Struck! A Titanic Love Story Read online

  Struck! A Titanic Love Story

  Copyright © 2015 by Tonie Chacon

  Acknowledgments

  Author's Notes

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Other Yellow Rose Books

  About the Author

  Visit Us On Line

  Struck! A Titanic Love Story

  by

  Tonie Chacon

  Yellow Rose

  by Regal Crest

  Texas

  Copyright © 2015 by Tonie Chacon

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Print ISBN 978-1-61929-226-0

  eBook ISBN 978-1-61929-225-3

  First Printing 2015

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design by Acorn Graphics

  Published by:

  Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC

  229 Sheridan Loop

  Belton, TX 76513

  Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz

  Published in the United States of America

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to Cathy Bryerose for taking a chance on me and my story. To Patty Schramm, my editor extraordinaire, thank you. To the cover artist, I thank you for a really cool cover and to all the other editors and proofreaders, I thank you. To all my beta readers, Kathy, Brenda, Cass, Shirley, Carol, Michelle, and Denise, thank you. And to Kate McLachlan, thank you for being my biggest supporter, cheerleader, first reader, first editor, best friend and wife. I love you and thank you.

  Author's Notes

  The ship sank. That much is true, and so are most of the other historical details mentioned in the book. But this is a work of fiction, and it is a love story. It is also a tragedy, as we all know. Some poetic license was taken here and there, for the benefit of love. This is not meant, in any way, to detract from the seriousness of the disaster. You won’t find a record of lesbians on the Titanic in the history books, but we all know they were there. This is one of their stories.

  Dedication

  For Kate:

  My wife, my love, my life. Anything is possible

  with you by my side.

  Chapter One

  04 April 1912 — Southampton

  THE R.M.S. TITANIC sat at the pier in Southampton in front of Megan Mahoney’s window at the counter of the White Star Line. She could also see it from the doors of the baggage room and again from the end of the long passageway to the end of the building and beyond. The ship towered over the town. She blocked the sun. It was no wonder they named her Titanic.

  “I would give just about anything to be able to get on that ship and sail into the sunset,” Megan sighed. She knew she should be satisfied with her lot. She was lucky to have a job at all, being a woman. Her uncle had given her a start at the White Star Line. Five years into the job now, she’d finally made her way up to apprentice ticket clerk, but she was beginning to feel the strain on her private life. Da kept saying she needed to be done and come home. She was already an old maid in some people’s minds, and only had a month before Molly’s wedding to try and figure things out.

  Megan watched the comings and goings of the crew. Cranes operated in syncopation, loading the giant nets of trunks, boxes, suitcases, and duffel bags onto the deck. She wondered how much of the cargo in those sacks was mail? It was a Royal Mail Ship, after all.

  What could be in all those boxes? Treasures to be bought and sold, spices from an exotic country, fine art from Sicily? All sorts of items filled Megan’s imagination. Take me away from here, won’t you, Titanic? To the Americas to start a new life, where there were no more responsibilities except the ones she created. It wasn’t that she didn’t like working. She did. She just didn’t want to have to quit and return home to fare for the family. But what else was there? Megan looked back to the ship.

  “Oh, the possibilities,” she said. She brought her hand to her lips. She should get back to her desk. She needed to do some more studying of the ship’s diagrams in order to help customers find their cabins. Maybe a few more patrons would come in and she could help them. It would give her a bit more practice, and she could stand at the front counter and stare at the giant ship outside the window. There was something about that ship, Titanic, that seemed to pull at her soul.

  Da wanted her to find a husband and settle down, but how was she supposed to meet someone new when she’d already met every person within a ten-mile radius? Here she was, twenty-six years old and still without a spark. She would love to have a house and home with her own person to care for, but she couldn’t bear to do that strapped to her father’s kitchen. The threat had hung over her head ever since Molly, her sister, announced that she was getting married next month. Megan had been thrilled at first. She hadn’t even thought of the consequences those few words would have on her own life. The threat was coming closer and closer as the wedding date neared.

  Maybe she was doing it wrong. She wasn’t sure exactly what flirting was, but she must try. She thought her looks were good enough. She was strong and healthy. She possessed the red hair of her mother and the freckles on her nose from her father and his ease to take the sun, unlike so many other gingers. She had no idea where her nose had come from, but thanked the Lord she didn’t get Da’s.

  The front door bell jangled and a man walked into the office. Megan returned to her desk at the far corner away from the gated window. From there, she could observe her boss, Cecil McFadden, handling the customer, which was part of her training. So many good things she got to hear and see. Lots of rich folk and families from everywhere came in to buy tickets. She sat on her stool and began the daunting chore of putting together all the forms to be mailed to the passengers before they sailed. There were boarding passes, luggage tags for deep storage, tags for stateroom usage, as well as immigration papers to be sorted.

  The man was still standing at the counter. Did he ring the bell? She couldn’t remember hearing it, but it rang so often, she sometimes didn’t hear it. Where was Cecil? She knew he enjoyed letting customers stand at the window for just a bit longer than they liked before finally wandering over to help them, but this was too much. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She got up and hurried over to help the gentleman.

  “Hello sir, what can I help you with?” Megan asked in her most professional voice.

  “I wish to return this ticket I purchased to board that grand ship, Titanic. My wife, she says, she will not go. I ask her why? I spend my hard earned wages so we could have a new opportunity, but she says no, she no go. She no go, I no go.” A heavy French accent added to his voice. “Can you give me back my money so my family will stay together?” The man stood back with his flimsy beret held to his stomach, rolling it and unrolling it.

  Damn. She didn’t know how to take a return. “Um, well, I don’t have the experience of doing a refund, but let me get someo
ne who can and I’ll watch and we both will benefit. Just a minute, please.” Megan turned to call out to Cecil. “Ah, Mr. McFadden, could you come over here and assist this gentleman with a refund, please?”

  Cecil sighed. His chair creaked, steps sounded, and he finally came around the corner of his doorway and slowly walked to the counter. He had been losing some hair each year she’d known him. In five years his hairline thinned around his ears and slightly down the back. He was a little more roly-poly these days, too. “How can I help you?” Cecil asked.

  He looked over the ticket the man had set down.

  “I wish a refund, please,” the gentleman replied.

  “Well now, let’s see what we can do for you, chap. It says here you were to travel on Titanic, leaving on the tenth of April of this fine year of nineteen hundred and twelve. Is that correct?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Where are the other documents we had sent to you through the Royal Mail Service? You did receive them, correct?”

  “Yes, well, sir, I did receive them, that is how my wife found out about my big surprise for a new life. So much for a surprise,” he said. “She threw them all in the fireplace. I watched them burn myself. So, I was wondering, if I could please, sir, return my ticket for all of us and get back the good money I spent trying to get a better life for my family so my wife will get off my back?” He crumpled his hat.

  “The documents were destroyed? I see.” Cecil scratched his beard. “Now you say you saw the documents burn up in the fireplace, correct? You mean all of them? The whole packet you say? Well, it’s not exactly protocol. But you saw them burn?” He looked at the gentleman closely.

  “I did, sir, right into ashes. There was nothing left by the time she was done with them.”

  “I see by this date stamp that this ticket was purchased last month? How is it that you are just coming around now?”

  “It was going to be a surprise. You know, just a little trip for the family. Then those damn documents arrived and then the fireplace scene and all.”

  “All right then, everything seems to be in order. Here you go. Sign here.” Cecil pointed to a line on the refund form and handed the gentleman his money, counting back to the man out loud while handing him the bills. “I suppose, then, thank you for choosing the White Star Line for all your travel needs.”

  The man took his bills and walked out the front door. Cecil recorded the transaction in the ledger and put the ticket on top of the burn stack for later disposal. He walked back into his office and sat down to proceed with what he was doing before. Megan could see him from where she stood at the window. It looked like he was doing nothing but reading the paper, but she knew he was really looking for opportunities to expand his world. He was always spouting off about his travels as a sea merchant in his earlier days. A sea merchant, huh? Probably a pirate more than likely.

  She returned to her desk and grabbed more forms from one pile and added them to the stacks growing in front of her. Each mound got one of these immigration papers, and she’d be done with this chore. She had to straighten them up and put them away until they went into the envelopes to be mailed.

  The day passed slowly. She waited on a few more customers while Cecil was at lunch. She enjoyed that. Some of the people were there to claim parcels from other countries, from America even. Being an apprentice, she had all sorts of different jobs that she did daily. Now that Titanic was anchored outside their door, she had more work than ever, gathering the mail and sorting packages to faraway lands. Megan liked to imagine what was in the packages, and she got into some interesting conversations with the customers. Other than that, the day was dull. Finally, she walked over to Cecil.

  “Can I help you with anything else, Mr. McFadden?”

  “It’s almost quitting time, missy. How ’bout going out to the slash pile for the rest of the afternoon? ’Tis a nice day to burn.”

  “All right, that sounds grand. I love the smell of wood burning. Makes me think of me Ma.”

  Megan took the handful of discarded paper on the counter, and another from underneath, and put them in a wheelbarrow to take out back. She donned her shawl and wheeled the barrow through the double back doors. She turned left onto the path heading up to the slash pile.

  Megan glanced skyward. The feathery clouds whipped around in the blue sky. Horse tails, her grandmother had called them. It was a glorious day, not too cold but with a briskness that hadn’t left the air yet. She pushed the wheelbarrow up the path on the hill, which caused her legs to burn a bit. She made it to the top where there were trees all around and stopped at the fire ring. She tossed some branches and twigs in to start with. She struck a match against a brick and threw it onto the tender. A nice whoosh sounded from the wood. She waited a bit and stirred, added more slash and then started to toss in the papers from the office.

  The first handful burned brightly in Megan’s face. The warmth of the blaze was nice and toasty. She reached to grab another handful when she noticed the top page. It was that refunded ticket. She had wanted to look at it. She threw the other stuff in her hand into the fire, but her concentration was on that ticket. There was something funny about it. She didn’t know what. She looked again. She started at the top of the page, read it through once, then once again and, wait a minute. It didn’t have a big red VOID stamp on it. Ol’ Cecil made a mistake. She should tell on him. No, that wouldn’t look good for her or him. He was a nice enough guy. She didn’t want to get him in trouble. She should just take the ticket and use it for herself. Wouldn’t that show them?

  She could. No one would know but her and God. Megan glanced around, then up. Are you telling me to go?

  It was so tempting. She had it right there in her hand, the one thing she had been dreaming about her whole life. It was a ticket out of there, to another world totally across the ocean. What should she do? To burn or not to burn? That was the question. Shakespeare, right? She had no time to ponder Shakespearian questions. She quickly folded up the ticket. She would think about it later. She had six more days before the ship sailed. That was enough time. It had to be.

  She secured the ticket into her skirt’s hidden pocket that only her mother knew about, because she had sewn it there herself. She told Megan to always keep a coin in that pocket so she would have fare to help out in a crisis. It was a good place for the ticket. Cecil wouldn’t even think about it. He’d think it went up in smoke.

  Keep working then. She grabbed another handful of slash and threw it onto the fire. Soon everything was burned to a flaky black crust, which she stirred around to get the last ashes to burn out. Satisfied that a wind would not pick up a still burning ember, she patted her pocket, turned the wheelbarrow around, and headed back into the office.

  Lord, what had she done now? Nothing that she hadn’t dreamed about for such a long time, and it all but fell into her lap. Could she do this? Was she jumping at this chance to change the dull life that seemed to have chosen her? Should she leap toward a new beginning and the world that had suddenly opened its arms and enveloped Megan into its bosom? Yes. To set sail on the most luxurious vessel in the entire world? Yes, yes, yes.

  Megan fretted through the rest of her time at work. Her mind wrestled with one notion or another. Back to the first, forward to the third. Planning, re-planning, what to bring, what to wear. Should she tell anyone? No. Not even her own flesh and blood? Not even her favorite brother, Colin? He’d want to go with her, to help protect her. Humph. How would that work? Lord, please help me gain back my sanity.

  She walked over to Cecil’s desk.

  “Will that be all then, Mr. McFadden?” Megan asked.

  “Yes, yes, you may leave. You smell like the forest burned you down. Be on your way and I shall see you on the morrow.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Megan nodded, gathered her shawl and left to get her bicycle. She knew he wouldn’t think of that ticket she had in her dress. She was smiling as she sped by the office windows a moment later.

  Meg
an ran down the steps to her home and burst through the front room of the family home. The house was small and crowded. Her brothers shared one room and she and Molly another. The fabric of the chairs was worn, but it matched the chaise in the corner. The curtains had been opened since she left that morning, letting in the most needed sun. The dust twinkled in the ray of sun coming through the window.

  She noticed that Molly had tried to spruce up the place with wildflowers which adorned the table in a favorite vase of Ma’s. Da wouldn’t say a thing about it if Ma was involved. Megan supposed she had better take more notice of the duties she would be needing to do around the house, but she didn’t want to. She disliked cooking and wasn’t very good at keeping house, either. Maybe now she wouldn’t have to.

  Most of the family except Colin milled about talking of the day’s events while Molly set up the supper table. Megan went into their room and closed the curtain behind her. Their room was a small square. Her narrow bed was on one side while Molly’s was placed under the window so she could get the air breezing through. It helped her to sleep. There was one dresser with four drawers that they shared. It would certainly be different sleeping in here alone, but perhaps she needn’t worry about that. She had a chance to go to America. After changing her clothes, Megan made sure the curtain was closed. She didn’t want to fret about anyone looking in.

  She moved to the front of her bed and knelt on the floor. She had discovered the loose floorboard when she was nine, and she had been using it to store her treasures ever since. She had pried the board up and dug in the dirt below and made a small area that she lined with newspaper, to collect the moisture from the dirt. Now she clutched a doll her mother had sewn for her and hugged it briefly. She put it back and grabbed the felt sack filled with her valuables. She pulled a watch from it. She didn’t dare wear it while working. It was far too fine. The watch had been handed down by the women in her family. It was once a pocket watch but was converted to wrist style by her mother when she was a girl. Tangled in it was the heavy bracelet her mother had also given her.