Mayflower nodded. “I’d say there’s truth to that. He and Mary were very much in love. It’s been hard on him all these years since she died. But, honey,” she rose and came over and patted my knee, “no good will come of moping over it. It’s about time he started to think of his future—and Lily’s. We’ve got to get us a plan, you and me. Faint heart never won fair lady—or, in this case, fair gentleman.”

“But . . .”

“Now, no buts, darlin’. Ain’t the first time I’ve played matchmaker. I’ve coaxed the most stubborn of men into marriage in my time,” she paused and giggled, “including my Hans.” With that, she picked up her bag and made for the door without ever saying what she’d come for in the first place.

After she left I sat lost in thought. Part of me wanted to plead with her not to interfere, yet a small sensation deep down inside began to flutter. I recognized it as hope. I shoved it away. No. If Aidan O’Hanlon wanted me, it would have to be of his own free will and not because Mayflower Humboldt had played some trick on him.

Donegal - 1913

Donegal

1913

Nora

Nora

I stood outside the hotel watching Ben’s car pull away, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’d never felt so lonely. All the glittering possibilities that New York once held for me were gone. No life of luxury, no admirers, no rich husband! My dreams were destroyed, and now I was going home to lick my wounds. I wondered what sort of greeting I’d get. Surely Ma and Da would be happy I was alive. I tried to picture the scene, but my memories of Donegal and the people in it were faded, like ghosts.

I fought back angry tears. The old Nora wouldn’t have stood for this self-pity. She would have fought and spat and connived her way to a future that suited her. But the old, hard Nora had faded, replaced by the soft Nora Mrs. Shaw had brought out. I wanted to curse the woman for changing me the way she had, but I couldn’t. I’d loved her and always would, and that was the size of it.

The next morning, after I wired Ma to say I was coming, I stood on the dock looking up at a gigantic ship called the Olympic, my heart beating a mile a minute. I was terrified at the thought of setting foot on it, let alone sailing out across the open Atlantic for days. I was a far cry from the girl I’d been the day I boarded the Titanic in Queenstown. Back then, I’d marched up the gangplank, full of myself and ready for anything. And I’d had the time of my life all right, right up until the ship sank.