WE’LL MEET TOMORROW

By Gav Night

 

APRIL 10, 1912 - 11:30 a.m.

Jennifer Lindley stared in awe at the Bible-black wall that was the hull of the Titanic towering above her. She craned her head back as far she could, and still she could not see the top of the four smokestacks.

"Jennifer!" Her grandmother called. "There will be plenty of time to gawk once we're aboard."

Jen didn't respond, only quickened her pace to keep up with her grandmother.

Evelyn Ryan was a matriarch of the upper crust of society, donating generously to the Salvation Army and several other notable charities, but never once would she even dream of touching one of the people her money was meant to benefit.

Evelyn strode daintily, yet with the authority that came with her status, up the boarding ramp. Jen followed her closely behind, taking in the sights, eyes wide like a child whose just seen her first nickelodeon picture.

Jen drew in a sharp breath as they reached the B-deck entrance. Inside, as if awaiting their arrival, was an enormous sprawling staircase of marble steps and oak and gilded iron-wrought work banister.

Evelyn looked over her shoulder at Jen. "Isn't this amazing, dear?"

Jen nodded, smiling. "It's splendid, Grams."

Grams smiled. "Come along, dear. It's only polite to go up top to bid our last farewells to England."

Grams made her way up the staircase, Jen following like a dog on a leash. At the first landing, a carving depicting two nymphs crowning a working clock face stared down at them. Then, the stairs branched off right and left to A-deck, where the pattern was repeated, minus the clock, up to the Boat Deck.

Jen shielded her eyes with one hand as they stepped out onto the open Boat Deck. She inhaled sharply as she saw how high above the docks they were. She spun slowly around, taking in the four buff yellow, black-tipped smokestacks, the two towering masts, and the White Star line's signature red pennant with a single white star flapping in the wind.

Evelyn smiled at her granddaughter's excitement and placed herself near the railing. Jen bounded over to her, trembling with excitement.

"This is incredible, Grams," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

Evelyn shook her head. Suddenly, her face lit up. "Oh, Jennifer, do you know who that is?" Evelyn asked, pointing as discreetly as she could.

Jen followed Evelyn's gaze down the deck to a small family standing at the railing. The father was tall, and it was easy to see he was well built even under his blue serge suit. His face was handsome with a strong jaw and short close-cropped black hair. His wife's hour-glass figure was covered by a rather dowdy black-and-white dress accompanied by a ridiculously large feathered hat atop ridiculously large hair. With them was a tall young man, in his late teens perhaps. He has his father’s strong jaw and build, and his mother blond hair.

"I have no idea," Jen answered her grandmother.

Evelyn gasped. "Why, Jennifer, that's the Boston Leerys, Mitchell and Gail. Steel is their business. Their son there, his name is Dawson, he's sure to follow in his father's footsteps." Then, Evelyn ducked her head and whispered almost conspiratorially, "And he's available, dear, if you catch my meaning?"

Jen rolled her eyes. She caught it all right, and she intended to throw it overboard. She would not be the wide of yet another pompous steel tycoon.

Evelyn gave another gasp. "Oh, my. What are they doing here?"

Jen looked up and saw whom Evelyn was referring to. Walking towards them was a red-haired young woman with a small child at her side. She was accompanied by a dark-haired young lady in conservative dress, a blond girl in less-than-conservative dress, and a dark-haired young man in a suit of the same color of his hair.

A smile twitched at Jen's lips as Evelyn began her dissertation on these people. "The woman with the child is Bess Potter, and the brunette girl is her sister, Josephine. They don't belong in first-class. Their mother is dead, and their father is in prison, and the only money they have is their meager inheritance. The blond is Andrea McPhee, she spent time in a sanitarium last summer, along with her mother after the oldest son, Timothy died. Mr. McPhee has disappeared completely. And the boy, Jack, well, he's an artist type and there's rumor that's he's a bit queer if you catch my meaning."

Jen did indeed catch it yet again. This time, she found it quite amusing. What a spit in the face to all the 'upstanding citizens' on board. Jen stifled a laugh. She intended to acquainted herself with these people as soon as Grams back was turned, and maybe even before.

Grams sighed in disgust. "I can't imagine why they would let people like that amongst us. It's embarrassing to even be on the same deck as them. Come along; let's move farther up the deck.

Jen started to follow Grams, but something made her turn once more. The McPhees and Josephine were talking to another young man now. Jen's heart did that funny little flipping thing in her chest.

He was tall, not especially built, but no sickly indoor prince either. His face bore a boyishly handsome look with the most charming smile she'd ever seen. His hair was hidden beneath a gray tweed snap-brim cap tipped cheekily to one side, a few rust-brown curls falling across his forehead. He was dressed in suit pants and a poet's shirt, that came down in an open V to the bottom of his chest. Leather string criss-crossed through the opening. Over the shirt, he wore an outrageous blue velvet cape that hung down to the heels of his spit-shined black shoes.

Jen was mesmerized. She'd never seen anyone who seemed so much a part of the ridiculous first-class finery, yet so far from it at the same time.

Slowly, he turned to look at her, his deep green eyes meeting hers. They locked for a few brief seconds and he smiled at her. Jen froze, suddenly frightened, and turned away. She cursed herself as she did, longing instantly for the sight of him again.

She rejoined her grandmother at the railing, and dared one more glance at the handsome stranger. But he was gone. Jen sighed. Then a smile climbed across her face. She still had a whole week to find the stranger in the funny cape again. A week to get to know the stranger and his friends, but especially the stranger. Jen closed her eyes. She could still see his eyes, deep pools of green like the ocean under her.

She was broken from her reverie by an head-pounding blast from the whistler on the first funnel. Jen's heart beat faster. It was time to sail!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Pacey Witter leaned over the railing, watching the span of water between the Titanic and the dock grow. Andrea McPhee latched herself onto his right arm, jumping up and down like a little kid on Christmas and waving wildly at the people below.

"Oh, Pacey! Isn't this amazing," she asked, clutching his arm tighter.

Pacey smiled weakly at her and put a hand on one of hers, gently loosening her grip on his arm. He turned his gaze back to the water and his mind back to his fantasy about the girl he had seen staring at him.

He cast a glance down her way and saw her waving at the crowd like Andie was doing, but with less enthusiasm.

"Hey, Pace, wipe the drool off your chin," Jack McPhee said.

Pacey moved his hand to his perfectly dry chin. He glared at Jack. Andie followed Jack's gaze down the deck and glared at the girl.

Jack pulled out his silver cigarette case and lit one up. "You picked a nice looker, old boy."

Pacey scoffed. "What would you know about nice looking women? They aren't your type."

Jack frowned and brushed at his mustache. "Keep your voice down, old man, or they'll ship me off to the cargo hold."

Pacey grinned. "More like cold storage hold after they lynch you from the mast."

Jack smiled wryly. "I feel so much better now." He turned and reached for Josephine Potter's hand. "But that's why Jo's here."

Jo smiled at Jack half-heartedly. "Of course, Jack."

Jo and Jack had agreed long ago to get married for Jack's protection. Jo knew Jack would take care of her, even give her children if she wanted, but she wanted more. She wanted a man that wasn't sleeping with other men on the weekends. But Jack treated her good, and he needed her so she stayed with him. Now they were on their way to the States for the wedding.

Jo clasped her hands over ears as Alexander began to wail. She glared at her sister. "Can't you ever shut him up?"

Bess looked at Jo exasperated. "If I had a little help here . . ."

"Don't look at me." Jo turned away in disgust, deciding then to spare Jack the pain of making babies with her.

Andie smiled and reached for Alexander. "I'll take him."

Bess handed the crying boy over to Andie, who began cooing and making faces at him and otherwise scaring him into being quiet.

Suddenly, Jo screamed along with several other women.

"What the hell . . .?" Jack asked.

Along the side of the quay, two ships were docked: the Oceanic and the New York. Now, the force of the Titanic's wake was pulling the New York away from the dock and into the Titanic's stern.

"Don't worry," Jack said, breathing a little easier. "She's still tied to the dock."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, then the air was filled with a sound like gunfire as the ropes holding the New York snapped and flew into the crowd on the dock.

"What were saying there, Jackie-boy?" Pacey asked, not taking his eyes off the scene unfolding beneath them.

The smaller ship's stern was swinging toward the liner's own stern. Andie clutched Pacey's arm again and Jo pressed herself against Jack. Pacey cast a glance at the blond girl. She didn't look frightened, just shocked as her grandmother clung to her arm.

Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, as the two stern seemed sure to collide. Then suddenly, the New York swung by, missing the Titanic with only inches to spare.

There was a few moment of lingering silence, and then the crowd on the dock and passengers on the ship erupted in cheers.

The little group sighed in relief as one. The ship's band struck up a tune from The Chocolate Soldier and people began making their way inside.

Pacey looked for the blond girl, but she had already disappeared. He would find her though, and make her love him.

"I don't like this," Andie said. "That was a bad omen. This ship is too big."

Jack slid an arm around his sister's shoulder. "Don't you worry now, Andie. This ship is as perfectly safe as dry ground. I promise."

Andie leaned against him a little. "If you say so, Jack."

Jack grinned beneath his mustache. "And I do. So buck up and lets go scavenge up some food on this floating palace."

Jack let go of her and offer his arm to Jo. Pacey held one arm out to Andie, and the other out to Bess.

"What a lucky man am I!" Pacey exclaimed, grinning. "To escort two such beautiful ladies to luncheon."

Andie looked up at him adoringly. "You're too much, Pacey."

He grinned. "I know."

He only hoped he could be enough for the beautiful stranger too.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

APRIL 10, 1912 - 1:00 p.m.

Thomas Andrews* stood at the entrance to the Grand Dining Saloon on D-deck. His warm brown eyes surveyed the room. He took the yellow stub of a pencil from its place behind his ear and quickly jotted down some notes in his black, leather-bound notepad.

He turned around and ran straight into a young woman. Andres backed away, his face turned as red as the boiled hams being served.

"Oh, excuse me, miss," he said. "Are you okay?"

The girl smiled. "Yes, sir. It was my fault. I should've been watching where I was going, but . . . it's hard to keep your eyes ahead of you on a ship like this."

Andrews grinned. "You like it then?"

The girl nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes. It's amazing, don't you think?"

Andrews grin broadened. "I should hope I think so seeing as how I built her."

It was the girl's turn to blush. "You're the man behind this palace?"

He nodded, his smile turning modest. "Well, it was all Mr. Ismay's idea."

The girl smiled. "But you're the man who made it a reality."

He nodded. "Yes, I guess you could say that."

The girl grinned. "Oh, where are my manners." She extended one delicate hand to Andrews. "I'm Jennifer Lindley."

Andrews enveloped her tiny hand in his large one. "Thomas Andrews."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Andrews."

He shook his head. "None of that. Thomas or Tom is fine, Miss Lindley."

"None of that either, . . . Thomas. It's just Jen."

"Uncle Tommy!" someone suddenly shouted.

Andrews grin returned, lighting up the room. He waved the hand holding his notepad. Jen turned to see who was coming, and her heart stopped. It was the blue-caped stranger, bounding towards them.

He stopped short when he saw her. He locked eyes with her, seeming to forget 'Uncle Tommy.' He aimed forward slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Jen felt her face flush at what his very stare was doing to her body.

The man stopped in front of her, his deep green eyes alight with a curiosity and wonder she'd only seen in kittens and the simple-minded. His handsome face was broken by a smile even more room lighting than Andrews.

He reached for her hand, and she hoped her didn't notice how moist it had become. He brought it to his face and softly brushed his lips against her knuckles.

"Why, Uncle Tommy," he said, his eyes remaining with Jen's, "You never told me you knew a goddess."

Jen blushed and curtsied a little as Grams had taught her. Pacey stepped back, slowly dropping her hand. He gave a low bow with a flourish of his cape and looked directly into her eyes.

"Enchanté, Mademoiselle," he said huskily.

Jen smiled shyly. "You speak French, Monsieur?"

He grinned. "No. It's just a good opening line."

Jen giggled a little. "I think calling me a goddess was good enough." She looked at Andrews. "But don't tell me this charming young man is your nephew, Thomas?"

Andrews smiled and shook his head. "By blood, no. By friendship, yes. His parents are good friends of me and my wife. Young Pacey here used to stay with us when his parents were off on business."

Jen looked back to the boy. "Pacey? That's your name?"

"Pacey Witter, m'lady. And you?"

"Jennifer Lindley."

Pacey's mouth opened and a gruff coughing sound came out. Jen drew back in surprise, then she felt someone tap her on her shoulder.

It was her grandmother, frowning until it seemed her face would drop off. "Jennifer, I would appreciate it if you didn't wander off like this. We have a table with the Leerys, can you imagine. And I do so badly want you to meet their son."

Jen nodded. 'Yes, Grams."

Evelyn smiled and nodded at Pacey and Andrews. "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen."

Evelyn walked away. Jen smiled apologetically at the two men. "Thomas, it was a pleasure meeting you. You're ship is a wonder." She shot a sidelong glance at Pacey and smiled flirtatiously. "You nephew's not to bad either." She turned to face Pacey fully. "Mr. Witter . . ."

"Pacey," he said quickly.

Jen smiled. "Pacey, I hope to see you again . . . soon."

Jen gave him another flirty smile and followed her grandmother. She glanced over her shoulders once, making sure he was staring at her swaying backside. He was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Pacey sat a round table with Andrews, the Potters, and the McPhees. He looked wonderingly at Andrews, knowing what a stain eating with people such as him and his friends would make on Andrews' reputation. He turned his gaze to the other tables in the dining saloon, casting about for a glimpse of the beautiful Jen Lindley.

When he finally saw her, he didn't like what he saw. Jen engaged in what looked like a great deal of flirting with one Dawson Leery where they dined with their respective adults. Pacey's lips tightened. He would not let some horse's as$, mama's boy like Dawson Leery take the girl he had his sights on.

Jack nudged Pacey in the side with a sharp elbow. "Seems your girl already has a beau."

"I have eyes, Jack. I'm quie capable of seeing that for myself."

"What are you going to do? Be a gentleman and step back, or be a man and take what's yours."

Pacey glared at him. "What would you know about being a man? You sleep with them on weekends."

Jack brushed at his mustache. "I'm going to let that insulting remark slip by this time because it is obvious your better sense of judgment has been clouded by this girl. Therefore, I am willing to make you a wager."

"A wager?"

"Yes, my friend, a wager. If you can get her in bed before we reach New York, I'll sleep with Abby Morgan." Jack pointed to a table nearby where a girl with blond hair piled up on top of her head sat, eating her dinner, and casting quick glances at Jack. "She's had it bad for me for a long time."

"Wait, what about Joey?"

"Joey doesn't care. Anyways, if you lose and she runs off with Blondie over there, I get something I've wanted for a long time."

"What's that?" Pacey asked warily.

"A chance at you in bed," Jack whispered.

Pacey's eyebrows shot up. "What?! No way. If anyoen found out . . ."

Jack shrugged. "Your loss. I was going to through in say . . . a thousand dollars worth of American money if you won."

"And I have to pay you the same if I lose."

"No, just one night in bed."

Pacey narrowed his eyes at him. "Why are you doing this?"

Jack smiled. "I haven't had a good lay in a while, that's all. And I'm a gambling man. I love to play with fire. So . . . you up for it?"

Pacey glanced at Jen. She was certainly having a good time with Mr. Horse's As$. He nodded stiffly. "Deal."

Jack grinned and patted Pacey's shoulder. "Good man."

He turned back to his food like nothing had happened. Pacey glanced around the table to see if anyone had been listening, but they were all deep in conversation about the ship. Pacey looked at Jack. Now he had to win Jen over.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Dawson Leery was about as interesting as a squashed lima bean, Jen decided halfway through dinner. He was the perfect son, agreeing with everything mommy and daddy said without offering an opinion of his own. Jen sighed. He was such a pansy, he would have made a better woman than a man. And Grams seemed to have it in her head that Jen would marry this buffoon.

"Grandmother, may I be excused?" Jen asked politely.

"Whatever for?"

"I, um, I need some fresh air."

Grams cast a glance at the older Leerys. "I don't know if you should go alone . . ."

"Dawson," Mr. Leery barked. "Why don't you escort Miss Lindley to the Boat Deck."

Dawson nodded, his collie-dog haircut bobbing up and down as he did. "Yes, father."

Great, Jen thought as Dawson stood and offered her a hand. She smiled and took it. He pulled her from her seat, then offered her his arm, which she also has no choice but to accept.

Dawson smiled at her and she managed a weak smile back. As they made their way toward the Grand Staircase, Jen caught site of Pacey and his friends. Pacey was openly staring at her, his expression somewhere between enraged, longing, and determined. It gave Jen an electric feeling from head to toe. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" Dawson asked.

"No, I'm fine."

Dawson nodded. Jen cast another glance at Pacey, biting her tongue to keep from screaming 'Rescue me!' Then, almost as if he'd heard her silent cry, he stood.

Jen knew her mouth dropped when he began walking towards them. The nerve or some people!.

She quickly turned her head around and didn't look back. If he wanted her, he could follow them like a fool.

"Shall we take the stairs of the lifts?" Dawson asked.

"Lifts," Jen said.

Another polite nod from Dawson. They went around to the back of the Staircase and entered one of the lifts.

"Boat Deck," Dawson told the attendant.

They were silent as the lift whirred to life and began the ascent up top. It was a short ride. The doors slid open and Dawson nodded at the attendant.

Jen smiled at the boy and let Dawson drag her out onto the Boat Deck.

"Do you want to stroll or sit?" he asked, once outside.

"Let's stand," Jen pointed at the railing.

Dawson nodded and let Jen lead him over to the railing. She leaned against it and looked out over the side.

"Careful," Dawson warned. "You wouldn't want to fall."

"I won't," Jen said, without looking at him.

"If you say so. Father wouldn't like it if I let you fall overboard."

Jen looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Why do you care so much what your father wants?"

Dawson looked taken aback. "Well, because he's my father," he said at last.

"But he's not your master."

"At our house he is."

"Tell me, Dawson, all the things he told us about you at dinner, the dreams he said you had, were they his dreams or yours."

Dawson was silent for a long moment. "His."

"And what is it that you want to do?"

Dawson looked at her, his eyes lighting up. "I want to make moving pictures out west."

It was Jen's turn to be taken aback. "As in you want to direct them or star in them?"

"Direct them," Dawson said, a hint of passion creeping into previously monotone voice. "With pictures you can reach out to people you'll never even meet. You can make them laugh or cry or both. You can touch them in so many ways. It's incredible."

"Yes, it is," a voice said from behind them.

They turned around. Jen flushed. It was Pacey.

"Hello, Pacey," she said, smiling somewhat coyly.

"Hello, Jen."

"Oh, Pacey this is Dawson Leery. Dawson, this is Pacey Witter."

Dawson extended his hand. Pacey accepted it somewhat reluctantly.

"You're interested in film, then?" Dawson asked.

"Acting," Pacey said, "is my life."

Dawson smiled. "Maybe we'll work together someday."

"Maybe," Pacey said. "So, how do you two know each other?"

"We just met at dinner," Jen said. "My grandmother arranged for us to be seated together."

Dawson nodded. "I got the feeling they intend to betroth us."

Pacey's face tightened. "And how do you feel about it?"

Dawson and Jen looked at each other. They both burst out laughing.

"No offense, Jen," Dawson said. "But I'm not too fond of the idea."

"None taken. I have no intention of letting my grandmother choose my husband for me."

Pacey's face seemed to relax. He broke into a wide smile. "I see."

His eyes locked with Jen and she felt herself swoon under them. Dawson saw it and smiled.

"Perhaps, Pacey would like to continue escorting you in my place?"

"I'd love to," Pacey jumped in.

Jen smiled at him and he offered her his arm. Dawson grinned.

"What about you?" Jen asked.

"I have someone I want to visit. He's in the film business. Just don't tell my father I left you."

Jen made a zipping motion over her lips. Dawson smiled and with one last nod, walked away.

"Shall we stroll," Pacey asked, sweeping one arm outwards down the deck.

Jen smiled and tightened her grip on his arm. "We shall."

 

To be continued…