The days melted into weeks since Jack had returned to Rose's life, and since then their days were spent together. The new year of 1919 was rung in happily. Since the night they had made love, they had carried on their love affair, unbeknownst to anyone. After Rose's performances, Jack would be waiting in Rose's dressing room or he would take her to dinner before taking a detour home by the river. Robert thought of Jack as nothing but an old friend of Rose's. He knew they must have been close from the way they spoke together fondly of old times back in Santa Monica where they had met. Lizzy was delighted Uncle Jack was in her life again, and would beg for him to draw her. Drawing was something Jack hadn't done since before the war; he hadn't had the heart or the inspiration to draw, until now.
Rose couldn't remember a time she had been happier. She was a successful actress with two children, and Jack had returned to her life. Guilt was something she hadn't felt once since embarking on her love affair with Jack, proving perhaps she had no feelings for Robert at all, although she felt he was a good man. Olivia had taken a while to warm to Jack. She was a quiet child and cried the moment she felt she was the center of attention. At two and a half years old, she was just beginning to become her own little person. Rose was amazed by the pace she was growing at, but she loved her youngest daughter. The likeness between her daughter and Jack was there, but everyone failed to notice. The first time Olivia had fallen asleep in Jack's arms, Rose had felt the tears in her eyes and had thought of telling Jack he had a daughter, but she never could. She didn't want to ruin everything they now had. She knew he would make a wonderful father one day.
February 24, 1919
NYC
Snow fell thickly over New York City. The two story house which Rose shared with Robert and the children felt terribly cold. The fire roared in the fireplace and Rose pulled a blanket around her body to shield her from the chill. The children had been in bed for hours, snuggled together in their bed. Robert was in Cedar Rapids, Iowa on business. He worked for his father's paper business and frequently went to his childhood hometown to visit, and Rose had yet to accompany him on his trips. Christmas had come and gone, along with Rose's birthday. The next month of March would bring Lizzy's sixth birthday. Six years ago Rose had given birth to her firstborn, and still it seemed like yesterday. Rose heard nothing of Cal; he still paid for Lizzy as he would have to until she was eighteen. From the papers, Rose knew Cal had married an Italian woman, and his father, Nathan Hockley, had passed away the year before, leaving Cal in charge of the steel business, meaning he was now worth an absolute fortune, the sort of money even Rose had not seen. She thought back to the day in June of 1912 when she had married him, her mother's happy face knowing the family name was saved and they wouldn't be having any more financial difficulty. The morning after Jack and Rose had kissed on board the Titanic, Cal had warned Rose to stay away from the steerage ruffian over breakfast, followed by a warning from her mother as she had laced her corset for church that day. Ruth had warned her to never see Jack again, and Rose had thought she never would. She hadn't seen her mother since the day Cal announced he was going to divorce her. Her mother had disowned her, knowing the family name would be shamed yet again.
A small knock sounded at the door, and Rose jumped, disturbed from her thoughts. She wondered who it could be as she glanced at the grandfather clock perched beside the main door. It read nine o’clock PM. Unwrapping the blanket from around her body, Rose rearranged her hair before answering the door and finding Jack.
“Jack…” she said in surprise. She hadn't expected him to visit. Automatically, she stepped forward into his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He lightly kissed her hair before she ushered him inside, out of the evening chill. Jack's overcoat was covered with snow, and she removed the coat immediately before placing it over a dining chair and placing the dining chair in front of the fire to dry it off. Jack watched as she did this, her curls tumbling around her face. It was the most natural Jack had seen Rose in a long time. Usually she was dressed in expensive gowns to attend parties, or dressed in her stage attire with her face heavily made up, but tonight she was wearing no makeup, a simple dress, and her shoulder length blonde curls tumbled around her face–she was as lovely as ever. Jack couldn't take his eyes away from her. Rose caught him looking at her and he flashed her that boyish grin he still possessed. Even after all these years he still made her heart melt with one smile, just as when she was a seventeen-year-old girl.
“It's a beautiful night out there, with the snow all over the city,” Jack pointed out, walking to the nearest window in the parlor.
“Yes, I know. The chill, though…” Rose thought for a moment before her voice trailed off, thinking of the chill the night the Titanic sank. She hadn't thought of the Titanic for a while. It was a subject which unnerved her. “The children have been out all day playing in the garden in the snow. They refused to come in until it began to get dark.” Rose smiled.
“Ah…that explains the three snowmen lined up on the front yard.” Jack grinned.
“Yes.” Rose laughed. “Lizzy and Olivia have taken three of Robert's scarves for the snowmen to wear. It's a good thing he isn't here. He wouldn't approve one bit.” Laughing, Rose walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine from the larder and two wine glasses from the cupboard.
“So, you have three very smartly dressed snowmen in the garden.” Jack laughed. He loved Rose's children. He felt especially close to Lizzy. She had never really had a father figure and he felt they had a special bond. It was hard to believe she was Cal's child. So much of her fire and spirit was from her mother.
“Would you like a glass?” Rose asked, indicating the French wine she was pouring into the glasses. Jack nodded in response. He glanced around the house. It was small in comparison to the house she had owned in Santa Monica back in 1916, but it was homey. The gentle snores of the children upstairs could be heard, and Rose smiled at Jack, warmly handing him the glass of wine.
“They were tired from all the playing today,” Rose spoke, sipping her wine. “They have been in bed for hours.”
“Well, it means peace for you.” Jack smiled.
“It does, and to be able to just spend time away from being a mother for a while. All I seem to be doing lately is working and being around the children. I love my children, but the break is good.”
Rose lowered herself onto the couch and Jack sat beside her. Her eyes darted around the room. The lamp in the far corner of the room had begun to dim slightly.
“You have two beautiful children, Rose. I cannot imagine how proud you must be.” Jack smiled. He felt a slight pang and did not know why.
“Oh, I am. I was seventeen when Lizzy was born, but I knew she was my daughter and I would look after her. Cal never batted an eye at her, but she is my daughter, and mine only.” Rose spoke protectively. She was proud of the way Lizzy had grown without a father.
“Rose…you know what still hurts me? After all you told me back in Santa Monica in 1916, of all the bad things he did to you, how you could go back to Cal, and to give him another daughter?”
Jack's words his Rose like a train, fast and hard. Immediately, she sat forward and placed her glass of wine on the end table. Jack thought Cal was Olivia's father? She placed her head in her hands and breathed deeply, feeling nauseous. Here was the moment when she could tell Jack that Olivia was not Cal's, but his. A child they had created together. Turning to Jack, she saw his face, so innocent and clueless to how she felt about him, about their child. How could she tell him? How could she even word it? To tell him they had a child would be something which would entirely change his world. Was he even ready for that? So many things rushed through Rose's mind.
“Rose?”
Jack's voice brought Rose back to the present. She could feel her heart beating and her hands shaking. “Jack…” Rose began. She didn't even know how the sentence would end. “You…Jack…you must never think of Olivia and Lizzy as anyone's children but mine,” she managed, touching his hand gently. “I gave birth to them, I raised them, and they are my children only.”
Nodding, Jack pulled Rose closer to him. She was obviously having trouble with what to say. Her body felt cold and Jack pulled the blanket around them. He kissed her forehead, and Rose rested her body against Jack. Closing her eyes, she took in his scent and ran her fingers delicately over his arm beneath the blanket.
“And Robert?” Jack asked, somewhat hesitantly. “Is he a father to the children?” he asked with a hint of jealousy.
Rose raised her head from Jack's shoulder and faced him. “No. Never,” she replied sharply before regretting it. She softened, standing, and as she did, she shivered slightly and folded her arms. She faced Jack, and he could see her face in the slight darkness. “To be very honest, Jack, Robert has never touched me in any way. He has never kissed me, nor have we made love. He is a brilliant man who loves me and the children, but I feel no attraction. He is almost a brother to me.”
Jack was stunned by her words. He stood silently, not quite sure what to say. He wanted to ask Rose to leave Robert and to marry him instead. He would love the children more than any other man, but he knew it wasn't that simple, and Rose would never agree to it. “Rose, then why are you engaged to be married to him?”
“Because he loves me–I know that–and the children. I will grow to love him, I guess.” Rose faltered. Tears pricked her eyes. She knew in her heart of hearts that marrying Robert was the right thing to do. He wasn't Cal. He was a wonderful man. He allowed her to live her own life and was proud of her work as an actress, unlike Cal.
Words escaped Jack. What could he possibly say? He could never reason with Rose. She knew how much he wanted her, but maybe they were never meant to be. But for now he had her. He loved her, and he could hold her and kiss her and make love to her, something Robert had never done. Coming closer to her, he touched her face gently and Rose lost power over her own body. Jack kissed her passionately and she tugged at his shirt with great ardor. His fingers gently touched her face, then her neck, and she moaned softly in his arms, knowing what great passion would come later in the evening.