DAPHNE’S STORY OF FINDING HER FATHER
Chapter Two

November 11, 2004

I was finishing my drawing when my mother burst into the room, making the door slam against the wall. I shot my head up and looked at my mother, worried. I looked into her eyes and saw something I had never seen before. I saw fear, love, happiness, and astonishment all at once. I was always able to find out what was going through my mother’s mind, but for the first time, I couldn’t. Never had she burst into my room and made the door slam against the wall. My mother was breathless, like she had been running to my room, and she had this huge grin on her face that no one would ever be able to make disappear.

"Your father is alive!" my mother exclaimed. I dropped my pencil that was between my thumb and index finger.

"What?" I practically yelled as I got off the bed and walked over to my mom. I was shocked!

"I was watching the news and I saw your father on TV," my mother answered with happiness in her voice.

"Unbelievable," I whispered, surprised.

"Look at me. Do you want to know who your father is?" my mother asked as she tried to calm down. I was still so shocked that I could do nothing but nod. "Then pack and I’ll take you to the airport." I looked at my mother like she was out of her mind.

"Mom, I can’t do that!" I said, stunned. My mother was never like this. In fact, I never knew she could even come close to acting this way. "I don’t even know where he’s at."

"If he’s anywhere, it’s Santa Monica." I raised an eyebrow. Love could make people do some crazy things.

"California?" I asked. My mother nodded. "Oh." I sighed in frustration as I ran my fingers through my blonde hair. "I don’t know…" I trailed off. My mother put her hands on my cheeks. She gave me that smile that always brought me comfort.

"Sweetie, you need to. I would love to go, but I have a shop to run and I can’t just close the shop for a while," my mother said. I nodded my head in agreement. She was right. She couldn’t just close the shop for a while, even when she wanted to go to Santa Monica.

"All right," I said with a nod. "I’ll go and find my father."

My mother smiled even more and hugged me tightly. "Please do be careful." I nodded as my mom and I pulled out of the hug.

"But there’s one problem." My mother raised her eyebrow, giving me a confused look.

"And what is that?" she asked me. I sighed.

"I don’t know where Jack is in Santa Monica." My mother smiled at me.

"I know someone who can track Jack down, Daphne," my mother said.

*****

I entered the private detective agency and I immediately went to the front desk, where there was an older man. He was cleaning the counter and happened to not notice me. I looked around the counter to find something to get the guy’s attention. I found a bell right in front of me and rang it. He looked up at me and smiled as he put the cloth aside.

"How can I help you, young lady?" the guy said as he neatly put his arms on the counter.

"I’m here to find someone," I answered. He nodded and pulled out a pad and pencil.

"What’s the person’s gender and name?" the guy asked as he licked the pencil lead.

"He’s a male and his name is Jack Dawson," I answered. He began to write down what I said.

"Is he your brother, cousin, father, or what?" the guy asked me.

"He’s my father," I answered.

"What state do you think he lives in?"

"Santa Monica, California," I answered.

The guy nodded as he wrote down the last information before he looked up at me. "Okay. In order for me to go find your father, I will have to know what he does."

"He’s an artist." The guy nodded as he, once again, wrote down the information. He looked up at me.

"All right," he said as he read over what he had written. "In a couple of days I will take a plane to Santa Monica and then begin to search for your father." I smiled brightly.

"Oh, thank you!" I said in excitement.

"You’re welcome," the guy said. "I just need your address. Before I’m back on the plane to go to New York, I will mail you." I nodded in agreement.

November 18, 2004

Since my mother found out that my father was alive, she’d changed. I could see it in her eyes that she was truly happy. Before, there was always something strange about her. She always smiled, but never fully. I never quite understood why until about four years ago when I asked my mother why I didn’t have a father. She told me all about this man named Jack Dawson.

Of course, she told me the more intimate details when I was a little older. I was shocked to learn that she had been on the Titanic. What a tragedy it must have been to hear the horrific screams and sobs full of sorrow and fear. I’ve always envied my mother for living through that tragedy. But, of course, she credits my father.

My father. I never thought much about him up until now. My mind would occasionally wonder about my father, but I never mentioned him in case it would make my mother upset. She said I look like him, though. I have shaggy, blonde, curly hair and deep blue eyes, and I’m quite small for my age. I turned fifteen last December. I was born a few weeks early due to some complications, but I made it. I’m a survivor, just like my mother…and father, now that I think about it.

I wonder if my father even has any idea that he has a daughter. I’m not sure how I’ll tell him about it when I meet him. I’m sure he’ll be surprised, if not mortified. I would be mortified…thinking that the love of my life died in a tragedy, and then, sixteen years later, comes a child who is the child of my lover and me. I’m not even sure how to react or feel now that I know my father is alive. Should I be happy? Nervous? I’m not sure, but it’s already been a week and my head has been spinning with thoughts every night.

I left my room and walked down the stairs to where my mother was. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a letter in her hand.

Dear Daphne,

I have tracked down your father and I know his address. I am on my way back with some information and I hope you will be satisfied.

Sincerely,
Gregory Smith

My mom put down the letter and looked around to find me behind her. "Come here, sweetheart. I have something for you."

My mother handed me the letter and my eyes quickly scanned it. I was so excited that I jumped into my mother’s arms. My mother held me for what seemed like hours, when it was only a few minutes. She had that special kind of maternal love. When we pulled away, she told me to go back to bed because there was nothing we could do for the moment.

*****

Three days later, Mr. Smith knocked on our door and gave my mother and me the information we needed--the address of Jack’s home and his art gallery. It was confirmed that he was not married and lived on his own. The next day, I was on a plane and on my way to Santa Monica. With every hour that passed, I became more and more nervous.

Once I arrived, a taxi took me to the small hotel where I would be staying for the next few days. My mother had given me enough money to be in a decent room. There was a double bed with a small closet and a bathroom. It wasn’t much, but it was cozy. After I settled in, I took the piece of paper with the address of my dad’s art gallery. I figured that it would be best to try the art gallery first, since most people worked in the afternoon. After stepping outside, I phoned for another taxi.

*****

I was finally there, in front of my father’s art gallery. I figured that I had been standing out there for about five minutes, since I didn’t have the courage to step inside. What was I going to tell him? How was I going to tell him? But my thoughts were interrupted when a man in his mid-thirties stepped out the door and came towards me.

"Hello, there. Welcome to the gallery. I noticed you’ve been out here for a while. Do you enjoy the paintings in the window?"

My mind froze. This was him. Jack! My father! "Oh…um…yes. Yes! Of course. I love them. Did you paint them?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. My name’s Jack Dawson. How about you? Do you have a name?"

I chuckled lightly before answering. "Yes. My name is Daphne Dawson."

"Well, Daphne, it’s nice to find someone with the same name as me. It’s as if we’re related or something."

"Yeah. It’s funny, isn’t it?" Jack had no idea. Before we could talk much more, Jack invited me into the gallery. He showed me certain drawings and paintings, but I couldn’t pay attention to any of them. My eyes kept meeting Jack’s. We did look alike, and I think he took notice of it, because he wouldn’t stop looking at me, either. My mind was somewhere else when something caught my eye. It was a drawing of a young woman. I pointed it out to Jack, and we walked over to it.

"That’s someone I met a long time ago. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?" Jack asked with a sad look in his eye. I knew immediately that this was a drawing of my mother. Instead of blurting out that he was my father, I restrained myself and decided I would hint a little first.

"She looks a lot like my mother," I said.

"Yes, well, she passed away in a tragedy. And I’m telling you, I fell head over heels for her," Jack said with a grin.

"You loved her?" I asked with interest. He looked back at me like he wasn’t going to answer, but he did after a moment.

"Yes, but I never got the chance to tell her before she…died."

"How did she die?" I knew this was painful, but I saw no other way of telling him.

"She died on the Titanic." Jack said nothing more before turning his head so I couldn’t see him.

"Really? My mother was on the Titanic. She said my father passed away in the tragedy. Actually, she looks a lot like your drawing." Jack turned back to me with sudden interest.

"What was her name? Maybe I knew her. I met a lot of people on the Titanic."

"Her original name was Rose DeWitt-Bukater, but she changed it to Rose Dawson after having lost my father, or so she thought."

I looked back at Jack, who turned completely white. He looked back at me in disbelief, not knowing what to say. I knew at that moment that he understood who he was standing in front of. He didn’t say anything, so I decided to break the ice.

"I came here today to tell you that I’m Daphne Dawson, your daughter." I suddenly let out a breath that I hadn’t realized I had been holding. I looked into Jack’s eyes, which almost seemed to be watering. I looked at him, waiting for him to react. He looked at me with so much confusion that I was afraid I needed to explain. Thankfully, before I could say anything, Jack went down on his knees to be at my level. He lifted his hand and gently brushed my cheek.

Chapter Three
Stories