DANGEROUS GAMES
Chapter Nine
The temperature had dropped
considerably since Savannah had last been outside. Her gloved hand rested in
the crook of Bruce’s arm as they walked the boat deck, making idle chatter with
one another.
"Tell me, darling, what were
you speaking to young Miss DeWitt Bukater about?" Bruce asked as they
passed the metal staircase leading to the bridge.
Savannah nodded to a crew member
as he passed before replying, "I asked if she care to join me for a stroll,
but she was forced to decline."
As they continued along the port
side of the ship, a young officer approached them from behind.
"Mr. Ismay," the young
man greeted with a nod before turning to Savannah. "Mrs. Ismay," he
greeted with a kiss on the hand and a broad smile on his face.
Bruce cleared his throat abruptly
and asked, "What is it you need, sir?"
The young officer snapped back to
reality and relayed his message.
"Sir, Captain Smith has
requested your presence on the bridge."
Savannah smiled at his heavy
Welsh accent. She thought back to her honeymoon and the delight she felt in
hearing the wide range of accents and dialects that spread through Europe.
Bruce nodded and beckoned for the officer to lead the way.
Savannah lagged behind as Bruce
climbed the narrow staircase. Savannah’s slow pace was marked by the soft
clicking of her shoe heels on the painted metal stairs. Bruce waited at the
landing for her, offering his arm when she reached the last step. Sailors
crowded the bridge. Some were looking at charts or compasses. Others were
coming and going from the officers’ quarters.
Savannah caught the attention of
many of the sailors, both young and old. They must not see very many women
up here, she thought to herself as she smiled and nodded in greeting to
another passing man. They waited at the top of the stairs for a moment before
another officer came over to them.
"Mr. Ismay," he said,
extending his hand. "I am Chief Officer Henry Wilde."
Bruce accepted the handshake and
replied, "Officer Wilde, how do you do? I am sorry this is our first
meeting."
Officer Wilde’s eyes wandered
over to Savannah, prompting Bruce’s introduction.
"Ah…yes. Officer Wilde, this
is my lovely wife, Savannah."
Officer Wilde took Savannah’s
hand and greeted her.
"A pleasure, ma’am," he
said softly as he released her.
She stood by silently, taking in
all the gadgets and tools around while Bruce and Officer Wilde conversed over
what the captain had summoned him for. After a few moments of waiting, Captain
Smith entered the bridge from his quarters.
"Mr. Ismay, Mrs. Ismay, so
sorry to keep you waiting," he said jovially as he approached them.
Bruce shook his hand and Savannah
endured another greeting from the friendly captain.
"No emergency," Captain
Smith said to Bruce, causing a visible relief in Bruce’s posture. "I
simply wanted to keep you abreast of the numerous ice warnings we have
received."
Captain Smith reached into the
pocket of his navy coat and produced a pile of ten or so pieces of paper, each
from a different ship. Bruce took the telegrams and began sifting through them
quickly. Savannah’s face adopted an expression of worry. Not an emergency? she
thought, remembering the captain’s words. Officer Wilde noticed her expression
and took the opportunity to try to calm her.
"No worry, Mrs. Ismay,"
he said as he offered her his arm.
She smiled at his polite offer
and accepted. Time for a little fun, she thought to herself as he led
her to the panoramic windows that surrounded the bridge.
She withdrew her arm from his and
watched as, with his left hand, he gestured out at the empty horizon.
"Tell me, Mrs. Ismay, what
do you see?"
Savannah drew her eyes along the
calm ocean.
"Well, I don’t see
anything," she mused airily.
He smiled at her naivety.
"See? Not a berg in sight.
Not even a growler."
Savannah batted her eyelashes and
questioned sweetly, "A growler? That sounds rather frightening."
Glancing over her shoulder
quickly, she saw Bruce growing red in the face. Officer Wilde appeared to be
flattered by the attention this young woman was bestowing upon him.
"No, no, Mrs. Ismay. A
growler is a very small bit of ice. No cause for alarm on a ship this
size."
Savannah lay her hand on Officer
Wilde’s arm and was about to respond when Bruce strode confidently over and
retrieved his beautiful trophy.
"Thank you for your concern,
Officer Wilde, but we really must be on our way. Thank you for keeping me
updated, Captain," Bruce said over his shoulder as he coaxed Savannah down
the stairs.
Savannah waited on the deck with
a smug smile on her face. In all honesty, she did not know why she had behaved
that way, but seeing how red Bruce became made it worth whatever punishment
awaited her when they reached their room. Bruce thundered down the staircase
and grabbed Savannah’s forearm with bruising force. He pulled her along at a
hurried pace, his grip tightening as they descended the staircase toward B-Deck.
Only when they reached the suite did he let go.
Once the door was closed, Bruce
hung his hat on a hook by the door. Crossing the room, he poured himself a
brandy from the crystal decanter resting just inside the liquor cabinet.
Savannah stood uneasily by the door. She had been prepared for anger, hatred
and, God forbid, violence. This calm demeanor Bruce exhibited made her worried.
Deciding he would talk when he felt ready, she removed her shawl and draped it
over the hook next to Bruce’s hat. She daintily removed her gloves, one finger
at a time, and placed them gently on the end table that resided next to the
sofa. Now comfortable, she stood where he had left her and waited.
She watched in silence as he
finished his brandy and set the drained snifter back in the cabinet. He
straightened his suit coat and clasped his hands behind his back before
approaching her. Savannah rested her arms at her side and looked Bruce in the
eye. Without warning, Bruce’s hand rose into the air and collided with
Savannah’s cheek.
"Officer Wilde?" he
shouted incredulously.
Savannah rested her hand on her
sore cheek and resumed her eye contact with Bruce.
Bruce sighed and said, "I’m
not a fool, Savannah. I saw how you behaved up on the bridge. Had you had your
fan with you, it would have been snapping open and shut like a bear trap! Do
you realize you behaved like nothing short of a common whore?"
Savannah said nothing. Bruce
scooped his hat off the rack and dropped it on his head as he pushed past her
and out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. Deciding she did not
want to spend her afternoon cooped up, Savannah wrapped her shawl over her
shoulders again and left as well.
*****
Out on deck, the sky was
beginning to turn pink as the sun descended into the horizon. The promenade was
deserted as she heard the band begin to play their usual dinner tunes. Savannah
paused at a window by the first class entrance and watched as several refined
ladies descended the grand staircase to the dining saloon. Continuing her walk,
Savannah rounded the forward promenade deck. She paused for a moment to take in
the beautiful sunset. Out on the very bow of the ship, she saw a couple kissing
by the bow rail. A small smile crept across her face as she watched them
retreat into the shadow of the upper decks. Deciding not to anger Bruce any
further, Savannah returned to her room to dress for dinner.
Clad in her favorite royal purple
dinner gown, her hair pinned up and adorned with a string of pearls, she and
Bruce entered the dining saloon. Taking her seat between Cal and Bruce,
Savannah glanced around the table at the same faces she had shared meals with
for the past four days. As the wine flowed and the food was served, Molly Brown
and the Astors began to loosen up and tell stories from their respective
holidays. Savannah laughed hysterically with the others as Molly told of her
adventures hunting big game in the African bush.
Nine o’clock rolled around and
the elegant clock that crowned the grand staircase chimed in to break up the
lingering dinner crowd. Savannah watched Bruce and the other gentlemen retreat
to the smoking room as Thomas climbed the stairs to his stateroom. Savannah
lingered for one last moment to listen to the band play a Viennese Waltz she
remembered from her wedding day.
Before she exited the saloon, she
tipped her head to the band leader and said, "Well done, gentlemen."
She began climbing the stairs herself.
Savannah found herself alone when
she returned to the suite. Taking a book from her bedside table, Savannah
snuggled into her bathrobe and curled up in a chair on the promenade. Even with
the windows closed, Savannah could feel the bitter chill that had settled over
the ship. Outside, there was not a cloud in sight. Only the stars in the sky
could be seen as their shine reflected in the glassy ocean surface. Savannah
continued to read until she heard the mantle clock strike eleven. Returning the
chair to its original position by the chaise lounge, Savannah stepped back into
the warmth of the suite, closing the promenade door behind her.
Savannah sauntered into her
bedroom and kicked off her slippers. She removed her robe and dropped it over
the back of the plush wingback chair opposite her bed. Sliding her chosen book
back into its place on the shelf of her bedside table, Savannah turned out the
light of her bedroom and returned to the sitting room to sit by the fire. It
was almost 11:20 when Bruce wandered in from the smoking room, the smell of
cigars clinging to his dinner jacket. Without a word, he retreated to his bedroom
and closed the door behind him.
A moment later, he returned to
her, dressed in his gray flannel pajamas, his feet clad in his deep red
monogrammed slippers. Sitting in the chair opposite her, they enjoyed the
silence for a moment before Bruce spoke up.
"Savannah, I must apologize
for my behavior earlier this afternoon," he began as he hunched over in
his seat, clenching his hands. "I was upset by what I saw. Surely you must
understand?"
Savannah’s face was emotionless.
Of course she understood why he was upset, but she would never let him see
that. After waiting for an answer but not receiving one, Bruce continued.
"I’m sorry for my temper,
Savannah. Can you forgive me?"
Savannah sighed heavily and
thought carefully over her limited options.
"Of course, Bruce. I forgive
you," she said as she laid a hand on his knee and began to stroke it with
her thumb.
He looked up into her eyes and
was about to speak when they felt it.