RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Rose sat beside Jack on the train, staring
out the window. They had left San Francisco two days earlier, and had been on the
train heading east ever since.
Rose had watched with growing trepidation as
the landscape changed, signaling that they were moving ever closer to their
destination, Philadelphia. She hadn’t been to Philadelphia since the
Shakespeare troupe had performed there, and she hadn’t seen her mother since
she had fled from her wedding over five years earlier.
What would her old crowd think of her now,
showing up on her mother’s doorstep—if indeed the old house she had grown up in
still belonged to her mother? It was entirely possible that her mother had lost
the house and moved elsewhere. She might not even be in Philadelphia anymore,
and if she were, how would Rose know where to find her? People of her old crowd
seldom paid much attention to those less fortunate, and Ruth had been fast on
her way to becoming one of those they looked down upon when Rose had left.
Again, the guilt assailed her. Ruth had been
depending upon her to marry Cal and solve their financial problems, but instead
Rose had run from him. And then, to compound matters, she had never contacted
her mother, never let her know that she was all right. If Rose had contacted
her, they might have been able to start again. Instead, she had no idea what
had happened to her mother over the last five years.
Rose thought of Alice’s story of what had
happened to her mother when they had moved to the city to start over after her
father had left them. Shuddering inwardly, she wondered if that had been Ruth’s
fate. Ruth had been greedy and domineering at times, but no one deserved such a
fate—selling oneself on the streets to survive, and ending up working in a
cramped, filthy, disease-ridden sweatshop. Ruth had possessed few survival
skills—less even than Rose, who had been a good student and a quick study,
rapidly learning what she needed to survive and even thrive in her new way of
life. Ruth had never seen the point in learning anything that wasn’t
immediately interesting and useful—and approved by society.
What would Ruth say if they did find her?
What would she think when Rose appeared with Jack at her side? Rose had thought
him dead, and had told her mother as much. What would Ruth think when he
appeared beside Rose, alive and well—for in the past few days, Rose had ceased
to think of Jack as crippled; to her, he was only Jack now, no more and no less
than he had been when they had met so many years ago on the Titanic.
Rose glanced at Jack, whose head lay against
the back of the seat. He was asleep, his mouth slightly open. Rose felt a pang
of guilt, since they had been unable to afford even the least expensive
sleeping spaces on the train. They had only bought tickets for seats, and took
their meals in the dining car. At night, they slept in their seats, leaning
against each other. Rose had little difficulty with the arrangement—it was, in
fact, more comfortable than many sleeping arrangements she had had over the
years—but Jack tired more easily than she did, and the arrangement was harder
on him.
Rose leaned back against the seat, wondering
if perhaps they should have taken Deborah up on her offer to buy them more
comfortable accommodations on the train. Certainly, Deborah had the money—the
cost of two sleeper tickets would hardly be worthy of notice—but Jack had too
much pride to accept such a gift, and Rose, already feeling guilty for the
shabby way she had treated her best friend, had refused the offer. Now, she
wondered if she should have accepted it—for Jack, at least.
Jack and Rose had returned to the car late
the night Jack had arrived in San Francisco to find out why Rose had run from
him. After Rose had at last accepted his proposal of marriage, Jack had kissed
her for a long time; then, unmindful of the fact that Deborah was waiting for
them, they had slipped down to the sand and made love, slowly, gently, and
tenderly; only later returning to the car to be greeted by Deborah, a knowing
look in her eyes.
That night, they had slept peacefully in each
other’s arms, awakening late in the morning. When they had come downstairs,
Deborah had greeted them with a contrite look. When she finally admitted to
Rose that she had told Jack of Rose’s pregnancy, Rose had surprised her by
thanking her and announcing her engagement to Jack.
They had left San Francisco the next day.
Deborah had made them promise to tell her when their wedding would be held, and
where. She had been matron of honor at Rose’s wedding to Robert, and fully
intended to hold the same position at Rose’s wedding to Jack.
Now, Jack stirred, sitting straighter and
rubbing his eyes. "Rose?" he mumbled, yawning.
"Hmm?"
"What time is it? Where are we
now?"
"It’s about six o’clock in the evening.
We should be in St. Louis soon."
"What time do you think we’ll be getting
to Philadelphia?"
"Early tomorrow morning, unless I miss
my guess." Rose was seized with a sudden terror. "Jack, I don’t think
I can do this. What if we can’t find my mother? What if something has happened
to her? Sometimes, I think it’s better if I don’t know. When you don’t have
knowledge, you can have hope."
"But you can also have fear. You don’t
know what has become of her, and you’ll never have peace until you know."
"I know...but I don’t know how I’ll be
able to face her if we do find her. She may not even be in Philadelphia
anymore. She might have done what I did—gone to another city. What if she tried
to find me, without success? If she knew where I was, surely she would have let
me know. I was in Philadelphia four years ago with the Shakespeare troupe, but
I never heard a word from her."
"Did you ever think that maybe she
didn’t know it was you? You did change your name."
"But my picture was used in the
advertisements. She would have seen those. They were in the newspaper."
"Maybe she knew, but chose not to
interfere with your new life."
Rose shook her head. "Jack, my mother
always interfered in whatever I did. I see no reason why she would have
hesitated to interfere in my career as an actress."
"You ran away, and not just a quiet,
subtle disappearance. From what you’ve said, you rejected Cal and ran from him
and everything you’d ever known in front of five hundred members of
Philadelphia society. That in itself could have been enough to shock her into a
realization of how she’d treated you—and of how desperate you were to get
away."
"Jack, you don’t know my mother. She
would never allow me to stand in the way of her plans. When Cal found me on the
Carpathia and brought me back to first class, she was overjoyed to see me alive—but
she still insisted that I go through with the marriage to Cal. And no matter
how I protested, she wouldn’t change her mind. I went along with her...until
the day I left. I have neither seen nor heard from her since. She was always
one of the most stiff, unyielding people I knew."
"But do you still know her, Rose? You’ve
had no contact in five years. People do change, you know—you’ve changed, and so
have I. How do you know she hasn’t changed, too?"
"I don’t," Rose admitted. "I
only know what I knew before."
But it didn’t change how she felt. She didn’t
know how she would face Ruth, or her old crowd. Jack was right—she had changed,
and she could never fit in with the staid, self-satisfied people she had known
before. Rose DeWitt Bukater had ceased to exist the day she had left, and five
long years had passed since then. She had lived a lifetime in those five years,
and could never again fit into that society—or any other, for that matter. She
was no longer a part of any society, of any social class. She was just Rose,
and Rose, the prodigal daughter, was finally coming home.