Rose Bukater, having dropped her mother's name, DeWitt, after the sinking of the RMS Titanic, sat in her dressing room after her first night as an actress at a minor playhouse in Manhattan, New York. She was desperate for love, but only from the man who had taught her how to love. Jack Dawson had been a man of many things. He had been a talented artist, he had had a wonderful way with words, he had had an astounding history–at least to Rose–and he had had the sweetest, kindest heart. He had been so brave, and he had loved her so much that he had died for her the night the Titanic sank. They were separated as soon as the ship were under, and Rose was sure that he'd died. She regretted having found a door to float on while her sweetheart was probably somewhere in the Atlantic, freezing to death. She wished that she had been the one to die instead of him. She sighed, wishing she was in her beloved's arms at that very moment, knowing it wouldn't happen.
"If only," she said to herself often, though people she said it in front of never understood, for she had never told a soul. The only living people who knew of her secret love were her ex-fiancé, Caledon Hockley, and her uptight, selfish mother, Ruth DeWitt Bukater. She now lived with her father, Joseph Bukater, in a wealthy neighborhood in Manhattan, New York. Her father held the title of wealthiest man in Manhattan, for he and his business partner, Henry Sherman, owned a car company that built and sold popular cars like Renaults, Oldsmobiles, and Prowlers. This company had given both Bukater and Sherman plenty of wealth to last them and their offspring through their entire lives.
Her mother, Rose had heard, was now working as a seamstress, exactly what she had told Rose that she'd never wished to do again. Ruth had not always been wealthy. She had been a poor girl from Philadelphia who had gone into an arranged marriage with Joseph in the late 1800s. They had had Rose, and then divorced soon after. Ruth had refused to let Joseph take care of Rose, so she had taken her away to Europe for proper schooling. In Venice, Italy, Rose was forced into engagement at the age of seventeen to Caledon Hockley, a very wealthy man from Pittsburgh who needed a wife to gain his fortune. Ruth wanted this because she was running low on money from her divorce from Joseph and wanted more.
Rose felt tears stinging her eyes as she remembered the last time that Jack had held her. That sweet, wonderful, blond-haired, blue-eyed man from Wisconsin had touched her soul in a way that no one else had, and she was grateful. Grateful that she had Jack to love her, grateful that he still loved her, even from heaven. She felt his love grow stronger and stronger with each growing moment, and the more she felt it, the more she longed for him. She was desperate to be with him, desperate for the his touch, holding her tightly in his arms, desperate for the touch of his kiss on her lips, a kiss that warmed her body and her soul and that she treasured most, desperate to hear his voice saying “I love you”, words which he had never uttered. She loved him so much and wished to hold him one more time, but she knew that would never happen again.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door and Rose was ripped from her thoughts at the rudeness of a man who entered the room with a vase full of red roses that covered his face. Rose turned around and glared at his rudeness.
"These are for Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater," said the man.
"It's just Rose Bukater now," growled Rose angrily.
"My apologies, miss," said the man. He set down the roses and Rose looked at his young face. He appeared to be a young man with dark eyes and light brown hair. He smiled at her as he handed her an envelope with her name written in calligraphy. "A man by the name of Dawson asked me to give this to you." Rose shuddered at the name, her eyes going wide as she took the envelope carefully.
"Uh…um…uh…thank you…" Rose told him. The man nodded to her, putting his cap back on his head and retreating from her dressing room, closing the door behind him. Rose waited until his footsteps died away before tearing open the letter and reading it to herself.
My Dearest Rose,
How wonderful an actress you are! I came to see it tonight and was fascinated by your talents. I am glad to see that you have carried out your dreams and left that horrid witch of a woman behind. I have so many things to say to you, and yet so little space to write it. How I wish we could be together. How I wish I could hold you in my arms. I could kiss your lips and I could tell you I love you. I love you dearly, and there isn't a thing that could change that. Tell me, Rose, do you love me, too? I can feel your love pulsating and I am counting the moments until we are together. I love you desperately, and I will see you soon, my love.
Jack
That was it? After four months of being apart, this was all that her beloved had to say to her? He was alive, and she was upset with him. But he loved her…he actually loved her…oh, but she was desperate to hear him say it, in his loving and caring voice. Where was he? He had to be here in New York, but she didn't know where. She wished to write a letter to him, but she had no knowledge of how to get it to him. So she rested her head on her vanity and cried.
*****
The next day, Rose sat with her good friend Lynette Schrieffer, an Irishwoman who she had met on the RMS Titanic when Jack had brought her below decks. Lynette had thankfully survived, as had her young, five-year-old daughter, Cora. Lynette's first husband had died on the ship, but on the rescue ship, the Carpathia, she had met an Irishman named Martin Schrieffer, who she had married last month. She was currently pregnant, having Martin's child.
Rose was four months pregnant herself, only with Jack's child. The couple had made love in the back of a Renault owned by the Carter family. Now, four months later, Rose was showing definite signs of pregnancy, and she was grateful that this child was Jack's. If it was a boy, she planned to name it after him. If it was a girl…well…she hadn't exactly thought of what to name it if it were a girl. Now that Jack was alive, that she was sure he was alive, she longed for him even more, and wanted him to be with her when her–no, their—child was born.
Lynette owned a small saloon in Manhattan across from a large theater known at the time as the Broadway. Rose longed to be an actress at the Broadway because a lot of famous actors and actresses that were now in moving pictures got their start there. But for now, she stayed at the minor playhouses and viewed the Broadway from Lynette's saloon. Her saloon, A Keg of Irish, was very popular for working class men in Manhattan, and often sold home-brewed beer that Lynette and her husband brewed themselves.
Rose told Lynette about her letter from Jack, but she had to return home, so she bid Lynette farewell and stood up. Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of a man with messy blond hair. She couldn't see his face, but she felt a sudden urge to go to him. She didn't listen to it, for she believed that Jack would not come here. She sighed, thinking once more about making her way to the man, but decided against it, leaving the saloon peacefully.
*****
Jack looked back just as Rose closed the door behind her and caught a glimpse of her redheaded figure, but like Rose, he didn't believe that she would come here. He turned back around to the table and took a sip of his beer.