~~~
Winter
~~~
Cal sat with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper spread across the table, concealing a plate of untouched toast beneath it. The early morning light filtered too brightly through the window and he had turned his chair just enough to keep it out of his eyes. He tried to ignore the headache pounding behind his eyes and the general feeling of misery that always accompanied a night spent drinking more than was healthy.
He was only scanning through the headlines, not paying much attention. A couple divorced for the seventh time, a man died after mistaking metal polish for whisky, boys are to blame for unregenerate girl vamps—he nearly read that one—then he caught sight of the name, Titanic. Intrigued, he pushed his coffee aside and drew the paper closer. Ten Years Later Titanic Survivor Tells Regretful Tale, he read. Nearly ten years after the infamous tragedy, Mr. Caledon Hockley, son of the late Nathan Hockley has, at last, found himself willing to account for his shameful—.
Cal slammed the newspaper down. "Shameful?" It only took a moment for the pieces to fall into place. Dinah. His wife had only recently returned from her most recent trip but it seemed as though she had been wasting no time. He gathered up the paper and pushed back from the table.
"Is she in?" He asked a passing maid as he strode down the hallway leading to Dinah's bedroom.
"Yes, but she's still—" The maid started to reply.
"Don't care," Cal interrupted. He pushed the door open without bothering to knock.
His wife was still in bed with a breakfast tray sitting over her. She had been in the process of spreading marmalade on a piece of toast and stared at him with the knife poised in the air.
"So nice of you to knock," she said.
Cal tossed the newspaper onto her tray. "What is this?" He struggled to keep his voice calm.
Dinah looked at the paper and a wicked smile spread across her face. "Oh, I see you're selling interviews now. How tasteless."
"I never gave any interviews."
"No," she quickly agreed, looking up at him. "I took the liberty of speaking on your behalf. Did you read it? It's quite illuminating. I especially enjoyed the part where you admitted to wearing women's clothing to secure a seat on—"
In a surge of anger, Cal's hand swiped the tray off the bed, sending its contents crashing to the floor.
Dinah, entirely unfazed, picked a piece of toast off the bedspread and tossed it aside. "I was finished eating anyway," she said.
"I'm not even going to begin to wonder why you—"
She cut him off. "Cal, dear, my two goals in life are to spend your money and make you look foolish. And, honestly, you make them both so very easy."
He stared at her, at a loss for words.
"I was bored," she continued.
"I want a divorce." The confession slipped out before he realized he was saying it.
"Why?" Dinah asked. "Have you been unfaithful?"
"Dinah."
"Well," she said. "Seeing how you reacted to my little joke in the paper, I can hardly wait to see how you handle the inevitable scandal that would befall Philadelphia society because, my dear, I will drag your name through the mud so deeply that you're going to wish you had gone down on your little ship."
Cal could feel the fury building within him. He imagined himself physically dragging her from his home, from his life. Why had he mentioned the word, divorce? Of course, she wouldn't be willing to do anything that might make him happy. He should've known.
Dinah smiled sweetly. "By the way, did you have a nice trip to Spokane?" She asked. "I can't imagine there being anything to do there."
He blinked in surprise. "How did you know I went to Spokane?"
She casually shrugged. "I suppose you must've found some way to entertain yourself while you were there."
He looked at her for a moment longer, trying to think of something to say but all that ran through his head was the realization that she must have been having him followed. There was no other way she could've known about the trip.
"Please leave my room now," Dinah said, making a shooing gesture with her hands.
Cal turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He put his face in his hands and took a deep breath. Trapped. He was entirely trapped and it was all his own doing.
~~~
Sarah rested her head on Pat's chest, peaceful and content, while he absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair. The room was cloaked in darkness and she had no idea what time it was. But whether it was early or late, it didn't matter to her.
With Pat still unable to return to work, a honeymoon had been entirely out of the question. Sarah was more than fine with it; the memory of her last honeymoon was too close to the forefront of her mind. But Kate offered to take John for a few days, leaving them with the house to themselves, and John had excitedly agreed with an enthusiasm that almost felt insulting. The result was a quiet house and plenty of time alone.
Sarah could sense Pat's mind wandering, his thoughts somewhere else entirely. She lifted her head slightly and studied his face. "Where are you?" She quietly asked.
"What? Oh, Sorry." He sighed, his hand pausing in her hair. "I was only thinkin'."
"About what?"
"Nothin' important."
Sarah made a face. "I'm a bit insulted that you're not thinking about me, to be honest."
"I'm thinkin' about ye now," he murmured. He ran his hand down her back.
Sarah leaned in and kissed him. Then, she turned onto her side to face him, propping her head up with her hand. "I sometimes wonder what you were like before...before we met," she mused.
His expression grew serious. "How do ye know I wasn't the same as I am now?"
"Because I think we all changed," she replied. "Also, your sister's told me a bit."
"Ye shouldn't be believin' everythin she says about me."
"I don't," she assured him. "Which is why I'm asking you."
Silently, Pat took her hand and brought it to his lips.
"Pat," Sarah continued. "Tell me about your family, at least."
He sighed. "I have an older brother and sister still back in Ireland. They're only half-siblings though and much older so I don't know them all that well. Me da was a widower when he met me mam," he explained. "And then there's Katie but ye know her well enough."
"You're lucky you have Kate. I have no brothers or sisters which made for sort of a lonely life growing up." She let her thoughts drift back to her childhood. "At least until John moved in next door." His arrival had changed everything.
"Havin' a sister isn't all that great. In case ye haven't noticed, we fight constantly." Pat smiled. "And I'm certain she doesn't like me one bit."
"You still have someone to turn to when things...you're never entirely on your own."
He shook his head. "I don't turn to Katie and I'm certain she's not turnin' to me. Honestly, yer the one we both go to."
"Lucky me. The emotional linchpin of the Murphy siblings."
He gave her a look.
"I meant it nicely." Sarah ran her fingertips along the scar on his shoulder. "But you know that you would both fall to pieces without me."
"I know I would."
She sighed. "But I was referring more to growing up. I worry about John being on his own. Whenever he's bored, he gets himself into trouble." Briefly, she wondered if it was her own fault. Maybe she should've been spending more time with him, been more present in the years immediately after he was born. "I'm hoping he'll settle down a bit once he has some siblings."
"Hm."
Sarah arched an eyebrow. "You don't like children?"
"I like them just fine," Pat replied. "I'm just no good with them."
"You're good with John."
"Am I?" He asked. "The other day he told me he was hungry and I didn't know what to do so I gave him an onion."
"You gave my son an onion?" Sarah playfully smacked him. "You could've given him an apple."
"We have apples?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
His finger gently traced the neckline of her nightgown. "Katie's always been the one who's been good with children."
She brushed his hand away. "Then maybe I should be having a child with your sister," she replied. She turned onto her other side and deliberately faced away from him.
"Sarah," Pat called out.
She felt his hand on her back. "Stop it, I'm trying to be mad at you."
"Sarah," he said again. The hand slipped around her waist and pulled her closer.
"Patrick," she warned, trying and failing to maintain a façade of anger.
His lips grazed her shoulder, trailing soft kisses along her neck as the hand drifted lower.
Relenting with a sigh, she gave in. "Oh, fine," Sarah said, turning back to face him.
~~~
John stood on a chair, enveloped in an apron that was far too big for him. Flour dusted every surface, including the child himself, creating a hazy cloud in the air. Kate stood next to him as she helped him knead a pile of dough. Behind them, Tommy sat on the floor and played with a bowl and spoon.
"When can we eat it?" John asked.
"Soon but not yet," Kate replied. "When we're done with this, we're goin' to need to let it sit a bit longer and then into the oven it goes. And then we can eat it."
He groaned in response.
"Good things take time," she reminded him.
A sudden knock on the door interrupted them. Kate dusted the flour from her hands. "Don't ye move," she told John. "I'll be back in a moment."
She opened the door and was surprised to find Hugh standing outside, a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. Immediately, she looked at the nearby flower bed.
"I'm not giving you your own flowers this time," he said. "I promise."
Kate smiled. "Well, ye better come on in. I have two little ones left unattended in the kitchen and they're likely gettin' themselves up to all sorts of mischief without me bein' there."
John looked over at their arrival and held up his floury hands. "I didn't move," he insisted.
"Good lad," she replied, noting the flour on his face. She had the strongest suspicion that he might've been sampling the dough in her absence.
"We're making bread," John announced proudly.
"I see that," Hugh replied. He turned to Kate. "I didn't know you had a second child."
"I don't," she was quick to respond. "John is Sarah's son."
"Sarah?"
"Me brother's wife."
He momentarily looked confused. "I thought he wasn't married."
"They wed a few months ago," Kate explained. She took a towel and wiped the flour off of John's face.
"Are they here?" Hugh looked around the room.
"No, only John." She smiled. "No need to worry about me brother pickin' any fights with ye."
"That's good to know." He suddenly patted his pocket. "I nearly forgot," he said, pulling out a small box and handing it to Kate.
She opened it and her breath caught at the sight of a long pearl necklace. She gently ran a finger over the pearls. Not only had she never owned something so fine, she had never so much as touched a pearl before. She shook her head. "I can't be takin' this. It's too much."
"It's a gift and I insist you take it."
She still felt almost too overwhelmed for words. "I wouldn't have anywhere fancy enough to wear it," she protested.
Undeterred, Hugh gently removed the necklace from the box and draped it around Kate's neck, his fingers briefly lingering on her throat. "Then I'm just going to have to take you somewhere nice."
Blushing and flustered, she impulsively leaned over and kissed Hugh's cheek.
"You don't, by any chance, know if your brother's returning to the mill, do you?" He asked, changing the subject.
Kate shrugged as her fingers traced the pearls around her neck. She couldn't stop touching them. "Couldn't tell ye. I know Sarah doesn't want him workin' there and if anyone could make him do what they want, it'd be her. But he'll make his own mind up about it in the end. Why'd ye ask?"
It was Hugh's turn to shrug. "Careless workers put everyone else at risk."
Her fingers froze on the necklace. "Are ye callin' me brother careless?"
"Of course not," he quickly replied. "It was only an unfortunate accident."
Not trusting herself to speak, Kate picked up the dough and placed it gently into a waiting bowl. She covered it with a towel and set it near the oven. "And now we wait," she told John who had been watching their conversation.
She turned her attention back to Hugh. "So where are ye takin' me then?"
"Where would you like to go?"
Kate considered the question. She had rarely left her home—aside from running errands—since her husband had died. She tried to remember the things they had done before the War and his illness put a stop to things. "The Liberty?" She asked hopefully.
"Liberty Theater?" Hugh casually leaned against the counter. "I think we can do that."
"There's that new Mary Pickford film," she said, smiling wistfully. "I've been longin' to see it, I have."
"You like Mary Pickford?"
"I love her," she replied. "But I couldn't rightly tell ye the last time I've set eyes on a film. It's been years, I reckon."
"Well, we'll just have to fix that then."
"Can I come?" John piped up expectantly.
"Maybe next time," Hugh said. "Assuming your father lets you."
"He won't," Kate said as she helped John down from the chair. Hearing her brother referred to as someone's father was one of the strangest things to hear even if it was true. She briefly wondered if he had even realized it yet himself. She didn't think it likely.
~~~
Louisa sat on the floor outside of Rose's office. A magazine lay open on her lap and her fingers lazily flicked through its pages. For a moment, Fabrizio considered turning around and walking away. He could explain his absence later. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, especially for such an absurd reason, so he continued forward.
As he neared the woman, she looked up and a smile spread across her face. "There you are," she said as she jumped to her feet and stepped in front of him. "I've been trying and trying to figure you out and I think I've finally done it."
"And?"
A mischievous grin played on her lips as she lightly tapped his arm with her magazine. "You're no one at all," she replied, punctuating her words with another light smack.
"That is what I tell you."
"Yeah but I didn't believe it none," she said. "People lie here all the time. It's the business of lies, after all."
Fabrizio narrowed his eyes. "Don't you have anything better to be doing?"
"Nope," she replied. "I'm between films at the present moment and bored out of my mind. You can relate, I'm sure."
"No." He tried to go around her and reached for the doorknob.
"She's not in, you know," Louisa said, positioning herself between him and the door. "She's at some last minute meeting with some big-wig producer or something. I don't know. I don't eavesdrop none." She winked. "But if you're looking for something to do, I know a great little place."
"No, I don't think...are you lying?"
"You were going to have a fancy lunch with Miss Dewitt-Bukater," she pressed, ignoring his question. "You can have one drink with little old me."
"I don't—"
"Come on. Don't make me beg." She took his arm and started to pull him away. "It won't be so bad. I want to see what you're like with a few drinks in you. I bet you're funner than you look."
Fabrizio looked back at the door that remained shut and thought of Lelia sitting at her desk inside, waiting to tell him for the hundredth time that Rose expected him, and felt a twinge of guilt. He tried to pull free from Louisa's grasp but she only tightened her grip on his arm.
"Oh, honey, you don't need to fret," she said with a reassuring smile. "I have no intention of breaking your heart. You're not my type."
Curiosity getting the best of him, he couldn't help but ask. "What is your type?"
"Money," Louisa replied. "And lots of it."
~~~
Spring
~~~
Sarah sat at the worn kitchen table, her fingers deftly shelling peas into a porcelain bowl. The early warm spring day brought a refreshing breeze in through the open windows, carrying with it the scents of green things and the promise of rain.
Pat sat across from her, helping her work. He kept looking up at her, trying to judge the best moment to bring up the thing that he had been trying to say for several weeks. He knew deep down that there would likely never be a perfect moment and the image of an impending argument loomed before him.
"I don't know what it is you're worried about saying," Sarah said softly, her eyes meeting his, almost as though she had read his mind. "But you might as well just say it.
He took a deep breath before speaking. "I asked for me job back at the mill."
Her hands faltered and her face grew pale as if a sudden gust of cold wind had swept through the room. The pea pod she held slipped from her grasp and landed softly on the table. She looked down at the table.
"I go back in a few weeks," Pat continued. "Sarah?"
She continued to stare at the table and, after a moment, she shook her head abruptly. "No," she stated firmly, her voice hardly above a whisper.
"No?" He repeated, taken aback.
With her eyes fixed onto her work, she began to peel peas once again, her movements almost mechanical. "No, you're not going back," she said, her tone unwavering. "You can find somewhere else to work but not there. Not that place."
"Aye? And where else could I be workin' then?" Pat asked, the edges of his patience fraying. "That's all I know how to do."
Sarah shook her head and picked up another pea pod. "I don't know, but you're not going back there," she said. "Not after what happened."
"You're not being reasonable."
"I'm not being reasonable?" Her rose as she spoke.
"Ye don't want me to work but what do you expect us to do for money, then?" Pat asked, his voice rising to match hers. "Ye don't work."
"We could take in lodgers like Kate does."
He shook his head. "And hold meself up in the house? Is that what ye want? That's absurd. I'd rather have a life."
Sarah's face tightened. "Right now I'm trying to figure out if you're insulting your sister or me."
"For God's sake, I'm not insultin' anyone," he snapped, his hand slamming onto the table, causing the pea pods on the table to jump. "I don't understand why this is an argument at all. Unless ye want to get yerself fa job or starve, I'm goin' back to work. And the only work I can do is at the mill."
"I wish that place would burn to the ground," she muttered.
"And then we'd starve," Pat said coolly.
A heavy silence engulfed them. Sarah reached for another pea pod, her hands trembling, as she attempted to extract the peas. After a moment, she flung it down. "You're not going back. I won't allow it."
"Ye won't allow it?" He stood up and leaned over the table. "Feckin' hell, Sarah."
She looked up at him and he could see the tears in her eyes.
At that moment, John entered the room, and they both turned their attention toward him.
Sarah hastily wiped her eyes with her sleeve and forced a smile. "Go out and play," she told him. "It's too nice to be stuck indoors."
"But you said I had to help?"
"I changed my mind," she said. "Go on, climb a tree, enjoy yourself."
John looked at the two of them, sensing the tension, and nodded. "Alright," he said, turning around and leaving the room.
Once he was gone, Pat covered his face with his hands. "Sarah," he murmured, his voice a gentle plea.
Without a moment's hesitation, Sarah rose from her seat and crossed the space between them. He pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling her trembling in his arms. With one hand gently tangled in her hair, he kissed her.
"Pat," she began quietly the moment they parted. "Please don't—"
He cut her off. "I don't think we should be talkin' about it anymore." He kissed her once more before she had a chance to respond. He knew neither one of them would sway from their positions and it was pointless to argue.
~~~
Kate exited the Liberty Theater, with her hand wrapped around Hugh's arm, to a world that seemed like a dream. It had been years since she had last been downtown after night had fallen over the city and it was a sight she had missed. They walked amidst the warm glow of the electric streetlights and the captivating radiance of giant glowing signs. The sidewalks were filled with people, young free spirits who ventured to and from the theaters and those restaurants that remained open late, laughing and hanging on to each other. Faint strains of music wafted through the air, perhaps escaping from some hidden speakeasy. Kate had never been happier.
"So the movie?" Hugh asked.
Kate shrugged. "Wasn't much taken with it," she replied.
"Oh, thank God. I didn't like it either," he said, placing a hand over his heart.in relief. "But I thought you adored Mary Pickford."
"I do," she explained, playfully smacking his arm. "But that was so sad. I prefer films with happier endings."
"I'll choose a better one next time," he promised. "Maybe a Chaplin. Those are never sad."
"That sounds like a plan." Kate thought of returning home, picking up Tommy on the way, and a deep heaviness settled over her. She didn't want to return to her ordinary routine, but she knew there was no use in avoiding it. She sighed. "I suppose we'll be headin' on home, then."
"We could." Hugh paused. "Or we could..." He let his voice trail off.
Kate stopped and looked at him. "Could what?"
He grinned. "Oh, I don't know..."
She smacked him again. "Out with it."
"The Early Bird for drinks."
The Early Bird was in the basement of the Davenport Hotel, the most expensive and finest hotel in Spokane...the preferred accommodations of movie stars and politicians alike!—or so all the postcards said. Kate felt her heart skip a beat at the thought of going there but the smile on her face faltered. "Am I dressed for that?"
"You'll fit right in."
She could feel a blush creep up her cheeks and she made a show of smoothing out a wrinkle from her dress in an attempt to hide it.
As they walked through the doors into the lobby, Kate stopped in her tracks, stunned speechless at the sight. Her gaze trailed along the mezzanine and up to the glass ceiling overhead.
Hugh's laughter broke the spell. "You should see it around Christmas," he said. "Come on." He took her hand, intertwining their fingers, and led her through the lavish lobby to an elevator.
Kate pulled back at the sight. "I haven't ever..." Her voice trailed away as she couldn't bring herself to admit that she hadn't ever set foot on a lift before and she found the thought terrifying.
Hugh looked at her and smiled. "We'll take the stairs then," he said kindly. "We're only going down one level."
The Early Bird, itself, was every bit as overwhelming as the rest of the hotel. Kate Looked around at the crystal chandeliers, the lively jazz music, and all of the beautiful people drinking and laughing and dancing. The women's dresses were all chiffon and beads that made noise as they moved. She looked down at her own dress, her best one, and a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. She had never felt so out of place in all her life. "I'm underdressed," she admitted.
"Nonsense," Hugh said. "You are the most beautiful woman in the room."
She felt herself blush once again.
"What would you like to drink?"
"Drink?" Kate hadn't any idea of what people drank in a place like that.
He laughed. "Never mind. I'll get you something good. Wait right here."
She was too afraid to move.
He returned a moment later, two drinks in hand. He handed her a coupe glass filled to the brim with something frothy and pink. A trio of raspberries was skewered on top.
"What is it?" The drink seemed too pretty to be drunk.
"Clover Club," he replied. "You'll like it. It reminded me of you."
"Well, that's a proper line if I ever heard one." Kate took a cautious sip and smiled. The drink was both sweet and tart at the same time. "Oh, it is good!" She turned to see a young couple dancing near them and grew thoughtful. It was impossible to not think of the last party she had attended, the last carefree moments she spent with Tommy before everything fell apart.
"What's wrong?" Hugh asked, a look of concern on his face.
She shook her head to clear out the thoughts. "It's nothin', really." She took another sip of her drink— like a raspberry refusing to follow the rules , she mused. She let out a small sigh. "It's just...the last party I attended was on the Titanic. Can't help but have those thoughts creepin' in, ye know?"
"I'm so sorry," he said. "That must've been horrible. Do you want to leave?"
Kate shook her head again. "That was a lifetime ago and I'm enjoyin' meself now. No sense in spoilin' that." She ate a raspberry off the end of the skewer. "Do ye have any brothers?"
"One," he replied. "He's over in Chicago so I haven't seen him in years."
"That's a shame." She touched his arm. "Ye must be missin' him somethin' fierce."
"Not really," he admitted. "We have our own lives and we're better for it."
As the song ended, met with a smattering of applause and a few shouts, a fleeting pause filled the air before a new tune began. Kate wondered if he was going to ask her to dance. It had been years since she had last danced.
"I'm actually from Chicago," he continued. "Moved out here five years ago."
"Why?" There was surprise in her voice. "It seems to me like there'd be plenty more opportunities where ye were."
"Sure, if I wanted to spend my life in a factory," he said. "I moved out here for the trees."
"The trees?"
"The lumber industry," Hugh clarified. "There's good money in it if you're good at it."
"Really?" She ate a second raspberry. "I don't think Pat's makin' good money."
"Maybe he's not cut out for it," he replied. His tone was carefully measured. "Do we really need to be talking about him?"
"Of course not," she replied with a smile. Why had she brought him up? "What would ye like to be talkin' about?"
"You." He took a step closer to her.
"I'm not all that interestin', I'm afraid." Kate suddenly felt nervous in a way she couldn't explain.
"You're plenty interesting to me," he said. "Beautiful and interesting."
"I feel like ye must be lyin' but ye can carry on with yer fibs if ye fancy."
"I'm not lying," he replied. "You don't receive compliments very often, do you?"
"Sure I do," she replied. "Folks are always singin' praises about me cookin'." At that moment, she couldn't think of any others.
"Kate," Hugh said. "I would never lie to you about anything. I like you a great deal. I think I have since the first moment I laid eyes on you. I want you to be in my life."
Silence hung in the air as Kate studied the last remaining raspberry. She knew that she needed to respond, to say something...anything at all but all she could think about was the fact that someone found her interesting and beautiful and wanted her.
"Kate." Hugh gently lifted her chin and kissed her.
Flustered, she dropped the raspberry on the ground. "I reckon maybe it's time we called it a night," she stammered.
"If you insist." There was a drop of disappointment in his voice and Kate briefly wondered if she had ruined everything.
As they left the hotel, she scrambled to think of something to say, some way to salvage whatever hope there might've been for them. It all felt so impossible. "I do like ye too, ye know," she said at last. "It's just...it's been a long time."
Hugh looked at her kindly. "Then it's a good thing I'm in no rush," he said.
Kate smiled to herself. She hadn't ruined anything.
~~~
Sarah lay restlessly in bed, tormented by a relentless stream of nightmares and worries that refused to release their grip. Occasionally, she looked over at Pat and considered shaking him awake but he looked so peaceful that she couldn't bring herself to do it. Before too long, she gave up on sleep entirely and climbed out of bed. She pulled on a robe over her nightgown and went downstairs into the kitchen.
Sarah kept the lights off, the soft gray light of incoming dawn lit the room well enough for her to see by. She made herself a cup of tea and sat, cradling the warm porcelain, and waited.
Soon enough, Pat entered the room and flicked on the light, jumping at the sight of her sitting there.
"What are ye doin' up?" He asked.
"I couldn't sleep," she replied softly, pouring him a cup of tea. "I suppose there's no use in asking you to stay home, is there?" She set the tea in front of him and looked at him hopefully.
He shook his head. "No, I'm goin'." He looked at the tea in front of him.
"You nearly died." Sarah struggled to keep her voice calm. The thought of another argument terrified her.
"But that won't be happenin' again."
"How can you be so certain?" She read the paper as often as she could get her hands on a copy of it. She knew how often men died at the mill.
"I just am." Pat pushed the tea aside. "Why are ye so afraid?"
"Because..." Her voice failed her. She took a deep breath, a sip of her tea, and gathered her courage to try again. "Because sometimes I think I'm not supposed to have a husband."
"What?"
"John died," she explained. "We had been married less than a week. Five days. Only five days. It just...it seems like such an impossible thing to happen that I can't help but think it happened that way for a reason. Now we're married so I'm going to lose you too." She tried to hide her trembling hands beneath the table.
"Sarah," Pat began. "Yer not—"
"I know it sounds absurd and I tell myself that I'm just being foolish but then I think about you at that mill and I think about what happened and I'm so...afraid that I can hardly breathe." Her throat tightened and tears welled up in her eyes." I can't bear it to happen again. I can't lose you." She couldn't hold back the tears any longer and they ran down her cheeks.
Without a word, Pat drew her from her chair and into a tight hug, holding her tightly against his chest. "Nothin' is goin' to happen," he said. "I promise ye won't lose me. I won't allow it to happen." He held her for a while as she cried into his shoulder but, eventually, he gently released his hold on her. "I have to be on me way," he said. "Or I'll be runnin' late."
"Couldn't you..." She gave up, knowing there was nothing she could say.
Pat wiped away her tears. He kissed her and then he was gone.
Sarah picked up the cups of tea—his undrunk—and dumped them into the sink, cups and all. She meant to wash them and put them away but instead she went back to bed.
~~~
Cal had grown tired of Philadelphia—its dimly lit speakeasies, the all-too-familiar faces, the wearisome routine that enveloped him day after day. He was tired of being questioned about his wife—always asked in that knowing voice that his kind had perfected so way. But New York was larger, busier, full of new faces and places to tuck himself away from the world.
He had found one little place, a crowded and noisy bar tucked away in a nondescript basement. The building above it was an old warehouse, rundown and forlorn but the room beneath was alive in every possible way. The bar was packed tightly, filled with a myriad of people ranging from mildly tipsy to outright intoxicated. In one corner, a jazz trio fought to be heard over the noise of the crowd.
Cal enjoyed the chaos as he nursed his third old-fashioned. Usually, he preferred his bourbon straight but it was clear at once that the bourbon served there was disappointingly cheap. As he wondered when the Godforsaken prohibition would finally go away and he could enjoy high quality liquor without having to go on a chase for it, he heard a familiar voice cut through the noise. He looked up and his eyes landed on Fabrizio sitting at a table with a striking woman beside him.
Overjoyed at seeing someone who wasn't one of his kind, he pushed his way through the crowd. "Fabrizio!" He said, raising his voice ever so slightly to be heard over the crowd. "Imagine running into you here."
"I live here," Fabrizio replied. There was a hint of irritation in his voice. "Why would I not be here?" He turned to the woman next to him. "Louisa, this is Cal," he said to her. "You'd like him. He has money."
At once her attention was on Cal and she leaned over the table toward him, a hungry look in her eyes. "Is that so?"
Cal instinctively edged away from her.
"Why you in New York?" Fabrizio asked.
He shrugged. "I'm drinking my way across the country, one state at a time." Cal held up his glass and looked at the disappointing liquor within it.
"You are not," Louisa said.
"Am so," he replied. "I spent last month in Chicago. I think I might head to San Francisco next. I heard there's hills there." He shrugged again. "Might be worth seeing, I guess."
"No." Louisa reached over the table and placed a hand on his arm. "You should be heading to Los Angeles. It's much more interesting." She smiled sweetly. "I could show you all the best places. I go there regularly for work."
Cal gently removed her hand from his arm.
"Louisa is an actress," Fabrizio explained. "She knows Rose."
Whatever Cal had been expecting from the night, hearing his ex-fiancée's name was at the bottom of the list. "You know Rose?" He asked Louisa. He didn't want to speak about her but the question still slipped out.
"Absolutely I do." Louisa nodded. A sudden look of understanding came over her and she raised her eyebrows. "Oh, you must be the fiancé." Her hand was back on his arm. "It must've been so heartbreaking when she broke it off with you."
Cal blinked, sure he must've heard wrong. "She didn't break it off... I broke off the engagement." He leaned in closer. "Is that what she's been saying?"
Louisa suddenly directed her attention to her drink—something orange and in tall glass.
Fabrizio shrugged. "She not say anything to me about you at all."
"How often do you talk?" Cal asked. He knew that the two of them talked but he had assumed it was more of a passing thing on the rare occasions they had bumped into one another.
"We lunch together once a month," Fabrizio replied.
Louisa squeezed his arm. "They're not barney-mugging if that's what you're worried about. I already asked."
Cal removed her hand once again. "I don't care who she's—barney-mugging? I haven't heard that one before."
"It's a young people thing."
"Are you calling me old?"
"Oh, no honey," Louisa said. "Don't you worry. I like older men."
Cal looked at Fabrizio for help but the young man only laughed. He felt Louisa's foot on his leg and he moved farther away from her. "Stop that."
Louisa shrugged and turned her attention back to her drink.
"How is—" Fabrizio started.
Cal cut him off. "If you're about to ask about Dinah, please don't. I'm here to get away from her."
"She still alive?" Fabrizio asked.
"You have to be human to die."
"Who's Dinah?" Louisa asked, looking between the two of them.
"My wife."
"Well, she must be a real piece of work if you're here trying to drink her away," she replied.
"She is something." Cal drained the rest of his glass.
"I don't believe in marriage myself," she said, giving him a wink. "But I've never been in love with anyone."
"Love has nothing to do with marriage."
"No, but it sure complicates things," she replied.
Cal thought of John and the way he had spoken about Sarah. They had love. But it wasn't love that had ended up complicating their marriage. He looked at his empty glass and sighed. "I need another drink," he said. "Or several more drinks. How much do you think a man can drink before they die?"
Fabrizio looked confused. "It depend on the drink?"
"Seven...no, twelve drinks," Louisa suggested. "Sixteen?"
"Whatever it is," he said as he pushed back from the table. "I'm going to see if I can figure it out. And stop bothering you two." He picked up his empty glass and made his way through the crowd back to the bar. He thought he heard Fabrizio call his name but he kept walking. Things would've been so much easier, he thought, if I had never made it off that damn ship.
~~~
Summer
~~~
It was a beautiful summer day with the sort of deep blue skies and fluffy clouds that seemed almost too perfect to be real. Every tree seemed packed full to the brim with chirping birds creating a chorus that only competed with the occasional breeze rustling through the leaves.
Sarah sat on the grass next to one of her flower beds pulling up weeds. Every time she plucked one from the dirt, she remembered John's comment about growing weeds in his garden...her garden. It felt strange to think of him without the excruciatingly sharp pain in the pit of her stomach that usually accompanied his memory. Every so often that pain would unexpectedly return, nearly knocking her over. But, for the most part, it was as though John stood at a great distance. The pain that still remained was dull, muted...bearable.
She saw Kate approaching with Tommy in her arms and smiled at them.
"It's too pretty of a day to be wastin' it on work," Kate said. She set Tommy in the grass and he took off toddling away.
"Gardening is hardly work," Sarah replied, wiping her dirty hands on her apron.
"Where's Pat at?" Kate asked.
"Inside somewhere, I assume."
Kate took a seat in the grass next to her. "I can't be holdin' it in any longer," she said.
Sarah looked at her and smiled. "What is it? It must be something good."
Her friend looked around the yard before answering. "I've been seein' someone," she nearly whispered the words and a flush crept her cheeks. "And I have a feelin' it's goin' somewhere."
Sarah was stunned and dropped the plant that was in her hand. "How long has this been going on?"
"A little over a year."
"A little over a year and you're just now telling me?" Sarah lightly smacked her friend's arm. "I should hate you for this."
Kate laughed. "Ye can hate me all ye want, but I'm happy."
"I could never hate you," she admitted. She reached forward and pulled out another weed.
"Wait until ye see what he gave me." Kate reached into a pocket and pulled out a necklace.
Sarah started to reach for but stopped herself, remembering her dirty fingers. "Are they real?" She asked as she stared at the pearls. "Alright then, what's his name?"
Kate looked at the pearls in her hands with a wistful smile on her face, before carefully returning them to her pocket.
"Kate?" Sarah pressed. "You can at least tell me his name. You owe me that much."
Her friend looked around the yard once more. "Alright," she said, lowering her voice. "But ye must promise not to be tellin' Pat."
Sarah took a deep breath. She hated when the two of them fought and she could already feel another fight on its way. "Who?" She asked again.
"It's Hugh."
She wiped her hands on her apron once again and turned to face her friend. "Pat doesn't like him."
Kate scoffed. "I'm not goin' to set aside me own happiness just because of a bit of ill will between them."
"It's a little more than a bit of ill will," Sarah tried to explain.
Kate let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. "He's always doin't this, actin' like he can run me life. I told ye how he asked Tommy not to speak to me. It's the same sort of thing all over again."
"He doesn't want to run your life," Sarah insisted.
"No? Well, he doesn't get to be controllin' who I spend me time with."
"Kate, I'm just asking you to..." Her voice faltered. She knew that she couldn't tell her friend what to do and nothing good would come from trying.
"To what?"
"Be careful," Sarah said softly as she tried to ignore the worry that settled in the pit of her stomach. "Just be careful. Pat wouldn't dislike someone if there wasn't a reason behind it."
"Aye, sure he would," Kate replied sharply. "I'm fairly certain he's disliked anyone who's ever shown a bit of interest in me."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"Ah, but it is." Kate stood up and angrily brushed invisible dirt from her dress. "He's not happy himself, so he doesn't want me to find happiness either."
"Neither of those are true," Sarah said. She could hear the desperation in her own voice and hated it.
"They are, indeed," Kate replied. "Do ye truly think Pat's happy? Surely ye see that there's something broken deep inside him. He knows it and now he can't bear to see me doin' well and livin' me own happy life. So therefore I must be as miserable as him."
Sarah stared at her friend, stunned into silence. "How dare you?" She managed to say, at last. "The only thing broken is your relationship with him."
"I suppose that's me fault then."
"I never said that," she protested.
"You were thinkin' it," Kate shot back. "I could see that as clear as day."
Sarah stood and reached for her friend. "For goodness sake, Kate, what is it you want from me?" Her words came out strained, each one feeling like the wrong thing to say.
"I want ye to be on me side."
"I am on your side," Sarah said.
"Are ye?" Kate asked. "Because it seems to me that yer firmly on Pat's side and ye've been on his side since the moment he returned."
"I'm not...I'm not choosing sides," Sarah replied. There was a burning in the back of her throat and she silently willed herself not to cry. "I care about both of you." She looked to the side and caught sight of Pat watching them. She clapped a hand over her mouth and desperately wished he hadn't heard anything his sister had said.
"Do you?" Kate questioned. "Because a good friend would be happy for me."
"I am—" The tears had started to fall.
Pat chose that moment to jump into the argument. "What are ye angry about now?" He turned on his sister.
"I'm not angry."
"Yer always angry," he insisted.
Sarah gently touched his arm. "Pat, would you just go inside?"
"Oh, don't bother," Kate snapped. "I'll be goin'." Without casting a backward glance, she turned and walked away.
Pat reached for her. "What was that all about?"
Sarah shook her head. "Nothing," she said, gently pushing him away. "I'm sorry. I need to finish this while the nice day lasts." She returned to her seat in the grass and reached for a dandelion. Already she was thinking of the argument that was likely on its way.
~~~
Pat had missed most of the argument but he had heard his name mentioned and worried about what it might mean. Kate had looked so angry and Sarah had been in tears.
While he debated on whether or not to bring it up, he saw Sarah sitting on the stone bench next to her first husband's stone. He watched her for a moment, unwilling to interrupt if she was speaking to John's ghost, but then he noticed the open book on her lap. She was reading. He quietly approached and took a seat next to her.
At once, Sarah smiled and rested her head on his shoulder as she continued to read.
Pat looked at the stone in front of them, John's name carved into it but already wearing away to nothingness. "Sarah?" He spoke quietly, almost willing her not to hear.
"Hm?"
"What were ye two arguin' about?"
"Nothing important," she replied, turning a page.
"Was Katie tryin' to talk ye into leavin' me?" Pat couldn't help but recall his sister's past attempts topersuade Sarah to end their relationship. His greatest fear was that she hadn't given it up yet and that Sarah would one day listen.
Sarah immediately snapped her book shut and looked at him. "What?"
"I heard me name," he said. "And I know that Katie's done it before."
She took his hand. "She hasn't said a word about that since we married," she said. "You're mine anyway. If I go anywhere, I'm taking you with me."
As Pat sat there, his eyes wandered to two squirrels playfully chasing each other around a nearby tree. He wanted to believe her but he couldn't do so. Despite Sarah's comforting words, doubt lingered within him. He never understood why Sarah loved him in the first place.
Beside him, Sarah sighed and squeezed his hand. "Kate's been seein' someone."
"Oh, is that it?" Pat replied, a hint of relief in his voice. "Don't know why ye'd be arguin' about it. Katie wasn't goin' to remain alone forever. Who is it, then?"
She hesitated for a moment before responding. "You have to promise that you won't say a word to Kate about it. It's her life."
Pat felt a trickle of unease run through him. "Alright," he said.
She reached over and took his other hand. "And you cannot get angry."
"Who is it?' He asked again, although he had a strong feeling that he already knew the answer.
"Hugh."
He tried to pull his hands free from her grasp but she only tightened her grip.
"Please don't be angry at her," Sarah implored.
"I'm not angry at her," he replied. "Might kill him though."
"Patrick," she warned. "You're going to do no such thing. You need to leave this alone."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It seemed impossible to simply abandon the matter, given what he knew about the man. But he looked at Sarah, saw the pleading in her eyes, and nodded.
Sarah leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Good," she said before returning to her book.
~~~
Kate sat outside of her home, enjoying the warm weather and listening to the symphony of insects and tree frogs, the rustling of a warm breeze through the leaves. Everything smelled so fresh and alive, it nearly made her forget her earlier argument. She had expected her friend to share in her happiness just as she would have done for Sarah. But, the more she considered it, the more she wished she had never brought it up at all. Perhaps it would've been better to keep Hugh as her own little secret. After all, it was no surprise that Sarah had taken Pat's side. She had been on his side ever since he returned. Why should that suddenly change now?
She briefly closed her eyes, immersing herself in the evening. But she opened them to see Pat walking toward her. At once, whatever good mood remained had evaporated entirely.
"Why are ye here?' She asked the moment he was within earshot.
"Katie—" He began, an unhappy look on his face.
At once she knew. "Sarah told ye, didn't she?" Of course, she had.
"Aye," he replied. "But it's not her fault. I pushed her to tell me."
Kate crossed her arms in front of her. "Well, that doesn't matter because it's none of yer concern."
Pat shook his head. "Ye can't be involvin' yerself with him."
"Why?" Kate narrowed her eyes. "He's been perfectly wonderful to me and he's good with Tommy. Don't know what else I could be wantin' from a man."
He took a step closer to her. "Ye don't really know him."
"I know him better than yerself apparently."
"Ye don't." He spoke the words firmly.
Kate momentarily faltered. "I...I know he's kind and funny and cares what I be thinkin' and—"
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, that's an act."
She looked away from him, her gaze landing on the sky which had turned brilliant shades of pink and orange. Time had slipped away and it had grown late without her notice. "Did ye come here straight from the mill?" She asked, her attention back on her brother.
"I needed to have a word with ye."
"No." Kate stepped forward and gave him a gentle shove toward home. "Ye need to be headin' home. What do ye think yer doin'? Sarah is probably sick with worry and wonderin' where yer at. She's goin' to think ye died."
Pat brushed her hands away. "Katie, ye need to stay away from him," he said, trying once again.
"Why?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Give me one good reason why I should, and ye not likin' him isn't a good enough reason."
He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again. A peculiar look came over his face and his attention drifted to some vague point beyond her.
Kate frowned. Something about his expression triggered a memory, taking her back to the days immediately after the sinking when he had refused to speak to her. "Pat?" Her voice softened. "Is there somethin' I should know?"
An owl hooted overhead, breaking the silence. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Ye know better than me anyway, so nothin' I say would make much difference. I need to be on me way. Sarah will be wonderin' where I am." With that, he turned and began to walk away.
For a moment, Kate considered running after him, forcing him to tell her whatever it was that he was holding back, but then changed her mind. She was tired of trying to coax things out of her brother. If it was truly something so important, he needed to find a way to get it out himself.
~~~
Fall
~~~
Fabrizio was walking home, tired from a long day of work. The streets were filled with people in such a way that could only happen in a place like New York. All pushing and eager to return to their own homes. Most of the time, he enjoyed the energy. Other times, he wished they'd all vanish and leave the city to himself.
The current crowd of pedestrians seemed to grow larger as he walked. He noticed several groups of teenagers, more than he typically saw out and about, many of whom were armed with clubs. The noise intensified and Fabrizio quickened his pace, hoping to make it out of the area before any violence erupted. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he found himself hemmed in, blocked by the moving mass of bodies. There was a flicker of unease in the pit of his stomach unrelated to the present crowd, but he forcefully pushed it away, unwilling to delve into painful memories.
Spying a bench, he climbed onto it to get a better view of the chaotic scene. Instances of violence broke out in sporadic pockets as young men, some barely more than children, clashed with others who fought back. Caught up in the commotion, a teenager dashed in front of him, snatched the hat off a man standing below and disappeared back into the crowd.
Fabrizio looked out over the crowd again and saw a side street that seemed clear of the mob. He was just about to step down, when he spotted Lelia on the other side of the street, caught up in the crowd and trying to push her own way through. Even from his distance, he could tell that she was frightened. Suddenly, she was knocked down.
For a reason he couldn't explain, the memory of Helga plummeting between the lifeboat and the deck flashed through his mind, a memory that he tried desperately to keep buried deep within his mind. He jumped down from the bench and pushed and shoved his way through the crowd to where he had last seen her.
Lelia was on her knees, struggling to regain her feet, when he reached her. Fabrizio forcefully pushed a man away and took hold of her arm, pulling her back up. He held her protectively in front of him as he steered her to the empty side street.
She brushed the dust from her dress, pulling it up slightly to examine her scraped knee, wincing at the touch.
Fabrizio felt shaken. Helga had been absent from his thoughts for years, but now he couldn't shake her from his mind. There was something about Lelia that reminded him of her but he couldn't pinpoint just what it was. He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to gather himself. "This is big city," he said, his voice slightly unsteady. "Why I always run into you?"
She stood up straight again. "Well, I have been tailing you," she teased, her words falling flat almost instantly. She gave a weak smile. "I'm kidding, of course. I'm not doing that. I wouldn't."
"I can walk you home, if you want," he offered.
She shook her head. "If you could just get me to 73rd, I can manage the rest of the way just fine."
"Are you alright?" Lelia asked, a look of concern on her face. "I can always walk you home if you need me to."
Fabrizio laughed and the moment of tension was gone. "No, I don't need that," he said. "But we go long way to 73rd...only because of crowd," he quickly added.
She smiled and wrapped her hand around his arm. "Works for me."
~~~
Pat sat at the table in the backyard, stared into the woods and worried. He couldn't shake the familiar sense of dread that seemed to hover over him. He wished there was a way to keep his sister from Hugh, a way to prevent them from ever meeting in the first place. But he knew, deep down, that he was powerless and the helplessness gnawed at him, almost unbearable.
"Why are you out here?" Sarah asked as she sat beside him. She had a thick coat tightly buttoned over her dress. "It's too cold out."
He shrugged. "I've been colder." In fact, he couldn't remember the last time that he wasn't cold.
She sighed. "I suppose you have," she said. She looked at him. "I know you've talked to your sister."
"Several times, in fact."
"And it didn't make any difference."
He shook his head.
Sarah pulled him into a one-armed hug and kissed his cheek. "If he is really as terrible as you say, Kate will see it eventually. I wouldn't worry."
"I'm goin' to keep worryin'." Pat looked over at her and was perplexed to see her smiling. "What are ye so happy about?"
"I'm happy because I know something that might cheer you up," she said.
"And what is that?"
Sarah took his hand and placed it on her stomach.
"Sarah, what..." Realization dawned on him and he pulled his hand back. He looked at her, waiting for her to admit it was a joke.
"I thought you'd be happy." There was a deep tone of disappointment in her voice, dismay in her eyes.
Not a joke. "I am happy," Pat said. He stood and pulled her to her feet. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed, that's all." He drew her close and kissed her deeply.
They broke apart with Sarah looking flustered but, once again, happy. "I need to tell Kate. Do you want to come with me?"
"I reckon Katie's not goin' to be wantin' to see me for a while," he admitted.
"Oh, right." Sarah adjusted her coat and tucked a stray hair behind her ears. She looked at him with concern. "Are you sure you're happy?"
"Thrilled." He kissed her again, holding her tightly for a moment longer than necessary. "I love ye so much, ye know?"
"I know," she softly replied. "Now stop worrying about Kate. It'll work itself out, I just know it."
"I hope so."
"I know so." Sarah smiled at him. "You know I'm always right."
"Ye are always right," Pat agreed. "Now go tell Katie so she can be madly jealous of ye."
He watched her walk away until he could no longer see her. Sarah might be right in her predictions but he knew Kate and he knew Hugh and he knew what was most likely to happen.
~~~
Kate's troubled mind kept circling back to Pat's reaction. Doubt gnawed at her, questioning whether there was something she had missed in her time spent with Hugh. She combed through their memories, desperately seeking a reason for concern, yet all she found was her brother's intense animosity.
As she was thinking about him, almost like she summoned him, she looked out the window and saw Hugh walking up to the house with flowers in hand. She immediately jumped up and met him out front.
Kate took the flowers from him and attempted a smile but it died on her lips.
"What's wrong?" Hugh asked.
She let out a heavy sigh and looked at the flowers in her hand. "Why doesn't me brother like ye?" She asked, the question slipping out. "I want a real answer for once."
"I couldn't tell you."
"Ye can't tell me or ye won't tell me?" Kate pressed on. "He wouldn't dislike ye if there weren't a reason for it. I know me brother and—"
"Kate," Hugh interrupted her. "Honestly? Your brother is unhinged."
Kate bristled under the accusation. "There's nothin' wrong with me brother."
He reached out and took her hand. "You can still love your brother and admit that there's something wrong there," he reasoned. "There's no shame in it."
Caught off guard, Kate faltered in her response. "I wasn't...I didn't think...I suppose he has been different since..." Her words faltered. Pat had changed since the sinking. She remembered the way he had acted on the Carpathia and a flicker of doubt stirred in her mind. She reluctantly considered the possibility of truth in Hugh's words. Yet, it felt unfair to her brother.
Hugh shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening. "Your brother is always going to hold you down because he can't be on his own."
"He's not on his own. He has Sarah."
"Why else would he be trying to drive us apart?" He asked. "He doesn't want you to live your own life because then he can't cling to you."
Kate felt the words sink in and their weight pressed upon her. She found herself at a loss for words, her lips parting but no sound escaping.
"You have been through so much on your own, with no one to help you and everyone relying on you," he continued. "You are so strong."
"I don't feel strong." Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"I know you're strong. I see it."
She took a deep breath and wiped away the tears that had started to form in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm feelin' a bit emotional. It's been quite a week."
"I think I can make that week better."
"I doubt ye can—" She stopped speaking.
Hugh had gone down on one knee and held up a ring. The sun glinted on the stone.
Kate stared at it. She couldn't stop thinking of Pat...what he would say, what he would think. His disapproval loomed like a shadow in her mind.
"Kate," Hugh said. "You need to live your own life."
Live me own life. The idea swirled in her mind, intoxicating and terrifying all at once. And then, she found her voice. "Alright," she said quietly.
Hugh rose to his feet and drew her into a kiss.
~~~
Sarah could feel the anger radiating off of Pat as they laid in bed not long after Kate broke the news to them. She knew how he felt, she knew how desperately he wanted to do something, anything to smash the relationship to bits before it was too late. But she also knew that intervening would do no one any good. Although she would never voice it to him, she strongly suspected that his earlier attempts to break things apart might've contributed to the current situation. She was still afraid that Pat might do something that would irreparably damage his relationship with his sister, so she kept near him as much as possible, to keep him from doing anything he might later regret.
"I know you're angry," she said softly, reaching out to touch him. He was facing away from her but she could see the tension in his shoulders.
"Of course, I am," he replied.
"Kate will do what she wants to do. You know this."
Pat didn't respond.
"She's an adult," Sarah continued.
He still remained silent.
She sat up and looked at him. "Pat, you can't go silent like this. You need to talk to me."
"I am talking," he snapped.
Feeling the need to take bold action, Sarah crossed over to his side of the bed and settled herself in front of him. "There is nothing you can do about this and if you try to do anything, Kate's never going to speak to you again." She grabbed his arm to keep him from turning away. "You will lose her entirely." Bringing his hand to her lips, she pressed a gentle kiss on it. "You just need to trust that she knows what she's doing."
He sighed. "Katie's a romantic at heart. She never quite knows what she's doin' when she believes she's found love."
"Are you a romantic at heart?" Sarah asked him.
"No."
"I don't know what I expected," she replied. "Clearly you're not because maybe if you were, you'd be a bit more enthused at the thought of your child."
The sudden shift in topic caught Pat off guard and it took him a moment to readjust. "I am enthused," he reassured her. "I'm also terrified out of me mind. I've mention before that I'm not great with children. What if I end up breakin' the poor thing?"
Sarah inched closer to him. "Oh, Pat," she murmured softly, leaning in to kiss him. "You're going to be wonderful. I know it."
A thoughtful expression crossed his face and then he smiled. "I hope it's a girl," he said quietly.
She looked at him in surprise. "Really? Not a boy?" Her experience had led her to believe that most men wished for sons and she was surprised to hear Pat say otherwise.
He shook his head. "Nah, a boy would be too much like me and I know the world doesn't need another me, that's for sure."
Sarah couldn't help but laugh. "I hope it's a girl too but not for those reasons." She brushed her fingers along his cheek. "The world could use more of you."