Chapter 1 : Part 2

The Great Husband Hunt
by Laurie Graham

(Page 2 of 2)

I said, "Aunt Fish, is Pa lost at sea?" and Ma resumed her wailing. "Poppy!" said Aunt Fish. "Don't you have even an ounce of sense? Your poor mother has received a terrible shock. If you can't be quiet and sensible, then please return to your bed."

I'm sure it wasn't me that had rung the doorbell in the middle of the night with news of shipwrecks.

"And send the Irish in, to build up the fire," she shouted after me.

We had stopped bothering with names for our Irish maids. They never stayed long enough to make it worth learning a new one. "And Poppy," my mother called weakly, from her couch, "don't forget to strap down your ears."

I lay awake, waiting to hear Uncle Israel's return, but eventually I must have dozed, and then it was morning. But it was not like any other morning. Our family was suddenly part of a great drama.

The first edition of the Herald reported that though Pa's ship had been in a collision, all hands were saved and she was now being towed into Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Aunt Fish returned, having changed into a morning gown, and then Uncle Israel, with news that the White Star Line was chartering a train to take relatives up to Halifax to be reunited with their loved ones.

I said, "I'll go. Let me go." This provided my aunt with further reasons to despair of me. "For heaven's sakes, child!" she sighed, and Uncle Israel winked at me.

"Out of the question, Pops," she said. "Too young, you see. But why not write a little note? I'll see he gets it as soon he sets foot on land."

"There's no need for you to go, Israel," my mother said. The morning's brighter news had restored her appetite and she was eating a pile of toast and jam. "I can always send Harry, if it isn't convenient to you."

"Of course it's convenient," said Aunt Fish. "It's Israel's place to go."

I went to the escritoire and started composing my letter to Pa, but I was still more haunted by the idea that he might have drowned than I was uplifted by the prospect that he was safe. I had no sooner written the words "Please, never go away again" than I burst into inappropriate and inconsiderate tears and was sent to my room. Soon after, my sister arrived with her husband. Honey came up to my room and lay on my bed beside me.

"Don't cry, Pops," she said. "Pa's safe. And you don't want to get swollen eyes."

I said, "Why did he have to go across an ocean, anyhow?" "Why, because that's what men do," she said. I said, "Would you allow Harry?"

"Allow?" she said. "It isn't my place to allow. Besides, I know everything Harry does is for the very best." I had often suspected that marrying had caused a softening of Honey's brain.

Uncle Israel left that afternoon on the special train to Halifax. And Harry went downtown, first to his broker with instructions to buy stock in the Marconi wireless company whose wonderful shipboard radio had helped save so many lives and bring comforting news to the waiting families. Then he went to the White Star offices to inquire when the passengers might be expected back in New York.

Honey and I were pasting scraps, just like old times, when Harry walked in, looking smaller and flatter and grayer than usual. He scratched his head.

"It's gone," he said. "The Titanic has sunk, with heavy losses. A boat called the Carpathia is bringing the survivors home." It was eight o'clock. Up in Massachusetts Uncle Israel's train was stopped, directed into a siding and reversed. There had been, he was told, a change of plan.

My cheeks were hot from the fire, but something deathly cold touched me. My mother fainted onto a couch. My sister uttered a terrible little cry. And Harry studied the pattern on the parlor rug.

"Marconi stock closed up one hundred and twenty points," he said, to no one in particular.

Copyright © 2002 by Laurie Graham

About the Author

Laurie Graham is a former Daily Telegram columnist and Contributing Editor to Cosmopolitan UK. This is her sixth novel, and she is currently writing the screenplay adaptation for her novel The Dress Circle.