APRIL IN ROME
Chapter Eighteen

Dawn came too soon after the soul soothing promises of midnight at Rosedale. Rose, Jack, Don, and Emma virtually stumbled into the dining room the next morning—breathlessly late for breakfast. Despite their lack of sleep, all four were guiltily and positively glowing in new awakenings. All four pairs of eyes were sparkling with the remnants of feverish sexual satiation. As each glanced around, everyone blushed in unison…and understanding. Together, they all shyly grimaced and averted sleep-deprived eyes to get their bearings. It was Don who finally broke the uneasy silence.

"Good morning, all…sleep well?"

"Not really." The remaining trio admitted simultaneously. At that admission, loud guffaws erupted throughout the dining room, remarkably easing the uncomfortable tensions.

Each taking their place, Don cast Jack a sideways glance, then teasingly asked, "So, Dawson…any creatures of the night haunt you last evening tide? Um?"

"Oh, just one, Mr. Hockley. But not to worry…I’m no worse for wear."

Don’s eyebrows shot up in wry amusement while Emma and Rose each placed slender fingers to their kiss swollen lips in an effort to stifle their mounting laughter. Emma awarded Don with a shining knowing glance while Rose, blushing beautifully, playfully nudged Jack under the table with her foot.

Finally, a rumbling roar reverberated across the ceiling coming from deep within Don’s heaving chest. He banged his clenched fists on the table causing the crystal and china to precariously tremor and shake.

"You’re a card, Jack Dawson…heaven help us with these two babies…because we’re all in for the time of our lives…a hell of a time for sure!"

Halfway through the meal, Emma suddenly laid down her fork and interlocked a curious gaze at the two young lovers.

"So…do you two have anything you need to tell us?"

Jack and Rose raised wondering brows in confusion.

"Like what, Mother? You already know the obvious," Jack innocently responded.

Exasperated, Emma plopped down her coffee cup and lightly admonished, "Have you two set a date yet? I mean…you have proposed, Jack. Haven’t you?"

Twisting his lips into an impish boyish grin, "Yes, to the second…but no, to the first. But it’s gotta be soon…as quickly as we can get things together. We haven’t talked details yet, but whatever Rose wants…Rose gets. I’ll never deny her anything."

"Obviously…and then some!" Don interjected with dry sarcastic wit prompting twittering pangs of remembrance and suppressed giggles around the table.

"And how about you two…do you have anything you need to tell us?" Jack devilishly returned.

"Nothing you need to know, Dawson. Until we’re ready…is that in anyway unclear?" Don darkly rebuked with just a hint of laughter dancing in his twinkling green eyes.

"No, sir…I mean…yes, sir…I mean…shit, I don’t know what the hell I mean anymore." Jack’s comical stammering prompted another rush of laughter to echo around the table.

After breakfast, Rose somberly took Jack’s hand in hers. "Come on, Jack. I want you to meet someone."

In the private, secluded family cemetery, Rose presented Jack for an introduction to Laurel DiStefano-Hockley. Kneeling down and placing a bouquet of freshly cut yellow roses in a vase, Rose haltingly prayed.

"Mama…it’s me, Rose. Remember the last time I was here? Well…I was only half-right. He did take everything from me…but he gave me everything in return. This is Jack…my husband-to-be and father-to-be of our children. Oh, Mama, he’s that gift you always spoke about…my one true soul mate. I wish you were here to help us. Cause Daddy says we’re going to need it!"

Jack’s tender heart slammed into his chest. He was touched more than he could ever remember being. Squatting down beside her, he gingerly took Rose’s slender hand in his and locked empathetic blue orbs with emerald misting eyes. Reaching out to smooth a stray tendril of copper hair behind her ear, he leaned over to place a gentle kiss to her trembling lips.

"Rose, she’s already helped us…when you were in the hospital. I asked her to intervene for us…and she did…she really did! I love you, Rose…more than life itself!"

Afterwards, the two were too engulfed in each other to notice the two markers secretively hidden away by long tufts of black-eyed susans and a perennial myriad of colorful wildflowers dancing in the August wind.

"What’s this?" Jack stumbled as his foot caught the edge of a white marbled headstone.

Bending down, Jack moved the heavy growth aside to read:

Capt. Jack Dalton and loving wife, Rose DeWitt Bukater

1835 - 1935 1846 - 1935

Two hearts, one endless love—Never let go…

"Rose! Come look at this…eerie, isn’t it?"

"My God…Jack, I…I don’t have words. What are the odds…another Jack and Rose of long ago? But Dalton. That’s just too uncanny! Daddy has spoken before of the DeWitt Bukater branch of the family. I remember there was a Dalton that married his great grandmother…but I had no idea their names were Jack and Rose. How romantic!"

"But fitting, don’t you think? Somehow I get the feeling theirs was truly special. Never ending."

Later that week, the entire staff and household were frantically preparing for the forthcoming nuptials. Even Jack was busy, straightening and cleaning the garconiere making it ready for his best man and Rose’s matron of honor…Tommy and Helga Maguire. They were expected anytime from California…and he had to hurry. His mind had been dallying…dangerously regressing back to a previous midnight lover’s tryst.

Repositioning the bed that had been carelessly shook from its rightful place against the wall, cracked plaster flaked upon the oak polished floor. Oh, shit…who else but he and Rose could bang the plaster right off the walls!

Kneeling down to sweep the evidence into a dustpan, he crinkled his brow in wonder. Directly under the foot of the bed, a board squeaked loose, exposing a small, expertly hidden compartment. The hinges were rusted shut and he had to fiercely apply muscle and brawn to pry it loose. Placing his hands inside, he retrieved a dusty leather bound journal of sorts. It was obviously old with age…the pages yellowed and brittle.

Gingerly opening the ancient missive, he began to read in fascination and intrigue.

1880 April 22nd

Rosedale Plantation
Marion County
Jefferson, Texas

I shall never forget it if I live to be a hundred. The looks on their faces…Father’s blanched as pale as cotton…Mother’s tinged like a blushing overly ripe peach. For I’ve been told, by some, that I’m an utterly shameless wench in dire need of a good thrashing with a willow switch. As if to prove this point, I nearly sent my parents into an early grave this afternoon…almost. I don’t know what it is that burns so fiercely inside me…this uncontrollable urge and desire to surprise, shock…and tempt the unwary. Never wanting to follow the familiarly trodden paths of least resistance.

But it’s there. Tempting and seducing me endlessly…and I lost control today…yet again. I brazenly confronted by Father and Mother about those truthful revealing entries in the family Holy Bible that faithfully sits upon the marbled top desk in the front parlor. That ancient archive of anniversaries, births, and deaths of all the others in our family that have come and gone before.

"Why is it," I asked, "that all the first born children in our lineage seemed to be whelped before the social proprieties of time after sanctimonious matrimony?"

The silence after that blatant question was deafening. I’m unsure what shocked my father the most. The audacious inquiry, or the sly use of vulgar verbiage. The "whelped" term seemed to bring color back into his ashen face…flaming it scarlet with fury and rage. My mother, on the other hand, flushed only slightly and shot my father such a private intimate glance, I could have sworn he blushed then, too.

I highly suspect my beautiful red-haired mother has a trace of wicked sin-loving desire etched into her free-spirited soul. That’s where I must have inherited my unconventional scandalous demeanor. Privately, my father has always referred to her as a conspicuous vision of sinful temptation. Of course, I found out why as a result of my willful, profane and overly curious nature.

It was a year ago today, one of those gorgeous lazy spring days in April, I remember secretly following behind my mother as she silently crept inside my father’s library locking the door behind her. Erroneously assuming I was taking a Sunday afternoon nap after Mass with the rest of my many siblings, I surreptitiously peeked through the keyhole…and nearly gave my presence away! The worldly carnal acts my mother passionately performed upon that massive old desk…worshipping my father’s hands on her body…I had to make myself leave. But the memory never left me…nor will it…ever!

On another scandalous revelation, my mother confided in me just a few hours ago. She admitted quite honestly that I was born out of wedlock. I’m a bona fide bastard—a child conceived out of uncontrollable lust and desire. Mother says not to feel ashamed, that she never did. That it was only a matter of time before my stubborn father admitted his true feelings for my mother and made an honest woman of her. I told her that I surprisingly felt neither embarrassment nor shame at all. And that’s the honest truth…in my eyes, it makes me special…separate and apart from all the rest of my parents’ children. Maybe that’s what drives me to be different… because I am.

Mother also divulged that her real father was a wandering gypsy named Rafael Bouvier, and her mother, Sable DeWitt Bukater, had been forced to marry a proper southern gentleman by the name of Colonel Sterling Bukater to rightfully inherit Rosedale. It seems so damnably unfair…especially considering the plantation was in my maternal family, the DeWitts, and not that Bukater gent’s. Mother says women back then had to make some very uneasy choices. And furthermore, that marriages were commonly arranged by uncaring domineering men in one’s family…more times than not. I’m relieved to know that will never happen to me. I intend to marry out of love and only love…with a great deal of passion to sustain my person!

But alas, let me tell you about my loving, devoted father. He was a Captain for the Union Northern Army that served during the War For States’ Rights or as some erroneously refer to as the bloody Civil War. My dear mother lovingly refers to him as that "damn, dirty Yankee captain". Surprisingly, the obvious degrading slur doesn’t seem to affect his personal sensibilities in the least. I can hardly imagine the rigid self-imposed control that he must reign in at her seemingly slanderous insults. Her audacity truly amazes me sometimes…as I must baffle and confound them!

My handsome father with blazing eyes of blue starlight had never lost his volatile temper with me before…up until today at least. On second thought…maybe I should correct that…for I am inadvertently overlooking a particular spontaneous card game with the Hockley twins…when I lost my St. Mary’s necklace on a losing hand of poker. When Father found out, he had gone livid with dark brooding rage and promptly banished me to my room—and without my supper! He stormed out of the house shortly thereafter and I recollect him angrily utilizing the term of "demon seed" as he secretly laughed with my mother later that night in the privacy of their bedchambers. I shamefully realize those keyholes are going to be the death of me. But the secrets they award me—utterly fascinating and very educational for these overly constrictive times of corsets, purity and piety!

The next morning, Father returned my necklace…solemnly vowing to viciously switch my backside if I ever played poker again…with anyone. Those Hockley boys are so…uncouth and ungentlemanly to entice me so with their heated fervent promises of the flesh. Nevertheless, I believe my flesh is rapidly weakening, especially to that rogue Richard. He sets my spirit on fire! He’s the twin with a constant virile gleam in his emerald eyes and takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants it and however he wishes to get it. An aspiring artist that has lewdly suggested that I pose for him in the nude! The unimaginable cad! His brother, Robert, on the other hand, well, he’s just a bit too gentle, calm, and mannerly for my fiery disposition. And alas, an upcoming insufferable diplomat! I think my mind is set…Richard promises to be trouble…and I think I might succumb to him. And soon…real soon.

Life is so enriched with surprises, twists and turns that it can never be boring. I sometimes find myself wondering…what place in history will I be noted for? What outlandish feat will I be responsible for bestowing upon mankind? For I must make it count…really count. As they say in Rome, carpe diem!

I’m writing this letter for posterity’s sake…to the ones that come after me that will hold its secrets within the confines of their hearts…to embrace our family’s legacy of shameless, reckless abandon and free spirited independence and courage. Our overwhelming love for life and making each and every day count. But above all else, to pledge our abiding commitment and allegiance to Rosedale…holding on and never letting her go. Texas…one and for all!

May life afford you, to whoever might ever read this, with the very best that life has to offer. Live each day as if it were your last! Hold on to it…and never let go!

Sarah Elizabeth Dalton (first born to Captain Jack Wilhelm Dalton and Rose Elizabeth DeWitt Bukater) Citizens of Texas, the Lone Star State, and Patriots of Rosedale Plantation

Disappointingly, the entries ended in a whimsical flourish under Sarah Dalton’s beautiful penmanship. Closing the faded old volume, Jack let out a pent-up breath. So…they were real…a truthful, all too revealing account of the past lives of the old plantation’s former residents. It ran deep inside his love’s blood…way back into another place and time. Generations of hot-blooded tempting gypsy and Italian women…and men. Shit…was he in for a lifetime of surprises and grief…God, grant me strength! If one of their babies was a girl, Jack actually found himself seriously contemplating sequestering her in a convent as soon as she developed breasts!

But should he show this diary to Rose? A legacy of her family’s innate passion for not only life…but also this plantation…would she travel with him or wish to stay here? That wasn’t his decision to make. If he had to, he would give up his life’s work and dreams…and make new ones with Rose. But a farmer or rancher, he was not. Of course, Don had made his own career away from Rosedale. Could he do the same and leave his family behind? There was no way he could possible consider that. If Rose chose to go with him, they could always come back and make this place their own private haven away from the world of craziness…and then it struck him like a bolt of lightning…he couldn’t subject his family to the malicious and ruthless existence he had always lived in the spotlight. Nevertheless, they weren’t going anywhere until the babies born and were old enough to travel. Yes, they had a lot to work out…and Rose deserved to know what had transpired in her family’s history. After the ceremony, he would present the journal to Rose as a wedding gift…and let her decide how she felt.

The next day, Rose and Jack sat astride the spirited black stallion, Diablo. Rose sat in the saddle with Jack behind with his hands clenched about her waist.

"Now, Rose…you stay in that saddle, it’s more safe with the stirrups and saddle horn to hold you on. Let Jack ride in back. You know that damnable stallion hates to ride double! And don’t suddenly gouge him with your heels! He’d probably spook and throw poor Jack right off his back!" Don worriedly harped suddenly feeling very uneasy about the spontaneous outing.

"Well, Mr. Hockley! I’m touched…not only have you used my given name for once but you actually seem to care for my welfare," Jack cockily bragged.

"On second thought…give him a swift kick, Rose, down by the swamp. Maybe he’ll fall in and one of them bull gators will have some tasty morsel for supper! Even they gotta eat!"

"Oh, Daddy…relax. I’ll be fine…really!" Rose lightly scoffed.

"Now, I mean it sweetpea…you two be back here in two hours…not a minute longer. Or I’ll come looking for you. It just isn't fitting for you to be gallivanting around the countryside on that crazy animal. And you nearly five months pregnant! And on the eve of your wedding day! What would the neighbors think?"

Jack and Rose simultaneously rolled their eyes heavenward but Don caught it just the same.

"If anything happens…it’s your neck, Dawson! Is that in any way unclear?"

"Clear as mud, Mr. Hockley!" Jack teasingly rebuked.

Looking up into the heavens, Don dramatically sighed, "Shit, why me? God must’ve looked down one day and said, I hate you, Don Hockley!"

Despite the comical albeit unconcerned attitudes of the others, Emma was becoming increasingly near hysterics.

"You sure it’s safe, Jack? Please…don’t be foolish…again!"

"Mother! Ms. Emma!" Jack and Rose incredulously cried out in unison.

"Oops…Don’s beginning to rub off on me more than I thought!" As Don exchanged a leering albeit secretive smile with Emma.

Jack noticed the private intimate look right away.

"I think I’m getting nauseous. Come on, Rose, let’s get out of here before I puke!"

Don and Emma stood silently hand in hand watching their two children ride off on the ebony steed, gaily laughing at who knew what. Don turned and cast Emma a sideways glance.

"Come on, Emma darling. We got two whole hours of privacy without kids! Making love in the light of day…a new unexplored concept! What do you say?"

"You’re shameless, Don Hockley…utterly shameless! I’ll race you to the bed!"

"So, Rose…where are you taking me?" Jack lowly whispered in her ear as his hands came around to unfasten the buttons on her blouse.

Rose sucked in her breath at the exquisite sensations that shot through her body at his provoking magical touch.

"You’ll see, Jack. You’ll see," Rose mysteriously responded in a husky purr.

"Then tell me this…what does Diablo mean, anyway?" Jack curiously inquired.

Smiling crookedly. "It’s Spanish for 'devil'."

"Shit! I might have known, you brazen, seductive witch! Should have known!"

Shortly, Rose reigned Diablo into a heavily secluded area laden with weeping willows, moss-draped cypress trees, cattails, and a pond with large ancient stones around its borders. Jumping down, they both instinctively fell into each other’s arms. No words were necessary…the sounds of crickets and frogs calling for rain lured them into their private, sequestered world of intimate passions.

"Jack, have you ever made love in the water? I mean besides in those movies that you’ve done?"

Throwing his head back in amused laughter, Jack impaled her with steamy smoldering pools of blue fire.

"My darling Rose, I’ve only made love to one woman on a movie set and you know when that was! Of course, I was shamelessly seduced by an alluring Jezebel even then!"

Still laughing at her beautiful blushing visage, he crooked a finger under her chin and raised it to look into eyes as dark as midnight.

"But you’re serious, I take it…right here? I don’t know, Rose, it just looks like it might be full of snakes and…"

"Jack! This isn’t Ireland, you know. Of course, they’re snakes in Texas. That’s what makes it so dangerous!" Casting his zipper a crooked grin, she saucily added, "Of course, some snakes are more poisonous than others!"

"You’re shameless, Rose. Utterly shameless! But strip for me just the same!"

And they did. Swimming out onto a large rock that foretold of mysterious underwater chance encounters of the distant past, Jack backed Rose’s bottom up against it and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Tell me, Rose. Have you ever been here before…like this?"

"I can’t believe you’d even ask such a question, Jack Dawson! I’ve skinny-dipped before if that’s what you mean…with friends." Rose coyly smiled while running a finger across his curling lips.

"Male friends?" Jack suddenly felt the green-eyed monster on his shoulder peering inside and it wasn’t his beautiful, green-eyed fiancee!

"Are you jealous, Jack Dawson?" Still running a finely manicured index finger across his inviting mouth, she turned her lips to whisper huskily in his ear, her warm breath sending tingling chills racing up and down his spine immediately causing his heart to lock in this chest.

"Well…not to worry, my one true love! They never moved me to attempt such scandalous behavior as the notorious Roman lady-killer that you have proven to be!"

"Touche, Rose. Point taken," Jack at last admitted ruefully.

"Speaking of points, let’s make haste. If we don’t hurry, my father will come upon us and there will be all hell to pay!"

"No quickies, Rose…he’ll just have to find us locked in the throes of passion."

And they melted into a sea of fire…again and again and again.

On the ride back, Jack suddenly spoke up despite the overly satiated and lazy feelings coursing throughout his tired, overworked body.

"Rose, where would you like to go on our honeymoon, anyway? I can’t believe we haven’t discussed it until now!"

"Why not right here at Rosedale, Jack?"

"Well…your father and all. I just think we need some time to ourselves…you know the privacy issue. Not constantly having to look over our shoulders. I still get the feeling that he’d love to embarrass and harass me, just for revenge or to make a mute point."

"My father’s no problem, Jack. Besides, he won’t be here. You mean you haven’t heard?"

"No, what?" Jack stuttered in complete bewilderment.

"Daddy and Emma are going to Rome tomorrow after the wedding. For a vacation of sorts. You mean they didn’t tell you?"

"No…well, I’ll be damned! Mother and Don…maybe I should give him some pointers on the art of love!"

Hilariously laughing, Jack and Rose finally arrived back at the stables. After brushing down Diablo and walking outside, Jack looked up and spied a strange car pulling up the drive.

"Well…it’s about damn time! Rose! Look…it’s Tommy and Helga!" Jack excitedly exclaimed practically running to greet the couple.

Heartily slapping each other on the back, Jack and Tommy embraced each other like they hadn’t seen each other in ages. Tommy thrust Jack away at arm's length.

"Jack! Man it’s good to see you! And looking like you’ve found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!"

"I have, Tommy, I have! Helga…come here! How can I ever thank you two enough?"

"What on earth are you talking about, Jack? We only did what friends do best…we were merely there for you…" Tommy innocently responded.

However, Helga hastily dropped guilty eyes to the ground recalling her part in going to Jack’s mother and telling all that she knew. Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke up.

"Well…not exactly. I sort of stuck my nose in Jack and Rose’s business and paid Emma a visit shortly after that horrible Grammy Awards fiasco…I never told you two…but…I’m glad I did it. Can you ever forgive me, Jack?"

Laughing heartily. "Come here, Helga…I can’t thank you enough. There’s nothing to forgive! You’ve always seen people as they truly are and somehow…you knew we were meant for each other…you knew! By the way, Rose and I sincerely hope you two will agree to become our children’s godparents!"

Rose finally made her way to the threesome and immediately threw her arms around Helga.

"Oh, how I’ve missed you, Helga…and you, too, Tommy!"

"What’s this about godchildren, Jack? You two already planning your next before this one is even born?" Tommy jokingly teased.

"Shall we tell them, Rose?" At her nod…Jack put his arm around Tommy’s shoulders and started walking towards the house. "Come on you two. We have a lot of catching up to do!"

"Rose!" Tommy shyly grimaced. "Do you think I could persuade your father for an autograph? The last time we saw each other, I don’t think he was in a very generous mood…if you know what I mean?"

"Oh…Tommy. We four have been on an awesome roller coaster ride these past four months…haven’t we? All our lives have been so entangled and topsy-turvy…but what a ride…no? Truly…a magical journey destined by fate!"

At last, the mysterious antebellum mansion came into view prompting admiring gasps of surprise from the Maguires. Everyone stopped in unison and cast enchanted eyes upon her facade surrounded by the familiar stately columns and canopy of ancient live oak trees.

Rose looked in pride at her family’s legacy and took a deep breath of the gentle, Texas breezes that silently rustled the deep, green foliage of her heavily wooded landscape.

"Welcome to Rosedale…the jewel of the east Texas forests. Where if you really listen…you can hear her whispering her secrets of the past."

Jack gave Rose an all encompassing look that said it all. He knew at that precise moment in time that the secret journal was not a mere exaggeration of a nineteenth century young woman’s willful spirit and courage…his Rose was definitely home where she belonged. And his heart smiled…for he had come to feel it, too! Together, they would embrace and nourish their own legacy…here at Rosedale…a fairytale place of the heart.

Epilogue
Stories