RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Thirty-Eight
May 5, 1914
Rose wandered slowly through the small
apartment, checking to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind. Although many
of their possessions would be of little use to them in Alaska, they might prove
helpful in the meantime, and they might be able to find a place to store them
while they were traveling through the wilderness.
They had packed their bags the night before,
and the landlord had already found new tenants for their apartment. Whether
they wanted to go or not, they had to leave now. The new tenants would be there
in the afternoon.
Their train was leaving at ten. Rose peered
under the bed, making sure that nothing had been pushed under it, and checked
the couch that Robert had insisted upon sleeping on. Everything had been
packed.
Robert came in, checking his pocket watch.
"It’s almost 9:15. We should get going. Who knows how long it will take us
to get to the train station?"
Rose nodded, picking up her bag. She had
acquired very few possessions during her stay in New Orleans, since street
performing was low paying at best. She had little more than she had left San
Francisco with in January.
"Ready?" Robert asked her as he
picked up his own belongings and walked with her to the door.
"As ready as I’ll ever be," Rose
told him, following him. She would miss New Orleans, in spite of the amount of
trouble she had managed to get into. She had found a relative that she liked
very much, and had enjoyed tweaking the establishment in her efforts to promote
civil rights for all. Still, she loved Robert, and she wanted to go with him.
Who knew, she might even like Alaska, and she could probably visit with Deborah
again before they left San Francisco.
Robert hailed a cab, and they made their way
through the city to the train station. Rose looked out the window the whole
time, seeing the throngs of people, recognizing places she had visited and
streets she had performed on. She had done a lot in New Orleans in three
months.
As they reached the train station, Rose
looked at Robert. He was beaming, his face alight with the joy of a new
adventure. Rose couldn’t help but smile. His enthusiasm was infectious. For all
that she would miss New Orleans, she was looking forward to a new adventure,
going to a place she had never been to before. She wasn’t looking forward to
traveling by ship, but she knew that eventually she had to get over her fear of
ships, and traveling as part of a great adventure was probably the best way to
do so.
They climbed out of the cab and got their
baggage, making their way into the busy train station. A porter took their bags
and placed them on the train, and they moved through the crowds in preparation
for boarding.
As Rose moved toward the train, she saw a
familiar figure at the back of the crowd. Checking the clock on the wall, she
whispered to Robert and disappeared into the crowd.
Tom gestured discreetly to her, leading her
around the corner into the alley. They stood at a safe distance from each
other, so that passersby would think that each was making their own way through
the alley, and would not realize that they were together.
"Ready to go to Alaska?" Tom asked
her.
Rose nodded, realizing, not for the first
time, how much she would miss her ‘grandfather’. She had stopped by the
American the night before to tell him that she was leaving in the morning, but
they hadn’t had time to talk with all the people around and Tom being called up
to the stage.
"Come on, Rose. Don’t look so sad.
You’re setting off on an adventure. I’d go with you if I could. I’ve never been
more than twenty miles from New Orleans."
"I wish you could come, too. But you’ve
got family here, and friends, and a good job."
"That’s right. And you and your beau
don’t really want an old man around to keep an eye on you, anyway."
"You’re not old, and Robert and I are
perfectly capable of chaperoning ourselves. I’m nineteen years old, you
know."
"I remember being nineteen. You’re at
the top of the world and you know everything. Five or ten years down the road,
you look back and realize how young you were."
"Well...I guess I’ll find out in
time."
"You will. Now, behave yourself, and
stay out of trouble."
Rose gave him a mock scowl. "You take all
the fun out of life."
He laughed. "Trust me, granddaughter,
it’s good advice."
"I know. I’ll try." She looked
around quickly. No one was watching, so she hurried forward and gave Tom a
quick hug. "Bye, Uncle Tom."
"You mean Grandfather Tom."
Rose looked at him. "No, uncle. Reginald
DeWitt was my great-grandfather. My mother is Ruth DeWitt Bukater."
"You’re Ruth’s daughter? How is
she?"
Rose shook her head. "I don’t know. I
haven’t seen her since I left home almost two years ago."
"Was she well then?"
"Yes. But she was a widow, and she was
looking to marry me off to pay her debts. I didn’t care for the prospective
groom, so I left." She hesitated. "Last I heard, my ex-fiancé’s
father had taken a fancy to her." She sighed. "I hope she’s
well."
"So you left home, leaving her to fend
for herself, Rose DeWitt Bukater."
Rose shook her head. "I can’t go back
now. It’s...been too long. I just hope she’s all right."
"Your mother was one of the strongest
people I ever met. She defied local society and married a Yankee. She even
befriended my daughter when she was a little girl. She was determined to have
her way against all odds."
Rose looked at him in surprise, unable to
imagine her mother doing anything that society would not approve of. Then she
thought again. Her mother, for all that she cared about appearances, was indeed
strong-willed and stubborn. She had nearly pushed Rose into a disastrous
marriage and had carried on after her husband’s death.
"So you’re their little girl," Tom
commented, pulling Rose from her thoughts. "Rose DeWitt Bukater."
She shook her head. "Not anymore. I
stopped being her when I left home."
"I think you still are her. You’re a lot
like your mother—strong, stubborn, determined—and to hazard a guess, you were
that way before you left home."
Rose nodded. He was right. She had been. She
remembered how she had defied Cal, defied her mother, defied society itself to
be with Jack on the Titanic. She had even fought against a sinking ship and the
bitter chill of the North Atlantic to be with him.
"You’re right," she admitted,
wondering at his perceptiveness that he had recognized something about her that
she had never recognized about herself.
Robert came around the corner. "Rose,
come on. The train’s about to leave."
Rose turned to Tom one last time. "Well,
I guess this is it. Good luck," she told him.
"Same to you."
"I’ll write whenever I get a
chance."
"You know where to find me." He
stopped. "Remember, Rose, you’re always welcome in New Orleans. If you
ever come back, look me up."
"I will." Robert was gesturing
impatiently, and Rose hurried to follow him, turning once to wave to Tom before
she disappeared around the corner.
Robert and Rose got on the train just as it
was beginning to move. They gave their tickets to the conductor and settled
back in their seats. Robert reached for Rose’s hand and she gave him a smile.
As the train picked up speed and made its way
out of New Orleans, Rose looked out the window, watching another phase of her
life fade into the past. She looked back at Robert.
Another phase of her life was ending, but
this time she wasn’t running away, and this time she wasn’t going alone.