AFTER STARTING ANEW
Chapter One
Excerpts from Ruth’s Journal
October 3, 1917
“This surely must be one of the saddest days of
my life. For all of us really. I still can’t believe that this day we were all
dreading has come and gone. For today we sent Jack off to war.
Arthur and I picked him up at home and drove
him to the station. Jack, the most indulgent of husbands, was adamant that his
parting with Rose take place in the privacy of their home. And he was right.
The pushing, shoving crowds of the Denver Union Station would have been no
place for two lovers like my daughter and Jack to say good bye. And it would
have been too confusing for the children as well.
When we arrived at their house, Arthur kept
the motorcar running, while I went up the stairs to ring the bell. The front
door was open and I looked inside. At a first glance, everything seemed normal
and calm. Byron was laying at the foot of the stairs chewing on a bone and
Frank was peeking through the railing on the second floor. Out of sight in one
of the bedrooms, I could hear the giggles of the twins. Just beyond the top of
the stairs I saw Rose and Jack. I quickly stepped into the shadows not wanting
to observe this sad leave-taking. Yet in just those few seconds, I saw the
unbearable pain on both of their faces. Rose’s eyes were brimming over with
tears. Neither one of them spoke. Words would not have been necessary. He gave
her one final kiss and then she grasped his hand, struggling to hold on to it
for as long as she could as he started down the stairs. When he was out of
reach, she picked up Frank and buried her face against the child, turning her
back to the stairs.
Jack saw me standing behind the door. He gave
me a quick smile and put his hand on my shoulder. He asked me then to look
after Rose. He almost fell over Byron, as his mind was not on where he was
walking. I could see that it pained him even to say good bye to his dog.
We went down the porch stairs, with Jack
carrying a small suitcase and his coat over his arm. His mouth was firmly set
and his head was down. As he got into the automobile and greeted Arthur, I
looked back up at the house. I thought I saw the lace curtain in the upstairs
window move. Poor Rose. Her heart must have been breaking at that moment.
My own heart sank deeper and deeper as we
approached the station. The conversation on the way was mostly about the
weather, the children, Arthur’s new vehicle. Very general, harmless topics.
We arrived at the station and finally got
down the platform in the crush of the crowd. With some difficulty we found the
car that Jack was to report to. There were only a few minutes left before he
was to leave. It was such a long train that the end where he was getting on was
out beyond the train shed.
I will never forget how his blond hair shone
in the bright October sun. He squinted his eyes as he looked at us. But I
wonder how much the sun had to do with it. Jack, for all his optimism and
enthusiasm, is only human. I would suspect that he, like us, was fighting back
the tears.
We assured him again that we would help Rose
with the children. He said that he would write to all of us as often as he
could. There was a moment of silence. He looked at Arthur and started to speak.
He only got the word “if” out, before Arthur stopped him. He put his hand on
Jack’s arm and told him not to worry. That he would take care of everything.
With few words and one gentle motion, the care of one man’s family was
transferred almost imperceptibly to another. I am so thankful for a wonderful
husband like Arthur. Since we married he has adopted Rose and Jack like
children of his own. I know that he will be a tower of strength to all of us in
the coming months.
At that point I could no longer control
myself. I began weeping openly and reached out to Jack, apologizing for
upsetting him. If he had been a child of my own, I could not have loved him
more. He has done nothing but good his whole life, nothing but wonderful things
for his family, including me. I can never thank him enough for his part in
helping me turn my life around.
He warmly embraced me and neither of us was
able to speak. He gave Arthur a quick hug and a handshake and he was off. I
rested my head against Arthur’s chest, aware of his arm around me, watching as
Jack disappeared into the throng of young men.
His journey will take him to Fort Sheridan
near Chicago, and then on to Europe. I am certain that the worst part of the trip
will be going across the ocean. I know Rose is terrified whenever she thinks of
him on a ship.
None of us knows what the future will bring.
We can all hope and pray that Jack will come back to us. I know Rose told me
that Jack feels he is a survivor. That all will be well. But his life is in
God’s hands now.
In the evening, Arthur and I went to have
dinner with Rose and the children. They don’t, of course, realize why their
father is gone. And they only talk about the letters and pictures he promised
to send them.
Rose looks terrible. She was so pale and when
she was serving dinner, I felt her icy and shaking hand brush against mine.
After dinner I took the girls upstairs for a bath and Arthur took Frank along
when he walked Byron. Rose cleaned up the kitchen and when we all returned, I
found her on the back porch, silently watching the sunset over the mountains.
We asked her if there was anything else we
could do. She shook her head that she was fine. Of course I knew she was far
from fine. And I could tell that she wanted to be alone. We said goodnight and
promised to return tomorrow. But I know that as she looks at that sunset, her
tears will come and she will remember all of Jack’s wise admonitions that he
left her with. Somehow, we will get through this. And please, dear God, let him
come home safe.”
July 4, 1918
“Early this morning, Rose was delivered of a
baby girl. I know those two and should have suspected that something like this
would happen. But they love each other and they love children. And the baby is
healthy. Those are the important things after all. And we now have four
grandchildren!
Rose was in bed most of the nine months. She
was so sick, but I suspect that she was ill from worry, more than the
pregnancy. I have spent most of this time helping her and taking care of Molly,
Edy and Frank. They are good, co-operative children, though Frank seems to have
the independent tendencies of BOTH of his parents. But he always listens to me
and especially to Arthur. Rose has worked hard to be sure that they are well
mannered.
The twins are now five and a half and they
were most excited to have a baby sister. Frank, still being the only boy, was
not as pleased or interested in his new sibling. He asks everyday where his
father is.
Rose told me that she and Jack had exchanged
letters and they had discussed some names for the baby. Apparently there was a
little girl on the Titanic who was a great fan of Jack’s. Sadly she did not
survive. But Jack told Rose to name the baby Cora, after her, if it was a girl.
Her middle name is Julie, after the month she was born in.
The baby is quite long and weighed almost
eight pounds. She has blue eyes like the rest of the children, but while the
twins closely resemble Rose and Frank is a double for his father, this little
girl is very different. She has Rose’s eyes, and Edwin’s mouth. And her hair is
light brown. Rose told me that Jack’s mother had hair that color. She is
definitely going to be an interesting person.
Rose wrote to Jack tonight to tell him the
news. So far things are going well with him. It is nine months since he left
and that is hard to believe. He remains mostly in the camp doing his drawings
for the newspapers. With the rumors that perhaps the war might be over before
the New Year, we all hold our breath that Jack will safely return.”
August 15, 1918
“Why has this happened? The dreaded telegram
came. Jack has been seriously injured in an attack of mustard gas on his camp.
Rose is in bed, beside herself. She is still somewhat weak from the birth. My
daughter has a strong will and great courage, but when she thinks of losing
Jack, even those traits fail her. She loves him so much and having almost lost
him on Titanic, I don’t know what would happen to her if the worst occurred. We
don’t know the details, but we can only hope things are not as bad as the
telegram indicated and that he will recover.”
September 1, 1918
“A letter from a nurse arrived today. Jack is
in a field hospital in a chateau in France. They hope to move him to England soon,
so that he can return to an Army hospital in the States.
When I arrived at Rose’s this morning the
poor girl was silent. She handed me the letter and I read it myself. I feel sad
to think that perhaps death would have been the better alternative. How will
they have a normal life after this? Why these injuries? Why our talented,
wonderful Jack?”