atlanticcrossing1and2

The date is July 31, 1947. We are aboard the Queen Mary and this is her first voyage after being refitted after the war. The rails are crowded with waving passengers, some desperate to get out of war-torn England and are heading for America and hopefully a better life. Some are going home and some are going because they have no choice.

Leaning on the railing smoking a cigarette with his fedora cocked on the back of his head is Alex Ross, going home. Alex joined the fray early on as a pilot with the RAF. He came through the war only slightly unscathed, surviving a plane crash with a broken leg and a crushed ankle. He was lucky to be alive at all. He’d been sending stories home to his father’s newspaper in San Diego, California. His father reckoned him to be a first rate reporter and a job awaited his return.

Alex was thirty-two years old, educated, intelligent and single. He’d spent the last four months of his convalescence in the home of the surgeon who’d tried to reconstruct his ankle. He walked with a decided limp and carried a cane sometimes for support but often for effect. It had been a heart-wrenching thing he had to do, leaving the surgeon’s daughter behind. Angry and hurt she hadn’t come to see him off so there was no one on the shore waving back at him and wishing him bon voyage. The cab driver had long since disappeared.

Farther down the railings we find Brenda Haines. She’s wiping tears with a violet-trimmed handkerchief, the violet matching her eyes. She’s a lovely girl but her face is crumpled with emotion. She has no choice. Somewhere in the bombed-out remains of Southampton is the foundation to her home, a home where her mother and younger brother died in the raids. Her father died when his ship was blown up off the coast of Scotland. There was no one left in England for her anymore.

Brenda was with the WRNS during the war and when the Yanks came over she met Bobby Haines. Brenda quickly became a wartime bride at the age of 23. It was difficult, of course, spending any time at all together. Brenda had been stationed in London and Bobby in Norfolk but they managed a fortnight or two. His squadron left for the States in January. It was now July and he’d finally sent her enough money for passage on the Queen Mary. She could hardly remember his voice or what he looked like. She’d had three letters from him in six months. Today she was embarking on a journey to America to meet the man she married.

She was a grand old lady but sadly her time had come. This was her last voyage. The Queen Mary left out of Southampton on October 31, 1967. Among the many dignitaries and people of note was one lowly reporter from the San Diego Times, one Lisa McClary. Lisa was twenty-four years old and had been with the paper for eighteen months. This was a big deal for her and the first big assignment she’d ever had. She meant to do it right. Lisa leaned over the railing waving to the people on the shore. She didn’t know any of them but she was into the spirit of the thing.

It was only a stroke of luck she was there at all. With the war in Viet Nam and riots and peace marches to cover, reporters were stretched pretty thin, especially those with any seniority or with the coveted by-line. Lisa had neither but she was available and old Mr. Straub sprung for her passage

Also on the rail not very far from Lisa at all was another lowly creature, a photographer, Steve Moran. He was freelancing now but he once had his own studio. That was before Viet Nam called him. He’d been drafted and he hadn’t been too happy about it. Steve was twenty eight, a New Yorker born and bred and getting by on the seat of his pants. In the last three months he’d had to take in a roommate to make ends meet. Not that she wasn’t a nice roommate and paid her share but somehow she’d managed to cramp his style. He felt funny bringing other girls to his apartment.

It was a stroke of luck that found him on the Queen Mary, too. An old army buddy had started up a magazine and he hired Steve to take pictures. Steve had been delighted when the Queen Mary’s last voyage came up. He was tired of taking pictures of riots and peace marches. He was apolitical and as long as his creature comforts weren’t in play he was basically a happy man. He took some pictures of the wildly waving crowds both on board and on shore, the helicopters above, and the flotilla escorting along side.

Steve’s eye was caught by the blowing blond hair. He couldn’t see her face but the hair was fantastic. He snapped away with his camera.

The man and woman who had been standing at the rail beside Lisa moved away and she noticed a man taking her picture and put her hand up to shield herself.

“Hey, cut it out!” Pushing her hair over her shoulder, she frowned at him and turned away. With the last sound of the horn, the ship was beginning to move away from the docks. She would have liked to remain there on the rail for awhile but the pesky photographer changed her mind.

“Wait!” he called, trying to move around the people still crowding the deck. “Hey, wait up!” But by the time he got through the crowd she was gone.

He snapped the cover back over the lens and hung the camera across his shoulders, making his way up to the Observation Bar lounge where a crowd was already gathering. The tables were filling up fast but a drink was more important and he went to the bar and ordered. While he was waiting he glanced around the room.

“It’s what I do. I’m a photographer and your hair caught my eye. You have beautiful hair. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“You should ask before snapping shots of people like that.” She sipped her fruity drink through a straw.

“You’re not part of the crew?” He rested his chin on his hand, smiling.

“I’m a reporter.” She looked around the room, trying not to look directly at him.

Brenda Haines left the rail, worked her way through the crowded deck and climbed the steps up to the Observation Bar. What she needed was a nice cup of tea. She found a table by the window and sat down. A waiter came over.

“Just tea, please.” She removed her gloves and placed them on the table, touching her little hat and settling it back in place. The room was filling up with passengers bored with the rail side and looking for drinks. “Thank you.” She added milk and sugar to her tea, grateful for the treat. She’d been drinking her tea without sugar in Chilworth.

Alex Ross climbed the steps to the Observation Bar. Ah, he’d left it too late. Nowhere to sit. Then he noticed the woman alone at a table and made his way over.

Alex noticed her eyes, violet and dark-fringed. “Thank you. I’ve got a bum ankle.”

“My plane crashed.” He signaled a waiter and ordered a scotch and water.

He was an American. “You’re a little late going home, aren’t you? I thought most of your lot left months ago.”

“My lot?” He placed his hat on the edge of the table. “Oh, you mean the Air Corps. I didn’t fly with them. I was an RAF pilot.”

He smiled, “I guess you’ve had enough of the yanks over here. Well, here’s one more going home. I’m Alex Ross, by the way.”

“San Diego. I’m going home to work for my Dad. Looks like I’m going to be a reporter after all.”

She looked back, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry I…New York.” She picked up her tea cup and took a drink. “I’m supposed to meet my husband.”

“That’s too bad.” Alex took another sip of his drink.

“Hey, what happened? What did you see?” Steve craned his neck, looking toward the outside railings.

“I’m not sure. It was…weird.” Lisa rested her hands in her lap and looked down at the table. “Have you ever had an out of body experience, like you were looking at yourself from up here somewhere?”

“Yes, and you were there but it wasn’t you…but it was.” She looked at him strangely.

“Sounds like good stuff whatever it is you’re on,” he smiled crookedly.

“I’m not on anything. I don’t do drugs. Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything to you!” She started to get up.

“Sorry, I don’t know where that came from. Just popped in my mind. I swear I don’t even know a Brenda. What is your name?”

Lisa gave him a look and got up to leave. Steve caught up with her at the bottom of the steps.

“Lisa, hey, don’t be angry with me. I know I can be a smart ass. Are you traveling by yourself?”

“Can’t do that. Look, I’m by myself, too. We could, ah, share a table at dinner…you know.”

“Or not…go pick on somebody else. I’m not interested in you.” Lisa walked determinedly away.

“I can get you into the first class dining room…” he called after her.

Her eyes had a wounded look about them. “You don’t look too happy about it, meeting your husband.”

“Oh, well, of course I am. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him. He’s just sent me passage.”

“Southampton but I lost my home in the raids. I’ve been living in Chilworth since I got out of service, a friend’s family. I lost my family in the war.” She didn’t know why she was telling him this. He couldn’t possibly be interested. She finished her tea and picked up her gloves.

“I’ve been staying with a doctor’s family in Southampton. He tried to fix my ankle. It’s tough all over. His was one of the few blocks of houses left standing. Another cup of tea…something stronger?”

Alex sat back down to finish his drink. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Why did she have to be married? He picked up his drink. Whoever the guy was, he was a lucky son of a bitch.

Alex wandered down to the smoking lounge and found a comfortable chair. Someone had left a newspaper on the table beside him and he picked it up. His concentration was interrupted by a young couple at a table behind him. They were laughing and he began to eavesdrop, at first unconsciously, and then in earnest. He was an American bringing home his English wife.

It was a sharp contrast to the picture Brenda Haines presented in the Observation Bar. There had been no joy in her at the prospect of starting a new life with her husband. He’d picked up on that immediately. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him, but it did.

Brenda went to her cabin, removed her hat and unbuttoned the fitted suit jacket, hanging it in her closet. She unpacked her bag, shaking out her clothes and putting them away. At the bottom of the bag were the letters, two postmarked in February and the other three weeks ago. What had happened to him during those months that he couldn’t write? She’d written to him weekly. She sat down and reread the letters. Although she knew them by heart, she read them now with a different eye. The first two were much the same; he was happy to be home and missed her. The third was a little different in tone. She folded them and put them in a drawer. She was afraid it had all been a mistake.

“I’ve got the same to make observations,” she said, turning to walk away again.

“Well…maybe we could team up?” He caught up with her. “We could help each other out.”

“I can believe that.” She changed direction and walked over to the railing again. The flotilla had disappeared, as well as the helicopters. They were now moving out to the open sea. She let the wind blow in her face for a minute and turned to him beside her.

“No, in the bar when I saw you across the table when I wasn’t me and you were him, his name was Alex.”

“Let’s get out of this wind.” He walked with her to the covered walk along the side of the ship. “You’re serious about this?”

“Well, yes, I am. I had a strange experience like I was someone else for a minute, very sad and looking out the window. I even know what I was wearing, an old-fashioned looking suit and a hat.”

“That wasn’t me. I don’t own any funny-looking ties. You’re sure this didn’t come out of your west coast meditations?”

“It all passed before me very quickly but I had such a sense of it, of her and how unhappy she was, and lonely.”

Steve wandered around and made his way down to the lounge, He wasn’t ready for the confines of his cabin. He strolled about, picked a chair and sat down. There were newspapers, which he avoided, selected a magazine and lit a cigarette. Soon he was listening to the two women at a table behind him.

“I was a war bride. Of course we had whirlwind courtship, if you could call it that. Married in London at the Registrar’s office. It was all so romantic when I think back on it now. Very different and difficult times back then.”

“Oh, yes! I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Joe has been so good to me and this trip, the last one the Queen Mary will make, it brings back a lot of memories of the time when we left England right after the war. He came back for me as soon as he was able and we traveled home on this grand old gray lady.”

It occurred to Steve that this would make a good story. “Pardon me. I couldn’t help but overhear. There’s a woman on board who’s writing about this trip. Do you think she might talk with you?”

Brenda Haines stood at the entrance to the dining room and pulled her wrap a little closer around her shoulders.

“You are dining alone, Madam? One moment and I’ll see where I can place you…Haines.” The maitre de ran a finger down his book.

“She’s with me.” Alex Ross stepped up beside Brenda and smiled down at her. “I couldn’t let you dine alone.”

“Right this way, sir.” He led them to a table and seated them. There was another couple already at the table and they all introduced themselves.

“Joe Roboski and this is my wife Mary,” he beamed and she smiled, catching his eye.

“Alex Ross and this is Brenda Haines.” He’d left off the Mrs. Let them think what they would.

Drinks were ordered and pleasantries exchanged across the table but it was evident the Roboski’s were in a world of their own.

“So, I’m slumming.” He gave her a brilliant smile. “I prefer the company here.”

She smiled and reached for her wine glass. “Thank you. I felt a little awkward. A woman dining alone is always a sad situation.”

“You are sad, aren’t you? It hangs around you like an invisible curtain. I’m wondering why.”

She didn’t answer immediately. “Maybe it’s because I am alone. You’d think I’d be used to that by now.”

“Why didn’t he come for you, your husband? He’s left it a long time, hasn’t he?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he couldn’t afford it. Not everyone travels first class. He had to save up the money to buy my passage.”

“Was that an arrow you shot at me? I didn’t buy my ticket. My father paid for it. I guess he’s a hard working guy then. What does he do?” Alex picked up his glass.

“I’m not sure…I really don’t know.” She turned her eyes on him. “I’m afraid I really don’t know much about him. There wasn’t time; we never had any time.”

“It all happened so fast.” She placed her hands in her lap. What did it matter if she talked to him? She’d never see him again.

“You didn’t love him, then.” Alex took a breath. "Where does he live?”

“That’s in New Jersey.” He could see it all now, a mean little apartment; the guy probably had perpetually dirty fingernails. What a horrid life she was committing herself to and for what? “ Why are you doing this? You could have had it annulled. A lot of quickie marriages ended up that way.”

“You always have a choice, Brenda,” he said quietly and picked up his knife and fork.

Steve waited outside the dining room for her, pacing around in the one good suit he owned and a discreet tie. It was his interview suit, seldom worn.

“I almost didn’t recognize you.” Lisa came from the opposite direction, dressed in a mini dress that barely covered heaven. Steve was momentarily speechless.

There were two other couples at the table and they all introduced themselves. When the conversation quieted down and drinks were delivered, Steve turned to Lisa.

“No, thankfully, but the one I did have has piqued my curiosity. I’d like to know who she was.”

“Brenda, she must be Brenda. Oh, I heard a conversation today and got the name of a woman for you.” He began digging in his pockets and pulled out a card. “She and her husband were on this ship right after the war, the first voyage out of Southampton. Might be something there for you. She was a war bride, married an American during the war.”

Lisa looked at the card and at Steve. “That’s awfully nice of you, Steve. Thanks, I’ll look her up.” She put the card in her tiny bag. “Are they here tonight?”

Steve looked around the room. “Um, I don’t see them, might be first class. I was, uh, taking advantage of the opportunity to use their lounge.”

“We aren’t even allowed to lounge with the ‘ritzy people’. Such class distinction! I thought that went out with World War Two.”

“It’s all money, Lisa, and this woman didn’t look particularly ritzy to me.” Steve stopped his glass half way to his mouth. “Choices…you always have a choice.”

“Well, I didn’t have a choice when it came to staterooms and grand dining rooms. Straub did the best he could, though. He’s my editor.” Steve had a strange look on his face.

“I’m going crazy! I could have sworn I’ve been here before at this table, one of those déjà vu moments.” It had been a little more than that but he didn’t especially want to recognize it. There had been music. He looked around for the source. The room was filled with tables now but there had been, he was sure of it, a piano.

“Hey, Steve.” She touched his arm. He turned to her and for just a moment there was a different look in his eyes. “Are you okay? Do we need to leave?”

Steve shook his head and looked at Lisa, seeing her now for who she was. “I think I need some air.”

They left their dinner half eaten and went out onto the deck under the covered walkway. Steve wanted to walk it off and so they walked.

“Are you going to tell me what happened in there?” she asked, trying to keep up with him in her stacked heels.

“You know what you told me today about seeing with somebody else eyes? The same thing just happened to me. There was a piano in the dining room and only one other couple at the table…and you…her.”

“Um, dark hair, short and curly…her eyes were…oh, man, I can’t do this!” He ran his hand over his face. “It kinda…well…shook me up.”

“Oh, this is great! Now we know she’s Brenda and he’s Alex. What did it feel like to be Alex?”

“There was something…his right ankle. He was hurt but not hurting, just something not right. I don’t think we should…let’s don’t talk about this, Lisa.”

“But I want to. This is a great experience for us. We’ve both had it now. We have a connection to these people. I want to know who they are.”

“It’s cold out here. Let’s go back inside. Aren’t you freezing? I mean, you’re barely dressed.”

“I am a little cold. Okay, we can go in but I’m not going to drop this. I want to hear more.”

“There isn’t any more.” He followed her back inside and down to the lounge.

“No, it’s up a level.” Steve grabbed the back of a chair and sat down at one of the tables.

“I don’t like it that somebody else can...oh, it’s awful!” He rested his head in his hands.

“You weren’t threatened or anything. What was he feeling or thinking? Do you know?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, touching his arm briefly. “I can take care of myself.”

He wasn’t so sure of that. “You have no idea what you’re getting into and you’ll be a long way from home.”

“You had friends and familiar places. There will be no place for you to run to.”

“I don’t know, but I think you will.” He stopped himself. What was he trying to do? “Hey, look, what do I know? He’s probably a great guy.” Alex smiled slightly and put his knife and fork down and turned to listen to the piano for a moment.

They went up to the sun deck, now bathed in lights, and into the Starlight Club. A table, drinks ordered, and they got up to dance. This is what Alex had been wanting, just to hold her close.

“You’re easy to follow.” Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder but his chest raked her breasts again and again as they moved around the floor. She felt her nipples responding. Finally the song ended and he held her for a moment then limped to the table.

He seated her and pulled out his chair. It did but he wouldn’t admit it. “Not really. It does what I want it to.”

“Ah, just another war story. We took a hit and went down. Only one guy bought it. I came away with a broken leg and crushed ankle. I bailed out but I left it a little too long. That was last September. The leg healed but the ankle didn’t so I had to have more surgery. I’ve basically been in hospital until about four months ago when the doc took me home.”

“You were lucky. I’ve seen so many,” she sighed and picked up her drink.

Alex offered her a cigarette, lit it for her then his own. “I’m glad it’s over, all behind me now. I’m going home and start up again.”

Brenda didn’t want to think about where she was going. “What did you do before the war?”

“Nothing. I was in school. I played,” he smiled and picked up his drink. “What did you do before the WRNS?”

“You’re still worrying about me, aren’t you?” she smiled and drew on her cigarette.

He looked across the table, meeting her eyes. “Yeah I am. Not my place to, I know. You’ll be living in Hoboken with the husband and I’ll be in San Diego trying to scratch out a living on the paper.” He looked toward the dance floor, wishing they’d play another slow dance.

“Oh, it’s down near the Mexican border. Weather’s nice, warm most of the time, great beaches, good surfing, too. My home sits up on a hillside and you can see the water. My Dad’s home.”

“Yeah, but that’s gonna change. I’ve been gone for six years. I ain’t daddy’s little boy anymore.”

He tilted his head. “I’ll get a little bungalow, maybe closer to town. Why do you want to know all this?”

“I’ll know where to think of you, where you are, and what it’s like there.”

She became a little flustered. “Well, I don’t know, but if I do…one day.”

The music changed and he reached over and took her hand, limping out to the dance floor. They came together easily this time, no awkwardness about how far apart they should stand, where the hands should go. He would have endured a thousand broken ankles to hold her like this. Barely moving, he could feel the length of her against him. His cheek rested in her hair.

“There’s a bar, besides the guidebook says this turns into a club in a little while.”

“No, that will be fine.” Lisa turned on the bar stool and noticed they were setting up a band. She wondered what kind of music they would have. The whole ship was Art Deco. Would the music be old fashioned or something current? From the look of the people in the grill, probably slow stuff, old stuff. She turned to Steve.

“Yeah.” He took a gulp of his drink. “Sorry about that. It was just something unexpected.” Steve also turned on his stool and looked around the room. He noticed the band, too. He glanced over at Lisa, wondering that they had met at all with so many people on board and then to have the experiences they’d had. They had shared something. Was it fate? He looked at her profile and could find nothing displeasing about it and of course the rest of her was…well, it just was.

“If I have to.” He wished he had phrased that a little better. “I can dance.” He took another drink from his glass, “Have you written anything?”

“I wrote my impressions of this morning, the people and the sendoff we got. You haven’t had your camera out all night.”

Lisa looked at him, really looked at him. He was handsome in a boyish kind of way. She liked the way his hair refused to be combed but went its own way. She’d noticed the color of his eyes earlier, blue-green, almost a water color. He was different from the guys she knew but, then, he was from New York.

“Uh, no, nobody special. How about you? Got a guy back on the west coast?”

“What does that mean?” she asked, sipping her drink and looking at him over the rim of her glass.

“Good…absence of bad.” He met her eyes and looked back to the band’s staging area. They were beginning to make a little noise. “Have you always lived in San Diego?” he asked.

“No, only since I got this job. I’m from Huntington Beach, just a little south of LA. My parents still live there.”

Once the band began to play Steve looked at Lisa and led her out on the dance floor. The music was from another time and after a while they caught the rhythm, Lisa’s hands around his neck, his resting on her hips as they swayed to the music. They didn’t leave the floor when the song ended but waited for the next one. Steve had her close in and they were barely moving. It felt good, she felt good. He didn’t want it to end. He hardly noticed the ankle.

ATLANTIC CROSSING