THE FUTURE’S PAST
Chapter Two
"At least now we’re getting
somewhere."
Chelsea cast a disimpassioned eye
over her visitor. It hadn’t been only Rose’s body that changed at the teen’s
request. Even her clothes, which Chelsea had initially written off as old
person clothing were different. The outfit Rose was wearing now appeared much
more form-fitting and better suited to someone her age. The pin-striped suit
with vest, tie, and an extremely flamboyant, purple hat were clearly not from
Chelsea’s time period, and mentally she placed Rose’s attire at the early
1910’s, about the same time as the Titanic’s luckless maiden voyage.
Although the physical change was
the most prevalent, Chelsea was more interested in Rose’s sudden burst of
confidence, caused, no doubt, by the metamorphosis. Gone was the feisty but
confused elderly woman, and in her place stood someone who appeared just as
self-assured as Chelsea, if a little out of her element.
"Tell me why I
changed," Rose demanded. She didn’t know what it was about the unusual
teen that demanded her unwilling respect, but she did know that Chelsea would
not have been out of place in the highest circles of society in her time.
"Why you changed?" The
teen looked away, annoyed that Rose was making her give in so easily.
"It’s Fate’s way of giving me a hand," she replied, still sounding
more than a little disinterested, though the facade was quickly wearing away.
"Your body has physically manifested itself to the form you were in at the
point you wish to return to, whether you’re physically conscious of when that
time is or not."
The explanation was enough to
make Rose’s head spin. "But this is how I looked when..."
Chelsea’s light blue eyes rolled
dramatically. "When you were on the Titanic? Imagine that!"
"You are incredibly rude.
Did you know that?" Rose was putting into use the flippant tones she
hadn’t used since leaving high society and the Titanic behind her. It seemed to
be the only way to hold her own against Chelsea. "Can you help me or
not?"
"I can. But will I is the
question you meant to ask." Chelsea wasn’t entirely certain how she felt
about this Mrs. Rose Calvert, but at least this rebellious, younger
manifestation was more interesting than the older one had been.
"Don’t tell me there’s a
fee. I have nothing to pay you with." This was a fact which Rose found
particularly ironic. Oh, Mother. You were so determined to die rich, but see
what comes of it? Startled that she would think of her mother for the first
time in years, Rose wondered fleetingly if she, too, had ended up here at her
death. Despite knowing that the woman was most certainly not in the room, she
couldn’t help but give a cursory glance around it. "You said you could send
me back. How? What do I have to do?"
No ghost had ever surprised
Chelsea quite so much as this one did. Sure, there’d once been a pushy Chinese
emperor who had been pretty demanding, as had many others, but this was the
first time she’d seen such a dramatic change of character. For a woman who had
been practically sniveling moments before, Rose had become positively
businesslike. It was fascinating. "You want to go to the Titanic? I can
send you to the Titanic, but there are a couple of things you need to
know." She was back in her element now. Ordering ghosts to do what she
said was how it was supposed to work, not the other way around. "You don’t
get to change anything without my permission, and I do mean anything. That ship
has to sink, so no telling people she’s going down or to watch out for ice,
even as a joke. No cryptic messages, either. You mess that one up and then Fate
comes out there and gives me a hard time, which sucks." She shot Rose a
level stare that said she meant business. "You get Fate on my case and
I’ll have you exorcized clear out of existence."
Even with an already ghostly
pallor, Rose paled at this.
"Next, you try to tell
anyone about ghosts or the future and I’ll make you relive the worst moments of
your life–ten times over." Chelsea grinned menacingly. She loved to
empower herself. "And number three, tell Mr. Harold Lowe that if he
doesn’t come and speak to me, I’m pulling him out, whether he wants it or
not."
"Mr. Lowe?" Rose’s eyes
widened. "The officer? You sent him back, too?"
Chelsea shrugged, smiling
enigmatically. "He’s not the only one who’s been sent back there before. I
know one ghost who spends all their time on the Titanic. Ship sinks, they go
back to when they first boarded. It’s kind of sick, really." And it was
causing her a lot of headaches from the folks upstairs. Fate wasn’t especially
keen on the idea that this person could simply live life in a feedback loop,
but it seemed to Chelsea that they were waiting for something. Something to
happen, or maybe someone in particular. Snobby and generally unhelpful though
she might be, Chelsea couldn’t deny that she was curious to see just what or
who that thing was.
As Chelsea mulled the thought
over in her head, Rose had some thinking of her own to do as she took in all
that the teen had already said to her. It was a lot to remember, but something
nagged at her past all the instructions and rules that had just hit her in a
barrage. She opened her mouth to ask who it was that had been sent back as
well, but found herself being cut off, as though Chelsea had read her mind.
Perhaps she had.
"Don’t expect me to tell you
who that is. You aren’t going back to start a Reliving the Titanic Experience
fan club." She faced off squarely against the ghost, both at a fairly even
height, intending to be rid of her immediately. "Ready to go back to the
Titanic?"
Rose faltered. This seemed so
sudden. There was too much to digest. "But–but what am I supposed to do
when I get there?"
This earned her another shrug
from Chelsea, who turned away. "How the hell should I know?"
*****
Darkness. Rose almost laughed at
the poetic cliché of it all. Of course it would be dark–why wouldn’t it? It
seemed like something out of a book or a film rather than the actual events of
her life. Did she even still count as living? Now that she had a moment to
think about it, Rose decided that the whole thing was unthinkable. Ghosts.
Returning to life. Time travel. Ridiculous. She had been raised with firm
Christian morals and beliefs–how could she be taken in by all of this?
How could she have possibly
believed that the teenager was telling her the truth? How embarrassing! She
could have kicked herself when she realized she didn’t even know the girl’s
name. How awful. How could she have fallen for all of this?
The very idea that she could
actually return to her past life. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
That’s all it was. Pathetic and
humiliating.
But how wonderful if it could be
true.
Against her better judgment, she let
her thoughts dwell over the possibility. If it were true...if it were true,
she’d be able to see Jack again and more than just see him–hear him, hold him.
For years she had been repressing the memories, pushing away the misery to live
the life Jack had wanted for her. Without his presence constantly weighing on
her mind, she had succeeded as an actress, as a wife, a mother, and a
grandmother. She had retained her lucidity after a century of life, a feat most
people could not hold claim to.
Would seeing Jack again set her
back emotionally to that single moment of absolute grief she had let herself
feel before putting it all behind her?
Did it matter?
She could have laughed outright
at this if she didn’t think the sound would shatter the dampening effect of the
darkness around her. Of course it didn’t matter, because none of this was real.
Was it?
Rose was beginning to have
trouble keeping her thoughts straight. She could see nothing in the darkness,
but as her stream of consciousness ended, she wished whoever it was snoring in
the background would either wake up or be quiet.
Snoring?
She opened her mouth to question
the sound’s presence, but instead choked on a mouthful of air. She had heard
the snore before. She was sure of it. Her mother, for example, had sounded
exactly...
Like.
That.
A small gasp forced its way out
of her mouth and her eyes widened in the darkness of what she now realized was
the hotel room where she, Cal, her mother, and their servants had stayed the
night before boarding the Titanic.
It had worked.