Page 123 of Haunting the Deep

Jaxon stands up. “I guess that’s my cue.”

I lie back on my pillows and look at my present. Broome stretches his paws out from the blankets near my feet. He blinks at me and curls up.

I put the wooden box on my bedside table. There is a single lilac in the vase.

I sit bolt upright. “Elijah?” No response.

I pull my sore body out of bed, our last conversation, the one when I pushed him away, playing in my mind.

“Elijah?” I breathe.

“Samantha.”

I whip around.

His expression is unreadable. “Ada gave me your message.”

“She did?”

“Shortly after the spell was broken. And she gave me one for you in return. She insisted I memorize it and repeat it to her…three times.” His eyes smile. “She said that her mother always told her that if you come across someone sad and you do not try to make them smile, then you have disgraced your own humanity. And that even though they did not know it, the passengers on that ship were sad. But you made everyone smile again. She said you would know what she meant.”

I soak up his words.

He hands me a small stack of letters. “Some of the other spirits came as well before they passed on. They left these for you.”

I peek inside the first envelope and see Mollie’s name. I hug it to my chest.

“Also…Ada asked me if I was your boy.”

“My what?”

“Your boy…like the one in Stella’s diary, she said. And then she laughed at me.”

My cheeks warm. “She found me sulking after you and I talked again for the first time and you apologized for kissing me.”

He looks conflicted. “I was trying to—”

“I know. But I don’t need you to protect me.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Besides, I’m not going to believe you if you say you’re leaving this time.”

“Indeed.”

“So what now?”

He moves toward me, stopping so close that I’m sure he can hear my heart beat. He smiles, dimples and all. “Now…here we are.”

“Indeed,” I say, imitating his old-world accent.

“And I am not apologizing.” He leans toward me, hovering over my mouth like a question. He gently presses his lips into mine.

I reach out and grab on to his shirt, ignoring my arm. His lips part mine, and our kiss graduates from gentle to insistent. He puts one hand on my lower back. My legs vibrate. He runs his other hand down my ear and over my neck. I press into him, melding my body with his.

Isip sparkling pear cider and stand next to Alice, watching Susannah, Mary, and Susannah’s girlfriend dance. The venue my school rented for the Spring Fling is decked out in luxuriousTitanicdecor. Green velvet chairs surround antique tables strewn with nautical napkins and flower displays in the shape of anchors. The walls are dark wood with bookshelves, and there is an enormous, blazing fireplace. The ceiling is covered with tiny lights that look like twinkling stars. A string band plays everything from modern to classical. Almost everyone is on the dance floor, with a few groups hanging around the food tables.

Everyone is dressed inTitanic-inspired evening gowns and suits. We, of course, are in all black. When people ask us who we’re dressed up as and Alice tells them that “we’re in mourning for all the passengers who were locked behind gates and never given a chance,” there is an awkward silence, and then they walk away.