May 16, 2004
Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin
Rose was up early the next morning. Distraught and restless, she hadn’t slept much the night before, even after Daffodil had given her some valerian capsules to calm her down. Not long after sunrise, she left the motel, wandering around the streets of the awakening town.
After breakfast, which she barely touched, Rose went down to the creek to wait for Emmaline, waiting in the same spot that she had met the girl in the day before. She had had a lot of time to think during the previous sleepless night, and she was no closer to forgiving herself for her part in Jack’s death—however unintentional—than she had been the evening before.
Despite the fact that Daffodil had pointed out how little control Rose had had over what had happened, and the fact that Emmaline had apologized to her for accusing her of killing Jack, Rose couldn’t forgive herself. The idea that she was responsible in some way for what had happened had lingered in her mind for over a year, but no amount of talking or logic could change how she felt. It was something that she would have to work out for herself, however long it took.
Emmaline arrived just after ten, carrying a heavy, square object in a plastic grocery bag. She stopped when she saw Rose.
"I wasn’t sure you’d come," she told her, clutching the bag more tightly.
"I had to come," Rose replied, standing up and brushing the dirt from her skirt. "I…I want to see where Jack’s parents are buried. Maybe then…" She didn’t finish the thought.
Emmaline seemed to understand, though. "Maybe you’ll feel better. At least he’s with them now. I remember how much he missed them after they died. I think maybe that’s why he got into so much trouble." She hesitated. "Did he tell you about that?"
"Yes. He told me about being in a gang and going to juvenile hall…he was honest with me from the start."
"Yeah." Emmaline nodded her head, looking sad. "He was like that."
They walked back into town together, stopping to buy flowers at the supermarket. That done, Emmaline led the way to the cemetery, Rose walking quietly behind her, lost in thought.
When they reached the cemetery, Emmaline escorted Rose to a single, well-kept headstone with the names of Jack’s parents on it. Paul and Elizabeth Dawson had died together in a fire early in the morning of July 5, 1996.
Rose stood looking at the grave for a moment, her heart clenching as she thought of how Jack must have felt, losing both of his parents at once. She had lost her father, but at least she had still had her mother, no matter how often they disagreed with one another.
"So, they were Jack’s parents," Rose murmured, unwrapping her flowers and placing them on the grave. It was well-cared for, but bare. Not many people visited it anymore.
Emmaline placed her flowers on the grave as well as Rose took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the headstone. Clenching her hands tightly together, she spoke, addressing the couple buried beneath the headstone.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dawson…Paul and Elizabeth…whatever you liked to be called…I knew your son. We only knew each other for six months—but I loved him with all my heart. He was a good man—he was there for me in my darkest moments. Jack was someone special…there was something about him that captured my heart. I was never so happy as in the short time that we were together…and I will never forget him. I’m sorry that I didn’t save him…that I didn’t do more to save him. Maybe he would have lived, if only I’d tried harder. At least he’s with you now. You’re all back together now—maybe one day we’ll all meet, when it’s my time to join you. Jack loved me, too—he told me so, just before he died."
She sank to her knees, tearing running down her face. "He knew that he was dying, but he was most concerned with making sure that I survived. He made me promise to go on—and I’m trying. I really am. Jack gave me a second chance at life—and I’m trying to make the most of it."
She reached out, touching the hard, cool stone. "Please forgive me," she whispered. "I didn’t mean for him to die."
Rose looked up when Emmaline touched her shoulder. The girl’s face was also tear-streaked. She held out the small, square object that she had concealed in the bag. Rose took it, looking at it in surprise as she read the words carved there.
In Loving Memory
Jack Dawson
1981 – 2003
It was a small, ceramic marker, the kind that might be used in place of a plaque to memorialize someone. Emmaline took it from her and set it at the base of the headstone, digging into the soil with a stick and setting the marker firmly in the trench, making it look as though it were a part of the original headstone.
"I made it last night," she explained, "after Dad was asleep. I baked it in the oven, so it should hold up."
"It’s beautiful." Rose stared at the marker. Although neither she nor Emmaline knew where Jack was buried, it seemed fitting that the marker be placed there, at his parents’ grave, a memorial to a man whose life had been far too short, but always worthwhile.
She brushed a speck of dirt away from the marker, then stood slowly, still looking down at the grave. Unbidden, the memory of the song she had sung for Jack in her private memorial to him nearly a year before came to mind, and she sang out, her voice floating through the quiet cemetery.
Darling, I’ll love you
Forever and more
But it’s time for your
Journey of one to begin
I promise we’ll meet on
That far distant shore
But for now the time has come
To go on your own.
She looked down at the small marker, a sob catching in her throat. Quietly, she began to sing again, Emmaline joining in with her this time.
When the last notes of the song had faded away, the two young women, almost strangers, stood together, saying good-bye to the young man who they had both loved.