Echoes of Titanic (48 page)

She began with simple small talk, but when the conversation allowed, Adele made a point of saying how sorry she was for having been such a dour traveling companion today. Jocelyn simply waved off her words, saying not to give it another thought.

While sitting on the sofa, Adele noticed a folded piece of paper on the lower bunk across from her and feared she might have dropped one of Jocelyn's notes out of her diary earlier. She reached for it without thinking and unfolded it to read, only then realizing it hadn't been written by Jocelyn at all. The note said,
Meet me at the sitting area behind the smoking room, 11 p. m
. She would have thought the note was from Uncle Rowan except that it wasn't in his handwriting.

“What is this?”

Turning, Jocelyn snatched the note from Adele's hand and tucked it into her pocket. “That's mine!”

“I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be nosy, but it was on the same Titanic stationery you've been using, and I thought it was one of your notes to me.”

Their eyes met in the mirror, and Adele realized that Jocelyn's cheeks were flushed a bright pink. A moment later, it also struck her that Jocelyn had been putting her hair
up
—not taking it down.

Jocelyn sighed and then said, “I've been invited out by a young man.”

“Who?”

“I…I'd rather not say.”

“Is it the Frenchman with the two young boys? I've yet to see a wife. Is he a widower?”

“Adele, I don't want to talk about it.”

“Fine.” Adele plopped back onto the sofa. “So what are you going to do on this date of yours?”

“It's not a date. We're just going to take a stroll on the promenade.”

“Do you think that's appropriate?”

“Why not?”

Adele shrugged, watching as her cousin placed a velvet hat onto her head and slid in the silver musical notes hat pin to hold it there. “It's late. There won't be many people about…”

“It's a beautiful night. I'm sure there will be more than you think. And remember, my father's right inside the smoking room if I need him.”

“True.”

Adele knew she should offer to chaperone, but the thought was too exhausting to consider. She rose and went to the wardrobe to gather her nightclothes, telling herself that Jocelyn was a grown woman who could take care of herself. But then she thought about her own evening with Tad and how easily he had overpowered her. She couldn't bear to imagine what might have happened if the steward hadn't shown up when he did.

“Just remember, cousin,” she said, wishing she
didn't
remember, “not all men can be trusted. Sometimes, they can be downright evil.”

O
ut on the street, Cole suggested they find somewhere they could sit and think. “Why don't we grab a bite to eat? That bagel didn't do much for me, and knowing you, you had no breakfast at all.”

“I most certainly did. I ate some cheese on the subway ride over.”

“Uh-huh. Like about this much?” He held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

“No, more,” she replied with a chuckle as she reached up to separate his thumb and finger by several inches.

Laughing, he evaded her grip and then held his hand up higher, this time showing just half an inch. “This much?”

Jumping, she tried again to grab his hand.

“This much?” he teased, thumb and finger almost touching now.

Finally, she managed to jump high enough to take his hand. To her surprise, as she jokingly struggled to pull his thumb and forefinger apart, he suddenly relaxed his fingers and intertwined them with hers. In that moment their eyes met. Time froze.

On a busy Chinatown sidewalk, with people milling all around them, Kelsey and Cole simply looked into each other's eyes, hands clasped, hearts pounding. After a long moment, as if he only just realized what he was doing, Cole gently extracted his hand from hers and took a step back.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled. “Let's go.”

Turning, he began to walk up the street in the same direction they had
come, hands shoved firmly in his pockets. Stunned and hurt and excited all at the same time, once Kelsey recovered from her surprise she followed along behind him. She caught up to him near the end of the block, and they both walked briskly side by side, Cole leading the way and neither of them saying a word.

She didn't even know where they were going, but she could tell he had some destination in mind. Silently, she kept up the pace next to him, wishing yet again that she'd thought to grab a few Band-Aids for her blisters. He finally slowed once they reached Tribeca, and eventually he came to a stop in front of a little diner on Church Street.

“This okay with you?” he asked brusquely, gesturing toward the door.

“This is fine,” she replied softly, trying not to feel hurt by his complete change in demeanor. Why was he acting this way?

They went inside, where Cole greeted the hostess by name and asked for a booth at the window. The restaurant was buzzing with chatter and the clink of silverware on china. Smells of bacon, coffee, and toasting bread hovered in the air, stirring up Kelsey's appetite as they were led to their table.

“This was a good idea,” she said, sliding onto a bench and focusing on the menu handed to her. “I didn't realize how hungry I was.”

Cole sat down opposite her and became equally absorbed in his own menu. It wasn't until the waitress had come to get their food order and taken the menus away that he finally looked her in the eye.

“Listen, I'm sorry about that…”

“About what? About holding my hand? Or about acting like I had cooties afterward?”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Cooties? What are we, in kindergarten?”

She shrugged, feeling a little belligerent. “I don't know, Cole. It feels more like high school drama to me.”

Looking weary, he ran a hand over his face as he slowly exhaled. “I know. It's just that I promised myself I wouldn't…”

Again he met her eyes, and she could tell he felt genuinely pained. Now she was the one to be sorry. Dropping the attitude, she leaned forward and spoke. “You wouldn't what?”

He shrugged. “Rekindle. With you. So to speak.”

She sat back, suppressing a smile. Leave it to him to find just the right word. Rekindle. That was it exactly.

She was about to say something flirty, such as, “And what would be so
wrong with that?” when she was struck by a disturbing thought. Her smile faded.

“Are you…You're not married, are you?” she asked softly. “If you are, then I'm sorry too. I would never—”

“No, Kelsey. I'm not married.”

“Engaged?”

He shook his head. “I was, almost. Engaged, I mean. But it didn't work out.”

“I'm sorry.”

“This has nothing to do with anyone else. It's about us, about our history. I just…it took me a long time to get over all of that.”

She swallowed hard. “I can imagine.”

“Then, when I heard about what was happening to you this week, I wanted to contact you, just to check on you and offer my support. I never stopped caring, you know. But I was afraid that if I talked to you again, much less spent time with you in person, I would…” He shook his head, cheeks flushing “I don't know. I sat and thought for a long time before I picked up that phone on Wednesday. This…thing…between us, Kelsey, it's always been there, always will be. But that doesn't mean we have to succumb to it. I offered you my help as a friend, and that's how I'll get through all of this and wrap it up once we're done. As a friend.”

Kelsey sat there trying to process his words, but he wasn't making any sense. If there wasn't someone else in the way, and he was enjoying being with her as much as she was with him, then why not go with it and see what happened? They weren't a couple of kids in youth group anymore, nor were they naive twentysomethings fresh out of grad school and just starting out in their first real jobs. They were in their thirties now, for goodness' sake. Clocks were ticking. Life was progressing. They were maturing. Now that they had managed to find each other again, what was to stop them from giving it another try? Surely he could feel the connection they still shared as strongly as she did.

She was trying to think of a way to put all of these thoughts into words when she realized what might really be going on. As the thought came to her, she could feel her own face flushing with heat. Unable to meet his eyes, she looked down at the table and spoke.

“For the past few days, there's something I've been wanting to say to you, but the right moment hasn't presented itself before now. It's just that…you don't know how ashamed I am about what I did to you five years ago, how sorry I
am for everything. I'm not just talking about undercutting your deal with Lou Strahan. I'm talking about how I acted afterward. Unrepentant. Indignant. Condescending, even. Looking back, I can't believe how badly I acted toward you. I
loved
you, Cole. I truly did. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but I was too proud to see my own actions for what they were.”

Her eyes filling with tears, she forced herself to look him in the face as she continued. “I have
always
loved you,” she said miserably. “But I have not always acted with love. I don't blame you for walking away after it happened. I deserved that. But if it makes any difference, at least I have finally seen my actions in all of their ugly reality. And I am ashamed. Ashamed and so, so sorry. I understand why you don't want to see me that way anymore. I can do the friend thing if I have to, but someday, Cole, I hope at least you'll be able to forgive me.”

On the verge of breaking into sobs, Kelsey placed her napkin on the table, grabbed her purse, and slid from the booth.

“Excuse me,” she whispered. “I need some air. I'll be back.”

With that she stood and made her way from the restaurant, blindly pushing her way through the door. Out on the sidewalk, she turned to the right and walked away, not stopping until she came to a wide, square column that she thought might give her a modicum of privacy. With her back to the street and her shoulder to the column, she allowed her sobs to bubble to the surface. Clutching her stomach, all she could do was weep—for them, for him, for herself. At least now she understood the truth. Cole Thornton would never allow himself to date her again because he knew the kind of person she really was. Considering how badly she'd hurt him, she couldn't blame him for that, not one bit. Not at all.

A few minutes later she was rooting through her purse for a tissue when Cole suddenly appeared there in front of her, bearing a tissue of his own.

“This what you're looking for?” he asked gently.

Mortified, she took it from him and wiped her face and blew her nose. Once she did, he moved closer, taking her into his arms.

That act of kindness brought on a fresh round of tears, but this time as she sobbed, she did so against his broad chest, wrapped in the warmth of him. She cried for a long time, allowing all of the hurt and pain and loneliness of the past five years to come out. She had loved him
so much
. She had loved him and she had hurt him and he had gone away, and she would never forgive herself for any of that. She still loved him, but it was too late.

“Shhh,” he cooed finally, offering up more tissues and patting her on the back in a brotherly sort of way. He continued to hold her until she was all cried out. Finally, she just leaned into him silently and held on tight, knowing this was probably the last time she would ever be in Cole Thornton's arms.

“You okay?” he whispered.

She nodded.

“Good. Why don't we get you cleaned up? Come on.”

With one strong arm still around her, Cole led Kelsey back toward the restaurant. When they got there, he asked her to wait outside, and then he went in through the door, leaving her alone. A moment later he reappeared, carrying a plastic bag that held two Styrofoam boxes.

“I had told her we'd take it to go,” Cole explained as he once again slipped his free arm around Kelsey's shoulders and pulled her close. “Come on.”

She didn't know where they were going and she didn't care. She just let him lead her down the street as she focused on the solidity of his hold, the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence.

They had already been through so much together. At least there was no need for embarrassment or pretense anymore. Now that he'd been honest with her and she with him, there was nothing left to do but be themselves. And if they each had wanted something different to come from this brief period of time they had been spending together, that was okay. She would respect his wishes, he would show her some tenderness despite his resentment, and somehow they would each pick up the pieces and go on.

If only it didn't hurt so badly.