TOMORROW'S APRIL
Chapter Twelve

The Water lily

"You come this way every morning? It's so peaceful..." Rose took a deep breath, to take in the scented leaves and flowers of Central Park. The fountain in the middle of the path they walked on, spurted streams of cool water, silently smoothing the stone. Rose gripped Jack's hand and kept up with his brisk, energetic pace, smiling to herself.

"Yep...every morning. Except on the weekends. Then I try to explore other parts of the city." He glanced at Rose's content features and grinned, leaning in to kiss her cheek. There was a quick wind in the air, a slightly warm breeze that caused her hair to billow softly behind her as she walked. Her cheeks were bright and colorful, her eyes wide, seemingly taking everything in, all at once. Jack finally felt at ease, seeing her like this. Witnessing her second attempt at the back of a ship- that had scared him, and there was obvious relief on his part, when he realized that she was finally past that. Like he had said- fate worked in such mysterious ways. Thinking about what could have happened made him shudder, but he quickly threw those thoughts away.

The pale yellow of Rose's dress made the vibrant daffodils on the edge of the walkway even more brilliant, and the sky above them seemed to shine down upon the couple, as a sign of acceptance. He moved his hand from hers and curled it instead around her back, pulling her close.

"I just have to go in for a minute to talk to Mr. Carlson, and then we have can the rest of the day. I don't really have to return to work until later this week, but I need to show him some figures." Jack looked apologetic, and Rose laughed, rubbing his back reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Jack. It's okay- I want to see the gallery anyway."

Jack tilted his head in a slight tease. "I'm afraid it won't quite compare to the ones in Paris."

"If your work is there, it does, Jack. Trust me. Besides, I think I tired of those places, last month. On my days off, I would walk through the hallways absentmindedly, transfixed on all of the paintings. But something was missing."

Jack nodded silently, continuing forward. He held her more tightly against him, straightening his tie as they approached a busy avenue.

"Come on, I think we can cross here." Jack tenderly took her hand and led Rose across, nodding at several men he must have known. Rose smiled at them, looking ahead to the street they were about to walk on.

"There's the coffee shop I pointed out to you yesterday. Elizabeth's. We can stop in there after we're done at the gallery, if you want."

"Sounds wonderful." Rose brought his hand back to her waist, and leaned against him.

"Jack I just thought of something." Her eyebrows creased in thought, and Jack looked down and caught her gaze.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing really, I suppose. Just that if you're going to introduce me as your fiancée, then wouldn't it look odd for us to have the same last name?" Rose was half smiling, trying to contain her amusement. This was an ironic situation.

Jack couldn't help but smile as well, and kissed her before replying, stopping at the door to the small gallery. "I happen to agree. Mr. Carlson is quite the conservative- somehow I don't think he'd understand our story. So do you mind becoming Rose Dewitt Bukater again for a little while?"

"Not at all." Rose grinned and lifted her gaze to study the engraved ironwork sign that marked Jack's place of employment. "The Water lily. This I want to see." Jack reached for the handle and held the door open for her, taking her hand once again. The small front room held the familiar smell of mahogany and potpourri. He smiled to himself- he had been gone too long, and now he was more content than ever, to be back here, and finally with Rose by his side.

"Wait here, I'll get Mr. Carlson. He's usually in the back smoking one of his cigars. Right back." Jack mumbled against her lips as he kissed her, and then turned down a narrow hall.

Rose took the liberty of sitting in one of the plush armchairs scattered around the room. On the cherry wood tea tables sat copies of large magazines and pamphlets, all having something to do with the art world. Some appeared quite old and charming. She smiled as she leafed through the one on the top, taking in the wonderful, warm scent of this place. Fresh flowers donned all the nooks and crannies, and two of the walls were covered in large prints, mostly landscapes, some in pastels, others in intriguing darker colors . A large easel stood against the other, with a painted sign that stated the hours and services of the gallery. Jack's name was printed in beautiful calligraphy in the middle, right under the name of Mr. Henry Carlson, Owner.

She heard a sound coming from the hallway, and the gentle chuckle of an older man's laughter. Behind Jack, emerged a plump gray haired man, a pipe in his right hand, a large mustache on his friendly face. Jack's hands were in his pockets as he watched the scene. Mr. Carlson approached Rose and offered his hand.

"Well, Jack failed to tell me he was bringing a fiancée back. And such a beautiful one." Rose raised her eyebrows to Jack, whose face broke out into a wide grin.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Henry Carlson." The man shook her hand politely and gave a slight bow, taking a puff from his pipe.

"Rose Dewitt Bukater. It is wonderful to be here. You have such a lovely place." Rose smiled good naturedly and took Jack's hand as he crossed the room toward her.

"You haven't seen it all, Rose. You need the grand tour." Jack looked down at her and smiled.

"Jack, son- why don't you go fill out those sales forms you were talking about. And I'll show Rose around the place." Jack hesitated before nodding toward his boss. After an affirmative signal from Rose, he squeezed her hand and took off for his office.

"I'll be done in a few minutes, Rose."

"Okay," She watched him disappear down the corridor and enter an office off the slanted hallway. She followed Mr. Carlson's slow lead, trying to hide a smile as he ambled down the way, turning into a large room right off the main one. His pipe hung from his mouth almost comically- like one of the cartoons in the daily newspaper. He adjusted his gray smoking jacket and motioned towards the portrait room.

Rose stepped in and ran her finger over the white doorframe. Inside lay a boarded wooden floor, shiny and covered in places by enormous sheets of white cloth. Several clean easels sat in the corners, surrounded by shelves of what seemed like extremely nice art tools. She saw the assortment of paints, and immediately thought of Jack's studio. Although this room was much bigger, and more impersonal, it was airy and inviting. Lining the walls were what she assumed to be finished portraits- some in black and white, some in color. She smiled as her eyes ran over the well lit space, and then the far wall, that was covered in a mural of amazing flowers.

Mr. Carlson saw this and started walking toward it. "Dawson did that." He stated smugly, nodding to it. "Quite a talented fellow you got there."

"Oh, I know." Rose whispered, examining the ravishing display of pastel water lilies and irises. Jack had failed to tell her about this- it must have taken him months to complete it.

"So where did you two meet? In Paris I presume?"

Rose closed her eyes as if to think and flinched, but resumed a normal expression when she looked at the kind old man. "Yes, actually." One way or another, she thought to herself. On a boat coming from Europe, in reality. But why was it necessary for anyone to know that.

"Always did seem the romantic type, Jack. But I could never get him to take out my niece. Tried for years. Ha!" Mr. Carlson laughed to himself. "But all the same- she's happy now, living in Iowa actually." Rose smiled at his babbling, turning to re-enter the hallway.

"Is there more?"

"Oh, certainly- we have a little arrangement of our paintings for sale, in the next room over." Rose followed his words and stepped into the room, met by a cascade of decadent paintings, all against a drastically dark green wall. She felt the man behind her as she walked, closely studying each. The silence was peaceful, here in Jack's place. But soon the older man spoke.

"I tell you Rose- you seem to bring out the best in that man."

Rose turned and looked at him, confused. He had only known about her for ten minutes. What could he possibly mean.

"When he came in this morning, and you were waiting out here. I've never seen him so happy, so much light in his face. I always told him he needed to enjoy life, get out more. He always stayed in too much for a young man his age. But maybe you're all he needed." The man smiled tenderly, and Rose stood in her place, touched beyond words by the comment. As if she was secretly gaining some extra insight into Jack's life, what it had been like for him.

"Jack seems to love it here." Rose went on to the next framed painting.

"I hope he does. I'm just scared that one day, he'll probably be my competitor. He should have his own studio, but he insists on staying here."

Rose nodded knowingly, aware of Jack's kind and caring disposition.

"You know, Rose, you sure do look a lot like the woman in that ship painting of his. I knew I thought I'd seen you somewhere before." He shook his pipe out, unaware of the power of his words.

Rose turned gracefully to him. "That is strange, I suppose. But many different people have similar features...."

Fortunately, she didn't have to talk anymore, for Jack walked into the room, gravitating immediately to her. "So what did you think?" Rose looked up at his expectant blue eyes and attempted to transmit a look of private approval. He winked at her, and she laughed, throwing her head back.

"Mr. Carlson gave me a wonderful little tour. Thank you." She reached for his hand and shook it gently.

"My pleasure Rose. You're welcome anytime. We need a woman's touch here, I think." Mr. Carlson chuckled to himself.

"That's right," Jack swatted some hair from his eyes as he led Rose back toward the front room, "I made those papers up and filed them and I'll be back in on Thursday, like we planned."

"Wonderful, son, wonderful. Now scoot, scoot- show your fiancée some of our bustling city."

"Will do, sir." Jack started for the door, and Rose followed, taking one last breath of the fragrant air before stepping out unto the street. She wrapped her left arm around Jack's waist, snuggling against him. Somehow, if it was possible, she felt closer to him than ever. As if they could finally start a normal life together. She loved this peek into the domestic part of his life- his daily routine.

"I love this place Jack. So cozy."

"Ah....it's like a second home to me. I told you he would like you. So what did he say about me? Nothing too embarrassing I hope?"

Rose tilted her head backwards and gave a sly grin. "I don't know Jack...oh, nothing really. He has the highest praise for you actually."

"He's a great man. So generous. He's involved in so many charities, so many special things. But he is getting older, and I'm in charge of so much more these days."

Rose nodded, turning with him as they approached Elizabeth's.

"You never told me about that mural you painted, Jack. It was beautiful."

Jack smiled wistfully, reaching out for the handle of the front entrance to the coffee shop. He looked down for a minute, and motioned for Rose to go in. "That...That was one of my first jobs- Mr. Carlson said he needed something to brighten the room, give it some color." Jack continued to talk as he led the way to an ironwork table in a private corner of the crowded cafe. "I'd work late into the night, sometimes I just couldn't stop. But I tried to remember the colors in the...the Monet you had on the ship." Jack looked at her tenderly, and Rose sighed, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening in the corners of her eyes. She reached across the small table to grip his hand, running her thumb over his palm.

"That's what I thought of...when I saw it." Rose smiled at him. "And all of the blue..."

"The ocean." Jack finished the sentence for her and squeezed her hand.

"That, and your eyes Jack." Rose grinned shyly, and used her free hand to grab one of the paper menus that sat on the edge of the table.

Jack watched her as she surveyed the printed sheet, studying her own eyes as they ran across the page. "Hmm...Jack you order. You know what's good. I have no earthly idea where to start." She placed the menu back in its place and looked up.

"Okay then. Trust me." Jack smiled and motioned for the waitress across the room. An older woman with graying hair, in a crisp brown uniform and white apron, made her way to their table and pulled out a leather bound ordering pad, poising the pen above it.

Rose watched amused as Jack thought for a moment. "My usual. Times two." The waitress looked up and smiled for the first time. The firm features Rose had noticed, now lit up with recognition.

"Sure thing, Jack. Didn't realize that was you at first. You're usually up at the counter... And who is this?" The woman teased good naturedly towards Rose, her hands on her hips.

"Oh, excuse my horrible manners," Jack grinned as he talked, "Dora, this is Rose. Rose, this is Dora- the best waitress in New York City."

"Not quite. You're too kind, Jack. Nice to meet you Rose." Dora placed her pen carefully back into her pocket, nodding toward the two.

"Nice to meet you too." Rose smiled and Jack winked at her as Dora turned and headed for the kitchen, that was set at an angle from where they sat.

"You really do come in here everyday." Rose raised her eyebrows and pushed her chair closer to the edge of the table.

"Yep. I told you," Jack threw his head back to smooth his hair and laughed lightly, "but that's what happens you're lonely I guess..." He lowered his tone, and his voice grew serious. His eyes seemed glazed for only a moment before Rose met his gaze straight on.

"Jack, we don't have to be lonely anymore." Rose glanced out of the window to the busy street, her forehead creasing in deep thought.

"I know Rose, I know. And it's an amazing feeling." Rose turned back to Jack at those words and stared at him lovingly, trying to transmit the fact that she felt the very same way.

"So what is this usual anyway?" She bent her head to the side and lowered her eyes, with a smile on her lips.

Jack picked her hand up from the tabletop and brought it to his mouth, kissing it softly. He looked around at the tiled little cafe, breathing in the strong scent of coffee and cinnamon. He knew that somewhere in the back, a cook was crushing fresh ginger.

Eyeing Rose, he nodded towards the counter. "Croissants. They fill them with this cranberry compote- when they're warm, they just melt in your mouth. You'll see- you'll be addicted like I am within a week. That's a guarantee."

Rose opened her mouth in a laugh, the bright color in her cheeks coming out like the sun on a rainy day. "We'll see." Just as she said this, Dora appeared before them, a tray high above her head, held skillfully by her right arm. She placed two ceramic cups in front of them, filled to the brim with steaming coffee. Then came the delicate pitcher of cream, and a little glass bowl with sugar. She placed, finally, a large plate of the croissants, with the finest aroma Rose had ever smelled. Warm cranberries and the scent of spiced apples met her nose, and she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of Jack's hand on her own. She looked up at Dora and smiled. "Thank you."

Dora beamed and eyed the couple, "You're sure welcome. Enjoy, you two."

Before Rose could even raise her fork, she felt Jack's forefinger lightly tracing her arm. She looked up slowly, meeting his radiant eyes. "Rose, when we finish here, I want to take you to the little chapel I was talking about yesterday. The stone one. I think we should decide on the place first. And we can go from there."

Rose sighed indulgently, so content that she could barely contain her excitement. "That sounds wonderful. Jack, I'm sure I'll love it. This all just seems so..."

"Surreal?" Once again, Jack finished for her.

Rose nodded happily. "Exactly. I can't wait."

Jack bent his head in a chuckle. "You can't wait? We'll see who's the more anxious-" He finally picked up his own fork, aiming for one of the pastries. "It'll be the most beautiful wedding in the world Rose. I promise that."

"It already is Jack," Rose took his lead and speared own of the breads, "it already is."

Chapter Thirteen
Stories