ROSE DAWSON: REBORN FOR THE
BETTER
Chapter Eight
August 15, 1912
In spite of Rose’s
fears, no story about her appeared in the New York Times, or any other
newspaper. Rose didn’t know if Luke had decided against printing her story, or if
it had been rejected for some other reason, but she was grateful every day that
she read the paper and found nothing about her.
Still, she was
worried. She saw Luke in Central Park occasionally, but he made no move to
speak to her, nor did she attempt to approach him. She knew that her dishonesty
had hurt him, more than he would ever admit, but she’d never really had a
choice. She had created a new life and a new identity for herself when the
Carpathia had docked, and she had no intention of ever going back to her old
life. In spite of her worries, she was happier in the new life she had made
than she had ever been as a member of the upper class.
It wasn’t just
herself she had to worry about now, anyway. There was also the baby to
consider. High society would never accept the illegitimate child of a debutante
and a steerage passenger. In her old world, her daughter would have been mocked
and ostracized for her parentage. But in the new life Rose had created for
herself, no one really knew her, or her past. As far as most people knew, she
was a widow, and there was no shame in a widow having a child. Indeed, some
people sympathized with her, having lost her husband and been left alone to
raise their child. Others thought her fortunate that she would have a child to
remember her husband by.
As August passed,
Rose’s middle slowly began to thicken, the baby beginning to show itself. On
August fifteenth, four months to the night the Titanic sank, Rose felt movement
for the first time. The baby’s kicks were light, like the flutter of butterfly
wings, but she was definitely moving.
Rose was helping
Hope make dinner when she first felt little Josephine kicking. She stopped, her
knife poised above the potatoes she had been peeling, and moved a hand to her
stomach, willing the baby to kick again. A moment later, she felt the gentle,
fluttering movement again.
"Hope!"
Rose turned to her friend, her eyes sparkling with joy. "The baby is
moving!" She pressed her hand against her middle, feeling the baby move
again.
"Is this the
first time it’s moved?"
Rose nodded, her
eyes shining with wonder. "It feels so strange...not bad, though. It
doesn’t hurt. It just...moves. How strange...to have a little person growing
and moving inside me."
Hope nodded,
smiling. "It is miraculous, when you first feel it. I remember when I was
carrying my son...those first few kicks were so miraculous, and so strange. It
was like I really knew that there was a baby then. Before that, it was just
something that thickened my waist and made me sick in the mornings. After that,
it was a real baby."
"Josephine’s
always been real to me," Rose responded, "but you’re right. This is
special. I just wish Jack was here...he would be so proud. Our baby...growing
and moving, turning into someone you can feel and see." She set the knife
down, stroking her stomach with both hands.
Hope just looked at
her and smiled, seeing the joy on Rose’s face.
*****
That night, Rose
fell asleep early. She had been more tired over the past few months, and the
excitement of feeling the baby move had worn her out. She fell asleep before
sunset, her window open to catch whatever breezes blew past in the hot summer
night.
Oddly, it didn’t
feel as though she were asleep. Even after her eyes closed, and the
now-familiar bedroom faded into the mists of sleep, Rose felt strangely
energized. The world around her was bright and sunny, with a cool breeze
blowing around her. Looking around, she found herself standing in the park, as
she did every day at lunch, but this was different—more quiet, more peaceful.
She jumped,
startled, as a hand touched her shoulder. Whirling around, she saw Jack
standing behind her, grinning.
"Jack!"
she exclaimed, stepping forward. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugged.
"I thought I’d visit for a while. I remember this place. Central Park. I
made a few drawings here."
Rose smiled, then
gave him a puzzled look. "Why are we here?"
"You come here
every day. And unless I miss my guess, someone special to you comes here,
too."
Rose immediately
felt guilty. "Jack...Luke and I don’t really mean anything to each other.
I wouldn’t betray you..."
"Rose, you
can’t betray me. I’m dead, remember? You may not realize it yet, but you and
Luke Calvert are meant to be together. Why do you think he was assigned to be
at the pier when the Carpathia docked that night?"
"He was there
to get the story. He’s a reporter."
"Stories like
that aren’t what he usually writes. Look closely at the paper and you’ll see
what I mean. No, there was a reason for him being there, and a reason that you
saw him and mistook him for me. It was meant to happen that way."
Rose shook her
head. "He hardly knows me. And he probably hates me now, after the way I
lied about my past, and who I am."
"He doesn’t
hate you, Rose. He’s upset that you lied to him, yes, but only because he cares
for you."
"I don’t think
so, Jack. I keep waiting for him to print my story and tell the whole world
what I did. I should never have told him the truth."
"Why
not?"
Rose looked at Jack
as though he were crazy. "He’s a reporter. He could tell the world about
me."
"But he
won’t." Rose started to speak, but Jack went on. "He’s a good man,
Rose, an honest man. He won’t betray your trust."
"How can you
be so sure?"
"I just
am." He shrugged. "Rose, I would like nothing better than to be there
with you right now, waiting for the birth of our first child. But I can’t. I
died, and you kept your promise and went on. I’ve been watching out for you,
though, and I can honestly say that of all the men in the world, Luke Calvert
is the one I would choose for you to spend your life with."
"So now you’re
trying to decide what I should do with my life?"
"I’m not
trying to decide anything for you. I can’t make your decisions. Only you can do
that." He took her chin in his hand, looking into her eyes. "But you
don’t have to be afraid that he’ll tell the world about you, Rose. You needed
to tell your story to someone, and in spite of the fact that he could use your
story for his own purposes, he won’t. He’s too honest, and he does care about
you." He pulled her close, kissing her and resting his hand on her middle
for a moment, feeling the baby move. "Everything is going to be all right,
Rose. Trust me."
Rose gave him a
tremulous smile. "I trust you. I always have."
Jack stepped away
from her. "I have to go back now, Rose."
"No, Jack.
Don’t go yet. Please."
"I have to,
Rose."
"No. You don’t
have to go. Stay here with me. I need you—we need you." She put her
hand on her stomach.
He smiled sadly.
"You’ll be all right, Rose. Both of you will be all right. You’re strong,
and you’re smart—you’ll be fine."
Even as Rose shook
her head, he leaned forward and kissed her one more time. "You have your
own life to live. Just like I told you, you’re going to live a long time, and
die an old lady, warm in her bed. You’re going to have lots of babies—and
Josephine will be the first. You’ll have a good life—and someday we’ll be
together again. I promise." He squeezed her hand.
Rose nodded,
fighting back tears. "I know. I love you, Jack."
"I love you,
too, Rose."
He stepped away, a
mist surrounding him and obscuring him from view. When the mist cleared, he was
gone.
"Jack..."
Rose whispered, tears filling her eyes as she looked at the place where he had
stood. Then the park faded away, and she found herself back in her bedroom,
gazing out the window.
Shakily, Rose got
out of bed, going to stand before the mirror on the wall. She wiped at her
tear-streaked face, looking at her pale face in the glass. Was that real?
she wondered.
Then she caught
sight of the locket hanging around her neck. She had taken it off before going
to bed, but now it was back around her neck, resting against the ruffle on her
thin nightgown. Something about it caught her eye.
The locket had been
plain before, but now the gold surface was delicately etched with entwined
hearts. Opening it, she looked at the picture inside. Jack seemed to smile at
her from the tiny photograph.
It was real, she thought, tucking the
locket inside her nightgown before lying down again. When she had needed Jack
most, he had been there. He had known that she was afraid, and had brought her
reassurance that everything would be all right.
Comforted now, Rose
crawled back into bed, her fingers moving to clutch the locket before she fell
asleep.