Page 80 of Haunting the Deep

“And this house?”Full of our family history and all my memories of Elijah.

“We’ll rent it or sell it.”

I knew he would react badly, but I never expected this. “Wait. I’ll stop. I won’t do magic.”

He shakes his head.

“I just said I’d stop.” My voice is getting louder.

“You’ve been lying to me, Sam. You look like you’re barely sleeping. I should have guessed that magic was involved. It always is in Salem. I just thought because you were so happy here…I’m sorry, but I think it’s best we leave.”

“Be mad at me. Fine. But look at all the good things that have come out of living in Salem. Mrs. Meriwether is certifiably one of the best humans on the planet. We have this amazing house. I’ve made friends. Me, your daughter, the perpetual loner.” I’m waving my hands. “And Mom. Mom came from Salem.”

His eyes are two iron gates shutting me out. “You’ll understand in time that I’m doing this for you.”

“I don’twantyou to do this for me!”

If possible, he looks more upset than I feel.

I stand up and my chin trembles. “I’m not leaving.” The first tear falls, and I hit it away so violently that my hand smacks against my cheek.

He stands now, too. “Sam…,” he says in his consolingvoice.

“No.” I move away from my chair. “Don’t try to convince me this is better. It’s not better.”

He moves toward me, like he doesn’t fully believe I’m pushing him away. I can’t really believe it, either.

“You’re young still. You don’t know what I know about this place.”

“What I don’t know, or what you think I can’t handle? Because I’m the one who got hanged by Vivian, not you.” My voice is quavering. “So don’t tell me what I know.”

He takes a step backward, like I hit him. I walk out of his office, tears on my cheeks.

I run up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room. I slam the door behind me and stop. Elijah stands by my window.

He looks at my wet cheeks. “Samantha.” For a brief second his expression softens. “I will return later.”

I wipe at my face with my sleeve. “No. Just tell me what you came to tell me.”

Elijah frowns. “It does not seem like the time to be discussing research.”

“It’s the perfect time to discuss research,” I say stubbornly, and sniffle.

Elijah raises an eyebrow at me. I can tell he disagrees. He waits for a second, then sighs. “I found a good deal of information on Bruce Ismay.”

“Good. That’s good,” I say, and wipe my eyes.

“Samantha, are you absolutely certain—”

“Yes,” I say before he can finish his sentence. I sit down on my bed, which is strewn withTitanicnote cards and books. “I already know”—I clear my throat—“that the newspapers in his day tore Ismay apart for saving himself, but that’s as far as I read about him.”

Elijah nods. “There was a great deal of controversy about his decision. Captain Smith went down with the ship, even though it was his last voyage before retirement. And so did the chief designer, Thomas Andrews, without hesitation. It was discovered that Thomas Andrews’s architectural plans had included additional lifeboats, but the owners had declined. This colored the way people viewed Ismay’s decision to jump into a lifeboat to save himself; many did not forgive him for it.”

“People thought he should have sacrificed himself?”

“People thought he should have taken responsibility for his own ship and not taken a spot on a lifeboat that could have gone to someone else. His reputation never recovered,” he says.

“You think he has a reason to want to erase the memory of the ship sinking?” I ask, straightening a stack of note cards aboutTitanicpassengers, most of which have “Body not found” written on the back.