Page 128 of The Girl Out of Time
“So you won’t be angry at her when we find her?”
He only wanted her back. Wanted her safe. “Of course not.”
He stopped at the bottom of the staircase on B Deck. Passengers headed past them in the opposite direction, being herded upstairs, toward the lounge. Some of them rushed, others hesitated, looking back at the cabins they were leaving behind.
“And in the middle of the night, too,” an older lady complained to her younger companion. “Hell of a lot of hubbub for throwing a propeller.”
“It’s not a propeller, Mother,” the other woman responded. “Lewis went outside. He says there’s ice on deck.”
The older womanhmmph-ed, and they walked up the stairs.
“Down.” Will led Tristan to the back of the staircase. They descended two more decks, passing more people—some grumbling, some whispering, but most of them reasonably calm, as if the evacuation was a minor annoyance. He could understand why. In here, safely inside the ship, nothing seemed amiss. Even he could almost believe they would be safe. The walls still stood, the lights still shone, and the floor was dry and solid beneath his feet.
The spacious reception room, with its multitudes of tables and cozy wicker chairs, used to be busier than a market during the day. Now it stood forlorn. The ceiling lights still shone, but they didn’t quite reach the floor, leaving an eerie, ominous shadow. Will led Tristan through the forest of tables, yelling Emmeline’s name. Tristan joined him in it, his high-pitched voice bouncing off the walls.
“I don’t think she’s here, Papa.”
Unless she was hiding from him, no. Will wanted to think she wouldn’t do that, but he still checked every nook and cranny and then progressed to the dining room. No luck there, either; they went through the hallways next, asking a few stray passengers about her, but they were all unhelpful. Will checked his watch. Time to meet back upstairs. He had to steady his breathing, reminding himself he and Tristan were only half of the searching party, and Emmeline was much more likely to be somewhere closer to the cabin, in the rooms Sylvia and Brendon were searching. They were probably waiting for them already.
“Come,” he said to Tristan. “I’m sure she’s with Mama and Brendon.” They headed back up, this time in tandem with the rest of the passengers, all flocking toward the top deck. Tristan watched them with wide, curious eyes, twisting and turning around as Will led him by the hand.
“Papa, is the ship going to sink?” he asked.
“No, no.” Will stopped and kneeled to Tristan’s eye level. “Everything is going to be fine. We’re taking precautions because that’s how the crew was instructed to perform.” He patted him on the shoulder, straightened back up, and continued walking.
“Good, because I don’t want Jack to die,” Tristan said.
“Who?” Didn’t Emily say something about a Jack?
“Mr. Phillips allowed me to call him Jack.”
Oh.The wireless room visit. Tristan had loved that, and the two operators were unusually patient with him, perhaps because they’d found his curiosity and awe amusing. “Mr. Phillips is going to be fine, don’t worry.” Even as he said it, Will swallowed. At least the Marconi room was on the top deck, right behind the bridge. But when would the crew be allowed to leave?
“Mama!” Tristan tore out of his grasp and hurried toward the top of the staircase, where Sylvia and Brendon stood by the intricate wood carving of Honor and Glory presenting a clock.
Will’s heart dropped when he scanned their immediate area. No Emmeline.
Sylvia inspected his face as he approached, her hands clenched at her chest. She shook her head. “What do we do?”
Will took in the small crowd of people, now being directed out of the lounge by the stewards, his chest feeling as heavy as if his lungs had been cast in iron. He couldn’t get Emily’s words, her tone, the tears in her eyes, out of his head.
Seven hundred live. Fifteen hundred die.
He had to get his family off the ship.
“She might be in the lounge,” he said, taking Sylvia by the hand. “Or even on the deck already. She likes being outside on the promenade.” It made little sense for her to be there in the middle of the night, but he had to go for a simple joining of hope and logic. Perhaps she wanted to clear her head; that’s what he did after the fight. She went outside to relax and look at the stars. She had to be there—and she’d either have been redirected to the lounge, or she was already getting ready to be put into the lifeboats.
One third live. Two thirds die.
She had to be there. She had to.
“Come,” he said and led his family to the lounge.
Chapter 32
The lounge had already started emptying by the time Will and his family reached it. Groups of people lingered, complaining of not wanting to go out into the cold, while the stewards gave directions toward the promenade and the boat deck. The stained glass windows were dark, but the ceiling electroliers and wall lamps remained, shining a tinge duller than usual, as if they wanted to give the guests a hint to stop milling about and go to sleep.
“Emmeline!” Will shouted, to a displeased look from a nearby lady, who threw a fur scarf over her shoulder and huffed away.
