No Greater Love Part 3

Now those in the lifeboats sat and watched as the bow plunged into the ocean so sharply that the stern swung up in midair, pointing at the sky like a giant black mountain. The lights seemed to remain on, strangely, for a long time, blink off finally, come on again, and then disappear for good in the terrifying darkness. But still the stern stood pointing at the sky like a demonic mountain. There was a hideous roar from within as everything possible came loose and shattered, a din mixed with cries of anguish, as the forward funnel broke off and hit the water in a shower of sparks, with a thunderous noise that made Alexis scream as she lay in her blanket beside a total stranger.

And then, as Edwina watched the three giant propellers outlined on the stern against the sky, there was a roar like no other she had ever heard, as though the entire ship were being torn asunder. Many explained it afterward as sounding as though the ship were actually breaking in half, but all were told that this couldn't have happened. And all Edwina knew, as she watched the hideous sight, was that she didn't know where Charles or Phillip or Alexis or her parents were, or if any of them had made it to safety. She clung tightly to George's hand, and for once he had no words for what they had both seen, and she pulled him close to her and hid his eyes as they both cried in lifeboat number eight, watching the tragedy that had befallen the unsinkable t.i.tanic.

And as the huge ship finally sank toward the ocean floor, the stern finally disappearing at last, they all gasped in disbelief. It was over. She was gone. On April 15, 1912, at 2:20 A.M. It was exactly two hours and forty minutes after she had struck the iceberg. And Edwina watched, clutching Teddy and Fannie to her, as she sat next to George, praying that the others had survived it.

Chapter 4.

AT 1:50 A.M., THE CARPATHIA RECEIVED HER LAST MESSAGE from the t.i.tanic. By then the t.i.tanic's engine room had been full to the boilers. But after that, nothing more was known. They steamed toward the t.i.tanic's location at full speed, fearing that they would find her in serious trouble, but at no time did they suspect that she could have gone down before they reached her.

At 4:00 A.M., they reached the location that she had radioed to them, and Captain Rostron of the Carpathia looked around in disbelief. She was gone. The t.i.tanic was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished.

They moved cautiously about, anxious to see where she had gone to, but it was another ten minutes before green flares in the distance caught their eye. With luck, it would be the t.i.tanic, already on the horizon, but in a moment, Captain Rostron and his men realized what it was. The flares were being fired from lifeboat number two, not on the horizon at all, but quite near them. And as the Carpathia edged toward the lifeboat just below, Rostron knew for sure now that the t.i.tanic had gone down.

Shortly after four o'clock, Miss Elizabeth Allen was the first to board the Carpathia, as pa.s.sengers from that ship crowded the decks and the corridors and looked on. Through the night, as they felt the Carpathia changing course, and caught glimpses of the crew's urgent preparations, the pa.s.sengers knew that something very serious must have happened. At first, they feared it was trouble on their own ship, and then they heard it from crew members and pa.s.sed it on ... the t.i.tanic was sinking ... the unsinkable ship was in trouble ... an iceberg ... going down.... And now, as they looked around them, over an expanse of four miles, they saw the lifeboats all around them. People began to call out, there was waving and shouting from some, and from other boats only silence, as shocked faces looked up. There was no way to tell anyone what had happened, no way to say what they had felt as they looked on, the huge stern sticking straight up into the night sky, toward the stars, and then plunging down, carrying with it their husbands and brothers and friends, gone forever.

As Edwina watched the Carpathia move closer to them, she let George hold the baby for a while, and wedged Fannie in between them. George's hands were too cold to row anymore, and still wearing Charles's gloves, she took a turn rowing toward the ship, sitting next to the Countess of Rothes, who had rowed relentlessly for the past two hours. George had done his fair share, too, but Edwina had spent much of the time holding the baby, and trying to comfort Fannie, who had cried for Kate ever since they left the ship, and more than once she had asked for Alexis. Edwina had a.s.sured her that they would find them all again as soon as they could.

Edwina a.s.sumed somehow that her mother had found Alexis by then, even though Edwina had led her to believe that the child had been put in the lifeboat with them. But it was possible that Alexis would have reappeared, and Edwina also tried to a.s.sume that the rest of her family, and Charles, were in another lifeboat nearby. She had to believe that. People were still calling out to other boats as the Carpathia neared, hoping to find husbands and friends, asking who was on board, or if they had seen them. Several of the lifeboats had tied up together by then, although number eight and several others were still on their own, moving slowly through the ice-speckled water. And then finally at seven o'clock in the morning, it was their turn, as they hovered near the rope ladder and the rope sling that the Carpathia had prepared to bring them up to the deck, where the others were now waiting. There were twenty-four women and children aboard lifeboat number eight, and four crewmen. And Seaman Jones at the oars called up to the men on the ship and explained that there were several very small children. The deckhands on the Carpathia lowered a mail sack then, and with trembling hands, Edwina helped Seaman Jones carefully put Fannie into it as she cried and begged Edwina not to make her do it.

"It's alright, sweetheart. We're going up to the big ship now, and then we're going to find Mama and Papa." She said it as much for herself as she did for her little sister. And as she watched the tiny dark head at the top of the mail sack, she felt tears sting her eyes, thinking of what they had been through. She felt George squeeze her hand, and she squeezed it back without looking at him. She knew that if she did, she would begin to sob. She couldn't allow herself the luxury of letting go yet. Not until she knew that the others were safe, and in the meantime, she had to take care of Fannie, Teddy, and George, and that was all she could allow herself to think of.

She was still wearing the brogues and the pale blue evening dress under the heavy coat her mother had urged her to put on. Her head was so cold, she felt as though she had nails hammered into it, and her hands felt like marble blocks as she waited for the mail sack to be lowered down again, and then with the help of Steward Hart, she put Teddy into it. The child was so cold that most of his face was blue, and more than once during the night, she feared that he might die of exposure. She had done everything she could to keep him warm, held him, rubbed his arms and legs and cheeks. She had held him between herself and George, but the bitter cold had been hard on him and little Fannie, and now she was afraid for them as she tried to climb the rope ladder, and found she didn't have the strength to take hold. She put George in the swing first, and he looked like a very small child as they raised him to the deck. He was more subdued than she had ever seen him. And then they lowered it down again for her, and Steward Hart gently put her in it. She started to close her eyes on the way up, but as she looked out at the other boats in the soft pink light of the dawn, all she could see was a sea of ice, dotted by tiny icebergs, and here and there, a lifeboat, full of people, anxiously waiting to be rescued. The lifeboats were nowhere near full, and she could only hope that in the other ones, she would find the people she had left only hours before on the t.i.tanic's Boat Deck. She couldn't bear to think of it now and tears filled her eyes as her feet touched the deck beneath her.

"Your name?" A stewardess was waiting on the Carpathian deck with a gentle smile, and she spoke to Edwina, as a sailor put a blanket over her shoulders. There were coffee and tea and brandy waiting for them just inside, and the ship's surgeon and his a.s.sistants were there to check them out. There were stretchers laid out on the deck for those who couldn't walk, and someone had already gone to get George a cup of hot chocolate. But nowhere around her did she see her mother and father ... Phillip ... Alexis ... Charles.... And suddenly she could barely speak, she was so exhausted.

"Edwina Winfield," she managed to say as she watched the other survivors being slowly raised to the deck just as she had been only moments before. And they still had more lifeboats to reach and she was praying the others would be in them.

"And your children, Mrs. Winfield?"

"My ... I ... oh ..." She realized suddenly who they meant. "They're my brothers and sister. George Winfield, Frances, and Theodore."

"Were you traveling with anyone else?" Someone handed her a mug of steaming tea, and she could feel dozens of eyes on her as her pale blue evening dress fluttered in the wind, and she warmed her hands on the steaming mug as she answered.

"I was ... I am traveling with my parents. Mr. and Mrs. Bertram Winfield of San Francisco, my brother Phillip, as well, and my sister Alexis. And my fiance, Mr. Charles Fitzgerald."

"Do you have any idea where the others are?" the stewardess asked sympathetically as she ushered Edwina into the main dining saloon, which had been turned into a hospital and lounge for the t.i.tanic's survivors.

"I don't know ..." Edwina looked at her, with tears filling her eyes. "I think they must have gotten into another lifeboat. My mother was looking for my younger sister when we left ... and ... I thought ... there was a little girl in our boat, and at first I thought ..." She couldn't go on, and with tears in her own eyes, the stewardess patted her shoulder and waited. There were a number of others in the dining saloon by then, women who were shivering or vomiting, or simply crying, their hands torn to shreds by the rowing and the cold. And the children all seemed to be huddled in one spot, with huge, frightened eyes, many of them crying quietly, as they watched their mothers and mourned their fathers. "Will you help me look for them, please?" She turned huge blue eyes to the stewardess again, while still glancing at George frequently, but for once, he wasn't a problem. Teddy was being looked at by a nurse, he was still stunned by the cold, but he was beginning to cry now and his face was no longer quite so blue, and little Fannie now clung to Edwina's skirts in silent terror. "I want Mama ..." she cried softly as the stewardess left them to speak to some of the others, but she promised to come back as soon as she could, and to tell Edwina if there was news of her parents.

And now, boat after boat was being reached, even the four that had been tied together. The men in collapsible B had been rescued long since by lifeboat number twelve, and it was here that Jack Thayer finally wound up, but when they took him off the overturned canvas boat that was sinking fast, he was too exhausted to notice anyone else in the boat. His own mother was in number four, tied up right next to him, and he didn't even see her, nor she him. Everyone was exhausted and cold and intent on his or her own survival.

Edwina left the two younger children with George, still drinking hot chocolate, and went out on the deck to watch the rescue operations. There were several other women from the t.i.tanic standing there, and among them, Madeleine Astor. She had little hope that her husband had managed to get off after she left, and yet she had to see the survivors boarding from the lifeboats. Just in case ... she couldn't bear the thought that she had lost him. Just as Edwina prayed that she would see a familiar face coming from the lifeboats now. She stood high up, at the rail, watching as the men climbed the rope ladder, and the women came up in the swing, and the children in the mail sack, although some of the men were too tired to climb, and their hands were all so cold they could hardly hold the rope now. But what Edwina noticed most of all was the eerie silence. No one spoke, no one made a sound. They were all too deeply moved by what they had seen, too cold and too afraid, and too badly shaken. Even the children seldom cried, except for the occasional wail of a hungry baby.

There were several unidentified babies already in the dining saloon, waiting for mothers to claim them. One woman in number twelve spoke of catching a baby that had been thrown to her, but she had no idea by whom, and she thought it might have been by a woman from steerage who had made her way to the Boat Deck and then gave her child to anyone who would take it off the ship. The baby was inside, crying now, along with several others.

The scene in the dining saloon was both touching and chaotic. Women sat together in small cl.u.s.ters, crying softly for their men, being questioned by the stewardesses, the nurses, and the doctors, and a handful of men were there too, but pitifully few, thanks to Second Officer Lightoller, who would not let most of them into the lifeboats. Still, several had survived in spite of it, due to less stringent rules on the starboard side, and ingenuity in some events. Still others had died in the water, attempting to scramble into lifeboats. But most of those who had jumped from the ship had been left in the water to die by those who were too afraid to pick them up, for fear that they might capsize the lifeboats. They had made a piteous din at first, until at last there was only the terrible silence.

Edwina saw Jack Thayer enter the room then, and a moment later heard his mother scream as she discovered him too, and she rushed toward him, crying, and then Edwina heard her ask him, "Where's Daddy?" He saw Edwina then, and nodded, and finally she walked slowly over to him, afraid of what he might say, yet still hopeful that he might have good news, but he shook his head sadly as he saw her coming.

"Was anyone from my family in your lifeboat?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Winfield. Your brother was at first, but he slipped out when a wave hit, and I don't know if he was picked up by another lifeboat. Mr. Fitzgerald jumped about the same time I did, but I never saw him again. And your parents were still on the deck the last time I saw them." And he didn't tell her that he had the impression that they were determined to stay together and go down with the ship, if they had to. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened to them." He choked on the words as someone handed him a gla.s.s of brandy. "I'm very sorry." She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. She seemed to cry all the time now.

"Thank you." She didn't want it to be true. It couldn't be. She wanted him to tell her that they were alive, that they were safe, that they were in the next room. Not that they had drowned, or he didn't know. Not Phillip and Charles and Alexis and her parents. It couldn't be ... she wouldn't let it. And one of the nurses came to her then. The doctor wanted to see her about little Teddy. And when she went to him, he was lying listless, still wrapped in a blanket, his eyes huge, his hands cold, his little body trembling as he looked at her. She picked him up and held him as the doctor told her that the next several hours would be crucial. "No!" she said out loud, her hands and body shaking more than the child's. "No! He's alright ... he's fine...." She couldn't let anything happen to him, not now, not if ... no! She couldn't bear it. Everything had been so perfect for them. They had all loved each other so much, and now suddenly they were all gone, or most of them, and the doctor had told her that Teddy might not survive the exposure. She held him close to her now, willing her own body heat into him, and trying to make him drink the hot bouillon he refused to swallow. He just shook his head back and forth, and clung to Edwina.

"Will he be okay?" George was staring up at her with huge eyes, as she clung to their little brother, and there were tears running down her cheeks now, and George's, as he began to absorb the implications of all that had happened in the past few hours. "Will he, Edwina, will he be okay?"

"Oh, please, G.o.d ... I hope so...." She looked up at George then and pulled him close to her, and then Fannie, still bundled up in her blanket.

"When will Mama be here?" she wanted to know.

"Soon, my love ... soon ..." Edwina found herself choking on the words, as she watched the survivors continue to drift into the Grand Saloon of the Carpathia, looking dazed from their ordeal in the lifeboats.

And then, trying not to think of all they had lost, she picked up her baby brother and held him close, crying softly for the others.

Chapter 5.

HE CAME UP THE LADDER WITH HANDS so FROZEN THAT HE could barely use them, but he refused to come up in the swing like a girl. He had been picked up by number twelve after he left collapsible D, and then he had lain on the floor of the lifeboat almost unconscious with exhaustion. But now, in some distant part of him he felt the exhilaration of being saved. Theirs was the last lifeboat in, and it was eight-thirty in the morning. He came up the ladder just before the crew, and a moment later he stood on the deck of the Carpathia with tears running down his cheeks, unable to believe what had happened to all of them. But he had made it. He had made it alone, without parents or sisters or brothers, and now he only prayed that they had made it too. And on shaking, frozen legs, he walked slowly into the dining saloon, and saw a sea of unfamiliar faces. Seven hundred and five people had survived, and more than fifteen hundred had died, but at that precise moment, the survivors looked like thousands to Phillip. He didn't know where to begin looking for them, and it was fully an hour before he even saw Jack Thayer.

"Have you seen any of them, man?" He looked desperate, with his hair still damp, his eyes wild and black-circled. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to any of them, and probably ever would. And everywhere were half-dressed people in blankets and evening clothes and towels and nightgowns. They couldn't seem to get away from it even now. They didn't want to go away, or change, or leave each other, or even speak. They just wanted to find the people they had lost. And now they were all desperately looking through the crowd for familiar faces.

Jack Thayer nodded distractedly, but he was still looking for his own father. "Your sister is here somewhere. I saw her a while ago." And then he smiled sadly. "I'm glad you made it." The two boys embraced, and held each other for a long time, the tears they had yet to shed choking them now that they were safe on the Carpathia and the nightmare had finally ended, or almost.

And then as they parted, Phillip looked frightened again. Looking for the people he loved was frightening; the fear that they might not be there was almost overwhelming. "Were any of the others with her?"

"I don't know ..." Jack looked vague. "I think maybe a baby." That would be Teddy ... and the others? Phillip began to wander the crowd, and walked out on the deck, hoping to find her, and then finally, back in the saloon, he suddenly saw the back of her head, the dark hair, the slim shoulders, and George standing next to her with his head bowed. Oh, G.o.d, Phillip began to cry, as he pressed through the crowd and hurried toward her. And then without a word, as he reached her, he pulled her around, looking down into her eyes, and pulled her into his arms as she gave a gasp, and a sob, and began to cry.

"Oh, my G.o.d ... Oh, Phillip ... Oh, Phillip...." It was all she could say. She didn't dare ask for any of the others. And everywhere around them, people who had been less fortunate were crying softly too. And it was a long time before he dared to ask the question.

"Who's here with you?" He had seen George, and now he saw Fannie, concealed in her blanket just behind Edwina. And Teddy was lying on the floor, wrapped in blankets, in a makeshift cradle. "Is he alright?" Her eyes filled with tears again, and as she looked at Phillip, she shook her head. Teddy was still alive, but the child's lips were so blue, they looked almost black now. Phillip took off his own coat then and put it around him, and squeezed Edwina's hand tightly in his own. At least five of them had made it. And by the end of the day, they had found no others.

Teddy was given a bed in the ship's infirmary that night and he was being carefully watched, as was Fannie. They feared frostbite on two of her fingers. And George was sound asleep on a cot in the hallway. And late that night Edwina and Phillip were standing on the deck, staring silently out into the distance. Neither of them could sleep, nor did they want to. She never wanted to sleep again, or think, or dream, or let her mind wander back to those terrible moments. And it was even more impossible to believe now. She felt certain that as the crowd in the dining saloon thinned earlier that day, she would see her mother and father chatting quietly in a corner, with Charles standing right beside them. It was impossible to believe that they hadn't survived, that their parents were gone ... and Alexis ... and Charles with them, and there would be no marriage in August. It was impossible to believe, or to understand. The fabric for her wedding gown had gone down and ... She wondered if her mother had held Alexis's hand ... if it had been terrible ... or quick ... or painful. They were terrible thoughts, and she couldn't even voice them to Phillip, as they stood side by side on the deck, lost in their own thoughts. Edwina had been with Teddy and Fannie all day, and Phillip had kept an eye on George, but through it all, it was as though they were waiting. Waiting for people who would never appear, people who would never come back again, people she had loved so.... The Carpathia had made a last search of the area before steaming toward New York, but there had been no more survivors.

"Phillip?" Her voice was soft and sad in the darkness.

"Hmm?" He turned to look at her with eyes that were suddenly older than his sixteen years. He had aged a lifetime in a matter of hours in the lifeboat.

"What are we going to do now?" What were they going to do without them? It was awful to think about. They had lost so many people they loved, and now she was responsible for those who were left. "We'll go home, I guess." She spoke softly in the night. There was nothing else to do, except that Edwina wanted to take Teddy to a doctor in New York ... if he survived that long. They had told her already that the first night would be decisive. And she knew she couldn't bear another loss. They couldn't let Teddy die. They just couldn't. It was all she could think about now, saving him, her mother's last baby. And as she held him in her arms later that night, listening to his labored breathing, she thought of the babies she would never have ... Charles's babies ... all her dreams gone with him, and tears suddenly began streaming down her cheeks as her shoulders shook in silence as she mourned him.

Phillip and George were sleeping on mattresses in the hall and Phillip came back to check on her late that night, looking tired and worried. He had been wondering if his parents had tried to jump free of the ship, and if they had survived for any length of time. Maybe they had tried to swim for the lifeboats, and no one had picked them up, and they had died in the icy water. There had been hundreds of people left to die in the waters around him. No one had wanted to pick them up, and so they called out and swam aimlessly for as long as they could, until finally they went down like the others. It was a horrifying thought, and he had lain awake thinking about it, until he finally gave up the thought of sleep and came to find Edwina. He sat with her in silence for a long time. All over the ship it was like that. The survivors hardly seemed to speak, everywhere there were people standing alone, looking out to sea, or small knots of people, just standing there, but not talking.

"I keep wondering if...." It was difficult to find the words in the darkened infirmary. There were several other people there, and in another room, there were a dozen or so unidentified children. "I keep thinking about the end...." His voice cracked and he turned away, as Edwina reached out to touch him.

"Don't think about it ... it won't change anything." But all night, she had thought about the same thing ... her parents, and why her mother had chosen to stay ... and Charles ... and Alexis. What had happened to her in the end? Had they found her? Had she gone down with them? Phillip had been horrified to discover that she hadn't been with Edwina. His parents had never realized that she hadn't gotten off the ship with them in lifeboat number eight.

He sighed deeply then, and looked at little Teddy, sound asleep, with his soft baby curls. He looked deathly pale, and every now and then he was racked with coughing. Phillip had caught a terrible cold too, but he didn't even seem to feel it. He insisted that he'd had it the day before, and then she remembered something her mother had said, that he had caught it staring down at the unknown girl in second cla.s.s. And now she was probably gone too, like so many others.

"How is he?" Phillip asked, looking down at his youngest brother.

"He's no worse...." She smiled gently and smoothed his hair, and then bent to kiss him. "I think he sounds a little better." As long as he didn't come down with pneumonia.

"I'll stay with him while you get some sleep," he offered, but she sighed. "I couldn't sleep anyway." She kept remembering their careful cruise over the area where the t.i.tanic had sunk early that morning. Captain Rostron had wanted to be certain that they didn't leave behind any survivors, but all they saw were deck chairs, and pieces of wood, a few life vests, and a carpet that looked exactly like the one in her room, and a dead seaman floating past them. Just thinking about it now made Edwina shudder. It was all too impossible to believe. The night before, the Wideners had been giving a dinner for Captain Smith, and now only twenty-four hours later, the ship was gone, and with it the captain, Mr. Widener, his son Harry, and more than fifteen hundred others. Edwina could only wonder how a thing like that could happen. And again and again, she thought of Charles, and how much she had loved him. He had said he liked the blue satin gown she wore the night before ... he had said it was exactly the color of her eyes, and he liked the way she'd done her hair. She had worn her sleek black hair swept up on her head, much like the style worn by Mrs. Astor. And now, she was still wearing the dress, in tatters. Someone had offered her a black wool dress that afternoon, but she had been too busy with the children to change. And what did it matter now? Charles was gone, and she and the other children were orphans.

They sat side by side for a long time that night, thinking about the past, and trying to sort out the future, and finally Edwina told Phillip to go back to bed, George would be worried if he woke and didn't find him.

"Poor little guy, he's been through it too." But he had come through it valiantly, and in the past twenty-four hours, he had been both a comfort and a help to Edwina. Had she been a little less tired, she might even have been worried because he was so docile. And little Fannie slept on through the night, just beside her. And once Phillip had gone, Edwina sat quietly, watching both Fannie and Teddy, touching their faces, smoothing back their hair, giving Teddy a drink of water once when he woke up thirsty, and holding Fannie when she cried in her sleep. Edwina sat there and prayed, as she had that morning, at the service conducted by Captain Rostron. Not all of the survivors had attended, but she and Phillip had. But many of the others were just too tired, or too sick, or they thought the service too painful. In one brutal blow, more than thirty-seven women of those who had survived had been widowed. One thousand five hundred and twenty-three men, women, and children had died. There were only seven hundred and five survivors.

Edwina dozed a little finally, and she only awoke when Teddy stirred and looked up at her with eyes so much like their mother's. "Where's Mama?" he asked, pouting, but he looked more like himself, and when Edwina stooped to kiss him, he smiled, and then cried again for their mother.

"Mama's not here, sweetheart." She didn't know what to say to him. He was too young to understand, and yet she didn't want to lie to him and promise that she would come later.

"I want Mama too," Fannie cried, looking woebegone when she heard Teddy wake and ask for their mother.

"Be a good girl," Edwina urged, with a kiss, and a hug. She got up and washed Teddy's face, and then left him, protesting, with a nurse, while she took Fannie to the bathroom. And when she saw her own face in the mirror, she knew just how bad it had been. In one day she had aged a thousand years, and she felt and looked like an old woman, or so she thought. But a borrowed comb helped, and a little warm water. Still there was nothing lovely about the way she looked, or felt, and when she walked into the dining saloon later to find the boys, she saw that everyone else looked ghastly too. They were still wearing an array of odd, and sometimes barely decent, costumes, now added to with borrowed gear and ill-fitting clothes that only added to their strange appearances and general confusion. People were milling about everywhere, and whenever possible they had been put in crowded cabins together, or on cots in the hall, but there were hundreds sleeping on mattresses in the Grand Saloon, in crew quarters, on couches, or even on the floor. But to them, it no longer mattered. They were alive, although many of them wished they weren't, as they realized how many had been lost.

"How's Teddy?" George asked almost as soon as he saw his older sister, and he was relieved when she smiled. None of them could withstand any more disasters.

"I think he's better. I told him I'd be back in a few minutes." She had brought Fannie with her, and she wanted to get her something to eat before hurrying back to care for her little brother.

"I'll stay with him if you want," George volunteered, and then suddenly, the smile froze on his lips, and he stared at something just behind her. He looked as though he had seen a ghost and Edwina stared at him and touched his arm, bending toward him.

"Georgie, what is it?"

He only stared, and then after a minute, he pointed. It was something on the floor, next to a mattress. And then, without a word, he rushed toward it and picked it up and brought it back to her. It was Mrs. Thomas, Alexis's doll, she was sure of it, but there was no child in sight, and inquiries of those standing nearby turned up nothing. No one could remember seeing the doll before, or the child who had left it.

"She must be here!" Edwina looked around frantically, and there were several children in sight, but none of them was Alexis. Edwina was holding the doll tightly in her hand, and then her heart sank as she remembered. The Allison child had had a doll like this, too, and she said as much to Phillip, but he shook his head. He would have recognized this one anywhere, and George agreed, and so did Fannie.

"Don't you remember, Edwina? You made her dress with some material from one of yours." And as he said it, she remembered and tears came to her eyes. How cruel it would be if the doll had survived and Alexis hadn't.

"Where's Alexis?" Fannie looked up at her with enormous eyes, and the look of her father that had always brought him so much pleasure when he was alive. Even he had been able to see their astounding likeness.

"I don't know," Edwina answered her honestly, and held the doll in a trembling hand, and continued to look around her, but she didn't see her.

"Is she hiding?" Fannie knew her well, but Edwina didn't smile this time.

"I don't know, Fannie. I hope not."

"Are Mama and Papa hiding too?" She looked so confused and Edwina's eyes filled with tears as she shook her head and continued looking.

But an hour later, they still hadn't found her, and Edwina had to go back to the hospital to Teddy. She still had the doll with her, and she had left Fannie with Phillip and George. And when Teddy saw the doll, he looked suspiciously at his older sister.

"Lexie?" he said. "Lexie?" He remembered the doll too. In truth, Alexis had seldom been without it. And one of the nurses smiled as she walked past them. He was a beautiful child, and it touched her to see them together. But suddenly Edwina looked up, and then stopped the nurse to ask her a question.

"Is there any way I can find ... I was looking for ..." She didn't quite know how to phrase the question. "We haven't been able to find my six-year-old sister, and I thought ... she was with my mother...." It was impossible to say the words and yet she had to know, and the nurse understood. She gently touched Edwina's arm and handed her a list.

"We have everyone we picked up listed here, including the children. It's possible that in the confusion yesterday, you might not have found her. What makes you think she's on the ship? Did you see her stowed in a lifeboat before you got off?"

"No." Edwina shook her head, and then held the doll out. "It's this ... she was never without it." Edwina looked so mournful now, and a quick perusal of the list told her that Alexis wasn't on it.

"Are you sure it's hers?"

"Positive. I made the dress myself."

"Could another child have taken it?"

"I suppose so." Edwina hadn't even thought of that. "But aren't there any lost children who are here without their parents?" She knew there were several unidentified babies in the sick bay, but Alexis was old enough to identify herself, if she wanted to ... or wasn't too traumatized.... Edwina suddenly wondered if she was wandering about, unidentified and lost, and unaware that her brothers and sisters were on the ship with her. She said as much to the nurse, who told her that it was most unlikely.

But it was late that afternoon when she was strolling on the deck, and trying not to think of the hideous outline of the t.i.tanic against the night sky just before she went down, her stern rising against the horizon, when she saw Mrs. Carter's maid, Miss Serepeca, taking a short walk with the children. Miss Lucille and Master William were looking as frightened as the other children on the ship, and the third child hung back, clutching Miss Serepeca's hand, and seeming almost too terrified to walk on deck, and then suddenly as the child turned, Edwina saw her face, and gasped, and in an instant she was running toward her and had swept her into her arms, off the deck, and she held her with all her love and strength, crying as though her heart would break. She had found her! It was Alexis!

As Edwina held the frightened child in her arms, and smoothed her hair over and over again, Miss Serepeca explained, as best she could, what had happened. When Alexis had been thrown into lifeboat number four, Mrs. Carter had rapidly realized that she had no family with her, and once on the Carpathia, she had taken responsibility for her until they reached New York. And, Miss Serepeca added in an undertone, ever since the child had seen the ship go down almost two days before, she had not said one word. They didn't know her first name or her last, she absolutely refused to speak to them or say where she was from, and Mrs. Carter had been hoping that some member of her family would claim her in New York. And it was going to be a great relief to Mrs. Carter, Miss Serepeca said, to find that the little girl's mother was on the ship after all. But as she said the words, Alexis spun her head around, instinctively looking for Kate, and Edwina quietly shook her head, pulling the child closer to her.

"No, baby, she's not here with us." They were the hardest words she would ever say to her, and Alexis tried to pull away, while bowing her head, not wanting to hear what Edwina was saying. But Edwina wouldn't let her stray far from her. They had almost lost her that way once before. Edwina thanked Miss Serepeca profusely and promised to look for Mrs. Carter to thank her for taking care of Alexis. But as Edwina walked back to the shelter of the Grand Saloon, carrying her, Alexis stared at her miserably, and she had still not said a single word to Edwina. "I love you, sweetheart ... oh, I love you so much ... and we've been so worried about you...." There were tears streaming down her cheeks as she carried the child. It was a gift finding her again, yet Edwina found herself wishing that she could have found them all, that she could have discovered her parents and Charles hovering in a corner somewhere. They couldn't really be gone. It couldn't have happened like that, except it had ... and only Alexis was left, like a little ghost from the past. A past that had existed only a short time before, and was gone now, like a dream she would always remember.

When Edwina held her treasured doll out to her, Alexis s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her sister's hand, and held it close to her face, but she wouldn't speak to anyone, and she watched as Phillip cried when he saw her again, but it was George she turned to now, as he stared down at her in amazement.

"I thought you were gone, Lexie," he said quietly. "We looked for you everywhere." She didn't answer him, but her eyes never left his, and she slept next to him that night, holding his hand, and with her other hand clutching her doll, as Phillip kept watch over them both. Edwina was sleeping with Fannie and Teddy in the infirmary again that night, although Fannie was fine, and Teddy was much better. But it was the safest place for her to be with two such delicate children, and Teddy was still coughing pretty badly at night. She had invited Alexis to stay there with her too, but she had shaken her head, and followed George into the Grand Saloon and lay down next to him on his narrow mattress. Her brother lay on his side watching her, before they fell asleep. It was like seeing his mother again, finding her, because the two had always been together so much of the time, and he slept that night, dreaming about their parents. He was still dreaming about them when he woke up in the middle of the night and heard Alexis crying beside him, and he comforted her and held her close to him, but she wouldn't stop crying.

"What is it, Lexie?" he asked finally, wondering if she would finally tell him, or if, like the rest of them, she was just so sad that all she could do was wail. "Do you hurt?... do you feel sick? Do you want Edwina?"

She shook her head, looking down at him as she sat up, clutching her dolly to her. "I want Mama...." She whispered softly, her big blue eyes searching his face, and tears sprang to his own eyes as he heard her and then he hugged her to him.

"So do I, Lexie ... so do I." They slept holding hands that night, two of Kate's children, the legacy she had left behind when she had chosen not to leave her husband. They all remembered the great love she had had for them, and the love and tenderness between their parents, but now all that was gone, to another place, another time. And all that was left was the family they had created, six people, six lives, six souls, six of the precious few who had survived the t.i.tanic. And for the rest of time, Kate, and Bert, and Charles, and the others were gone. Lost forever.

Chapter 6.