AFTER STARTING ANEW
Chapter Thirty-Two
August, 1938
Rose ran her hand across the polished woodwork
in their cabin, her fingers nervously shaking as she mindlessly studied the
shining surface. She shivered for a moment when she thought about what she and
Jack were about to do. In just thirty minutes, they were going to embark on an
Atlantic crossing on the Queen Mary. Her heart was pounding not only from
excitement, but also from the apprehension she felt.
She walked to the other side of the room and
glanced out of one of the two windows that graced the outside wall of their
stateroom. In the distance were the skyscrapers of downtown Manhattan. Below
her, she knew that a flurry of activity was taking place as the dockworkers
busily loaded the hold of the ship with cargo, mail, and luggage. The grinding
of gears from one of the large cranes positioned on the dock added to the
already loud sounds outside. Passengers in modest suits and dresses moved
slowly up the gangplank, each in turn gazing high above them at the majesty of
this huge ship. Taxis pulled up along the dock, discharging the casual travelers.
Gone from the scene were the chauffeured cars and armies of maids and valets
who accompanied the wealthy across the ocean. Now the majority of passengers
traveled lightly and with more practical and easy-to-care for attire.
Placing a hand across her chest, she drew in
deep breath, wondering if she and Jack might have gone a little too far this
time. Neither of them had set foot in even a rowboat over the last twenty-six
years. Now they were once again on one of the largest ships ever built, one that
sailed under the flag of the combined Cunard /White Star Line. This giant of
the seas had just crossed the ocean, winning the prized Blue Riband for speed
on a North Atlantic journey. Rose could feel the bile rise in her throat as she
mulled over those words.
Speed, White Star Line, largest ship in the
world. The vanity and ignorance of the 1912 world and the importance of those
beliefs had almost cost she and Jack their lives and had killed a thousand
others. Bruce Ismay and his arrogant counterparts, Captain Smith in his blind
trust of modern ship building and his lax behavior of taking ice warnings
seriously had caused the Titanic to slam almost head on into an iceberg, and
thus changed the world forever.
It had taken all of this time for Jack and
herself to build up their courage to set foot on a ship. Driven by a burning
desire to visit Europe again, they had both agreed to take this trip in
celebration of their twenty-fifth anniversary. They had learned through the
years that a person was never really shielded from the tragedies of life.
Jack’s injuries in the war, Cora’s close brush with death during the polio
epidemic of 1932, and the Daphne dilemma that caused a shaky period in their
marriage had shown them that there were no guarantees in life. So here they
were, on board and ready to sail. This trip had been postponed a year because
of Frank’s wedding last summer, but now it was time. A chance for her and Jack
to visit the Paris he had known, for him to show her those places through his
eyes.
Rose let her eyes roam around their modest
stateroom. How times had changed. First class was now called cabin class. These
small staterooms were the norm for most travelers with only a few large suites
available for celebrities. There were no private verandas in these cabins, no
maids to unpack her clothes. Instead of ornately carved oak panels, the walls
were covered with a simple blond walnut. No brass headboards, just simple twin
beds with chintz bedspreads. The lavishness and ostentation from the turn of the
century was gone and replaced by the clean lines of the art deco school of
design.
She glanced up at the small electric clock on
the wall. The ship was due to sail at noon. It was now 11:40, and she was
waiting for Jack to return from his errand. He had gone to see about having the
separate twin beds moved together. They had looked at each other and laughed,
joking that they would have to behave on this trip. Then Jack had told her he
would get it fixed, and had gone off to find the cabin steward. In spite of her
trepidation about sailing, she had to smile to herself, thinking that she and
Jack could make magic happen in far less luxurious settings. She counted on her
finger all the unusual places they had made love. The back of the Renault, the
narrow train berths on their many trips, their living room floor, and a tent on
a deserted island in Yellowstone Park. If things could not be changed, she was
sure that she and Jack would manage quite well.
There was a knock at the door and she went to
open it. "Your luggage, ma’am." A young man in a blue uniform had
their four suitcases on a cart. "Where shall I put them?"
Rose tried to remember which were the two she
and Jack needed on the ship. Now it was beyond her how she had managed to cram
three evening gowns and some casual clothes into the large valise. Instead of
twelve trunks, they had just these few bags.
She pointed to the two she was sure they
needed right away. "The others you can put on the floor over there."
Rose thought back to all the necessities one had needed to travel in 1912.
Hatboxes, dresses for morning, afternoon, and evening. Just the corsets alone
took up practically one whole trunk. Now she guessed that she didn’t even own
enough clothes to put in one steamer trunk. Since they had come into money a
few years ago, she and Jack had maintained their frugal lifestyle and she
bought for quality, not quantity. Even taking this cabin class stateroom had
weighed heavily on them. Finally Jack had persuaded her to do it for the sake
of comfort. "You know we aren’t kids anymore, Rose." And so she had
allowed him to go ahead with his plan.
The porter stood awkwardly at the door,
smiling at her as if he expected something else. "Will that be all,
ma’am?"
Rose blinked, forgetting for a second the
etiquette of traveling that had so rigidly been imposed on her so many years
ago. She sighed as she reached for her handbag. Some things never changed, she
thought, as she rummaged through her wallet for a crisp dollar bill.
"Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy your
crossing."
She flashed him a polite smile, then rested
her head against her hand. Things would be easier if Jack got here and helped
her unlock the cases. She had given him her keys for safekeeping this morning.
Now Rose was eager to find her hairbrush and makeup so that she could freshen
up a bit before lunch.
There was a flurry of activity in the
corridor outside, and as if he had heard her mental summons, Jack, followed by
a crewman, entered the cabin.
"Oh, Jack. I need you to open the
cases."
"In a second, Rose. Thomas is going to
set up the beds properly for us."
She felt a flush on her face, only slightly
embarrassed that everyone knew their private business. But then she realized
that this must be a common enough occurrence so that the ship’s personnel paid
little attention to who did what.
"You folks ever been abroad
before?" Thomas had moved the nightstand out of the way, and now he was
kneeling on the floor, busy unscrewing something from under each bed.
Jack looked thoughtfully at Rose. He could
see the hint of tension in her eyes. They had expected that people would ask if
they had traveled this way before. It was a topic they had discussed before
they even left home. How to handle the conversation without broaching the
subject of Titanic.
He glanced down at Thomas, who seemed to be
awaiting an answer. "Ah, yes. But a long time ago. We were both very young
and don’t remember too much," Jack said smoothly, glossing over the truth.
The man was straining a bit as he shoved the
two beds together. "Yeah, things change all the time. Well, have a good
trip." He collected his tools and nodded to Rose and Jack. He tested the
beds once more to be sure they were secure, and was gone.
Both of them looked at each other, hugely
relieved that they had gotten over their first hurdle. "Okay, Rose.
Remember that we made a pact. To remember the good times of that trip. The very
good times. Other people like Molly got on ships right away and got over it. We
can, too."
"I know, Jack. I guess I feel like we
are hiding something, that’s all." She took his hand, squeezing it gently
for reassurance.
"My God, Rose. Your hands are freezing.
You’d never know it was eighty-five outside. Come on, let’s go on deck. Don’t
you want to watch when we sail? Didn’t you do that then?" He saw a tinge of
melancholy in her eyes. Surely she had not been prevented from watching the
Titanic set sail. She had not talked much about the days and hours just prior
to the Southampton departure.
Rose shook her head sadly from side to side.
"It wasn’t considered ladylike. Instead, I was inside sorting through my
paintings, and Cal was chasing me around with a bottle of champagne,
insinuating that I would be his conquest on Titanic." Then a suggestion of
a smile appeared on her face. "Instead…" She stopped and stepped
closer to Jack. "Instead I was someone else’s conquest." Rose stared
up at Jack, now trying hard to hold back a giggle.
Jack feigned innocence and pointed to
himself. "My conquest? Listen, Mrs. Dawson, you’re the one that wanted to
go to the stars." He pulled her close and held her tightly against him. As
the memories of that first time together rushed through his mind, he thought
once again how lucky he was to have Rose. He bent his head and found her ear.
"I think we are still on that trip, Rose. I’ve never been sorry for one
minute, never."
"Jack, before we go out on deck, I just
want to say something." He felt the warmth of her breath along the side of
his neck. "I, uh…I love you Jack. From the first time I looked into your
eyes, until this moment and beyond." She leaned her head against the crisp
fabric of his suit jacket, drinking in the smell of soap and aftershave and the
heat of the summer sun. They had traveled a long and sometimes rocky road in
their twenty-six-year marriage, but when Jack held her like this, she would not
have had it any other way. All they had been through, all they had suffered,
made each tender moment that much more valuable. She felt a tingling sensation
as Jack moved his hands up and down her back. A whisper in her ear told her to
raise her face to his.
"Kiss me, Rose. Now." Hungrily he
sought her mouth, and she felt him trace the contours of her lips with his.
Jack groaned as she leaned into his embrace. For a moment, their mouths parted,
and Jack cleared his throat. There was a speculative look about him as he
smiled down at her. "There’s still a long trip ahead, Rose. Let’s go up on
deck, and then, later…"
Rose stepped back and adjusted her suit. She
lifted one eyebrow in question to Jack. "And later?" In all the years
of their marriage, she knew that later would happen and that she would never be
disappointed. Jack and she would take each other to the brink of ecstasy before
they slowly came back to earth in each other’s arms. Rose knew this, as a certainty
as sure as the sun would rise each day. She reached out her hand to Jack, eager
now to experience the thrill of setting sail on a transatlantic voyage in a
happy mood. Jack’s benign grin did little to hide the passionate feelings he
would share with her later.
He pulled her along behind in as they moved
among the jostling crowd. There seemed to be movement everywhere. Porters with
luggage, stewards carrying bouquets of flowers, maids with stacks of towels in
their arms, and passengers. Even the young bellmen, snappy in their pseudo
military uniforms, carried the telegrams they were delivering with the aura of
anticipation everyone felt. All of them laughing and talking. All heading out
the doorways that led to the promenade deck.
"Here, Rose. This is a good spot."
She found herself wedged in between a family of tourists, each one waving a
string of streamers. Jack stood behind her, his hands resting firmly on her
waist. He raised his arms to wave enthusiastically to the crowd gathered below.
"Good-bye, I’ll miss you."
Rose turned and stared at Jack with a look of
puzzlement. "You don’t know anyone, Jack." The sound of the tooting
tugboats and the echo of the ship's whistle against the Manhattan skyscrapers
made it impossible for her to hear his answer. She reached up and pushed some
stray confetti from her face. As the cheers of the passengers filled the air
and the deck underneath her vibrated slightly, Rose took a deep breath and
closed her eyes. She allowed herself exactly one second to think of the last
time she sailed, with her mother worried about propriety and Cal concerned only
for himself. Then she let go of those thoughts and let them fly free from her
mind, forever.
Jack leaned his head close to her ear.
Several loose streamers hung on his shoulders, and his hair was ruffled by the
light breeze from the river. "See, I told you this was fun." As he
rested his cheek next to hers, a deep feeling of satisfaction settled over him.
His fears of this trip were gone. The worry he had that Rose would feel afraid
now appeared to be unfounded. Instead he felt a sense of peace. Knowing that
the subject of Titanic might come up in conversation, but secure in the fact
that both he and Rose could deal with it.
Rose heard the soft ripple of Jack’s laughter
in her ear. The golden sound of his voice drowned out the cacophony around her.
She turned in the safety of his grasp. In the security of the arms that had
once rescued her, she gazed into his eyes, those reassuring pools of blue.
"I love you, Jack. Thank you for planning this trip." In a moment of
playfulness, she took the ends of the streamers around Jack’s neck, pulling his
face to her own, unmindful that there was anyone else on the ship besides them.