RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Eighty-One

Jack and Rose walked towards Pierce Street in silence, Rose too worried to speak and Jack not knowing what to say. Had Rose’s mother married her daughter’s ex-fiancé, or had she married the elder Hockley? Rose had once mentioned to him that the marriage between Cal and herself had been arranged by Ruth and Cal’s father, Nathan, who was himself a widower. Ruth could have married either one.

Rose was beside herself with worry. Would Cal be there? Was it Cal her mother had married, or his father? If it was Cal, how had he treated Ruth? Did he abuse her, as he had abused Rose? Or, if it was Nathan Hockley that Ruth had married, had he been able to protect her from his son’s madness? In spite of his outward charm, Cal had hated Ruth as much as he had hated Rose—but it hadn’t stopped him from accepting the engagement to Rose, and it might not have stopped him from marrying Ruth.

Rose’s breath caught in her throat as they turned down Pierce Street and came in sight of the Hockley mansion. Even more elaborate than the old Bukater home, it was considered an architectural masterpiece. People came from miles around to look at it, but Rose could think only of the few times she had visited there, of the tense, silent dinners in Cal’s company—and of the first time that Cal had beaten her, in the parlor while Nathan and Ruth were still at dinner. The beating might have been worse had a maid not stepped into the parlor, but as it was, Trudy, who had once been in the Hockleys’ employ, had looked at her questioningly when helping her to dress, not believing for a moment that Rose had fallen from her horse and injured herself.

Rose took a deep breath as she stepped slowly forward towards the house. In spite of the wide green lawn and elegant gardens, it looked forbidding and overwhelming. Who could possibly need so much space? she thought irrelevantly, stifling a sudden hysterical giggle. How ironic, that she was now deliberately returning to the world that she had run from so many years before.

Jack put a comforting hand on her back, sensing her distress. Walking at her side, he gently pushed her forward, knowing that Rose was on the verge of running again. She would never be able to forgive herself if she ran now.

Gathering her courage, Rose stepped up and rang the doorbell, waiting nervously. Maybe no one was home. Maybe everyone had gone off on a trip somewhere, though with the world in such turmoil, it wasn’t likely. Besides, they would have left some servants behind to take care of things.

A tall, thin man opened the door. Rose stared at him in shock for a moment, almost believing that he was Spicer Lovejoy. If Jack had survived and later reappeared, why not Lovejoy? But a second look told her that Lovejoy was indeed long gone. This man was much younger, and had an almost friendly appearance.

"May I help you?" he asked, accustomed to tourists wanting to see the inside of the mansion.

"I...I...is Ruth Hockley here?" Rose stammered, wondering if the information given to her by her mother’s old acquaintance was accurate; almost hoping that it wasn’t. If Ruth wasn’t here, if she hadn’t married a Hockley, then she was probably far away from Cal’s clutches—or at least she hoped so.

"She’s here, but she isn’t taking visitors at this time. May I tell her who stopped by?"

"She’ll see me," Rose told him, hoping desperately that it was true. "I’m her daughter, Rose."

"Please wait, Ma’am. I will ask if she will see you." Closing the door, he walked away. Jack and Rose listened to the sound of his steps disappearing into the house.

"Oh, God. Jack, she’s here. She’s really here. She did marry a Hockley." Rose sank down on the doorstep, burying her head in her hands. "Why isn’t she taking visitors? Is she hurt? Is she ill? If Cal has hurt her, by God, I may just kill again, and damn the consequences!"

"Rose, calm down." Jack lowered himself to the step beside her. "Why would he have hurt her?"

"You don’t know him like I do, Jack. You don’t know what he’s capable of. He hates her as much as he hates me. He’d hurt her if he could."

"He may not even be here. She might have married his father..."

"What if he is here, Jack? I can’t face him again! I can’t! After all he’s done, I can’t—won’t face him again. You can’t imagine what he’ll do if he sees me." She sprang to her feet, grabbing her suitcase. "I can’t do this. He’ll hurt me." Turning suddenly, she pulled Jack to his feet. "He’ll hurt you, too, just to get to me. We have to get out of here."

"Rose, wait! What about your mother?"

"She’s alive, and she made her own decision. I can’t—but I have to see her. What if she’s hurt? What if something’s horribly wrong, and she dies thinking that I don’t care? I have to go in there, no matter what that manservant says! If she’s in danger, I—I’ll take her away with us, whatever she thinks!"

Rose was shaking, almost hysterical. Dropping her suitcase, she raced toward the door, intent upon going inside, by force if necessary.

She was nearly yanked off her feet as Jack grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Rose, stop! You can’t just run in there. They’ll throw you right back out."

"Let go of me, Jack! I have to see her—"

She had almost succeeded in freeing herself from his grip when the door opened. The butler stared at the struggling pair for a moment before announcing, "Mrs. Hockley will see you, Miss DeWitt Bukater."

Rose stopped struggling. Picking up her suitcase, she nervously tucked a few strands of hair behind her ears, composing herself. Taking a deep, calming breath, she started into the house, Jack following her.

"Only you, Miss. Your mother has only given permission for you to visit."

"It’s all right," Rose told him, looking back at Jack. "He’s my fiancé."

The butler looked at them for a moment, considering. At last, he relented.

"All right, Miss, he can come, but if Mrs. Hockley requests that he leave, her orders are to be obeyed."

"I understand." Rose nodded, following him towards the stairs. Which room is my mother in? she wondered. Does she have her own room, or suite of rooms, or does she share with whichever man she married? Ruth and Walter, her first husband, had never shared a room after Rose was born, but things might be different here.

She immediately recognized the room her mother occupied. It was the master suite, the room she herself would have occupied if she had married Cal. Rose felt a chill, again wondering which man her mother had married.

The butler knocked on the door, and Rose heard her mother’s voice from inside. Her heart caught in her throat at the sound. Mother!

"What is it?"

"Mrs. Hockley, your daughter and her fiancé are here."

There was a pause, and then Ruth answered. "Show them in."

Jack and Rose entered the room, approaching the bed that Ruth lay in slowly. The butler quietly closed the door behind them, allowing them some privacy.

"Rose!" Ruth sat up, wincing as she did so. "I didn’t believe James when he said it was you. So, you’ve finally returned after all these years."

"Y-yes, Mother. I—I’m back." Ruth leaned back against a stack of pillows, shattering Rose’s calm facade. "Mother, what’s wrong? Why are you in bed at this hour? Are you sick? Are you hurt? Where’s Cal? Did he hurt you?"

Ruth put a hand up, stopping Rose’s hysterical tirade. "Rose, darling, I’m fine. Just tired and a little sore."

"Why? What happened?"

Ruth reached over and tugged on a bell cord, summoning her maid. A moment later, an older woman came in the door.

"Yes, Ma’am?"

"Lori, please bring Nathan to me."

"Yes, Ma’am."

Lori hurried away, leaving Jack and Rose staring after her.

"Mother!" Rose burst out. "What is going on? Where’s Cal? Who did you marry?"

"You’ll see what is going on in a moment, Rose. You always were impatient. I have a few questions to ask of you. For example, what is Mr. Dawson doing here? You told me repeatedly that he had died."

"I—I thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. He assumed that I knew that he was alive, but I thought he was dead, so I never tried to find him. We—we met up again a few months ago in California. We’re engaged to be married." She looked at Ruth challengingly, daring her to object to her marriage plans.

But Ruth only smiled, surprising both Rose and Jack. "Congratulations. Now the name will be yours legally."

"What?"

"Rose Dawson. I knew that you’d taken that name when I saw an advertisement in the newspaper for a play you were in. It was unmistakably you, but you had changed your name."

"Why didn’t you try to contact me when I was in Philadelphia?"

"You had your own life, one that you seemed happy in. I didn’t want to interfere. I went to the theater one night and saw you on stage. You were beautiful up there, and so talented. I never realized how talented you were until that night. I thought about contacting you, but by the time I got the courage, you had moved on, and I didn’t know how to contact you."

"Mother..." Rose’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. "I’m sorry I abandoned you like that. But I couldn’t go through with the marriage to Cal. I just couldn’t. And that was the only way I knew to get away. I’ve felt guilty ever since about leaving you to face life alone."

"Your leaving was the best thing you could have done, Rose. I was blinded by the glitter of wealth and power that the Hockleys represented. I never stopped to think about how you really felt, or about how Cal treated you. Yes, Rose," she added, "I do know that he hit you, but I never did anything to stop it. I kept rationalizing his behavior, but you were wise to leave. He was a dangerous man."

"Yes, he was. Wait. Was? What happened to him?"

"He’s dead, Rose. He was found dead in the study the day I married his father."

"He’s dead..." Rose’s eyes widened in shock. She couldn’t help but feel relieved that she would never have to face him again, but at the same time she felt guilty over her relief. It wasn’t right to feel relieved over someone’s death, not even Cal’s.

"Rose..." Ruth began. "Rose, I’m sorry, too—for forcing you into the engagement. It was a bad decision, and your running away showed me just how bad a decision it was. I think it was better for both of us that you left. You made a life of your own, and I learned what was really important in life. I married Nathan Hockley in June of 1914, and I’ve never been happier. I’ve finally learned what love is. It isn’t money, or power, or status. It’s something else, something I can’t really describe, but I know what it is now."

"Mother..." Rose threw her arms around Ruth. "I know, too. I always wondered if you could understand."

"There was a time when I didn’t understand, Rose, but now I know why you defied society to be with Mr. Dawson."

"I love him, Mother."

"I know." She turned her gaze to Jack. "Do you return her feelings, Mr. Dawson?"

"Call me Jack. Yes, I do. I love her more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone."

"What name do you go by now, Rose?" Ruth asked. "Dawson or DeWitt Bukater?"

Rose shook her head sadly. "Neither, Mother. I’m Rose Calvert. My husband, Robert, died only a few months after we were married."

"I’m sorry, Rose."

"Thank you. Jack is also widowed. His wife, Amelia, died in childbirth last year."

"You were fortunate, then, to find each other again, and to have a second chance."

"Yes." Rose looked at Ruth, wondering if she would understand. "I’m going to have a baby, Mother. Jack and I will be parents in March."

"Your wedding will have to be soon, then. If you will allow it, I would like to be a part of your wedding. I wasn’t there, Rose, when you married your Robert, and your wedding to Cal should never have taken place. I’d like to be there when you marry Jack."

"Of course, Mother. I—I’d love to have you there. Maybe you can give me away?"

"I’d like that, Rose."

"The wedding will have to wait until you’re better, though."

"I’m all right, darling. I should be up and about soon."

"Mother, what’s wrong? Please tell me."

The door opened and Lori walked in, carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle. A tiny head of black hair was visible, along with a waving fist. Lori brought the infant to Ruth, laying it in her arms. Jack and Rose stared at the baby.

"Rose, this is the reason I’m resting now. Meet your little brother, Nathan Hockley, Jr."

"My—my little brother? But—but Mother, you’re forty-two years old—"

"And certainly young enough to still bear children. He was born yesterday afternoon at three o’clock."

"Mother..." Rose’s mouth hung open in surprise. Of all the scenarios she had imagined, finding that her mother had had another baby had never entered her mind.

"Would you like to hold him, Rose?" Ruth laughed at her daughter’s expression. "You need to learn to hold a baby if you’re going to have one of your own."

Rose knew how to hold a baby, but she still took her newborn brother into her arms and cradled him. He yawned, dozing off in her arms.

"Mother, he’s a beautiful baby. I don’t if beautiful is the right word for a boy, but—"

"He’s a baby. It will do." Ruth smiled, a genuine smile that Rose had rarely seen growing up. It transformed her features, making her look younger and more carefree than Rose had ever seen her. Indeed, Ruth’s whole outlook on life had changed. She had learned what it meant to love and care for someone else, beyond the superficial caring that society expected. The constant worry and effort to be perfect had vanished, replaced by a happier view towards life. Rose had never seen her mother so content.

She cuddled her baby brother for a moment longer, then noticed Jack looking at him, a pensive expression on his face. Sitting down beside him on the couch near her mother’s bed, Rose gently laid the baby in his arms, realizing that the sight of the newborn had reminded him of his own son, who hadn’t lived to draw his first breath.

Jack took the baby in his arms, rocking the newborn gently. The dark-haired infant reminded him strongly of his son, who would have been over a year old now if he had lived. This baby would be his brother-in-law. It was strange, knowing that he might have had a child older than his brother-in-law. But it hadn’t worked out. Maybe it hadn’t been meant to work out.

After being held for a few minutes, little Nathan began to whimper, frightened of the strange arms holding him. Lori quickly took him back and gave him to his mother, who pulled the quilt up over herself and began to nurse him, surprising Rose even more. She wondered if Ruth had ever nursed her.

Pushing the thought away, she walked over to the bed and embraced her mother again. Cradling the baby with one arm, Ruth hugged her back.

"I’ve missed you, Rose," she told her daughter, kissing her gently on the cheek.

"And I—I’ve missed you, too, Mother," Rose answered, putting her arms around her mother and baby brother and hugging them with all her might.

Chapter Eighty-Two
Stories