Page 6 of The Girl Out of Time
“She might do the same at school,” Father continued. “And we won’t be there to protect her.”
Protect her?Smother her, more like. Control her.
“We’ll return home right away, Emmeline included,” Father said.
“What about your meeting in London?”
“I’ll call them tomorrow. Send someone else—I don’t know, I’ll figure it out. Emmeline takes priority.”
Wonderful. Now all the important people in the industry would wonder why Ford’s Chief Engineer wasn’t there, and Emmeline could be blamed for that, too.I’m sorry, my father couldn’t make it because he had to take care of me, his awful, rebellious daughter.
“I’ll take care of business,” Father said. “Will you get us tickets for the earliest ship back to New York?”
“First thing in the morning.”
Only soft murmuring after that—Emmeline couldn’t make it out, so she pried the door open an inch. Her parents stood by the fireplace; Father hugged Mother and pressed a light kiss onto the top of her head. She sighed, meeting his eyes.
“I don’t know what else to do with her.” Her voice was barely above a peep.
“Shhh. It’s all right. When we get back home, we’ll sort it out.”
After a moment, Mother nodded, and hid her face in Father’s shoulder. He continued brushing her hair, and Emmeline closed the door, her stomach clenching in a strange mix of bitterness and jealousy. Mother and Father were so perfect for each other: he was so smart and so successful and always the perfect gentleman, and she was so polite and so elegant andalways the perfect lady. They had their perfect life and their perfect two sons …
The only problem was her. Their imperfect daughter.
Chapter 2
“Wow!” Tristan scampered across the carriage seat to the window, his knee crumpling the edge of the page in Emmeline’s book.
“Tristan,” Emmeline objected, not that anyone could hear her over her little brother’s excitement.
“She’s huge!” He squished his face against the window. “And she’s got four chimneys!”
Father chuckled. “On a ship, they’re called funnels.” He gently pried Tristan from the window as the carriage stopped.
Emmeline fussed over her book, trying to smooth out the crumpled page—a brand new copy, too!—and exited the carriage last. Compared to the hustle and bustle in the harbor, the carriage, even with Tristan’s constant chattering, had been peaceful.
Under the cloudy skies, a buzzing crowd had gathered on the Southampton docks. They talked and yelled, laughed and jostled, waved at friends and acquaintances, and hugged each other goodbye. Horses neighed, uncomfortable in the throng, and a train whistle blew nearby.
Emmeline clutched her book tighter against her tailored jacket and adjusted her wide-brimmed hat, blowing a puffy, sea-foam ostrich feather off her face. With that last obstacle out of the way, she rested her gaze on the ship.
Tristan was right. The ship was enormous. Her elegant black-and-white body ran so long that Emmeline couldn’t see the stern from where they stood, and the long line of people boarding through the gangways were dwarfed by the massive hull. The black-topped orange funnels rose gleaming into the sky, and not a speck of dirt marred them or the hull. The ship was picture-perfect, even though Emmeline imagined a picture could never do it justice.
Mother handed off their luggage to a porter—Emmeline held on to her book—and they snaked through the crowd, undergoing a cursory medical inspection before they were allowed to ascend the stairs to the gangway. Emmeline hadn’t realized how high up the gantry was until they were walking along it. She leaned over the fence, gazing at the sea of hats below.Goodbye, England.She wasn’t particularly sorry to leave, but she wasn’t looking forward to getting home, either. This ship, and the seven days on it, might be her last glimpse of freedom. People tended to be more relaxed on ocean liners—no extravagant finery required for dinner, and a more lenient observation of all those societal rules her mother drilled into her head daily. If one wanted to lounge on deck in their less-than-Sunday best, they could do so.
One week of freedom left. One week before her parents enacted their punishment.
“The bridge is for the captain and crew,” Father said to Tristan, who was bouncing down the gangway, with Brendon following close behind. “ButI’ll see if I can get us a visit to the Marconi room to show you how the wireless works.”
“Yes, please!” Tristan said.
Father smiled and ruffled his hair. “And I have it on my best authority,” he continued, facing everyone, “that a special new automobile model is being transported on the ship.”
Tristan gasped. “Can we see it? Can we drive it?”
“I hope that wasn’t confidential information,” Brendon said to Father.
“Brendon,” Mother gently admonished him.
