RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter One
Philadelphia
June 15, 1912
Rose stood at the back of the church,
trembling. At the front of the church, the organist began the notes of the
wedding march.
Slowly, clutching her bouquet in her
sweat-slicked hands, Rose started up the aisle towards Cal. She strove to
control the shaking in her hands.
Why was she doing this? Why was she marrying
Cal? That night, in the water, she had promised Jack that she would go on, that
she wouldn't give up. But that was exactly what she was doing.
She didn't want to marry Cal. She still
didn't understand why, after Cal had found her on board the Carpathia, she had
returned with him to first class. Her mother had been overjoyed to see her, but
she had still insisted that Rose go through with the wedding. Rose hadn't
wanted to, but the joy in her mother's eyes had made her feel guilty. She
remembered her words to her mother on the Titanic: "Oh, Mother, shut
up!" "Good-bye, Mother."
Where would her mother be without this
marriage? She had few skills. She knew little of the outside world. Ruth DeWitt
Bukater would probably end up working as a seamstress in some sweatshop, or
worse. Rose had no choice.
As she walked up the aisle, she saw Cal
watching her. To everyone else, he seemed the perfect gentleman, a noble man
waiting for his fiancée, even after she had betrayed him with another man. Rose
knew differently, though.
From the first, she had sensed that something
was not quite right about him. He had always acted like a perfect gentleman in
public, and, at first, Rose had wondered if her distrust of him was simply
nervousness brought on by having had little experience with men. Her mother had
thought him the ideal man, and had strongly encouraged Rose to accept Cal's
proposal of marriage. When Rose had balked, her mother had informed her of
their financial situation, impressing upon Rose that if she did not accept
Cal's proposal, they were both likely to wind up on the streets.
Rose had been frightened of the prospect of
poverty, and had finally accepted Cal's proposal. Cal's behavior towards her
had changed almost immediately. Feeling that he had her under his control, he
began to treat her like a possession, caring little for what she thought,
mostly concerned with how others viewed them. When Rose had displeased him, he
had taken to beating her—but only where no one was likely to see. At least, no
one who had the power to do anything about it. Trudy had looked shocked at the
bruises when she had helped Rose to dress, but Rose, too ashamed to admit to
what was happening, had blamed the bruises on a fall from her horse, and had
thereafter dressed herself after Cal had beaten her.
That hadn't been the end of it, though.
During their trip to Europe, Cal had booked adjoining rooms for himself and
Rose in several hotels. Because it was his money that was paying for the trip,
Cal felt that he was entitled to more from Rose than a few chaste kisses, and
had forced himself upon her.
Rose had tried to tolerate it, had even tried
to please him, but Cal had seemed to relish causing her pain. After he had
beaten her with his razor strop several times, Rose learned to keep quiet and just
do whatever he wanted, stifling her cries of pain. Cal had insisted that he was
doing it because he loved her, but Rose knew better.
After Cal had visited her in her room the
second night on the Titanic, Rose had had enough. The following night, as the
rest of first class had been at dinner, Rose had tried to jump off the ship.
Deep down inside, though, she had been grateful when Jack Dawson had shown up
and convinced her not to jump.
It was Jack that she had learned to love, and
Jack who had shown her that what happened between a man and a woman could be a
wonderful, beautiful thing. Rose was glad that she had pulled him into the back
seat of the Renault; at least once in her life she would be able to experience
lovemaking, rather than rape.
Rose's thoughts returned to the present as
she approached Cal. In just a few moments, she would be joined to him forever.
Rose's steps slowed. She looked at Cal,
feeling as if she was seeing everything from a great distance—Cal's cool smile,
her mother's beaming face, the bridesmaids clad in their lavender gowns. The
heavy veil on her head seemed to weigh her down, the weight of the diamonds and
pearls decorating it digging into her head. The Heart of the Ocean was heavy
around her neck, an expensive bauble decorating an expensive possession. In
just a few moments, she would belong to Cal, to be used and abused as he saw
fit.
Rose stopped, her hands shaking. Frozen in
place, she stared at Cal. She heard her mother hiss at her to get moving, but
her feet seemed to be glued to the floor.
Suddenly, something inside her snapped. She
couldn't do it! She just couldn't do it!
Dropping her bouquet, Rose whirled around.
Lifting her skirts, she ran back down the aisle and out of the church. She
could hear shocked voices echoing inside the building, could hear Cal shouting
after her, but she didn't stop. Racing down the sidewalk, Rose ran around the
corner, oblivious to the shocked stares of people on the street.
Her veil snagged on a bush. Stopping
momentarily, Rose yanked the pins from her hair, letting the veil fall to the
ground, then ran on. Her hair, freed from its perfect coiffure, whipped around
her as she ran, but Rose paid it no heed. Heels clacking on the ground, she
headed for home.