Unspeakable Read Online Free PDF Page B

know.”
    I didn’t, actually. My personal hell had overshadowed all else.
    â€œI saw the obituary. Thought I’d pay my respects at the funeral. Turns out G.B.’s grandniece is the mysterious Ellie Ryan.” He took another sip, eyeing me over the rim. “You’re a hard woman to find, Miss … Ellen.”
    I swallowed, rattled by how easily he’d tracked me. “Well, now you’ve found me. Good for you. But you’ve wasted your time. I have nothing to say.” The words gushed as though it was myself I was convincing. He unsettled me, so he did. With his swarthy looks and arrogant swagger, he may look like Garrett Dean, I’d give him that, but to me he felt more like the lion’s roar in the black beyond. Circling. Closing in. As if he knew I was wounded and the fire was dwindling.
    I grabbed the poker and rattled the embers. They flickered to life for a few seconds then throbbed orange.
    â€œYou are the only surviving stewardess of the sunken Empress of Ireland , Miss Ellen. As I said on the train, like it or not, you are famous. Readers want to know your story. AndI want to be the one to tell it.” His eyes gleamed. “A profile piece like this, and I’d be a shoo-in for the editor’s chair.”
    I shook my head as he spoke. Wasn’t he listening?
    â€œI don’t want to talk to anyone about the Empress !” I just wanted to forget. To stop the flashbacks, the relentless nightmares. To never speak of it again. My heart thudded in my chest. “What makes you think I’d want to tell you anything?”
    â€œBecause I have something you want.”
    My laugh echoed in the stillness of the dead room. I sounded like a madwoman. Perhaps I was. Perhaps insane people don’t even realize they truly are.
    â€œYou flatter yourself, Mr. Steele.” I tried to give my voice more of the confidence I lacked. “I assure you, you have nothing—”
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black notebook. The edges were frayed now and the pages rippled with water damage, but I’d know it anywhere. Jim’s journal. The leather spine creaked as he opened the book and thumbed through the yellowed pages to where the thin red ribbon lay.
    January 23, 1914
    What sort of a fool stoker falls into his fire? I was so riled from the lads taunting me, I barely noticed how badly my arm was burned. I wish they’d just leave me alone. I didn’t even want them to bring me to Dr. Grant. But I’m glad they did. If they hadn’t brought me, I never would have spoken to her .
    I saw her. Up close, and not from the shadows along the ship’s rail. I don’t know why she stands there each night allalone. I don’t know why I could never find the courage to talk to her. All I do know is that she’s even more beautiful than I thought .
    And her name. It’s Ellie. Ellie Ryan .
    I sank onto the edge of my seat, wordless, breathless, as Steele read from Jim’s journal.
    He glanced up at me and turned the page.
    She rubbed the ointment into my arm and I swear it hurt like the dickens. I nearly fainted with the pain of it. Still, I’d endure a thousand burns to have her look at me like that, to feel her touch me again. She warned me (like Mam would) to be sure to use the ointment Dr. Grant left. Said otherwise the burns would leave me scarred .
    If only she knew the scars I have. Ones that no ointment will remove. No, she’d want nothing to do with me then .
    I’d often wondered what he wrote in that small black book as he stood jotting at the rail while he waited for me at the end of our shifts. I swallowed and looked at Steele through my puddled tears. Jim carried that book with him always. How could it be here in Steele’s hands?
    â€œIs he—” I couldn’t say it. As though voicing it made it real. It had been three weeks since the sinking. Three weeks since I saw or heard from