Bit of a twist on today’s post. I was dragged to see Titanic in 3D today and was struck by the fact that it’s the hundredth anniversary of the sinking. Bit eerie, let me tell you, to watch the movie with that in mind. Anyways, it’s kind of stayed stuck in my head for the rest of the day. A character from one of my unfinished stories, Cait Devlin, had an ancestor named Cathleen Murray who was on board the Titanic and whose parents went down with the ship. She moves back to Ireland with her four-year-old daughter and ends up in a relationship with Brendan Hewson, a childhood friend she hasn’t seen since she was a teenager.
Cait and Brendan’s story is told in sync with that of Cathleen and Michael, whose ghosts still linger in their descendants’ homes. The Devlin family home, once owned by Cathleen, still holds her presence, though she died in 1916 fighting for Ireland’s independence, just as Brendan’s home still houses his ancestor’s ghost.
Anyways. Here’s something I wrote for today. It’s a bit more of a six paragraph Sunday, but that doesn’t sound as nice. Maybe someday I’ll resurrect that story and finish it off so everyone–Cait and Brendan, Michael and Cathleen–can have their happy ending.
The day had been a busy one, but the same thought circled back to her mind whenever she had a moment where the children or the guests weren’t occupying her.
Today, it was one hundred years ago today that Titanic sank, that Cathleen’s world changed.
Cait sighed to herself as she tugged the blankets over her sleeping son. She knew the shadow in the doorway was Brendan’s and allowed a faint smile, admitting where her thoughts had been, as she turned to see the warmth in his blue eyes.
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like–the pain of it, the loss. Even having spoken to her..”
“Nor can I,” he murmured as he gathered her into his arms. “But she’s at rest now.”
Cait shook her head. “Not quite yet. But almost,” she murmured softly. “Almost.”