AFTER STARTING ANEW
Chapter Two
January 18, 1919
2 A.M.
Rose lay in her bed with Jack’s telegram
crumpled in her hand. Her face felt hot and blotchy where tear tracks ran down
her face. She should be feeling joy instead of lying here with dread in her
heart.
Jack was coming home today. The first time
since he had left for the war some 15 months ago. But instead of feeling happy,
she was terrified. Terrified of living the rest of her life with a man who was
like a stranger to her. And why on earth had he chosen today, the twins’
birthday to return to Denver? Did he really remember and want to surprise them,
or in his bitterness was he going to cast a shadow on their celebration?
Her life since Jack had left had been more
than miserable. She’d had the children for company and that had been wonderful
until she found out that she was pregnant again. Cora, the gift from Jack’s
last night at home, had been born and that pregnancy had kept Rose in bed for
almost the whole time. Just after Cora’s birth, Rose had received a telegram.
It began with the usual “Regret to inform you…” It couldn’t have been a broken
leg or arm or even a wound from a shell. No, it had to be the cruelest injury
of all. Jack had been gassed in an attack on his camp.
Jack had gone with the draft to France where
he was to do illustrations for some of the Western newspapers. He would be
mostly in camp and it seemed as though he would be protected from the dangers
of battle. Neither of them could have imagined that he would have been hurt
there.
Following the telegram, there came a letter
from a nurse. Jack was blinded and his legs paralyzed from the attack. It was
unclear to the medical people if this was to be a permanent condition, as the
outcome of injuries sustained by the gas was hard to predict. And it had been
some time before Jack had been moved to a hospital in the States.
Cora had been born in July and it was late
October before Rose had been able to get away to the Walter Reed Army Hospital
near Washington, D.C. to see Jack. She went, not knowing what to expect. And
however bad she thought it might be, it had been a disastrous visit. For she
had not counted on Jack lashing out at her, casting her away, telling her to
get out and not being able to give her an answer on when or even if he was
coming home.
She remembered that visit so well. As she
entered the large wardroom, she saw that maybe there were a hundred beds. She
walked up and down the rows not finding Jack. Finally, she had to ask one of
the nurses to point him out. Then she saw him.
Without help, she would never have recognized
him. He was lying perfectly still with his eyes staring out into space. His
face was covered with a beard and his blond hair was shaggier than she had ever
seen it. He was thin and pale. She stared in disbelief for a few seconds, her
heart breaking as she saw the pathetic condition of her husband. Jack, who was
always strong and confident and handsome, was now a sad, weak figure in a
hospital bed. Quietly, she walked over and sat down on the chair next to his
bed.
“Hello, Jack. I’m here. Didn’t they tell you
I was coming?” Rose asked, trying to be cheerful.
Jack remained silent for a minute, his face
working with emotion. Rose had not expected the words that he spoke. But what
he said, set the tone for the visit to come.
“Yeah, they told me. And now, why don’t you
leave, Rose. There is nothing for you here. Nothing for you to do, no reason
for you to stay.”
He put his head down and drew his arms around
his body, as though to build an invisible wall around himself.
Rose looked at him in shock. Even knowing
about his injuries, she had imagined Jack taking her in his arms and kissing
her and telling her how wonderful it was for her to come. She thought he would
have asked about the children and inquired about the new baby.
She had returned day after day. Bringing him
little treats that he had once enjoyed. Reading the simple notes that the
children had dictated to her for their dad. He sat silently, expressionless,
never once reaching out to her. Several times she tried to take his hand, but
he had pulled away. Once or twice she had leaned over in an attempt to kiss
him, but he had resisted. He would have no part of her well-intended
ministrations.
Every night, she had gone back to her hotel
room and wept silently into her pillow. She was making an attempt to understand
the way he was acting, but it was hard. There was not even a trace of Jack’s
usual gentleness in this shell of a man she had come to visit. The doctors had
told her that the effects of the gas caused a person to become depressed and
angry. Then of course there were the debilitating injuries. They were not too
hopeful. The attack had taken place in August and it was almost November. There
still had been no improvement in his condition.
One day, Rose had asked the assistance of an
orderly to get Jack into a wheelchair. It was a glorious autumn day and she
thought that perhaps the fresh air would clear his head a little. They had
transferred him, somewhat unwillingly, from the bed to the chair and Rose had
finally gotten him into the hospital yard. She found a bench and after she
parked Jack’s wheelchair next to it, she sat down herself. She reached out for
Jack’s hand and this time gripped it so tightly that he could not let go or
brush it away.
“Jack, I can’t even begin to imagine what you
are going through. Though I am trying. But have you even thought about how I
feel?” she began, speaking with conviction.
He turned his head away from the direction of
her voice. As though he didn’t want to hear what she had to say.
“Listen to me, Jack Dawson,” Rose said
irritably. “We never imagined this happening. It’s hard and it’s awful. But you
aren’t the only one involved here. You have four children at home. They need
their father. They are young and they can adapt to you the way you are. They
want to see you and hug you and tell you things. I know it will never be the
same. But Jack, for us, for them, especially, you have to try.”
She leaned down in his lap and began to cry.
For months she had carried the burden of a family, a pregnancy and trying to
make ends meet all alone. She was exhausted and scared. Now she felt she was
against a brick wall.
She laid there for awhile, letting the tears
flow out of her. There was no response from Jack for a long time. Then slowly,
she felt his hand touch her head. And he began to stroke her hair gently. For a
brief moment, she thought that perhaps she had broken through the barricade
around him. But as soon as he spoke, she knew it was not to be.
“Rose, I don’t know what to say,” he began
with no emotion in his voice. “Here we are outside and I can’t see anything.
There is no more beauty for me. My heart feels dead inside of me. There is
nothing to laugh about, nothing to smile for. And when you add the fact that I
can’t move, what is the point? I don’t know what is going to happen here. But I
can tell you this. I am not coming home until I am ready.”
Rose raised her head to look at him. And she
asked a question that she feared the answer too. “Jack, what if you never get
better?”
Then, Rose, you know the answer, don’t you,”
he said bitingly.
But there was no more time for conversation.
A delivery boy came up to them calling, “Telegram for Dawson, telegram for Rose
Dawson.”
Rose motioned for the boy to come over and
she took the paper with shaking hands. Why would anyone be sending her a
telegram? She opened it quickly and scanned the words.
“What is it?” asked Jack.
“Oh my God,” she said with concern in her
voice. “It’s from Mother. I have to go at once. Frank has a serious case of
tonsillitis and the doctor wants to operate to remove them when the acute stage
is over.”
Jack reached out to where he thought she was and
made contact with her skirt, pushing her away as if to make a point.
“Go, Rose. Go home and take care of the
people that need you, that want you there,” he responded sarcastically, happy
for an excuse not to hear anymore of the truths that she had flung at him.
Rose stood up, fuming with anger, shaking
with desperation. She was furious that he didn’t even seem to care about his
own child.
“Just stay here and rot then, Jack,” she
screeched at him. “Fine, I will take the next train home and I will go and take
care of MY children. Because if you don’t get there soon, they will have
forgotten who their father is. Good-bye, Jack.”
That had happened almost three months ago. In
that time, there had been two or three letters from him to the children that
one of the volunteer aides had written. But nothing for her, except a line or
two at the bottom of the letter that said, “Be sure your mother does not work
too hard. Kiss her for me.”
She wondered now what it was that made Jack
decide to come home. Perhaps even the Army had tired of him and had thrown him
out of the hospital.
His telegram had come yesterday and said
simply, “ROSE, ARRIVING OVERLAND LIMITED JAN. 18th 8:15 A.M. BE READY FOR ME.
JACK.”
She had read the words over and over that
said “be ready”. That must mean that he wanted her to get things in order for
him. She had spent the last twenty four hours preparing the house. Moving a bed
into the dining room, clearing a space for the wheelchair, bringing his clothes
downstairs. And trying to prepare the children for the fact that most likely,
their father would be confined to bed and would need their help.
Rose glanced over at the clock. Five A.M. The
train was coming in three hours. She wanted to bring the children to the
station. Not only were they anxious to see their father, but she thought that
they might be a buffer if things did not go well between her and Jack.
She bathed and dressed and as she sat on the
bed brushing her hair, she saw a piece of paper sticking out of the pocket of
one of her dresses. Slowly she got up and took it out. It was a letter that
Jack had written last summer. Rose closed her eyes and remembered the day it
had come. The letter had been dated August 10, 1918, several days before he had
been injured. But she had not received it until after the telegram. She
wondered if she had the courage to read it again. The paper had been creased
and folded many times over. Gently she opened it up and the words started to
blur before her. It was so full of love and hope. Within hours of Jack writing
that letter, their lives had changed forever.
“Dear Rose,
I am filled with joy and relief to know
that you are fine and that we have a healthy baby girl. I have been thinking
about you night and day these past few weeks, wondering just when our baby
would be born. An Independence Day baby! I expect that with us as parents she
will live up to that trait. We are so blessed that we now have four wonderful
children.
I only hope and pray that things did
indeed go well for you. I still remember that snowy day that Edy and Molly were
born. I was fearful the whole time that I would do something that would harm
you. Please Rose, take care of yourself and take your time recovering. I don’t
want anything to happen to you. You know how much I need you.
It is warm here now. The weather is not so
different from home. But the one thing I miss is the summer sky. Because of the
smoke from the guns, it is a rare night when the stars are visible. I think of
all the nights we have gone out to see the stars. I miss all of that, Rose.
More than you can know. I know that you miss me too, but you are in our place
with our children. Here there is nothing to remind me of you. Nothing but dirt
and pain and noise.
I live for the day that I come home and
for the night when I take you in my arms again. Hopefully that will be soon.
Very soon. They say that this war will only go on another couple of months.
I’ve made it this far, so I think I can last a little longer.
When I get home, Rose, we will send the
children to your mother and we will have the house to ourselves. And then,
Rose…well, what I want to do really shouldn’t be written in a letter.
For right now, just go and close your eyes
and try to remember one of our evening walks and the long lingering kisses we
shared. Tell Molly, Edy and Frank, that I will send some more drawings to them
soon. They are such great kids. Soon enough, I will hold the baby that I don’t
yet know and I will feel that she is a real part of me.
I love you. You know that, Rose. Once I
come home, I never ever want to be apart from you again. We have a long life
ahead of us. And I am going to spend every second loving you.
I live for your letters. I read them over
and over. I run my fingers over your words, feeling your touch as you folded
the paper and put it in the envelope. I will write again to you soon. For sure
later in the week. I will love you always, Rose. Remember that.
Jack”
Rose blew the hair out of her face and wiped
away her tears. She was so confused. This loving letter, the frightening
telegram, the awful visit and the very abrupt notice from Jack saying that he
was coming home. What had happened in these months to the love he said he felt
for her?
She took the letter and folded it back along the
creased lines. Now, in a hurry, she put it in the drawer of her bedside table.
“Oh, Jack,” she sighed to herself. “You
haven’t told me you love me in such a long time. And I haven’t said that to you
either. What’s going to happen to us?”
She shook her head sadly and decided that for
right now, she couldn’t deal with that. It was getting closer and closer to the
time to leave. Rose stood up and took her purple coat out of the closet. She
knew that Jack hated purple. But she had needed the coat and it had been on
sale. What was the difference, he wouldn’t see it anyway.
Now to get the children ready and go. Arthur
was coming to take them to the station and her mother would take care of Cora.
Somehow, she would get through this morning.