Prologue
April 15, 1912
"Don't be afraid, Abby. Just look at me."
There was no madness in Isidore Eisenberg's eyes, despite the chaotic circumstances. His tone was calming, something his wife desperately needed. She was shaking, the motion rattling her body all the way to the bone. Abigail didn't know if it was from fear, the cold, or a combination of the two, but her husband's sweet words tucked around her like a warm blanket. It was the only comfort she could feel.
"Do you think it will take a long time, or that there will be much pain?" Though Abby asked the questions, she wasn't confident she genuinely wanted the answer. It would take however long it would take; there was nothing more they could do. The outcome of their circumstances was bleak, at best.
As the couple lay side by side in the darkness, Abby tried to think of something on the bright side. She could only think of one good thing about their current situation, that they were together. She wasn't a brave woman. Though she hated knowing her sweet husband, Izzy, shared her fate, there was a part of her that was grateful she wouldn't have to face the horror of death alone. She looked into her loving Isidore's eyes, knowing full well he read her thoughts.
"Now, Abby," he said as his hand brushed her cheek, "don't worry, my love. This situation is something we can't control. We must look forward. Our time after today will be an eternity, dearest. What we're going through—what is happening right now—is a temporary inconvenience. We've always known death was a certainty, we simply never knew when it would come. And isn't this exactly what we'd hoped for? To be in each other's arms until the end of time?"
Abby nodded. Her husband always spoke the truth, and today was no different. From the day she'd married him, Abby had told him he was her life, her breath, and her destination. On that beautiful June day, she'd also promised to stay by his side for the remainder of her existence. By the end of today, her promise would be fulfilled.
An eerie whine was followed by a loud bang, causing the iron bed to shift. Muffled screams in the distance carried through vacant staterooms and hallways and found their way to the couple in cabin C-26. The sounds were frightening, immediately bringing to mind how quickly their impending fate would come to pass. Fear flooded Abby's veins with adrenaline. Her body jolted, every limb reacting to what she knew was in store. Death.
Though she quickly tried to hide her reaction and regain her composure, Isidore noticed. He knew her so well. Sadness veiled his gaze, a look Abby couldn't remember seeing in all their years together. But a solution for this disaster wasn't within her husband's control, nor was any of it of his making, for if Izzy could have changed their circumstances, she had no doubt he most certainly would have. He squeezed her hand, lassoing her torturous thoughts to capture her attention.
"Abigail, do you remember our second date?" His voice was hoarse, and his teeth chattered, yet he put on a smile for his beloved wife.
"Of course I do, but our first date stands out equally as well. Don't you remember? Our first date was a disaster."
"Yes. It was a pitiful excuse for a picnic," Izzy laughed. "My gallant attempt to chase the ants off of your skirt caused quite a ruckus—and captured the notice of everyone in the park!"
"Of course, it did! As the bugs fell off my skirt, they scrambled up my legs, and you went under my shift after them. It was scandalous! Imagine if you'd seen a young man putting his head up our daughter's skirt. I can't even fathom it!"
A broad smile hooked the corners of his mouth. His lips were perfect. They were plump, but not like a woman's. They were entirely masculine. Whereas some of the women Abby knew tried to keep their husband's advances to a minimum, she’d welcomed every kiss her Izzy had shared with her these past thirty years. Abby hadn't known much about life and men when they first married because she’d been but a girl. Still, from that very first night spent in Izzy's arms, he'd played her body as expertly as a finely tuned instrument, bringing it to life.
Their lives together had been magical. The two enjoyed everything about each other. Abby especially loved her husband's touch. His simple, tender acts warmed her heart, and sex was a pleasure, despite her mother's instructions that she wouldn’t enjoy that particular wifely duty. Her alone time spent making love with Izzy had never been a chore. Even at this age, and for as long as they'd been together, they’d done so often, sometimes more than once a day.
Though, for some, that might seem scandalous, Abigail relished the feeling of her husband inside her. The skin on skin connection was something she'd come to cherish. Remembrance of those times made her realize that stolen moments such as those would be no more, and the thought made her suddenly feel lonely.
Melancholy breezed through her mind. Elsewhere in the world, this night would play out very differently for a vast number of couples. Those lucky people would have hopes and dreams intermingled with rapture, where, instead, theirs would be, quite literally, drowned in grief. Where others in the world would enjoy touches and kisses holding promise, Abby and Izzy's would end with a final goodbye.
A shiver possessed Isidore. His arm shook as he tried in vain to control the reaction and hold Abigail close. She shifted, turning on her side to ease his discomfort. Pain and stiffness resulting from the frigid atmosphere only allowed her to move an inch at a time. She refused to let it deter her, and she inched closer, albeit slowly, to allow herself what little comfort she might find. When she had finally settled, they were so close that barely a breath separated them. Abby was drained from the small effort, and Isidore trembled from the cold. The lids of his beautiful, brown eyes fluttered, his dark lashes lingering on his face too long, freezing against the skin above his cheekbones. Abby knew that if she didn't keep him talking, he would fall into a deep sleep, never to awaken.
She spoke to him, not willing to let him go just yet. All that Abby needed was to hear his voice, even if it would be for the last time. She snuggled close, gently nudging him. Her voice was barely audible as the freezing temperatures strained her vocal cords.
"Izzy, why did you ask if I remembered our second date?"
His eyes slowly opened. Even though he was exhausted, her sweet husband responded to the sound of her voice. He'd done the same when they were at home. He always had. Abby was never an inconvenience to Isidore, and, for that, she was grateful. Unlike their counterparts, her husband never behaved as if she were an obligation he had to tolerate. Every single day of their married lives, Isidore gave his wife the best of himself, never what was left of his time at the end of the day.
"Our second date?" Izzy paused, his memory was taxed, and his gaze thoughtfully traversed the blank space above them. Slowly he recalled asking the question just a few moments before. Abby traced over his forehead with a gloved hand, a gesture she’d repeated many times before, allowing her thumb to trail across his skin, lingering on the furrowed lines of his brow. "Ah, yes," he croaked. "I remember now." His concentration had given him another few moments of clarity, and he looked deeply into his Abby's eyes.
"By the time of our second date, my fate was sealed. You claimed me."
"Me?" Abby's question was laced with surprise. "What did I do?" She coughed as her trembling hand moved down his face and palmed his cheek. Izzy pulled her closer and held her tighter, the action causing a pained expression on his face. His eyes, however, reflected nothing but tenderness.