the Wild West; well I want to take you to a far better place than that. I want to take you to my home. Will you come with me?’
For all the confusion in his mind, the last question seemed to ground him, bring him back to what was important. Would he go with her? Yes, anywhere. If that was to New York or some future place hundreds of years away, he would go with her.
‘Yes.’
‘Yes?’ she repeated in surprise.
‘Yes, I will come with you. I will go anywhere you want as long as I can be with you. I have roamed Europe, restless and unfulfilled for fourteen years looking for something that seemed just out of reach, until I met you. Being with you makes me feel content, complete. I will follow you anywhere.’
Her wide mouth broke into a stunning smile then, and he had to reassess his description of her. She was not just pretty, she was beautiful. And she glowed as bright as the rising sun that was only now lightening the ship around them.
‘No more questions? You do not need to think about it?’ she asked cautiously.
‘No. Just tell me where I have to be and I will be there.’
She threw herself into his arms, covering his face with joyous kisses until he kissed her back and turned the kiss into something deeper, richer and all encompassing.
‘Hey you two, none o' that!’ The cockney voice broke into their private world and had them jumping apart. They looked up to see a crewman staring down at them with a grin.
Hurriedly, Marco climbed to his feet and then helped Petra to hers. Pia, her name was Pia, he reminded himself in stunned amazement.
‘I better go,’ he said reluctantly after the crewman had moved off with a laugh.
‘Okay. Come to the cabin on your break.’
‘I am not permitted into the cabins.’
‘Or you will lose your job? You do not have to worry about that anymore.’
‘No. I suppose not. Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I am more than sure. I will be waiting for you at three. Do not tell anyone what I have told you.’
‘Sí, I will not, and sí, I will be there. With rings on!’
‘Rings?’
‘Sí, is that not the saying?’
‘Oh, no, you mean bells on. You will be there with bells on.’
‘Bells? Why would I wear bells?’
Pia laughed at him and gave him a quick kiss. He tried to deepen it but she was gone before he could react. With a happy laugh, she ran off down the deck, her blonde hair blowing wildly around her. He had never seen anything so glorious in his life.