6

HOPE

MARCH 7, 1912

SS AMERIKA, ATLANTIC OCEAN

The sky was gray, though my mood was anything but cloudy. Excitement, anticipation, and energy coursed through me as I stood at the rail of the SS Amerika, a beautiful passenger liner, speaking to a group of journalists. Twin smokestacks rose into the heavy sky as passengers, crew members, and visitors mingled on the massive deck.

"What's it like to be one of the first American women with a pilot's license, Miss Cooper?" a reporter from Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper asked me, an admiring smile on his face.

"It's like nothing I've ever experienced," I told him honestly, grinning as another journalist lifted his camera to take my picture. "I'm thrilled to have the honor, and I know I won't be the last."

Grace stood off to the side, watching quietly, her face hard to read under the floppy brim of her large hat. She looked beautiful and stylish in a brown traveling suit with wide lapels and a long coat. She knew a few of the reporters interviewing me, but she didn't compete for my attention, since she had already written an article—the first—after I earned my pilot's license in Florida. I was the third woman to be licensed to fly an aeroplane in America, and it was causing a sensation, as I knew it would. It had boosted her reputation with her editor, as well.

"What takes you to Europe?" a man from the New York Times asked. "Especially so soon after earning your license. I would think you'd like to stay in America and fly with the Curtiss Exhibition team for a while."

I continued to smile, not wanting to reveal even a tiny hint of why I was sailing to England. If anyone knew, I was certain someone else would beat me to the flight. As it was, there was a chance that another female aviator was already planning the same trip. I had to get to Europe as soon as possible.

"My sister and I have always wanted to travel to Europe," I said, glancing at Grace.

"Yes," the Times reporter pressed, "but why now? Is this a pleasure trip, or do you plan to fly in Europe?"

My smile did not dim, but I said, "If there is a story to be had, I'm afraid my sister will get first opportunity, gentlemen."

There were groans from the reporters, and Grace offered me a real smile for the first time in days. With her unhappiness about her part in my parents' orphanage dilemma, my plans to fly over the English Channel, and the darkness of life in Salem, there had been little reason for her to smile lately.

After being questioned by the magistrates at the Meeting House on March first, Tituba, Sarah Good, and Sarah Osborn had been transferred to the Salem Towne gaol and would be held there until they could be tried by a jury, though they were questioned several more times in the gaol by the magistrates. I had never studied the witch trial history and had no idea what was to come. I just knew it wasn't good, and the sooner we got out of there, the better.

My gaze caught on Luc as he boarded the Amerika, a single leather suitcase in hand.

The reporters turned to see what I was looking at, but there were thousands of people moving about the docks and ship. They couldn't possibly know I saw Luc.

"All visitors ashore," called a steward as he walked along the deck. "All visitors ashore."

"I'm sorry," I said to the reporters, "but it appears the ship is about to embark."

Luc walked toward me, but I wasn't sure if he saw the reporters. He hated speaking to the press and wouldn't like to be spotted by them. But how to stop him from moving toward me without drawing attention to him?

I glanced at Grace, hoping she might read my expression. Would she know to stop Luc?

She studied me, and I tilted my head in Luc's direction—just enough to let her know to look for him.

She turned toward the direction I had indicated, and I knew the moment she saw Luc. Her shoulders tightened, and the line of her mouth hardened. But she walked in his direction to stop him.

"One more picture, Miss Cooper," said another reporter. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not." I smiled and struck a pose with my hands on top of my closed parasol. I turned one way and then the other, happy to oblige.

"Beautiful," said the reporter as he put down his camera. "Stylish, talented, and lovely."

"Not to mention adventurous and intelligent," I said with a light laugh, knowing it would draw a chuckle from the reporters. I'd learned in my acting career that a smiling audience was a happy one. "Thank you, gentlemen."

I kept one eye on Grace's progress. Since the journalists would have to walk in the direction Luc had just come from, they would cross paths if Grace didn't intercept him. Would she get Luc out of the way soon enough?

I wasn't just worried about his discomfort. If the reporters knew he was with me and Grace, they might ask questions I didn't want to answer. There could only be a few reasons two single women would travel with the most famous aviator in the world: romantic reasons or business. I didn't want them to prematurely link Luc and me romantically, knowing it would only push him away. And I didn't want them to guess at what kind of business we would be undertaking together, such as a historic flight.

Luc paused when he saw Grace, his body becoming rigid—but he continued walking until they met at the railing. They were too far away for me to hear what they said, but Luc nodded, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd of passengers and visitors saying good-bye.

I let out a sigh of relief and walked the reporters toward the gangplank to see them off the ship. As soon as they were on shore, I searched for Grace and Luc, finally spotting my sister's large, tan hat. She was standing at the rail, facing Hoboken, New Jersey, where the ship had been docked. At her side stood Luc. Though it was crowded and people were pushing for a spot at the rail to wave to friends and family, they stood with space between them, looking in opposite directions.

Their dislike of one another was palpable.

No one could be as close to me as my time-crossing twin sister. If she didn't approve of Luc, how could I continue to pursue him? I had to convince her he was worthy of my love.

I pushed my way through the crowd, breathless, determined to make them like each other by the end of this voyage.

"There you are," I said, trying to sound pleasant.

They both turned at the same time.

Grace looked relieved at my arrival. "Finished with the reporters?"

I nodded. "Are you two getting to know one another?"

They glanced at each other, but there was no sign of comradery or blossoming friendship. Just mistrust.

Neither responded to my question.

Instead, Grace said, "I think I'll go to our room to write a little before supper."

Luc also pulled away from the rail and lifted his bag as he addressed me. "I should find my room, as well, and then we should meet to discuss our plans. We cannot overlook any detail."

"But what about saying good-bye?" I indicated the shoreline and the waving passengers. "This is the most exciting part."

"We cannot lose any time," Luc said. "Nothing should stop us from returning on the Titanic on April 10th. That gives us less than five weeks to accomplish our goals."

"Five weeks should be plenty of time," I said, trying to make him relax. This trip wasn't just about the flight but about convincing him he was in love with me—and that my sister was worthy of his friendship. "We have six days onboard the Amerika. Can't we take a little time to enjoy ourselves?"

"I don't have the luxury of enjoying myself," Grace said. "I plan to spend every available minute writing articles for the Globe. Each one is another paycheck for Mama and Daddy." She nodded good-bye to Luc and then looked at me. "I'll see you later."

As she left, Luc watched her go with an expression I couldn't read. Then he turned to me. "Enjoy the departure, but we must meet soon to go over the plans I've made since we spoke last. I'll get settled in my room and find you when we're out to sea."

He didn't give me time to respond but walked in the opposite direction and disappeared into the crowd.

This was going to be a long voyage.

The Ritz-Carlton Restaurant on the SS Amerika was one of the finest dining establishments on the high seas. The lavish decorations and the attention to detail were impressive. A gray-and-yellow stained-glass skylight dominated the ceiling, which was held up with four large chestnut columns. Seated around the tables of white linen and fine china were some of the wealthiest and finest-dressed passengers I had ever seen. They laughed with ease, eating and drinking the best cuisine to be had on an ocean liner. The ship boasted the first à la carte restaurant at sea, and it was a raging success. If the captain of the ship hadn't invited Luc and me to dine with him, we would have been eating with the other passengers in the regular dining room, since it was almost impossible to get a table in the Ritz-Carlton.

The ship was buzzing with excitement on the first night out to sea. With over three thousand passengers, between guests and crew members, it was easy to see why.

Luc and I had been given seats of honor at the captain's table. Captain Barends sat at the head, while I was seated to his right and Luc to his left. Grace had been given a spot next to me.

The captain peppered both Luc and me with questions about aviation until my mind was spinning. Though Luc didn't like attention from crowds, there was nothing he loved more than talking one-on-one with someone who was truly curious about aviation. His handsome face lit up, and he was unhindered and unashamed as he talked about his flying pursuits, slipping into French on accident in his excitement. This was the Lucas Voland I had fallen in love with, the one who was so alive and vibrant—and accessible. Did Grace notice? She had told me she thought Luc was arrogant and self-centered. Was she noting this different side to him?

"You make me want to fly," Captain Barends said almost wistfully. "I could see myself in an aeroplane. That is, if the sea didn't hold my heart."

"Ah, but if you could go into the clouds," Luc said, his French accent filled with passion, "the sky would steal your heart. C'est l'amour."

It is love.

Warmth filled me at the sound of his voice and the emotion in his words. Flying was like falling in love.

"Perhaps." The captain sighed. "But flying is for young men. I am too old and set in my ways."

"You are not too old," I told him, though he appeared to be in his early sixties, with a gray beard and sea-wizened wrinkles around his eyes. "I believe that one day almost everyone will fly." Mama had told me about airplanes, as she called them, from her life in 2001. It was hard to comprehend, but even in 1912, many people believed that flying would become accessible to everyone someday.

"Surely the aeroplane will not replace ocean liners," Captain Barends said with a good-natured laugh. "There is no finer or faster way to travel from America to Europe. Even now, the largest ship in the world is preparing to set sail in just over a month. I see no future in which ocean liners are not the safest way to travel."

Grace and I shared a smile. There were things we knew that we could never tell a soul, but I was happy we had each other to share the knowledge.

"You speak of the Titanic?" Luc asked.

"Indeed." Captain Barends took a sip of his wine. "A feat of engineering genius."

"We hope to travel home on her maiden voyage," Luc told him.

"You will be one of the lucky ones."

As the meal progressed, I kept my eye on Luc and Grace. They were not rude to one another but remained guarded and cool. I wished Grace would speak up to show Luc she wasn't prudish and critical. Ever since she met him, she had been just as aloof as him. I wanted her to show him her kind, thoughtful, and wise side.

But she didn't appear to care what he thought of her.

"I do hope everyone plans to stay for the dance tonight," Captain Barends said, looking around the table. "Monsieur Voland?"

Luc laid down his fork, finished with his grilled salmon. "I do not believe I will attend the dance."

Disappointment pinched at my heart, but I put a smile on my face when the captain turned to me.

"And you, Miss Hope? Will you save a dance for me?"

I didn't want to stay at the dance if Luc wouldn't be there. Yet I couldn't refuse the captain.

"Of course."

"And you, Miss Grace," Captain Barends asked my sister. "Will you attend the dance?"

Grace looked beautiful in a cream-colored satin gown with a lace bodice and sleeves. She wore long white gloves, and her blond curls were caught up in a low chignon with a wide lace band around the crown of her head. Pearl earrings dangled from her ears, and strands of pearls were draped around her neck. She was stunning—and her ensemble complemented her gentle spirit. As a child, I hated how calm Grace seemed. I often bullied her into a temper so I wouldn't always be the one getting in trouble. Neither of us had changed much, and her gentleness was still one of her best qualities—one I had grown to appreciate over the years.

"I'm not certain," Grace said. "I have a lot of writing to do."

"Oh, yes." Captain Barends's kind blue eyes took on a shine. "I heard you are a journalist for the New York Globe. How marvelous."

The conversation shifted to Grace and her writing as dessert and coffee were served. The captain had just as many questions for my sister as he'd had for Luc and me, and the rest of the captain's guests seemed intrigued by Grace's work. Just like aviation, it was strange for a woman to work in a position usually dominated by men.

I listened as Grace described her articles and the undercover work she had done to unmask the corruption and danger in J. B. Thurston's factories. Even as she talked about the man, a knot formed in my chest, and I was happy she was defending her work—despite his attempt to bully our parents. We still had until May 1st to come up with the down payment for their orphanage, and I was more determined than ever to succeed at our goal.

As she spoke, pride swelled within me. I glanced at Luc, hoping he appreciated this side of her, but it was hard to read his expression. His gaze was riveted to her, as if he wasn't aware of anything else.

"You are a brave woman, Miss Grace," Captain Barends said, shaking his head in awe. "I don't believe I would have the courage to stand up against a man like Thurston."

"If no one is brave enough to challenge powerful people, then nothing will change," Grace said, conviction in her voice.

"Aren't you afraid?" Luc asked her, watching her intently.

I glanced from him to Grace, eager for them to interact.

She looked at him, her expressive eyes full of conviction. "Not when I think of the fear that some people face as they enter a factory or go home to a dilapidated tenement. My fear of being bullied by powerful people could not compare to the daily life-or-death situations they face. I only hope I can continue to write investigative pieces that bring attention to their plight."

"You speak of powerful people who would like nothing more than to silence you," Luc continued. "Or hurt the people you love."

He knew of Mr. Thurston's plans to take our parents' orphanage. Was he goading her? Or truly concerned?

Grace looked down at her plate, the first hint of fear in her brown eyes, and I knew she was thinking of Mama and Daddy. But when she lifted her face, I saw steely resolve. "I know the risks I take. And if my parents have taught me anything, it's to fight for what I believe to be right. If I can make a difference in the lives of people who do not have a voice, then it is worth the risk. I will deal with the bullies as they come."

They held each other's gazes as the table grew silent under the weight of Grace's comment.

"All of us make sacrifices," I said, almost too quickly, my cheeks warming when everyone looked at me. "W-what I mean is that each of us must sacrifice something for our callings. Just think of aviation. It's one of the most dangerous jobs in the world—even President Taft has applauded the death of pilots as a necessary sacrifice for the advancement of aviation. But we know how important it is to keep flying, don't we, Luc? If we don't take the risk, aviation will never be safe for anyone. And that is our hope. That everyone can fly one day."

Grace turned her heavy countenance to me. She hated it when I reminded her about the dangers of flying.

"Very well said, Miss Hope." Captain Barends smiled.

The sound of violins drifted in from the connected dining saloon where the dance would be held.

"I do hope you will honor me with the first dance, Miss Grace," Captain Barends said. "I would very much like to talk to you about the third-class passengers and what we might do together to improve conditions for those traveling in steerage. I've wanted someone to report on it for a long time but haven't known who to ask."

Grace smiled, relieving a bit of the tension around her mouth and eyes. "I would be honored to discuss it with you."

As the diners stood and started moving away from the table, the captain offered Grace his arm. Luc watched them go, giving me the opportunity to approach him.

"I wish you would stay." I smiled at him. "Can I persuade you to stay for just one dance with me?"

He studied me, his eyes dark in the dim lights of the restaurant. "Oui. For you I will stay for one dance."

I couldn't hide my smile.

Taking his arm, I allowed him to lead me into the dining saloon. The captain was introducing Grace to an important-looking group of people, his eyes glowing as he regarded her.

We watched them as the musicians began the first waltz of the evening. Captain Barends bowed to Grace and then took her into his arms to start the dance. No one else was on the dance floor as they spun to the sound of the music.

Grace was lovely. She personified her name perfectly.

Everyone looked on for several seconds before they joined in. Colorful gowns and sparkling jewels twinkled from the ladies, while freshly pressed tuxedos and crisp white shirts complemented the men.

"Will this waltz do?" Luc asked with a smile that went straight to my heart.

He was a different man when he wasn't being bombarded by crowds of adoring fans, though he still hid behind an invisible wall I couldn't seem to climb over. I'd known him for months—but did I really know him?

I lifted the train of my gown and nodded, and he whirled me away onto the dance floor. He was an impressive dancer, so sure on his feet and confident in his grasp of me. All else faded as I lost myself in his eyes. Was he growing to care for me?

What might it take for him to realize he loved me?

The song ended, and the captain led Grace to the side of the dance floor. Luc and I followed, and when we reached them, the captain turned to me and extended his arm. "May I have this dance, Miss Hope?"

I nodded, glancing back at Luc and Grace as the captain led me away. Would Luc ask my sister to dance? It would be the polite thing to do.

They stood awkwardly on the edge of the dance floor for a few moments—and then Luc turned to Grace and said something I couldn't hear.

Whatever she said in response made him nod with stiff shoulders.

Then he left the room.