Page 10 of The Girl Out of Time
The shock of it all would catch up to him in the next few hours, but for now, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, even as the crowd obscured her. Two things were certain. One, she was as beautiful as the first day they’d met, even though now, she was wearing a strange tailored jacket and a narrow skirt of azure blue, matching her eyes. And two …
She had no idea who he was.
She wasn’t playing a prank on him. After the events of yesterday, she wouldn’t. Was it yesterday? Wherever—whenever—he was, he’d never seen a ship like this; a titan, all made of metal. A man that had passed him earlier, when Theo was getting his bearings on deck, called it “unsinkable” to his companion, but Theo wasn’t even sure how this steel monster could float, or what would propel it ahead.
But he could ponder new inventions later. He had to figure out his situation first. Panic gripped his throat. It would’ve been so much easier if Emmeline had recognized him, She’d said everything would be fine, that she’d come after him. And shewashere, but … somehow, it wasn’t her.
He was barely aware of where he was going, except that he had to find a place to stay. He retraced his earlier steps, moving past elegant ladies wearing outfits similar to Emmeline’s and smartly dressed men in austere, dark clothes and rounded hats. Eventually, a steward spotted him and, from his smudged clothes and confidence-lacking countenance, presumed first class wasn’t for him, therefore politely directing him to third. Theo didn’t mind. He didn’t have a ticket, and he’d rather be forgotten about than appear out of place.
As he descended into the bowels of the ship, and the ceilings grew taller and the hallways narrower, he could see himself and everyone else being forgotten down here. Up above, the ship looked like a palace; down here, at least it looked like a ship.
The hallways crawled with passengers finding their cabins and exploring the space. A group of young, brash men stood laughing by a cabin door; an older gentleman trudged along with a thin leather suitcase; two men hollered in a foreign language—a Nordic one, Swedish. The women and children must’ve been confined to a different place on the ship.
Theo waited until the hubbub subsided, then peeked into a cabin with a door left ajar. A younger man lounged on a plain, narrow bed, but the bunk across from him was empty. As good a time as any to risk it. If the bunk was occupied, Theo could claim he had the wrong cabin. He strolled in and, since he had no luggage to depose of, straightened the bedsheets instead; anything to appear busy and belonging. The pristine white linen smelled fresh, as if moments ago, it had still been drying on a breeze.
“Oi,” the other man called.
Theo turned around, bracing himself for a confrontation.
The man smirked. “Nice clothes.”
Despite his smirk, the man wasn’t poking fun of him. Based on his own well-worn woolen jacket, he probablydidthink Theo’s clothes were nice, even if they were considered strange.
“Thank you,” Theo said, not sure how else to respond.
“Not from around here?”
“I—uh—” He’d never thought such a simple question would have such a complicated answer.
“Hey, it’s okay.” The man raised his hands in an “I won’t prod” gesture. “Doesn’t matter anyway, when we’re all going to a new land, huh?”
“Right.” Theo sat.
“Michael,” the man said.
“Le—Theo.” For God’s sake, he had to figure this out. He wasn’t even sure why he’d given Emmeline that name. He supposed when she’d asked for his name—when she should’ve known it—it had left him scrambling.
Idiot.
First things first. The rumbling in his stomach reminded him he hadn’t had a meal in half a day, but he’d have to wait until the ship’s dinner. He also had to get less conspicuous clothes. He eyed his cabin mate. Michael’s clothes had that sturdy, patched-over-and-over look Theo recognized well. When you could only afford one good jacket, you took care of it, no matter how worn-out it got. Perhaps Michael would appreciate an exchange. That was point number two.
Point number three … hold on until Emmeline remembered he was her fiancé.
***
Dinner on the first night was a relaxed, informal affair. Emmeline hadn’t even changed her clothes, and Mother didn’t chastise her for it. Everyone was too tired from the boarding day—well, almost everyone. Tristan, with his excess energy, fidgeted in his seat throughout the meal. As for Emmeline, she tried her best not to fidget, or to look like a paranoid escaped prisoner as she frantically searched the room and twitched at every dark-haired head, entering the space.
The dining saloon was a spacious room with white paneled walls, an exquisitely carved white ceiling, and a blue-and-red floor tiled in an Arabic-style pattern. Snow-white tablecloths covered the tables of various lengths, accompanied by cozy chairs upholstered in forest green leather. Unfortunately for Emmeline, the dining area extended around corners, and crane her neck as she did, she couldn’t get the entire room within her purview. She tried to keep up with the small talk, vigorously dug into her duck, coated in a rich port wine sauce, and inspected the guests leaving the saloon. Leon wasn’t among them.
Perhaps he was too tired to come to dinner, or he wasn’t hungry. Or perhaps he’d been consumed reading her book and forgot the time. She’d find him tomorrow.
Tomorrow came, and Emmeline was dragged from one end of the ship to the other, following her mother’s list of activities. Breakfast—mouth-watering baked apples and even fresh strawberries, but no Leon. A stroll around the deck—a refreshing spring breeze, but no Leon. Lunch—no Leon; relaxation in the lounge—no Leon; another walkaround the deck—no Leon. After dinner, she even snuck into the smoking room but didn’t spot him among the gentlemen.
Was he avoiding her? She hoped he wasn’t a fraud who’d made away with her book. It wasn’t that valuable, but the last fuel her parents needed was hearing she’d fallen for the wiles of a handsome scammer.
Not to mention, she could’ve used a friend on the ship.
By Friday morning, England had been left merely a memory in the wide, endless ocean. Mother had chosen the Palm Court after breakfast, but Emmeline wanted to go for a walk and, by some miracle—also called “Mother had found ladies to chat with on the ship”—was allowed to go alone. She changed into a simple, airy dress of blush pink and headed out onto the deck. The passengers were gearing up for another day, locating their deck chairs or strolling along the promenade, tapping their canes. Emmeline passed a crew member chalking a shuffleboard frame onto the wooden flooring, then leaned on the railing overlooking the deck below.
