Titanic Girl

A Short Story for Valentine's Day

This one is for the ladies — I’m a sucker for a time travel-romance story. Happy Valentine’s Day, thanks for reading!

Titanic Girl

Emma grabbed the satin dinner dress off the rack and pressed it against herself. She bit her lip and gazed into the full length mirror at La Creme Vintage Boutique. For a brief moment, the Edwardian gown’s elegant square neckline and red satin skirt transformed her into a high society lady onboard the legendary Titanic. Damn, this dress is incredible! What would it be like to dance on the Titanic in a dress like this? She had watched countless old movies and read dozens of books about the story since forever. Back at nursing college, her friends had nicknamed her “Titanic Girl”. The Belle Epoque gown was a dream come true, a rare find rekindling her obsession with the legendary ship.

Emma excitedly examined the bodice and skirt. The tiny glass pearls that adorned the black lace overlay glittered like stars across a satin sky. A willowy silk taffeta train swept behind her. The gown even came with a pair of satin gloves. She giggled like a teenager, her long dark hair spilling over the capped sleeves.

“Isn’t it absolutely gorgeous?”

Derek sat on the boutique’s couch, scrolling through his phone. “I guess.”

She peered at the price tag. “$6,999.00 — oh, is that all?” The light in her eyes dimmed as she realized she could never afford it, not on her junior nurse’s salary. She sighed. This gown would have been perfect for the hospital’s costume Valentine’s Ball.

Derek got up and cupped her rosy cheek in his hand. “You’re beautiful, Emma, with or without the dress.” She looked up sheepishly, putting the gown back on the rack.

“My dear, that dress would look absolutely stunning on you,” the saleslady said from the counter. Her black rimmed glasses slid down from the tip of her nose. “You see those pretty pearls?” She ran her hand under the sheer black overlay. “They’re from a real dinner dress that a First Class passenger wore on the Titanic!”

Emma’s felt herself falling into a deep enchantment.

“Oh, I can tell you’re in love with it! Now, we’re closing in 5 minutes but reopening tomorrow at 10 am. Why don’t you come back and we can do a fitting? Your name, honey?” Strains of a classical waltz crescendoed over the speaker in the background and then faded as the lights dimmed.

Emma nodded weakly. “My name’s Emma, thank you.” She wrapped her puffy coat tight around herself.

“I’m Gladys, just ask for me when you come in tomorrow, darling.” She smiled and hummed an old tune to herself, hanging the dress up in the back.

Emma and her fiancé both walked out of La Creme Vintage Boutique, and into the lightly falling snow.

“So, what else do you want for Valentine’s, besides a $7,000 dress you’ll only wear once?” Derek quipped.

Emma flashed him a side-eye. “Come on, it’s fun to dress up. I feel like I’m traveling to another time, like I’m a guest on the Titanic. And it’d be perfect for the Valentine’s Ball this weekend.”

“Can I come with you, to another time?” he asked, chuckling. “Just not on the Titanic.”

Emma grabbed his arm and hooked it into hers. She laughed as the snowflakes nestled in her hair. “We need to find you an Edwardian suit first…”

***

“You can’t be serious. You’re not going back to that store again, are you?” Irritation rose in Derek’s voice. “I thought you were joking. We don’t have the money for that dress…And I know you, you’ll cave and charge it on your credit card.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I can try it on, what’s the harm? Let a girl dream…”

“Stop being cute and just drop it, Emma.” Derek’s eyes shot her an angry look. “We’re trying to save for a dream wedding, remember? You’ve got to start reining in your spending.” Emma silently put on her puffy jacket and stomped out of the apartment, seething. What does he know about my dreams, anyway? Do we have anything in common at all?

“Promise me you won’t try on the dress! Promise me!” He yelled after her. She put her hand up and stormed off toward the bus stop.

After a gruelling afternoon shift at the hospital, Emma found herself drawn to the downtown to visit La Creme Vintage Boutique once again. She had promised herself she would forget about the dress since she couldn’t afford it. But, since her argument with Derek had been annoyingly fresh in her mind, she felt determined to prove him wrong and try the dress on without actually buying it. He’s so way out of line. I do, in fact, have lots of self control. Most times. Besides, this is fate, I can feel it. She marched to the boutique from the bus stop in the cold air, racing to try on the dress before the store closed.

Emma hurried into the boutique. The shop bells dinged against the door. A huge portrait of the Titanic hung on the shiplap wall and she wondered how she didn’t see it before. Gladys noticed her and smiled. “Emma! Darling, I knew you’d come back. The dress has been waiting for you! Let me get it!”

Emma’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed that she was so attached to a dress she couldn’t afford. The warmth of the little boutique melted the snowflakes that clung to her loose curls. Gladys motioned for her to come over to the change room. She held up the red Belle Epoque dress. It glimmered in the soft light, like an exotic bird let out of its gilded cage.

“Do you believe in fate, Emma?” Gladys looked at her with a twinkle of mystery in her eyes.

“Yes, yes, I believe in fate.” In a second of deja vu, Emma thought she recognized her. Could she be an old friend from years ago? My fairy godmother from another time, perhaps? “Thank you so much.” Emma half whispered, and gently cradled the dress. She locked herself in the tiny change room and quickly peeled off her nurse’s uniform. Her heart beat wildly as she studied the gown in the mirror.

The strains of a classical waltz played in the background as she meditated over each detail. The precious Titanic pearls. The red satin taffeta train. The square neckline and capped sleeves. “Oh, the gloves! I forgot the gloves!” She hurriedly rolled the red satin gloves up her arms. She looked carefully at her reflection. Damn, girl, you look like a real socialite now. She smoothed her stray curls away from her face, and then backed away. Her cheeks flushed red and her breathing slowed.

Another gaze at the mirror startled her. Her hair looked different, swept up in a vintage hairstyle, with tiny sequins peeking out from her dark curls. Wait, this can’t be real. Her heart beat wildly as the walls seemed to close in on her. A chorus of voices locked in casual conversation swirled around her, as if she had walked in on a party, and then, the room darkened. She felt a tug on her dress, then her arm. She closed her eyes and gasped for air. The mirror pulled her in with a sudden jerk.

Emma stumbled forward and fluttered her eyelids open. She scanned the dimly lit room in a panic, her heart pounding. Women in fancy dinner gowns laughed, sipping wine from crystal glasses while mustached men in black Tuxedo jackets flirted with them. The partygoers’ chatter rose as a string quartet played a classical waltz in the background. Where am I? This place looks so familiar.

“It’s rare that a man meets a literal angel in this dark world, especially onboard a steam ship.” A baritone voice, smooth as velvet, announced from the shadows. Emma twirled around at once, the stiff taffeta of her train swishing about like the waves of the ocean. She stared up at the handsome dinner guest, his thick Scots accent sending her heart aflutter. “And who might you be?” He raised her gloved hand to his mustache.

Emma’s cheeks flushed, the warmth of his touch racing through her. “My name is Emma,” she said, trying not to seem too affected by his acquaintance.

“Emma, what a beautiful name. The name’s Emmerson MacGuire. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed. “Won’t you do me the honour of accompanying me to the dining hall?”

“Sir, what is the name of this ‘steamship’?” Emma asked, nervous energy rising in her chest.

Emmerson chuckled. “My dear, don’t you know? We’re on the R.M.S. Titanic.”

Emma froze. “The Titanic? What’s the date?”

Emmerson smiled warmly and his blue eyes lit up the dark room.

“What’s the date?” she asked again, breathless.

Emmerson stared at Emma, puzzled “Why, miss, it’s April 14th, 1912.”

Emma gasped, her face pale. She held onto Emmerson’s hand and he squeezed it. “What’s wrong, my sweet?”

Her heart beat wildly and her head started to spin. “I need some air.” Emma knew the date well — the day of the Titanic disaster.

“Let’s go up to the deck and check on the stars.” He held her up by her elbows and led her up the stairs.

They entered the deck and the harsh Arctic breeze whipped at Emma’s bare arms. Emmerson took off his Tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her. They walked together in the glow of the moon, under the rhinestone stars. The world couldn’t touch them as they talked about life and about their dreams.

They stopped to look at each other. He smiled as she gazed up at him, and they locked eyes. He quickly bent down and gently kissed her lips. “Please don’t think me too forward, I feel so drawn to you. I couldn’t resist.” He brushed Emma’s fingers with his lips and she embraced him, knowing their time together would soon be cut short. She memorized his scent, a mixture of cigar smoke and lemons and roses, and vowed to always remember it.

Thunder boomed in the distance and jerked them both forward. Emmerson caught Emma in his arms as a harsh wail surrounded them.

“Do you believe in fate, Emmerson?” Emma looked up into his eyes, lost in his presence. He kissed her cheek hard and held her tightly. “Yes, I believe.” He breathed into her ear.

“Sir, sir!” The mast boy yelled from his high perch and lowered his scope. “Have you heard? We just hit an ice berg.”