Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [12]

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Chapter 12. Changing Time

Ricardo took the day off in order to see Claude to his ship. They walked down the long pier toward the massive black hull of the White Star Line SS Adriatic. It had one funnel and four large masts. It was a steamship with four boilers, plus sails for added speed. The sun was out and the weather was much warmer.
    Ricardo looked up at the two decks. “I guess you’ll be on the top deck?”
    Claude slapped his friend on the back. “First Class all the way!”
    Claude had kept his suitcase with him but was going to put his trunk into cargo. The passengers’ baggage was spread across the pier waiting to be loaded, but the passengers first had to mark what they wanted in their cabins and what could go into cargo.

    Although Claude had planned for his trunk to go into cargo all the time, he still had to mark it. As he picked his way through the trunks, Ricardo felt he had to confront a problem. “I know you think you speak good French, Claude, but even after four years, it’s terrible. You know the words, but your accent is so bad, no one but another American will understand you.”
    Claude stood up from marking his trunk for cargo, and left his suitcase to be delivered to his room. “My French is perfect. I passed the class with high grades.”
    Ricardo laughed. “That’s because the professor wanted to get you out of his class.”
    Claude was getting a little pissed. “I spoke French to you and you understood every word.”
    Ricardo shook his head. “That’s because your French sounds like Spanish.”
    Claude couldn’t tell whether or not Ricardo was joking, but it didn’t matter – he was on his way to France. “You’re full of shit, but I have no time to debate you. I have to get on board. You remember what we talked about.”
    Ricardo threw his arms around Claude. “Have a safe trip. And you worry about your love life and let me worry about mine.”
    Claude patted Ricardo on the back and headed up the gangplank. At the top, he turned and waved. When he reached the top deck, he walked to the rail and looked over. He wanted to wave at Ricardo one more time, but Ricardo was a ways down the pier with his back to the ship.

    There weren’t many others on the top deck. In fact, there were fewer than a hundred passengers in First Class, and the rest were below in Second or Third Class.
    A steward dressed all in white approached him. “May I have your name, Sir?”
    “Claude N. Jaudon.”
    The steward looked down the sheet on his clipboard. “Here you are, Sir. You’re in cabin 25A. If you’ll follow me, I will guide you to your accommodations.”
    Claude fell in behind the steward as he led him down the walkway and turned down a hall. At 25A, the steward unlocked the door and motioned Claude inside. “I believe you will find everything to your satisfaction.”
    Claude looked around at the 20 x 20 stateroom. It had a nice-sized bed against one wall and a writing desk with pen and inkwell. There was even a small reclining couch for relaxing or reading. And he had his own private bathroom. “Thank you, it’s a very nice room.”
    “Your luggage will be brought to you after we are underway. If you need anything, pull that cord and someone will answer you from that pipe, and you can speak back to them. If there is nothing else, I will leave. Feel free to roam the ship. However, some places are marked ‘Off Limits’. Please obey the signs.”
    The steward turned and closed the door behind him. Claude said to himself, “This is going to be a nice six days.”

When Ricardo returned to the bank, he had a message to report to Mister Hankins. J.W. Hankins was the head of research and development. If someone wanted a loan on a piece of property, J.W. was the man they sent to check out the property and determine what it was worth. Ricardo couldn’t for the life of himself figure out why J.W. would want to see him.
    He could see the short man sitting at his desk in a pinstriped suit through the glass portion of the door to his office. He sported a big handlebar mustache, and his thinning hair was matted down with oil. Ricardo knocked.
    A high-pitched voice shouted, “Come in!”
    Ricardo was hesitant as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. “I had a note saying you wanted to see me.”
    J.W. looked over his spectacles. “So, you’re Ricky Rodrigo.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “I’m leaving for Texas tomorrow morning. I have to look into an oil investment we have outside of Houston. Mr. Rockwell thinks there’s a big future in oil. I was told you are to join me on the trip.”
    Ricardo was shocked – this was the first he was hearing about this. “How much stuff should I bring? How long will we be gone?”
    “Bring everything. You will not be coming back.”
    “I don’t understand. Am I being fired?”
    J.W. laughed – a sick sound. “As far as this bank is concerned, you’re going on a business trip with me. If you’re smart, you will play along with that story. You have been fucking the owner’s daughter. How long did you think it would take before Rockwell found out?”
    Ricardo’s head was spinning, as he struggled to process what was happening to him. “I need to speak to Beth Ann.”
    J.W. shook his head. “She’s gone. Rockwell sent her to be with her aunt upstate. Tomorrow at seven sharp there will be a buggy out in front of your apartment building. Have your things at the curb.”
    “I won’t go. You can’t make me go.”
    “Mr. Rockwell is allowing you to walk away with your honor intact. If you choose to fight this, he will destroy you. You will end up a homeless bum living on the streets of New York City. This is your only chance. You can go to work for a bank in Houston. I can get that done for you.”
    “But…we were in love!”
    J.W. pushed back from his desk. “You may have been in love, but to her, you were just a pet project. You weren’t the first, and I doubt you’ll be the last. She picks up young men like you the same way some women pick up stray cats or dogs. Now, go home.”
    Ricardo was crushed. He wanted to die. He wanted to kill someone or something, anything to stop the hurt and unbearable pain he felt. In his apartment he pulled his luggage out from under the bed and in a daze began to pack. He had been so happy just that morning, but that now seemed so very long ago.
    Out of nowhere, he felt his face go wet with tears pouring from his eyes. He fell across the bed and wailed.

Claude stared in amazement at the Statue of Liberty. He had never seen anything so beautiful. A line of people stood with him at the rail, and on the deck below cheers rose as the ship pulled abreast of Ellis Island.

Copyright © 2019 by Ed Rogers