Course Correction Studio

Category: The Journal

All posts related to the Fumbling Toward Ecstasy sequel The Journal.

  • 4. August 4, 1914

    August 4, 1914

    Belfast

    5:29 pm

    I’d been wondering if history would unfold as it had before. Today I got my answer, because today Britain declared war on Germany. The First World War is starting.

    Brynne was at the shipyard, on board the Britannic. It was the first time she’d been back onboard since she’d had her fainting spell a year ago. Tom didn’t know what was in store for the firm, but Brynne had an idea, at least as far as the Britannic was concerned. If history held true, the Britannic would never serve as a civilian passenger liner, the purpose for which she’d been dreamed up and built. She was supposed to have been the crowning glory of the Olympic-class liners. Instead, she was doomed.

    For weeks, the public had been speculating about the possibility that Britain might join in the conflict brewing amongst the European powers. Yesterday, Parliament made that final leap from speculation to fact by declaring war against Germany. How this whole mess evolved is complicated, but did any of that really matter now? War had begun.

    It was the reason Brynne felt the urge to be on board the Britannic. Change was coming. It was coming fast, and Brynne wanted to see this ship as it was meant to be seen before it was too late.

    Britannic wasn’t completely finished. There were still things that needed to be installed, things that needed to be polished up. Despite the fact that Britain was now officially at war, carpenters, painters, plumbers, and others were still scurrying around at a brisk pace. The firm had received no messages from the Admiralty, so as far as everyone was concerned, they were going to continue working at the regular pace. The ship was due to be finished in December, and until they heard otherwise, that was what everyone at the firm was working toward.

    “Like what you see?” Tom walked up behind Brynne, joining her at the top of the Grand Staircase on the boat deck.

    “She’s really coming together,” Brynne said. “Until I stepped aboard, it hadn’t really sunk in how long I’ve been away.” She began to descend the staircase with Tom.

    As she and Tom reached the landing, he looked at her and said, “It hasn’t been the same without you.” He kissed her waiting lips.

    Before they could take more than two steps away from the landing to view more of the ship, a young man approached with a small folded piece of paper in hand. “Excuse me, sir – Mr. Wilding sent this message for you,” the boy said. He couldn’t have been more than 16. He was likely an apprentice, just beginning to work his way up through the ranks of the firm.

    Tom accepted the message with a nod and a grin. “Thank you,” he said. The boy nodded in turn and disappeared down the stairs.

    Tom opened the letter, and Brynne studied his face as he read it. The sigh that escaped his lips once he finished wasn’t a happy one. “What is it?” Brynne asked.

    “So it begins,” Tom said. “The Admiralty has mandated that the preparation of military vessels for service take priority over all civilian contracts, Britannic included.” He looked down at Brynne. “It looks like the Britannic isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

  • 3. May 17, 1914

    May 17, 1914

    Belfast – Dunallon

    2:45 a.m.

    Tom had a nightmare tonight, one so disturbing that he couldn’t go back to sleep. I have to admit that when he told me the dream, it left me with chills.

    “Tom?” When Tom had awakened and left their bedroom in the middle of the night, Brynne followed him. She’d found him in Evie’s room. He stood over the sleeping infant’s crib, gazing down at her.

    Hearing his name pulled him from his adoration of his daughter. He looked toward the open doorway of nursery and found Brynne.

    “I’m sorry, darling,” he said quietly. “Did I wake you?”

    “Yes,” Brynne said. “But it’s okay.” She stepped into the study and joined Tom at the crib. She reached in and softly stroked Evie’s face with her finger. “What’s wrong?” she whispered to Tom. “You can’t sleep?”

    “I had a nightmare,” was his soft reply.

    “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. It must have been one hell of a bad dream if it shook him up so badly that he couldn’t sleep, she thought.

    He looked at her. “You sure you want to hear it?” he asked. “It was very disturbing, to say the least.”

    Brynne took his hands and led him from the nursery. When they’d returned to their bedroom, they sat on a the loveseat across from their bed. “Tell me about it,” she said.

    Tom sighed. “We were on the Titanic,” he began. “And the ship hit an iceberg, just as in real life. But this time, things were different. There were no ships in range to come to our rescue in time. We put passengers off in the boats, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t have been. There were only 20 boats onboard, and not even all of those went away at capacity. I made you go away in one of them.”

    “There were hundreds, perhaps even a thousand, left on the ship, and I was one of them.” Tom paused and swallowed hard. ” A lot of people jumped into the frigid water before the ship went down, and I remember tossing deck chairs and anything else that could be used as a life raft or preserver overboard. I knew deep down, though, that they would likely freeze to death before help finally arrived.”

    He leaned back into the couch, sighing heavily as he rubbed his hands down his face. “I don’t think I even tried to save myself, even though a few people tried to persuade me to make a go for it. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though, not when so many others were suffering because of me. It was because of my design flaws, my failures.

    “The last thing I remember was standing in the smoking room, in front of the fireplace, just staring at the painting hanging above the mantle. Then, I woke up.”

    Tom looked at Brynne. “It all felt so real. Not at all like a dream. Everything was so fresh and vivid.”

    Brynne’s expression was one of shock and horror, and Tom regretted his decision to tell her about his dream. “I told you it was disturbing,” he said.

    Brynne simply stared at Tom. If her expression was one of shock and horror, it was because that’s what she was feeling at the moment. Tom had just described what had happened to Titanic in the original timeline, including his alternate fate.

    Was it a coincidence? Was it fate? Was it the result of some cosmic, temporal phenomenon?

    Brynne didn’t have an answer for any of those questions. But she did have one more question – should she tell Tom the truth about herself? Was this a sign that she should tell him that she was from the future, that his dream was more than that and that it had actually occurred in some alternate reality?

    Telling Tom the truth was an idea she’d flirted with on occasion before, but she could never bring herself to do it because she couldn’t find the benefit it doing so. Sure, she would have the comfort of knowing that someone else knew the truth about her, but how would Tom react to that knowledge? There really was no telling. He might think she were crazy or joking. Or he might believe her – and the truth might be too much for him to bear.

    Brynne swallowed. “That’s some dream,” she said. “The real thing was bad enough, but thank the good Lord it didn’t turn out the way it did in your dream.”

    “I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if it had,” Tom said.

  • 2. February 26, 1914

    February 26, 1914

    Belfast

    Dunallon

    9:35 p.m.

    Today has been the most amazing day of my life. I’ve experienced so much today. Looking back on all of it, it feels like I’ve been through a great whirlwind, as it seems like it all happened so fast.

    Brynne had no memory of the Titanic’s launch, and the Britannic’s launch, unfortunately, was only going to offer abbreviated insight into what the former was like. Counter to White Star tradition, where each launch was cause for great celebration, Britannic would be launched with no huge crowds, no great fanfare, no celebratory luncheons or dinners.

    Nonetheless, Brynne was at the yard the morning of February 26th to see the giant ship take to the water for the first time. She’d been working on this ship for nearly two years. She’d done a little work on other ships, but Britannic had occupied the bulk of her time, and she knew she wouldn’t feel right if she missed its launch, even if she did happen to be 8 1/2 months pregnant.

    With all the new additions and improvements made in comparison to the Titanic, the Britannic ended up being approximately 50,000 tons, making it the largest British ocean liner and the largest of the Olympic-class liners. There were quite a few distinctions between the Britannic and her older sisters, and Brynne’s influence was all over them, which included a hair salon for women, a children’s playroom, a second-class gym, and a manicurist’s room. When construction was completed, the Britannic would have room for 790 first-class passengers, 836 second-class, and 953 third-class, not to mention 950 crew.

    Brynne sat in a small grandstand alongside a few notables who’d been invited to witness the informal launch event. All the senior designers and architects from Harland and Wolff and White Star were there, as well as their families. Executives from each of the companies were there, too. No one from the general public had been formally invited, but they were free to take a spot along the dock to watch if they wished, and some did, despite the substantial chill in the air.

    Ismay, flanked by Tom and Lord Pirrie on one side and Carlisle on the other, stood at a podium near the edge of the dock, close to the bow of the Britannic. Every now and then, Tom looked over his shoulder at Brynne. He hated that she was out here in this cold in her condition, but when she’d expressed her desire to be present at the launch, he knew better than to argue, for it would be a futile act with her. When the woman set her mind to something, there was no undoing it unless she wanted it undone. He turned back to face the ship.

    At 11:00 a.m., the first signal was given. A red rocket fired into the sky, indicating that the launch was about to begin. Pirrie and Ismay made a few brief remarks, and then another rocket raced upward at 11:15. Workers knocked the support timbers free beneath the hull of the ship and quickly leaped out of the way as the hull began its slid down the slipway into the River Lagan. After an 81- second journey, the Britannic was floating for the very first time.

    It was then that Brynne felt the first pain. She hadn’t been feeling well all morning, but that was nothing new for her. She’d been dealing with discomfort on a regular basis since beginning the final stage of her pregnancy. This past month had been almost as bad as the first in terms of how she felt physically, which was why she didn’t think much of it when she felt the onset of dull pain in her abdomen. She pushed any thoughts of pain aside as she clapped and cheered, watching with everyone else as the Britannic settled into the river.

    When the pain didn’t subside but instead grew in intensity, Brynne still didn’t think too much of it, though it was starting to become significantly uncomfortable for her. She was already sitting down, and that usually helped ease these kinds of pains when they came upon her. Short of lying down, she didn’t know what else she could do at the moment to alleviate the pain. Luckily, after a few moments of increasing distress, the pain subsided a little but still didn’t go away completely. As Harland and Wolff tugs pulled the Britannic into the fitting out basin, and audience members began to rise and move about, Brynne decided it was the perfect opportunity to make a polite exit. Perhaps it was the cold air or the excitement that was amplifying her pain. Whatever it was, she didn’t feel well. Before she moved to get up, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will herself to feel better.

    Brynne had stopped going to the firm when she’d entered her third trimester. Instead, as part of a compromise between them, Tom had agreed to let Brynne continue her work on plans for the Britannic at home, and he hired a full-time, live-in nurse to look after her health and see to it that her needs were sufficiently taken care of while he was away during the day. It was a good system, one that they both agreed they could continue using after the baby was born.

    With the assistance of Nurse Emily Patrick, Brynne rose slowly from her seat. As she did, the pain increased, so much so that she could barely summon the stength to remain standing and had to rely heavily on Miss Patrick for support.

    “Oh, ma’am,” Miss Patrick began, “you’re not at all well.”

    “I’m having some pain,” Brynne said. It was an understatement, Nurse Patrick knew. “It’s probably nothing but the cold weather, but in any case, I think we should return to the house,” Brynne added.

    Both Brynne and Nurse Patrick scanned the crowd for Tom, but they couldn’t see him anywhere. Small groups of people had formed in several areas on the grounds, and neither Miss Patrick nor Brynne could make out Tom’s form in any of them.

    “Eddie!” Brynne called out to a passing man. Edward Wilding immediately turned at the sound of his name, searching for the person who’d called to him. He spotted Brynne and walked over to her.

    Wilding, a slightly built, balding man in his early 40s, was the firm’s senior architect under Tom and his right-hand man. “Brynne,” he said. His blue eyes were sparkling with pride at having launched another magnificent ship.

    “Have you seen Tom?” Brynne asked him.

    “No,” Wilding said. “I’m trying to find him now.”

    “When you do, please tell him that I’m not feeling well and that Miss Patrick and I returned home,” Brynne said. It was only then that Wilding got the notion that all was not well with his colleague and boss’s wife.

    Wilding nodded, his expression turning to one of concern. “Of course. Will you be all right for the trip home?”

    “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Brynne said. “Miss Patrick takes excellent care of me.”

    As soon as Brynne and Miss Patrick arrived at the house, the nurse called out repeatedly to Sarah, who was inside the house. As Miss Patrick helped Brynne out of the automobile, the front door opened, and Sarah appeared in the front doorway of the house. She hurried toward the two women to assist Miss Patrick with Brynne.

    “What’s happened, ma’am?” Sarah asked.

    “We need to call Dr. Callahan,” Miss Patrick said.

    Wilding had finally found Andrews. He was nowhere near where he’d been during the short ceremony, and he was surrounded by people congratulating him and asking him endless questions about the Britannic.

    Tom spotted Wilding just beyond the edge of the crowd. He quickly, but politely, excused himself from the group and stepped away to meet Wilding.

    “Ed, you’re a lifesaver,” Tom said. “They closed in right after the ceremony, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to get away from them ever since.” He pulled his watch from his pocket. “Goodness, that was nearly half an hour ago,” he said. He closed his watch and placed it back in his pocket. “Have you seen Brynne? I hope she hasn’t been looking for me all this time?”

    “I saw her while I was looking for you,” Wilding said. “She went home with her nurse. She said she wasn’t feeling well.”

    “What?” Tom asked, the alarm rising in his voice.

    “Honestly, she looked a noticeably unwell,” Wilding said.

    “You’re in labor,” Dr. Callahan concluded. He’d arrived at Dunallon shortly after Nurse Patrick had sent for him and had promptly examined Brynne.

    “I am?” Brynne asked. With the pain she’d experienced this morning, she’d known it wouldn’t be long, but she didn’t expect it to be today, right this minute. “Are you sure?”

    “Quite,” Callahan confirmed. “Now, I need you to stay calm. There’s nothing to get upset about.”

    “I … I thought it would be so different,” Brynne said. Despite Callahan’s best efforts, she was starting to panic. “I thought there would be so much more to it. Shouldn’t you be telling me to push or something?”

    Callahan chuckled. “In time, my dear. We’ll get to that soon enough, but we musn’t rush it. You’re only in the very early stages at this point.” He patted Brynne’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Andrews. We’re going to take good care of you and your baby.”

    Evelyn Marie Andrews was born February 26, 1914 at 6:10 p.m. at Dunallon to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Andrews, Jr. The new bundle of joy weighed a healthy 6 pounds, 2 ounces at birth. Both mother and child are reportedly in good health and spirits.

    Thus read the birth announcement that appeared in the newspaper the following week. Brynne understood now that she had a new mission. This time, it wasn’t one handed down by COSI – it was one that had been handed down by fate. Her new mission? To be the absolute best mother to this little girl and the best wife to Tom that she could possibly be.

  • 1. August 5, 1913

    August 5, 1913

    Belfast

    Harland and Wolff

    2:29 p.m.

    I hate showing weakness in front of all the men here at the firm, but I can only do what my body will let me. I knew being pregnant would take a toll on my body, but I didn’t know it would happen this early along.

    Being able to see her work come to life before her eyes was one of the things Brynne loved about being a ship designer. Everyday, she could look out her office window and see the ship inch closer to completion. It became even more evident on days like today, when she was able to actually board the Britannic and see some of the results of her work first-hand. Many days, she was simply too busy to go out to the ship. Today was different. Today, she’d been able to accompany Tom as he made an inspection of the ship to check progress.

    Brynne peered over the side of the ship from her vantage point on the Promenade deck. It was just a quick peek, and it shouldn’t have affected her negatively. But it did. A few nanoseconds after she looked down over the side of the Britannic, the world began to spin. Nausea followed, washing over her. She felt she was being rocked by rough waves, even though she knew it was impossible, as the ship was still in dry dock. She tried to take a step away from the railing, but her knees buckled and darkness closed in around her.

    Tom, standing beside Brynne, had turned just in time to see the beginning of her fall. Only his quick reflexes prevented her from hitting the deck. He caught her in his arms.

    “Brynne!” He carefully lowered her to the ground. “Brynne?” Her face was pale, and she was unconscious, but she was mildly responsive.

    Brynne woke up staring at a ceiling. She turned her head slightly to get a better look at her surroundings. She was in Tom’s office, lying on his sofa.

    “Tom?” she said.

    Tom walked over to the sofa and sat alongside Brynne. “Here I am,” he said softly. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “How do you feel?”

    “Like an idiot,” Brynne said. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was looking over the side of the ship, the next I was completely dizzy.”

    There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” Tom called out. The office door opened, and a receptionist stepped inside.

    “Dr. Callahan here to see you, sir,” the young man announced. He stepped to the side to allow the doctor entry into the room.

    “Tom, Brynne,” the doctor greeted.

    Tom looked at the receptionist. “Thank you, James,” he said, dismissing the young man. James left, closing the door behind him.

    Tom turned his attention to the Callahan. “Doctor, thank you for coming on such short notice.”

    “It’s no trouble,” Callahan said. “No trouble at all. What seems to be the problem here?” He walked over to the sofa. Andrews rose so that Callahan could examine her.

    “She fainted this morning while we were onboard the Britannic,” Tom said. Callahan took Tom’s place beside Brynne on the sofa. He began to take her vitals.

    “I started feeling dizzy all of a sudden,” Brynne said.

    Callahan was silent as he continued taking her vitals. “Your pulse is a little weak.” He felt her face with his hands to see if her body temperature was elevated. “Have you had any other symptoms today? Nausea? Headaches?”

    “I remember feeling nauseous right before I passed out,” Brynne said, “but I felt fine before then, which is why I don’t understand it. I’ve never had vertigo before. I don’t understand why I reacted this way.”

    “Pregnancy can affect a woman’s body in many unexpected ways,” Callahan offered. “This is one of them. It’s also been very warm today, which probably didn’t help.”

    “Is it all right to take her home, Doctor?” Tom asked.

    “Oh, yes, by all means. Get her home and into bed. Make sure she gets plenty of rest for the remainder of today and all of tomorrow. Plenty of fluids and bed rest. You must learn to be easier on yourself and your body, Brynne. You must remember your delicate condition.”

    Callahan rose from the sofa, and Tom took a few steps toward him. “So, she’s all right?” Tom asked. “The baby, too?”

    “As far as I can tell, everything is still progressing nicely. She just needs more rest.”

    Tom nodded, relieved. “Thank you, Doctor.”

    “I’ll drop by the house later on tonight to check on you again, Brynne,” Callahan said.

    “Thank you, Doctor,” Brynne said, echoing her husband.

    Callahan left the office, leaving Tom to rejoin Brynne on the sofa. “Brynne, you know that I’ve never wanted to be one of those husbands who order their wives around, but I must put my foot down about this – you can’t go back onboard the Britannic before the baby is born. In fact, it would probably be a good idea if you stayed away from the outside areas of the yard all together. It’s too dangerous.”

    Brynne wanted to argue … but she knew he was right. “I know,” she said, nodding. The reality was that it was still early in her pregnancy, and she didn’t know what other changes were in store for her. If unpredictable fainting spells were going to be a continued possibility, along with who knows what else, the last place she needed to be was somewhere potentially dangerous, like a ship still under heavy construction.

    But Tom wasn’t finished, yet. “I also think we should take Dr. Callahan’s advice about getting more rest,” he said. “Maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time here at the firm.” Brynne looked up at him with questioning eyes. “Not that you should stop working, but maybe you should cut down on the number of hours you spend here. Perhaps work here at the office for half a day, then maybe work at home for the rest.”

    “I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad,” Brynne said. “I have been tiring more easily lately.” She managed a small smile. It was easy for her to forget that she was carrying a child sometimes. In a few more months, though, it was going to become much more difficult to overlook.

  • 8. July 4, 1913

    July 4, 1913

    Belfast, Ireland

    Dunallon

    5:08 P.M.

    Things have been quite different between Tom and I since I told him about the baby yesterday. I didn’t talk to him at all after our dinner conversation. He went to his study, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the night. If he came to bed at all, he must’ve risen and left for the office before I woke because I didn’t see him this morning either. I was hoping his anger would have cooled by morning and that he would at least be open to discussing the matter with me. That’s what I’d hoped, but I can’t say I’m surprised that it didn’t pan out that way. Of course at the firm, he barely spoke to me beyond what was necessary, and even then, he used few words and was around me as little as possible. It goes without saying that it’s been a miserable day.

    And it isn’t over, yet. We’re going to Ardara House for dinner tonight to tell his parents the “good” news, and we’ll be staying on for the weekend. I’m praying that everything goes well there, but as I did this morning, I’m steeling myself for the worst.

    Ardara, Tom’s boyhood home, was a stately gray, brick mansion 8 miles outside the city of Belfast. It was the home of Thomas and Eliza Andrews, Tom’s parents.

    After Tom and Brynne arrived, it didn’t take long for the elder Andrewses to notice that something seemed different between their son and daughter-in-law. By the time everyone was around the table for dinner, it was apparent. The younger couple didn’t interact with each other and barely even looked at each other.

    It must have something to do with the exciting news they had to to share, Eliza thought, but what kind of news could make them regard each other so coldly? If it is good news, why are they acting like this toward each other? What kind of good news would make people act so?

    “Tommy, what’s this big piece of news you have for us this evening?” the elder Mr. Andrews asked.

    Tom put his fork down and cleared his throat. He looked at his parents. “Brynne and I are going to have a baby,” he said, a stony expression on his face.

    The older couple exchanged excited, happy looks. “Why, that’s wonderful news!” Mrs. Andrews said.

    “It certainly is,” Mr. Andrews concurred. “Congratulations are certainly in order.”

    “I was afraid something might be wrong,” Mrs. Andrews admitted.

    “What gave you that idea?” Tom asked.

    “Your current expression is one clue,” Mrs. Andrews said. “You should be overjoyed with this news, yet you both seem so melancholy. Is anything wrong? You do want this child, don’t you?”

    “Oh, of course we do,” Brynne replied. “As much as anything we’ve ever wanted for each other.”

    “Then what could you possibly have to be sad about?” Mr. Andrews asked.

    Brynne averted her eyes and looked down at her salad as she answered. “It isn’t important. Just a little disagreement we’ve been having. It’s silly really, and it’s hardly an issue anymore.”

    “Disagreement?” Mrs. Andrews repeated. “Over what? Names for the baby?”

    “Over whether it’s appropriate for Brynne to continue working now that we are aware of her condition,” Tom revealed. “I think she should immediately resign from the firm.”

    Brynne looked at Tom. “And I agree,” she said, earning a surprised look from him.

    “You do?” he asked.

    “I do,” she said. “That’s why I considered it a moot issue. I’ve thought it over, and I realize that if I want to maintain a happy home, some sacrifices are in order on my part. I’ll quit the firm.”

    Tom said smiled at her for the first time in nearly 24 hours. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” he said.

    Brynne offered a lackluster smile in response. Then, she put her fork down. “I’d really like some fresh air now, if you all don’t mind.”

    “What about dinner?” Tom asked.

    “I’ve no appetite at the moment,” she said with a small smile. “I think the evening air will help restore it.” She stood, Tom and Mr. Andrews following suit. “If you all would excuse me.”

    “Do you want me to come with you?” Tom asked.

    “No, I’ll be fine by myself.” She hurriedly left the dining room, denying Tom the opportunity to protest that he should join her. He reclaimed his seat, watching her retreating back disappear out the dining room door.

    Brynne found herself in the garden at the rear of the house. When she’d been at the dinner table speaking to Tom just now, it had taken everything in her to put on a happy face and not burst into tears. But now she was alone – it didn’t matter anymore, so she let the tears fall freely.

    At what point had she grown so attached to the firm and her work there that the prospect of leaving would cause her to shed tears? But work was only one reason she didn’t want to go through with this. She’d always promised herself that she wouldn’t be one of those women who gave up who she was, or even only parts of herself, just to please a man. But here she was, having done exactly that. That was the hardest thing of all, giving up something that had become an integral part of her identity.

    She would get over this eventually. Maybe. In the best-case scenario, her child would fill the void created by the absence of her work at the firm. At worst, a little bit of a void would always remain, and the new little one would serve as a constant reminder of what could have been and what would never be.

    Mr. Andrews’s study overlooked the garden, a fact unknown to Brynne. He had a clear view of his daughter-in-law from the large window behind his desk, and what he saw gave him cause for concern.

    Tom stood at his father’s bookshelf, perusing the collection for newly-acquired titles. He didn’t see what his father saw out the study window.

    “Are you quite certain that this little tiff between you and Brynne has been resolved?” Andrews asked his son.

    “You were there at dinner,” Tom said. “You heard it from Brynne’s own mouth. It’s done with.”

    “I’m not so sure all is at it seems,” Andrews said, indicating the window. Tom, an open book in his hands, joined his father at the desk. He peered down at the garden and saw Brynne sitting alone on a stone bench.

    “In fact, think you’re wrong,” Andrews Senior added.

    “About what?” Tom asked.

    “About everything. About her wanting things to be this way, about your position against her continuing to work.”

    “But why would she agree to it if it isn’t what she wants?” Tom asked.

    “You have a lot to learn about being married, son. She obviously thought it more important to preserve your happiness and her family than to preserve her own desires and her career. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that this is not a happy woman.”

    Tom peered down at the garden again. He wasn’t close enough to see the details of Brynne’s face, but he had to admit that she did appear to be a little down. The usual energy about her just wasn’t there anymore.

    “If your goal in keeping her from working was to prevent stress, I’d have to say you failed,” Andrews Senior observed. “Your actions and beliefs seem to have caused the girl a great deal of stress, I suspect.”

    Tom shut the book in hands and set it down on his father’s desk. “She’s just so … unconventional.”

    “You knew she was unconventional when you married her, Tommy,” Andrews said. “Finding out about her condition was just as much a surprise for her as it was for you. Did you honestly expect her to just change at the flip of switch?” Andrews took a step closer to his son. “When she married you, she did so believing you accepted her – all of her – for what she was. Did the two of you ever even discuss having children?”

    “We would have eventually. It just never came up.”

    “So, before any of this happened, you never discussed what you expected of her in this type of situation?”

    “So, what am I to do? Sacrifice my core beliefs to keep her happy?” Tom asked.

    “I didn’t say that,” Andrews said. “But it’s worth noting that that is exactly what she was willing to do for you. Moreover, I’m saying that since neither of you had a plan for how to approach this, you both must compromise. It may seem like more work than the alternative, but it’s worth it if you don’t want your wife to be miserable. Or even worse – resentful.”

    When Tom walked into the garden, Brynne was still sitting by herself on the bench. Her back was to him, and she didn’t see his approach.

    “Brynne,” he said softly so that he didn’t startle her.

    Brynne lifted her head but didn’t turn to the direction of the voice. She took a moment to compose herself before standing and facing him.

    Instantly, Tom felt like the biggest jackass in all of Ireland. He hadn’t been able to see it from his father’s study, but from this vantage point, and with the aid of the light from the nearby gas lamp post, it was obvious that Brynne had been crying.

    “I don’t know why flowers affect me so,” Brynne said with a sniff and a quick attempt to wipe her watery, puffy eyes. “They always seem to wreak havoc with my sinuses.”

    Tom was silent as he tried to find the words to make this situation right again. Realizing that there would be no perfect words, he resolved to begin the best way he knew how.

    “I’ve been so terribly misguided,” he said.

    “By whom?” Brynne asked. “About what?”

    “By myself, mostly, and the social conventions of the world in which we live,” Tom answered. “And I’m afraid the victim of my misguided ways has been you. All this time, I’ve been trying to protect you from the harm I believed you would suffer by continuing to work, and it turns out that this whole ordeal has caused you so much stress, perhaps more so than working ever would. In effect, I’ve caused the situation I’d hoped to avoid, a fact which my father has been good enough to point out to me.

    “I know this isn’t what you want, to quit the firm now, even though you say it is,” he continued. “I know better. I know you better. I should have realized it at dinner, but I couldn’t see past my own wants. I’ve been such an idiot. Your work means as much to you as mine does to me. It’s part of you. I don’t want you to be unhappy for my sake. Furthermore, what I want should be secondary; it’s you that has to stay healthy and sane to have this baby. I know I’m babbling on, but what I’m getting to is that I’m so sorry, Brynne. And I want you to do what makes you happy.”

    “Really?” Brynne asked.

    “I want you to be happy. I mean it. If that means staying on at the firm, wonderful. I’m for it. I just don’t want you to be upset anymore.”

    Brynne hurried around to the other side of the bench and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, hugging him tightly.

    AN: That does it for Volume 1, but Volume 2 is coming right up! Until it arrives, don’t forget to go to for updates and other information about “The Journal”, “Fumbling Toward Ecstasy”, and other stories, including SOUNDTRACK info!