Jack and Rose froze as Cal walked toward them, his face twisting in contempt as he looked at them. Rose drew back, pressing against the wall behind her cot. She clutched Jack’s hand, her heart pounding and her breathing increasing until she began to cough again.
"Wh-what—" she started to say, but got no farther before she began coughing uncontrollably.
Cal stared at them for a moment, barely concealed rage in his eyes at the sight of Rose clinging to Jack. A moment later, his expression shifted, his mouth forming a wide smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
"Sweetpea…thank God you’re alive! Your mother and I have been looking for you everywhere."
"What do you want, Cal?" Jack glared at him, not bothering to return the fake smile.
Cal’s eyes narrowed as he returned Jack’s look. With all the people who had died when the Titanic sank, why couldn’t the gutter rat have been one of them?
"I wasn’t speaking to you, Dawson. I was speaking to my fiancée."
Rose finally stopped coughing. "I’m not…your fiancée, Cal." More coughing threatened, but she suppressed it. "You tried to kill me."
Cal’s mouth twitched, something that Rose had long ago learned meant that he was very angry. "I did no such thing."
Oddly enough, Jack agreed with him. "I think he was actually aiming for me, Rose."
Cal ignored him, continuing to stare at Rose. "I have never threatened you or anyone else. Perhaps someone threatened you on that ship—considering the sort of people you chose to associate with, that’s not at all surprising—but I would never try to do you harm. You are much too precious to me."
Eyes narrowed, Rose spat a very unladylike response at Cal.
For a moment, Cal was so startled by her foul language that he only stared at her. Then, regaining his composure, he said, "I would never have thought you even knew such words. Come, Sweetpea. This little rebellion has gone on long enough…much too long, in fact. Not only have you learned some very bad manners, but it’s almost cost you your life. We will be docking in a couple of hours. Until then, you’ll be much better off in first class, and then your mother and I will get you a warm room and a good doctor."
Rose pressed back harder against the wall, one hand still clutching Jack’s and the other clinging to the sheet. If Cal decided to force the issue and drag her back to first class physically, there was nothing she could do. She wasn’t strong enough to fight him off. What could she do—cough on him? Spit in his face again? She didn’t even have enough breath to scream—not that it was likely to do any good. No one would stop her fiancé from taking her back to first class, especially when it was so obvious she was ill. No one would question him if he told them that she was delirious, that she had been traumatized by the sinking and didn’t know what she was doing.
Cal was, in fact, considering bringing her back to first class by force, but when he moved toward her, Jack pulled his hand away and got to his feet, getting between Cal and Rose. "Leave her alone. She doesn’t want to go with you."
"Back off, Dawson. It’s up to her whether she wants to go with me—not you."
"I want to stay here," Rose croaked.
"Now, Sweetpea, you know that isn’t true. You don’t need to stay here to make him feel better—I’m sure he knows he was just a diversion. It’s not uncommon for young women to get cold feet before the wedding—though you’d better not do it again. As I told you a few days ago, I will not be made a fool of. Now, let me help you up…"
"Get out of here, Cal." Jack wasn’t giving up. He knew that Cal was stronger than him, that he could have Jack removed from the infirmary while he took Rose away, but he wasn’t going to let him have her without a fight. "She said she wants to stay here."
Fists clenching, Cal moved toward Jack, intending to push him out of the way, but stopped when Jack sneezed and wiped his nose on his hand. The younger man would undoubtedly be easy to shove aside at this point, but Cal had no desire to catch whatever disease he was suffering from.
Trying to look as though he hadn’t been scared off by the idea of catching something from Jack, Cal stepped back, assuming a casual air. "Rose…Sweetpea…I will tell your mother where you are. She will come to see you and arrange for you to return to first class with us."
"I’m not going back with you." Rose’s voice was clearer now. "I’m staying with Jack."
Cal just looked at her, a strange half-smile on his face. "We’ll see about that."
With that, he turned and left.
*****
Half an hour later, as Rose was finally dozing off again, glad for Jack’s presence but fearing that Cal would be able to force her to return to first class with him, Cal returned to the infirmary, Ruth accompanying him. Ruth stepped gingerly, her arms tightly against her sides as though fearing contamination.
Ruth’s expression changed, however, when she saw Rose lying half-asleep on the cot, Jack sitting beside her and holding her hand. Forgetting her fear and disgust at the people in steerage, she rushed forward, startling Rose from her near-sleep and causing her to look up in alarm.
"M-Mother!" Rose struggled to sit up, a deep cough erupting from her throat.
Ruth stopped just as she came to Rose’s side, putting on a dignified front once again. Still she couldn’t hide the joy in her voice when she exclaimed, "Rose! You’re alive! Cal and I looked everywhere…I was beginning to fear you had perished. When Cal told me he’d found you in steerage, I couldn’t believe it—but here you are."
Rose stared at her, not sure what to say. Her mother had never been one to express strong emotions—not for long, anyway. Occasionally, Rose had caught a glimpse of what was going on inside her mother’s mind—most recently when Ruth had expressed her fear of losing everything because of Rose’s insistence upon running about with Jack Dawson—but now Ruth stood before her, teary-eyed with joy at the knowledge that Rose was alive.
"Mother, I—" Rose looked past her, seeing that Cal was watching them with a triumphant look in his eyes, certain that Ruth would be able to talk Rose into returning to first class.
Ruth put her arms around her daughter and pulled her close. "I’ve never been so frightened in my life as when I thought you were dead," she whispered. Straightening, she went on, "Now, Rose, we are going to dock soon. I will get one of the nurses to help you to my room in first class, where you can rest until we’re ready to leave the ship. Cal has already wired ahead for reservations at the Waldorf-Astoria. We will get you comfortable, then send for a doctor—"
"No, Mother." Rose shook her head vehemently. "I’m staying with Jack." Even if Ruth offered to allow Jack to accompany them to the Waldorf-Astoria—which Rose highly doubted would happen—she would not accept. There was something in the way Cal looked at her that frightened her as much as he had when he been shooting at her. Whatever Cal was planning, it didn’t bode well for either her or Jack.
"Rose, please." Ruth sat gingerly on the cot, making it sag dangerously—it wasn’t meant for the weight of three people—and put an arm around her daughter. "Cal told me you’ve been ill—I can see for myself that it’s true. You can’t stay here. The ship will be docking soon. What will you do then? You can’t just stay out on the street—it’s raining, and there’s every sign it’s raining in New York, too."
"I’ll take care of her, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater," Jack promised. "I’ve been to New York before—there’s shelters where we can stay—"
He stopped when he saw the look on Ruth’s face. The very idea of her daughter in a shelter for the homeless horrified her.
Cal stepped in. "She’ll come with us," he told Jack. "The Waldorf is a fine hotel, far better than any of your shelters."
"No!" Rose protested. She’d had enough of her situation being discussed as though she had no say in the matter. "I said I was staying with Jack, and I meant it." She began to cough again, her face turning red from the effort.
"Rose, listen to yourself. You’re much too ill to be on the street or in some dirty little shelter with who knows how many people," Ruth pleaded with her.
"Perhaps I could come to the Waldorf with Rose," Jack suggested. He doubted Ruth DeWitt Bukater would appreciate the suggestion, but he had to make it.
As he’d thought, Ruth looked at him with open dislike, but her expression wavered somewhat when she looked at her daughter. Finally, though, she looked up at Cal. Her future depended upon his goodwill, and as the prospect of his becoming her son-in-law grew dimmer and dimmer, she knew that she had to do whatever was necessary to stay on his good side. If she was to have any hope of maintaining her current lifestyle, she had to remain in Cal’s good graces.
Cal had no compunction about expressing his opinion of Jack’s suggestion. "Absolutely not! Rose, you are my fiancée, not his, and you will come with me! I don’t care what happens to him, but he will not be anywhere near you."
Rose set her face stubbornly, refusing to give in. "I am going with Jack. Nothing you say can change my mind."
Cal looked at her in frustration. "Sweetpea, this is completely inappropriate. Insisting that you’re going to stay with this—this person that you’ve known for less than a week, that you’re not married to—"
"I’m not married to you, either, and I’m not going to be. From now on, I am going to make my own decisions, my own choices, and I am choosing to stay with Jack."
Cal’s jaw was twitching again; Rose knew that she had made him very angry. He didn’t dare show it in front of Ruth, though. Instead, he stared at Jack threateningly, wanting the gutter rat to know that this wasn’t over. When his eyes fell on the severed handcuffs still on Jack’s wrists, he smiled slightly, knowing that there was still something he could do to separate them.
Ruth looked from Rose to Cal, trying to decide what to do. She was overjoyed to find that her daughter was alive, but she didn’t want to challenge Cal and lose all hope of remaining a member of high society. Finally, she told her daughter, "Rose, you are welcome to come back any time you want—provided you not bring him." She looked pointedly at Jack. "After we leave the Waldorf, we will be returning home to Philadelphia. When this…affair…of yours ends, as I’m sure it will, you may return."
Not sure what else to say, Ruth rose stiffly from her daughter’s side and left the infirmary, her arms once again held rigidly at her sides. Cal watched her go, then turned to Jack and Rose, barely concealing his anger.
"I want my coat, Sweetpea," he told her, the endearment sounding more like a curse.
Rose looked at him strangely, wondering at the sudden change of subject; wondering, too, why he wanted a coat that was now badly damaged by the water. He could easily afford another.
"Where is it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I…I don’t know," Rose told him truthfully. "I think the nurse took it when I came here…"
"Goddammit!"
Jack and Rose stared at him, confused and startled by his anger at the loss of the garment. What could possibly be so important about it?
Cal clenched his fists, staring at Jack and Rose as though they were responsible for the loss, wondering if either of them had any idea what had been inside the coat. He quickly dismissed the idea, certain that if they had known, they would never have let the coat out of their sight.
Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the infirmary, leaving Jack and Rose staring after him in bewilderment.