The Sky Beneath Her(76)

I fumbled through the collection until I found room number 112. With a trembling hand, I inserted the key into the lock and twisted. The handle gave way, and I pushed the door open. I gently closed it behind me. In my room, the steward thumped about and sounded rushed and ready to be done with his task.

William and Sigrid’s room held the heavy scent of William’s aftershave. Normally, the fragrance would be considered pleasant, but it curdled in my belly.

I rushed to the closet and found several suits hanging in precise order. They were dark and still held a sharp crease. Beside them were several silk dresses. My hands trembled as I searched the pockets, where I found a lighter, several German coins, and the ticket stub for this trip.

On a small dressing table, William’s collection of aftershaves, razors, and tie clips were lined in a neat row. Beside them were elaborate perfume bottles, powders, and lipsticks.

In the top dresser drawer were socks, ties, and clean shirts. I carefully slid my hand under the garments, searching for papers or anything else that would tell me more about William.

The bottom drawer was filled with Sigrid’s silk undergarments. Under a red satin slip, my fingers grazed a beaded purse. I opened it, and inside was a set of identity papers that belonged not to him but to Sigrid.

Sigrid. If I could believe anything she’d said to me, Alfred had found her and jailed her in a prison cell and sent her family to a camp. She’d been forced to find me. And now I had her papers.

The ocean rolled past the porthole, splashing water against the ship. I closed and replaced the purse and pocketed the papers.

I crossed to a small desk and opened the file on top. Inside the folder were photographs. They were all of me. In several, I was entering my uncle’s bookshop in Vienna. I was walking along the river. Or exiting a shop. They dated back to shortly after I’d met Alfred. Had he had someone watching me all along?

I closed the folder and carefully stacked the photos and placed them back where I’d found them. As I turned, I noticed three books on the nightstand by the bunk. I crossed. The first two were from the United States but the last was English. It was a rare copy of The Tempest. I thumbed through the pages, and out fluttered a small card. It read, Dr. Atticus Brooks, Norfolk, Virginia.

Of course, the two had crossed paths on the ship, but it was unsettling to know she had his card. I didn’t want to believe Dr. Brooks was helping them, but I couldn’t trust anyone. My mouth went dry as I replaced the books and tucked the card into my pocket.

As I closed the door, I heard the steward near my open door. I hurried toward the cart and hooked the keys on the peg seconds before he exited my room.

“All finished?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Thank you.”

I closed and locked my door behind me. I sat on my bunk. My face was warm and flushed as I stared at the card and Sigrid’s identity papers. She was older than me, but the picture appeared to have been taken several years ago. We had a similar look, and the differences could be explained away by the round face of pregnancy.

My stomach cramped, and for several seconds the discomfort grabbed my full attention. I breathed deeply as I’d seen many Viennese midwives instruct women in their time.

Once the spasm had subsided, I lay back on the bunk. This cabin was my prison. We were so close to New York. The Oceanus was cutting through the water at full speed as if it could skate across dangerous waters and skirt past the U-boats.

There had to be some place on this ship where I could hide as we neared land. If I could reach Chief Mate Riggs, I might have a chance.

I’d become good at blending into crowds and staying out of sight. I just needed to do it on board long enough to lose sight of William and Sigrid.





Chapter Thirty


Tula





Monday, June 15, 2026, 11:30 a.m.


When I made it to dry land, I rushed off the dock. I needed to get across the bridge and into Currituck and pick up cleaning supplies for Kaitlin. The drive took longer than I’d imagined, and as the minutes ticked away, my anxiety rose. I’d promised Kaitlin I’d get these supplies, and I didn’t want to let her down.

I rolled my shoulders, smoothing out knotted muscles. Being on the water and seeing the Oceanus had been more draining than I’d imagined. I’d spent seven years blocking it and the loss of my mother from my mind. And yet I couldn’t shake the idea that it had been patiently and silently waiting for my return.

Inhaling, I crossed the bridge. This time I didn’t feel a rush of panic. The ocean and the sound connected by endless inlets, waterways, and rivers weren’t going anywhere. The water was beautiful. Ugly. Wild. Untamable. It wasn’t looking for forgiveness.

The lapping waters of the sound whispered a question: Ah, so you accept me on my terms now?

That was the logical me.

And most days I could cling to reason.

But in the middle of the night, or when I lowered my guard, I wasn’t rational. I was filled with anger, fear, and anxiety. Beautiful memories could instantly morph into fury.

I looked forward to being on the mainland, where the ground was solid. The constant strain that hummed when I was on the barrier island eased.

When I realized I’d overshot the store, I pulled into a lot, turned around, and backtracked. I found the supply store and parked. Bells rang over my head as I pushed through the front door.