I'm Here - Chapter 76

Previously...

Concerned that Sophie should not be left alone so near to giving birth, the group tried to find a place for her to spend the night. Clara, still grieving Liese’s recent death, could not bear the thought of someone else occupying her friend’s berth so soon. As the discussion continued around her, Sophie felt increasingly unwelcome and walked away. When Johann followed to apologize, Sophie said, “But Clara does not want me there.”

*

Johann shook his head. There was little he could say to that.

Water trickled down the wall behind Sophie and dripped softly into a puddle along the floorboards.

He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and shifted his feet. “Are you cold?”

Sophie regarded him quietly.

Johann winced. “I guess that was a foolish thing to ask.”

Sophie closed her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

“We still have not solved where you’re going to sleep,” he muttered.

Sophie drew a shaky breath. “I have a bunk.”

Johann stared at her. Of course she had a bunk. Every passenger aboard the Union did. How had he not thought of that?

Sophie looked down at the water pooled around her feet. “I left it.”

A passenger slowed as he passed, glancing briefly toward them before continuing on.

Johann waited until he was out of earshot. “You left?” he asked. “I do not understand.”

Sophie shivered and pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “The women… they talk.”

“Talk?”

Sophie nodded. “About me. They think I do not hear.”

Johann felt a knot tighten in his stomach. So that was it. “People are quick to judge.”

The glow of a lantern bobbed toward them through the dim passage as a weary crewman picked his way around the standing water that still lingered in places.

“Beg pardon,” he said. “Need to keep the passage clear.”

Sophie released a quiet breath as she stepped aside. “Good night, Johann.”

She turned toward the women’s compartment.

“Sophie—” Johann caught her elbow.

She stopped, her back to him, eyes dropping to his hand.

“I…” Johann’s grip loosened. “Please stop.”

“The father left,” she said without turning to face him, so softly he almost missed it.

Johann stared at the dark hair hanging damp against her shoulders. It seemed obvious now. He was troubled that he had not understood sooner.

“Sophie?”

He could not tell whether she wanted him to stay or leave her be.

She did not move.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Sophie swayed slightly and caught herself against the wall.

Johann’s brow furrowed. “I think… you should sit.”

“I am fine,” Sophie whispered over her shoulder, her other hand coming up to brace against the wall. “There is nowhere to sit.”

“At the tables.”

Sophie was silent for a moment.

“The tables where they’ve spread everything out to dry,” Johann said, watching as she leaned more heavily against the wall. “It is a bit of a walk.”

Sophie shook her head. “They’re crowded.”

“I’ll find you a place to sit.” A woman in her condition ought not be standing. If no one offered her a seat, he would ask.

Sophie rested her forehead against the wall, shoulders sagging. Her eyes closed. “I should go back to my bunk,” she murmured, pushing herself away.

“Just let me find you a place to sit.” Johann reached for her arm, then stopped. “May I take your arm?”

Sophie drew a weary breath and took a step, Johann stepping in beside her.

She kept her eyes on the floorboards as they made their way back through the crowded steerage. They had gone perhaps half the distance when she slowed.

“Johann.”

He stopped immediately.

“Wait a minute.” Sophie went still, her free hand finding his arm.

Johann waited. “I’m here.”

Sophie drew a slow breath and looked up. “Okay.”

“It’s not much farther,” Johann said.

The quiet of the passage gave way to the low hum of conversation as they reached the dining area. Sophie had been right. Every table was covered with blankets and clothing laid out flat to dry.

Johann glanced around the crowded room, searching for an empty place anywhere.

A hand waved from a table at the far end where Thomas sat beside Michael.

“There’s Thomas,” Johann said. “Come on.”

“What about Clara?” Sophie asked quietly.

“She’s not there. Neither is Marie.”

They made their way between the crowded tables.

A man seated across from Thomas looked up as they approached. He gathered a damp blanket closer and shifted down the bench.

“Room for your wife,” he said.

“Danke,” Johann said. He felt heat creep into his face and was grateful neither Thomas nor Michael commented.

Sophie lowered herself onto the bench with a quiet breath.

Thomas looked at Sophie, taking in her pale face. “They’ve made tea.”

Michael glanced down at his empty cup. “Not much left.”

Thomas shrugged. “Enough, I hope. May I get you a cup, Sophie?”

Michael handed his tin cup to Thomas. “She can use mine.” He turned to Sophie. “Is that all right?”

Sophie managed a faint smile.

Thomas pushed back from the table. “I see there’s still a queue for it. I’ll be right back.”

He returned a few minutes later, carrying two steaming tin cups. He handed Michael’s cup to Sophie and nudged the other across the table toward Johann. “Thought you might need one as well.”

Johann nodded. “Danke.”

Sophie wrapped both hands around the warm tin and closed her eyes.

Some of the tension eased from Johann’s shoulders as he watched the steam curl upward. “You should take a sip, Sophie.”

“Careful,” Thomas said. “It’s hot.”

Sophie nodded.

Thomas glanced up at the ceiling as a few drops of water splashed onto the table. “For a while I thought the storm would finish us.”

Johann traced the dented edge of his cup with his thumb. “The lightning troubled me most.” He shook his head. “Every flash that lit the compartment, I thought—”

“Aye.” Michael cut in, rubbing his forehead. “I was already composing my farewell.”

Johann looked up from his tea. “You can write?”

Michael’s mouth twitched. “Only in my head.”

“I hope it was brief,” Thomas said.

The corner of Johann’s mouth twitched. “Brief does seem safer.”

Michael tugged the brim of his cap lower. “It’s the only way I can write.”

Sophie looked down into her tea. “It’s not that hard to write,” she murmured.

Michael snorted softly. “Easy for you to say.”

Sophie studied her cup, though Johann thought he caught the corner of her mouth lift.

Thomas scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Has anyone seen McKenna lately?”

“Now that you mention it, no,” Michael answered.

Sophie leaned wearily on her elbow. “Who?”

“The Scot,” Michael said. “He bunks above me.” He paused, scanning the room. “Well, he did.”

Thomas snorted. “Always arguing with somebody. Mostly crew.”

Johann took a sip of his tea. “I thought they were going to turn the ship around and put him ashore in Southampton.”

Thomas laughed. “The crew may have considered it.”

“Aye,” Michael said, “more than once.”

Sophie drew a quiet breath. One hand settled on her abdomen and lingered there as the conversation continued around her.

Thomas glanced up as her fingers tightened around her tin. “You all right?”

“I’m just tired,” she said, not lifting her eyes.

Johann looked at her. “Sophie?”