August 10, 1962
Rose was sitting at her vanity, applying her makeup in preparation for the debutante ball that evening, when there was a knock on the door.
"Coming!" she called, checking her face one more time before opening the door. "Oh, hi, Dad. You look nice," she said, looking at his white tuxedo.
He had a small, wrapped package in his hand. "I brought you something to wear tonight, Rose." He glanced at her pink gown, then looked back at the package. "I hope it matches."
Rose took the box, perching on the edge of her bed to open it. "You’re giving me a lot of presents."
Tom smiled. "Well, like I said, it’s not every day a girl turns sixteen…or has her debut."
Rose pulled the paper off the box, opening it and carefully lifting out an elegant pearl and diamond necklace. A set of matching earrings sat in the box.
"Dad! This is gorgeous…and it’s my first piece of really fancy jewelry." She hurried over to the mirror and put the necklace on, admiring herself. Whirling around, she gave him a hug. "It’s perfect!"
"I’m glad you like—" Tom stopped, clutching his chest and gasping in pain.
"Dad? Are you okay? We don’t have to go if you don’t—"
"I’m fine, Rose," Tom interrupted her, his face beginning to regain its color. "It’s just a touch of heartburn."
"That’s what you said on my birthday."
"Rose, I’m fine. It’s nothing some antacid won’t fix. And I wouldn’t want you to miss your debut on my behalf. This is an important event in your life."
"It’s not as important as your health."
"I said I was fine."
Rose opened her mouth to argue, then stopped when she saw the look on his face. Even if he wasn’t feeling well, he wasn’t going to admit it—not on such an important night for his daughter.
"Now, Rose, why don’t you put your earrings on and come downstairs. Your mother and I want to get some pictures of you before we leave for the ball."
A couple of minutes later, Rose headed downstairs, still worried. She wasn’t blind to the fact that her father seemed to suffer from "heartburn" more and more lately—and it had been especially bad the last few days. She didn’t want him to make himself sick in order to escort her to her debut. She was looking forward to the ball, to be sure, but more because she was happy that her father was escorting her than anything else. Taking her place in society didn’t really interest her—not with so many fascinating things happening in the world that she wanted to be a part of.
As far as Rose was concerned, her father’s health was more important than a fancy party—but she knew that he was looking forward to presenting his daughter, and that no amount of arguing on her part would make him stop and take care of himself instead of giving her a debut she would remember.
*****
An hour later, Rose walked into the country club ballroom where the debutante ball was being held, escorted by both her father and Cal. Ruth followed behind them, keeping a sharp eye on the other three kids. Jack, Lucy, and Julie were dressed in their best—and the twins, at least, were already restless.
Rose was still concerned for her father, who was pale and breathing shallowly. Every so often, he would raise a hand to his chest, rubbing it as though he were in pain, but whenever he saw Rose’s concerned face, he stopped.
"Dad, are you sure you’re okay?" she asked. "We can leave if—"
"Rose, I’ve told you that I’m fine," Tom reminded her. "Stop worrying and enjoy the party. You only debut once."
Rose frowned. It was obvious to her that he wasn’t feeling well. "Um…Dad, there’s some kids over there that I know. Cal and I are going to go talk to them, if it’s okay with you."
"Go right ahead, Rose. This is your big night and I want you to enjoy it." He sat down in a nearby chair, hoping that she wouldn’t notice how relieved he was to rest for a few moments.
Rose glanced back at him, frowning, as Cal tugged on her arm and led her towards a group of students from their school. Most of the girls were there with their fathers, but those who had boyfriends had also invited them.
It occurred to Rose that it was rather silly to hold a debut for girls who already had boyfriends, who still had two or three years left of school. In earlier generations, a girl’s debut had shown the other members of her society that she was old enough to be courted, old enough to find a husband. Now, however, many girls had already begun dating, and although it was legal to marry at sixteen, most would finish high school before getting married…though she knew there would be a rash of weddings in June, as soon as the couples who had gotten engaged during high school graduated.
Rose looked up in annoyance as Cal tugged on her arm again. She would have been content to stand still for a few minutes, watching the activity around her, but he was eager to see his former classmates again before he left for Yale in a few weeks. She rolled her eyes as he strode around with her on his arm, greeting people and acting like it was his party, not hers.
She finally managed to get away from him for a few minutes, going into the ladies’ room and checking her makeup.
"So…do you think he’ll give you a ring soon?"
Rose turned to look at the girl who had spoken, a classmate who was known for being a gossip. "What?"
"Do you think he’ll give you a ring?"
Rose shrugged. "Cal already gave me his high school ring."
"No…I mean an engagement ring."
Rose gave her an annoyed look. "I wouldn’t think so. I’m only halfway through high school, and he’s just starting college. Besides, I don’t want to get married yet."
"Aren’t you afraid he’ll go off to college and find someone else?"
"There’s no girls at Yale."
"Still…he’ll be away from you, and there’s no telling what might happen."
"I’m not worried." And she wasn’t. Rose’s early infatuation with Cal had long since faded, and she dated him more out of habit than anything else. Although she had to admit that her pride would be hurt if he found someone else, she doubted she would miss him terribly.
*****
Dinner was served about half an hour later. Rose sat between her father and Jack, with Cal relegated to the spot across from her at the table. He wasn’t happy about it, but the seating had been arranged in advance, and Jack had sat down and gotten comfortable before Cal could ask to switch seats with him.
The food was good, though Rose whispered to Jack that it wasn’t as good as the meals prepared by Mrs. di Rossi, and Jack agreed and added that it wasn’t as good as the dinners his mother had cooked for holidays. Cal glared at them whenever they spoke to each other, and only stopped when Rose kicked him under the table and leaned forward to tell him to stop being ridiculous.
After dinner, the debutantes lined up beside the stage to be presented by their fathers. Rose stood fidgeting nervously, more worried than ever about her father, who had eaten very little at dinner and was paler than ever, his breathing shallow and his forehead dotted with sweat that he kept wiping away. She was beginning to wish that the ball was over—perhaps when it was finished, he would admit that something was wrong and go to the doctor.
Finally, the debutantes began to parade across the stage, the girls beaming as their fathers stepped up to the microphone and introduced them.
When her turn came, Rose stepped forward on the stage, her necklace glittering. In spite of her worries, she smiled, proud that her father was introducing her. She kept the smile on her face even when he hesitated, as though he didn’t have enough breath to speak, while saying her name and the names of himself and her mother.
The first dance of the evening was for fathers and daughters. Rose smiled as Tom took her hands and began to lead her in the dance—she’d always liked dancing with her father, even when she was a little girl. He seemed to be feeling better for the moment, too…he swung her around with as much energy as any man on the dance floor, and far more elegantly in Rose’s opinion.
A moment later, however, as he swung her around a second time, he stopped suddenly, clutching his chest and gasping for breath, a look of panic in his eyes.
"Dad?" Rose grabbed his arm. "Dad, what’s wrong?"
He opened his mouth as though trying to speak, then collapsed. Rose tried to catch him, but he was too heavy.
"Dad!" Rose fell to her knees beside him. "Dad, come on! You said you were fine!" Turning to the other guests, who were slowly becoming aware of the situation, she shouted, "Somebody help him! Please!"
The music came to a discordant halt at her cry. Ruth, Jack, and the twins came running, recognizing Rose’s voice in the crowd. One of the other fathers, a doctor, pushed through the crowd and knelt beside Tom.
"Keep back, please. Let him have some air. Young lady, please stand back and let me help him." He took Tom’s pulse and performed a cursory examination, then shouted, "Someone call an ambulance!"
Rose knelt beside her father again, ignoring her mother’s attempts to get her to stand up and the doctor’s attempt to get her to back away. Taking her father’s hand, she whispered, "It’s going to be okay, Dad. The ambulance is coming…you’ll be okay."
Tears started running down her face. She had known that something was wrong, and yet she had gone along with his insistence that everything was fine.
"Rose, come on. Get up." Ruth crouched down beside her. "Don’t cry, Rose. He’ll be fine."
"No, he won’t!" Rose wailed. "He’s been having chest pains for a long time. Why did he keep saying it was heartburn when it wasn’t?"
"He didn’t want to worry you."
"But he did worry me! And now…now he’s…he’s…"
"Rose, look at me." Ruth turned her daughter’s tear-streaked face towards her. "I need you to calm down. You aren’t helping him by getting so upset, but you are scaring your sisters."
"I can’t be calm! Not when Dad’s just lying there…he could be dying!"
"Stop it, Rose!" Ruth shook her slightly. "The ambulance will be here in a few minutes. Until then, the best thing you can do for him is stand back and let Dr. McKibben help him."
Shaking her head stubbornly, Rose stayed where she was. Dr. McKibben wasn’t doing anything more than monitoring Tom Bukater’s pulse and breathing…and she wasn’t interfering with that.
The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. Rose stood back when the paramedics began working with her father, but she didn’t go far. When they loaded him onto a gurney, she followed them outside.
"I’m coming to the hospital with him," she told the paramedics as they loaded him into the ambulance.
"Ma’am…there really isn’t space…"
"I’m his daughter! He was dancing with me when he collapsed. I need to go with him!"
"I’m sorry, young lady, but that won’t be possible. Perhaps someone here can give you a ride…"
"I need to go with him!"
"Young lady, stand back. We don’t have time for this." One paramedic climbed into the back of the ambulance with the patient while the other closed the door and headed for the driver’s seat.
"Please! He’s my father!" Rose chased after the paramedic, but Cal hurried forward and grabbed her arm, dragging her back so the ambulance could leave. "Leave me alone!"
"You can’t go with him! Didn’t you hear what he said?!"
"Let go of me! He was dancing with me when he collapsed! I have to go with him!" Rose struggled, trying to get away. "Dad!" she screamed, her voice growing hysterical. "Dad!"
"Stop it, Rose!" Cal shook her. "Stop it!"
"No! Dad! Dad! Dad!" Her voice grew more high-pitched with each scream. "Daddy!"
"Stop it!" When Rose screamed again, Cal slapped her. "Calm down!"
"Get your hands off her!" Jack pulled the still-hysterical Rose away from Cal. "Don’t you hit her!"
Rose broke away from Jack and chased after the ambulance, which was nearing the country club’s exit. "Dad!"
A security guard rushed forward, grabbing Rose and holding her back until the ambulance pulled away. When it was gone, he led her out of the parking lot and back towards her boyfriend and family.
Sobbing, Rose sank down on the grass, unmindful of her expensive gown. Uncomfortable with the scene Rose had caused, Cal hesitated, then knelt down beside her before Jack could.
"Your mother’s gone to get the car, Sweetpea. She’ll drive you to the hospital…and your dad will be fine. You know he will."
"Go away, Cal! You don’t know a damned thing!" Rose sobbed, wrenching out of his arms and going to stand on the curb, her arms wrapped around herself protectively.