Chapter 5
Will
I’m hesitant to leave Millie alone with Agatha, especially with the way my sister has been protesting lending our assistance to her in the first place. But there’s nothing I can do as the door closes behind them.
“Come along,” my brother says, shooing me into our room.
Safely inside away from prying ears in the hallway, I can open up. Edward has always been easier to talk to than Agatha. “I’m terribly concerned. Millie has been confused about more than simply the location of her family, but I didn’t bring it up earlier. I was hoping she’d settle down after the doctor treated her.”
“Oh?” He steps over to the cabinet to take down a couple of glasses and a bottle of brandy.
“She said odd things about the pool,” I explain. “It seems she remembered it being on the top deck, outside.”
“Outside?” He pours three fingers into each glass and hands me one. “That’s preposterous. Who has ever heard of having a pool outside in the open? Anyone would be able to see the women in their bathing clothes.”
“Exactly,” I say. “And she went on about taking a photograph with a telephone.”
He shakes his head, plopping down in the chair opposite me. “Well, obviously the hit on the head was a tad more dramatic than we realized. I’m sure the damage could have a great effect on one’s thinking.”
“I suppose,” I agree, taking a sip. “But she seems so certain.”
He nods. “She did seem rather confident when insisting she was right about the room number.”
“You see what I mean?” I set my glass on the table. “It’s troubling.”
“The best thing to do is keep talking to her,” he suggests. “Perhaps, over time, she’ll start to see things as they are. It’s likely a temporary malady. I’m sure it will pass.”
“I hope so.” We both look up to the sound of knocking on the connecting door between our room and Agatha’s. “Come in.”
I rise as Millie walks in, looking stunning in Agatha’s light blue day dress, its color bringing out the crimson hues in her strawberry blonde hair. I hadn’t even noticed the color when she was soaking wet. Though it’s drier now and somewhat styled, she still wears the head bandage.
My sister walks in behind her. “I thought it best to forego the hat until the bandage is settled.”
“The dress suits you,” I say, wishing I could tell her how I really feel about it, though I’m not going to do that in front of my siblings. “Thank you, Agatha. I appreciate the help.”
“It’s nothing,” she insists, but she still has that look on her face that says we should have nothing to do with Millie. I still can’t help but want to assist her. She has no one else.
Edward sets his empty glass on the cabinet. “Agatha, let’s go get a seat for lunch,” he suggests. Looking at me, he adds, “Perhaps ring the steward to bring your meal to the stateroom. We ought not get everyone concerned about her injury.” He nods toward Millie.
Her bandage is definitely not discreet. “Perhaps.”
Agatha scoffs lightly. I’m sure she’s reluctant to leave us alone in the room, but I’m certainly going to be a gentleman. I only want to ensure Millie is well. Thankfully, Edward scoots Agatha away, and we’re left alone. It’s not exactly proper, but under the circumstances, it is what it is.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She shrugs. “About the same, I guess. I haven’t had any sharp pains since I first woke up, and the throbbing went away.”
“No dizziness?”
“Nope,” she replies–which I take to mean no. Her language is rather odd “I feel fine, and I can probably take this thing off.” She unwinds her bandage before I decide whether it’s proper to offer assistance. But it comes off easily, and her hair flows into place, framing her face with soft curls that make her face look even more elegant.
I clear my throat and divert my gaze. No reason to stare.
Thankfully, she’s looking elsewhere, admiring the room. “It’s amazing how authentic they made this. What deck are we on?”
“B Deck.”
“So, your room is close to mine,” she says. “It’s strange we didn’t run into each other before. At least, I don’t remember seeing you. Did I?” I shrug, not sure what she’s getting at. She runs her finger along the bureau. “Weird how this room doesn’t seem as modernized as mine. I don’t even see any charger outlets.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You know, to charge your phone and stuff. There’s no TV. either” She looks up at the calendar. “Oh, you even have a 1912 calendar. My room doesn’t have that, either.”
“I brought it to help me keep track of how long we’re on the ship,” I explain before taking a seat by the bookshelf and allowing her time to admire the stateroom. From what I’m aware, all the rooms on B Deck are quite similar, so she should be familiar with everything in mine. I still don’t know what she means by “charging your phone.” And what in the world is a TV?
Perhaps she’s just gaining some memories. Maybe some questions will jog her memory.
“Where are you from, Millie?” I ask.
She spins around and comes over to sit in the adjacent chair. “Fishers, Indiana. It’s a suburb of Indianapolis,” she says. “Have you ever been there?”
I shake my head. “No, this is my first trip to America.”
She cocks her head sideways. “What about New York City?”
“I’ve never been,” I say, and she crinkles her forehead. “I’m looking forward to it, though.”
She takes a little breath, her lips pursed together as though she’s confused. “But we just left there.”
I suppose she’s still confused, so I ask another question. “What brought you to Southampton?”
“This boat, eventually,” she says.
She’s definitely not sorted her thoughts out yet. “I suppose news of the RMS Titanic could have reached Indianapolis,” I say. “It’s quite an impressive ship. That’s a long way to travel just to turn around and go back for the maiden voyage, though.”
“Turn around?”
“Yes, unless you spent some time enjoying my good country beforehand.” She’s still looking at me the same way.
“No, I’ve never been to England,” she says. “We just left the port in New York….” She shakes her head. “Let’s try something different. Where are you from?”
“Southampton,” I explain, still confused but happy to change the subject. “I suppose that’s what made me choose this ship for our voyage. That and all of the buzz about how luxurious it is. Agatha insisted.” I chuckle.
“Hmm.” She looks around the ship and back at me. “Most people are aboard for the nostalgia. My mom is a huge fan of the RMS Titanic.”
It’s strange that a woman would be so interested in ships. “Was her father a sailor?”
“What?” Her brow furrows again. “No. She just likes the history of the Titanic.”
“Well, it’s not much of a history at this point, is it? I suppose one could count its construction, which I understand took a few years.” I have to admit, I admire the scope of the project.
“What are you talking about, Will? Titanic is over a hundred years old. Are we still doing this? Even in here, away from everyone else?”
I’m not sure how to respond, so I change the subject again. “I hope my sister was friendly with you.”
She shakes her head and pulls at the collar of her dress like she’s uncomfortable. “She was fine,” she says. “I don’t think she really wants to help me though. This dress is really pretty, but so freaking uncomfortable. How did they parade around in these gowns back then?” She pulls at the waistline. “God, they’re so hard to wear. I wish she would’ve had some jeans, but when I asked her, she looked at me like I was insane. Are you guys planning to wear these authentic clothes the whole time?”
“Authentic?”
“Yes, for the period,” she says. “It’s amazing how her whole closet was filled with dresses like these, and while they all looked brand new, they all had a very strong vintage feel to them. They’re not like costumes at all.”
I frown, but I realize by the look in her eyes that she’s not trying to insult Agatha. “Yes, my sister has a fine collection of gowns. The color of this one suits you.”
Finally, she cracks a smile, and a touch of pink gives her cheeks a rosy glow. “Thank you. I guess everyone really wants to be authentic on this ship, but I would rather not wear the corset. I can barely breathe.” She gives it another tug, but nothing changes.
Now it’s my turn to blush. I certainly don’t want to discuss women’s undergarments with her. “Yes, well… I wouldn’t know, obviously.” I clear my throat. “You said your mother was fascinated by the ship. Where did she first hear about it? I’d imagine it takes some time for information to get from New York to Indiana. Does she often research new passenger liners?”
Millie’s eyebrows nearly touch as she stares at me. “Uhm, no. Just this one. Mostly because of the movie.”
“Movie?” Is she talking about a nickelodeon or something of that nature?
“Yes, Will. The movie!” Her eyes go wide as she turns toward me, like she is of the understanding that I should know precisely what she’s speaking of.
I haven’t the foggiest clue. “Which… which movie?”
“Come on! Sure, there’ve been dozens of movies about Titanic, but everyone knows the story of Jack and Rose.” I stare at her blankly. She adds, “From the nineties?”
It still makes no sense to me. How could anyone make a nickelodeon about the Titanic in 1890 when the ship hadn’t even been commissioned yet?
“She’s made me watch it a bazillion times, especially before this trip.” She rolls her eyes and takes a few steps, still looking around the room. “It wasn’t terrible. Anyway, after that she really got into it. She read every book she could find about it and made us sit through enough documentaries that every detail is all up here.” She points to her head.
“I’m sorry… documentaries?” Some of the phrases she uses are confusing.
“Yes, you know, like on the History Channel or whatever, those long shows about true things,” she explains.
“How do you come to watch so many picture shows?” I ask.
“Picture shows?” she giggles. “I suppose you could call them that. I mean, I have hundreds of streaming channels.”
I shake my head. “I apologize. I don’t understand what that means.”
She giggles again, and I love the musical ring to it, but I’m still confused. “I think you’re taking this cosplay thing a bit too far. I get it. You’re keeping up the act like it’s 1912.”
I have no idea what a cosplay is, but I decide not to ask. “Well, that’s because it is.”
“Okay, you stay in 1912, but I’d rather be in real time in 2025.”
My brows raise, and I stare at her for a moment, waiting for her to say she’s only carrying on. But she doesn’t. And then, a sudden realization hits me. “You think we’re in 2025?” Her blue eyes don’t waiver from mine as she stares back at me. “Millie, I assure you, the year is most definitely 1912.”
She holds my gaze a few more moments before she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, we’re supposed to pretend that it’s 1912 or whatever, but I’m over it,” she says. “I think you’re really convincing, and that’s great. Are you practicing to be an actor one day or something? If that’s the case, you don’t have to keep it up around me. It’s honestly starting to get super annoying.”
I sink down on the edge of the couch and drag my hands down my face. I’ve never heard of a condition like this, but it seems quite clear she does, in fact, think that she’s from the future. All of these odd contraptions she’s speaking of, her strange way of speaking, it must be part of the story her mind has constructed after her injury that has her concluding she’s from another time.
I shake my head. “No, honestly, Millie, it is 1912. Perhaps that bump on the head was more severe than the doctor realized.”
“Okay, Will,” she says in a strange, childlike voice, making a face at me. “It’s 1912. Whatever you say. God, give it up already. I appreciate your help, but it’s getting old, my friend.”
I want to tell her again that it’s not an act, but if she has an injury so severe she thinks she’s from 2025, perhaps it’s best to let her think what she wants until she comes to realize the truth on her own.
I suppose it’s good she considers me to be a friend. I would like to help her–if I can.
“So, would you like to request lunch, or should we go look for your mother and sister?” I ask instead.
She smiles, and it lights up her eyes. “I’m hungry, but I’d absolutely like to find my family first. God, they’re gotta be so worried about me.”
“Yes, I suppose they must be.” I give her a reassuring smile and escort her out the door, my eyes on her quizzically as she walks down the hallway. Something is quite strange about this woman, and yet… I find her captivating.