The uniformed man whistled. "This is worse than I thought." He once again offered Louise a glass of water and continued fanning her with the folded newspaper. Louise accepted the drink, hoping to wash out the unpleasant taste that coated her parched mouth.

"You are Miss Baxter, Miss Baxter," he replied cheerfully.

Louise thought that if he said that name one more time, she would scream.

"And who are you?" she asked, completely baffled.

"Well, there, Miss Baxter. You don't remember me, either, do you?"

Louise shook her head. No, she most certainly did not.

"I'm Edward Smith." He pointed to his gold nameplate. "I'm the captain of this ship."

"We're on a ship?" she asked. The rocking motion started to make a bit more sense.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied matter-of-factly. "We left England this morning. Mr. Miller had just taken a group photograph for the Times, and as soon as the flash went off, you collapsed here on the A Deck. The bright light must have startled you."

"England?" Louise repeated incredulously. She must be dreaming. That was the only logical explanation.

"Yes, Miss Baxter. Don't worry, though; we'll be picking up Mr. Baxter at the next port in Cherbourg, France." Omigod! There was a Mr. Baxter?! This was worse than she thought. She needed to wake up now. Louise closed her eyes tightly and pinched herself, hard, on her right arm. It hurt.

Looking down, she saw that she was lying on a slatted wooden deck chair. She was wearing a pink evening gown and no shoes; her painted red toenails peeked out from under the fabric. Louise tried to prop herself up, becoming a bit self-conscious about the small crowd staring at her.

"Please don't move, ma'am. We don't want any more fainting spells. And I don't want you to cut yourself on the broken glass," the captain said, gesturing to the floor next to Louise's chaise. "William! Get someone to clean up this glass immediately."

"Yes, sir," a voice from the crowd answered.

Louise glanced to her left and saw a shattered champagne flute in pieces on the blond wood deck.

"William will help you back to your stateroom just as soon as you feel strong enough." The captain nodded with authority. "I must get back to my post."

"Ummm... Thanks... Captain..." Louise whispered, squinting her eyes to try and make out the name, which she had already forgotten, on his polished shiny nameplate.

Confused, Louise grabbed the newspaper from the captain's hands and unfolded it to the front page.

The Times of London APRIL 12, 1912.

And with that news, she promptly fainted once again.

Louise felt like she was nestled in a cloud, wrapped in something delicate and silky, and she didn't want to open her eyes and end this wonderful dream.

After lying still for a moment, she heard a rhythmic clicking noise and felt as if someone was staring at her. It was an uncomfortable, penetrating feeling that forced her to open her eyes to see who was disturbing this heavenly moment.

"Ma'am, are you awake?" a girl's British-accented voice asked hesitantly.

Louise made a grunting noise, the sort of noise you make when you're half-awake, but you want to pretend you're still sleeping.

"Thank goodness. Oh, Miss Baxter, I was worried sick," she squeaked.

When Louise heard the name Miss Baxter, she immediately snapped back to her present reality. Now she remembered quite clearly her last lucid moments. On a ship's deck; she was on board some boat... one hundred years ago. I must still be dreaming, she thought hazily to herself.

Louise was tucked snugly into a comfortable feather bed, under a pile of royal blue and purple quilts that made it hard for her to sit upright. The four-poster bed she lay in was draped in rich burgundy velvet.

She was not alone in the room. A pretty teenage girl with piercing blue eyes was sitting in a wooden chair at the foot of the bed, knitting. A simple gray dress in an old-fashioned style adorned her slender figure, and a white shawl was tied around her shoulders. Her strawberry blonde hair was pinned back into a tidy bun. Something about her features was weirdly familiar.

"How are you feeling, Miss Baxter? You fainted again on the upper deck. I was terribly worried, ma'am."

Louise couldn't believe that this girl, who looked old enough to be in high school, was calling her ma'am. Actually, it was hard to believe that anyone would call her ma'am; she was only twelve years old.

"I've changed you into your bedclothes. That dress was most constricting; I thought you should be comfortable," the girl explained eagerly.

Louise turned an embarrassed shade of scarlet, as she realized that the soft and silky feeling she'd noticed earlier was from the satin fabric of an unfamiliar slip she was wearing. She pulled the quilt up to try and get a better look at herself. She had never worn a silk nightgown in her life, and the thought of this stranger undressing her and changing her into one was mortifying.

"Do you not like the gown, ma'am? Is everything to your taste? I found it in your steamer trunk. I can put another one on you if you'd prefer."

"No!" Louise answered quickly, alarmed at the sound of her own voice, a bit strange, but very real. "I mean, ummm... no, thank you. That's fine. And, excuse me for asking this, but... who are you?"

"Oh dear, Captain Smith said your memory was a tad foggy. You don't remember me?" the unfamiliar girl asked, her knitting needles paused in mid stitch.

"I'm sorry, but no."

"I am Anna Hard, your maid."

"My what?" Louise asked, shocked. What is happening?

"Yes, ma'am. Don't worry; the ship's doctor said your memory will gradually return. You just need to get your rest. The doctor will be back to check on you in a bit."

"Anna, where are we?" Louise asked while looking around the elegantly decorated room in awe.

"Why, we're on the White Star Line headed toward New York. Isn't it magnificent?"

"I suppose it is," Louise said as she nodded slowly. And it was. "This is auh-mazing. I just didn't expect to be here. What if my mom starts to worry?"

"Your mother?" Anna repeated, looking confused as she got up from her chair. "Why, she knows you're here, ma'am. She was on the dock at Southampton seeing us off." She placed a cool, wet cloth on Louise's forehead and handed her a crystal glass filled with water. "Please, ma'am, stay in bed. You need some rest."

"Well, maybe a little rest would be okay." Louise sank back into the comfortable downy pillows. Wherever she was, she was definitely getting the first-class treatment. And she certainly didn't mind missing a day of Fairview, where she got anything but first-class treatment.

"Please, Miss Baxter, stay put. Mr. Baxter will be here shortly. He'll know what to do."

Louise had forgotten there would soon be a Mr. Baxter to contend with! "Mr. Baxter?" she inquired, shocked. "You mean I have a husband?"

"Goodness no," Anna replied, laughing. "Mr. Baxter is your uncle. He also happens to be your manager, in case you've forgotten that as well. He's booked the adjacent suite, as your mother didn't think it proper for you to travel alone at your age."

"Thank Gawd," Louise said with a sigh of relief. She hadn't.

end.