Love Lost ||HISTORICAL FICTION APRIL 23 CONTEST

Love Lost

April 14th, 1913

It'd been a year. Anne kept to herself for the day, remembering the news she'd heard the days following. Standing by the picture window of their apartment, she watched as the rain continued to fall, leaving trails on her windows. It'd been two weeks since she and John had been married in a lavish ceremony, full of their friends and family, a wedding for the ages. He doted on her when he wasn't at work with his father, showering her with gifts, gifts that she didn't think she'd be able to give back to him. John had been her best friend growing up, and was always there for her after the news that George Abbott had survived. When he never showed, Anne was lost. After months of courting, John Astoria had convinced Anne to marry him and their love was strong, even after two weeks. She'd been hesitant at first because of how soon it was to George's disappearance, but she loved John as much as she loved George. Eventually she said yes. She was excited to bear his children. It was a shared dream, but one she thought would belong to George.

The rain had increased as the day progressed. Storms for the day. Anne couldn't leave. The rain only added to the significance of this day. Her heart full of sorrows. The headlines recounted the sorrows of the survivors, shared the names of the victims once again. The world had tried so desperately to forget what it had failed a year ago, but with tabloids still craning for more stories, news and updates from the White Star Line. 

A knock on the door jolted Anne from her thoughts. She wasn't expecting guests, and John was still at work. Curious as to who could be disturbing her day of reflection, she hesitantly approached the door. Her hand turned the cold brass knob as she opened her apartment door. 

Butterflies. He was supposed to be dead. He never came back after the sinking.

Heart pounding. How was he alive and here? Why he hadn't messaged her, she didn't know

Tears. He's alive, broken, but alive. 

A loving embrace. But is this the same man she once knew? Their conversation would soon reveal if he was indeed the same George Abbott from before. 

"George!" Anne stuttered through her sobs. "How are you here!?" 

"Anne Young." George's voice was just as she remembered it. Silky, smooth, deep. But there was something different. It was like he'd seen hell. Anne's sobs slowed to whimpers before she finally calmed enough to invite him inside her apartment. Her face was white. A ghost of her past just showed up on her doorstep without warning. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not. 

"George Abbott. It's been a year. Please, enlighten me." Anne's voice quavered, but she needed answers. 

"I suppose you should know the whole story. The story of that night. The death of Titanic." George sat down on the couch as Anne stood to the side, giving him space to breathe and to think. 

"Would you like some water?" Anne asked, trying to be polite. George nodded as he took his cap off. His hair had begun to gray. Anne assumed it was due to the stress he'd lived through for the last year. Anne returned with the water and sat in her reading chair across from the man she'd always believed to be her soulmate. They'd said he survived the sinking, but when he never showed, Anne assumed they'd been given the wrong name and thus abandoned all hope, having to turn to her friend for comfort.

"It all started just after midnight on April 15th. The officers scrambled to get us in our lifebelts, but at the same time they told us it was just a drill and we'd be on our way again. As the reality of the ship sinking became more real, panic and fear set in. I'd been washed off the deck as she took her final plunge. I found an overturned lifeboat with 20 or so men keeping it afloat for as long as they could. We balanced all night and at some point in the early morning, a small steamer came to collect the 700 people in the boats." George hesitated. "Parts of my feet were in the water next to the second Marconi boy. I lost everything that night. I couldn't bear return to you empty handed, no money, no clothes, just a man who will never be the same again." Anne listened intently, hanging onto his every word. 

"Upon arrival to America, I had no way of contacting you, or finding you. I had to find work, and thus, for you, it seems, I disappeared off the map entirely. I worked hard to regain what I once had, just so I could find you, to ask you for your hand in marriage." Anne inhaled sharply as he spoke. This was all too much for her. Things in the house needed to be done, cleaning, laundry, cooking, reading, tidying and all other chores, now on hold for this.

Something seemed off about this man to her. This was not the same man from the letters. They'd only ever met once before, a couple of months prior to his sailing on the ill-fated Titanic. He'd been invited by some prominent Americans to join a business venture in Great Britain. She'd been supportive of him, but made him promise to come home as soon as he found the opportunity to. The silence was thicker than blood. 

"Anne... I'd like to marry you still, if you'll have me." George broke the silence. Anne hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath as she released a heavy sigh. He'd gotten down on one knee, holding out a ring. Anne was silent, shocked and appalled. Her heart no longer was his to keep. Neither her hand to ask in marriage. 

"George, as much as my heart once belonged to you, I can no longer accept your hand. In the time that you've been absent from my life, I've already married and I love him dearly." Anne turned away from George, spinning the ring around her finger. As another silence fell upon the apartment, thunder rumbled outside and the door swung open. 

"Anne, honey, I'm home!" John announced as he stepped through the door. His eyes landed on George, bended knee, ring out and Anne facing away. "George Abbott. What are you doing here?" John's voice sneered. He hadn't seen George for well over a year either. Now that he was here, bended down on one knee, proposing to his wife, John had every reason to be angry. 

"John Astoria. We were friends once. But I was courting Anne over a year ago-" Before George could finish, John interjected. 

"And when you never showed to whisk her away, Anne thought you'd died. There was no one there but me to comfort her for her loss. As the year progressed, I ended up courting Anne and two weeks ago we were married." John challenged. Anne stood from the couch and went to John's loving embrace.

George's eyes watched with silent anger as Anne, the one woman he'd loved for a year, deny him his right to ask her for her hand. 

"As much as I've enjoyed hearing your harrowing tale of survival, I really do think you should be going now. George. I'm married. I loved you, but I moved on. John is the only man for me. He will be the father to our children." Anne stated, as her hands rested on John's chest. George stood. 

"Fine, but don't come crawling back to me when your 'beloved' husband betrays you and leaves you for someone else." He spat. "I won't be there to comfort or protect you." Stalking off, George glared at John and slammed the door shut behind him. Anne's body racked with sobs as she fell to the floor. John flowed to the floor with her, holding her gently, caressing her face, wiping away the tears.

"I thought he was dead. He's not the same man I knew before. I'm glad he has gone, and I'm glad we're alone." Anne spoke as her sobs dwindled. "I need to get started on the cooking. I'm thinking roast mutton, stewed carrots and for desert, my great-grandmothers apple pie." Anne stood, brushed herself off as if nothing happened moments ago and made her way to the small kitchen. John watched her. The woman that he'd grown to love over all those months, seeing her strength and resilience in action was something he'd longed to see since he first met her when they were children. 

Dinner was silent, with a few remarks from John about how delicious the food tasted, and how his own mother should be jealous of her cooking. Anne would blush and thank him. 

"I'll clean the dishes in the morning, for now, it is time for bed." John grabbed Anne's hand and gently dragged her to their bedroom.