RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Eighty-Seven
September 21, 1917
Rose stood at the back of the church, bouquet
in hand. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of the flowers and
adjusting the skirt of her lavender silk gown. Ruth and Belinda had both
objected to the gown Rose had chosen, but lavender had always been one of her
favorite colors, and it was appropriate for a bridal gown this time. Both women
had tried to talk her into wearing white, but Rose had refused. She had worn
white twice before, and it just didn’t seem right this time. Besides, she had
pointed out, no one expected her to be a virgin. She was, after all, a widow.
Deborah and Grace were ahead of her, both
dressed in pale pink silk dresses. Grace had a basket of pink, lavender, and
white flower petals, while her mother sat in her wheelchair, waiting for the
music to begin. She turned and gave Rose a smile as the first notes sounded.
Rose watched Grace start up the aisle,
scattering flower petals as she went. Deborah wheeled herself after her
daughter, allowing Grace to go first but staying close behind. Grace was, after
all, only three years old, and couldn’t always be trusted to behave.
As her flower girl and matron of honor made
their way towards the front of the church, Rose looked up the aisle towards the
man waiting for her. It was a strange feeling, being here in this church where
she had almost married Cal five years earlier. The church was the same, the
same high ceiling and stained glass windows, but the minister was different—and
so were the people watching her get married. Gone were the crowds of society
members, gathered for one of the biggest social events of the season. In their
place were a few friends and family members. The only people who had been
present for her wedding to Cal who were here now were Nathan and Ruth.
Only a few people were gathered for this
wedding. Nathan and Ruth Hockley and their infant son, Gregory and Belinda
Hill, Deborah and Grace, the servants of the Hills and Hutchisons who had
accompanied them to Philadelphia, many of whom Rose knew well, and the Hockley
servants, whom Rose and Jack had insisted be invited.
Kathleen and Ruth had helped Rose get ready
for the wedding, helping her into the elegant gown. Ruth had been dismayed at
Rose’s refusal to wear a corset, but Rose had never liked the tight,
restrictive undergarments and had rarely worn them in the years she had been
away, except for on stage. Nor did she consider them to be healthy for a
pregnant woman to wear. Who knew how being squeezed in such a way might affect
the baby?
As the first notes of the bridal march
sounded, Rose stepped forward. It was the same church, the same music—but it
was different. So very, very different.
She had been terrified the first time, her
heart pounding with dread as she made her way towards Cal. Now, her heart
pounded with joy and anticipation as she made her way up that same aisle towards
Jack. There was no fear this time, no hesitation, only the calm, confident
feeling that came with knowing she had made the right decision.
Rose’s steps were steady, even, and graceful
as she walked up the aisle. Jack stood at the altar, waiting for her, his eyes
taking in her beauty as she approached him. The sun pouring through the huge
windows made her seem to glow as she walked the last few feet to join him.
Before he thought about it, Jack stepped down
to meet her, his hand out. Rose smiled, her eyes alight with love, as she
handed her bouquet to Deborah and took Jack’s hand.
The couple turned to the minister, their
hands still joined. Jack leaned slightly on the elegant walking stick Ruth had
bought for him before the gala, while Rose stood proudly beside him, her head
high and her face joyful.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here
this day..."
Jack squeezed Rose’s hand, the love in his
eyes unmistakable. His marriage to Amelia had been a mistake, but this time it
was right. He had loved Rose from the moment he first saw her, far above him on
board the Titanic, and she had remained in his heart from that time on. Now,
more than five years later, they were together again. Circumstances beyond
their control had separated them, but fate had brought them back together.
"Do you, Jack Dawson, take this woman to
be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for richer or for poorer,
for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and
cherish, until death do you part?"
Jack responded without hesitation. "I
do."
"And do you, Rose Calvert, take this man
to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for richer or for
poorer, for better or for worse, in sickness and health, to love, honor, and
cherish, until death do you part?"
Rose’s response was the same. "I
do."
"Then by the power vested in me, I now
pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
As their lips met, Rose’s heart beat with
joy. She had run from Cal, and her marriage to Robert had lasted only a few
short months, but this time, she somehow knew, this time truly would be
forever.