NEW IMPRESSIONS
Chapter Ten

Ruth sat on one of the matching couches in Jack's living room, quietly surveying the peaceful surroundings. Jack had gone into the kitchen to start some coffee and Rose said she was going to let the dog out. From her apparent familiarity with Jack's home, Ruth wondered again just how close Jack and Rose were. She had a few minutes to herself and she tried to make the most of it by attempting to analyze this man by observing his belongings. Rose had told her that this was only a rented house, but that someday Jack had talked about having one of his own that had just as much character.

The room she sat in seemed to her more like an art gallery, than a living room, with the piles of neatly stacked canvases, and an easel in the corner of the room, on which sat a painting. Its subject was invisible to her from where she sat. The shelves next to the fireplace were filled with texts on Asian Art, African Art, Monet, Van Gogh, the Dutch Masters and even Picasso. A desk in the corner was littered with manila folders into which papers had been haphazardly filed. She was sure that all of the possessions she saw indicated an intelligent, if not necessarily an orderly mind. With another quick glance, she noticed an electronic organizer resting in its charging cradle. Perhaps he was not that unorganized after all.

Ruth stared again back to the desk, now not imagining what she saw. It was a photograph in a beautifully etched silver frame, a photograph of Rose. In fact it appeared to be the companion picture to one that Rose had on her dresser. They both looked like they had been taken on some sort of boat. The picture Rose had showed Jack leaning back against the side of the boat, his eyes squinting in the sun, his arms around a rather large dog. Ruth had to admit that the photo on Jack's desk, was one of the best she had ever seen of Rose. The large white shirt she wore and her flowing red tresses were blowing in the wind. Her hand was over her eyes as if to protect them from the sun. But her smile was brilliant and it looked like she was trying hard not to laugh. She had never before seen Rose in an unguarded moment and she felt strange, as though she had intruded on some private property. Her daughter was apparently capable of emotions that Ruth knew she herself did not possess. Where these had come from in Rose, Ruth could not be sure. But there was no mistaking her whimsical smile and glowing eyes. "I wonder," thought Ruth, "if those are not the eyes of a woman in love."

Rose entered the room, her eyes sparkling with anticipation for Jack's birthday presentation. Ruth had listened while Jack had told both of them at dinner that he had a special surprise for Rose for her birthday. And he had admonished both of them not to poke around the living room.

"Whatever are you worn out from, Rose?" Ruth studied her daughter with her usual eagle eyed manner.

Rose drew her hand across her flushed forehead and tried to smile at her mother. She was determined that nothing was going to spoil this night that Jack had wanted to be so special. The delicious dinner at Acquerello's had been typically to his romantic taste. The dinner on the patio at glassed topped tables and the vases of fresh flowers made her think she was anywhere else besides downtown San Francisco. Even Ruth, who never had much of an appetite, devoured her platter of gnocchi. His mysterious behavior regarding her gift had also made this birthday like none other. In other years, it had been her and her mother alone, going through the motions of pretending to have a good time. Always the same stilted conversation, the same impersonal restaurant. An evening each year that she had begun to dread. Until tonight, when Jack had forced even Ruth to acknowledge that she'd had a good time.

"Oh I was just running Claude around in the garden. Have you seen the painting of Jack's parents? Rose pointed to the large framed piece that hung in the place of honor over the fireplace.

Ruth turned her head in the direction that Rose pointed, trying to ignore the fact that Jack had a dog in the house. With luck, she would have no encounter with it. Ruth turned her mind back to the piece of work that Rose had just pointed out. It was beautiful. She had to admit that. It reminded her of something she had seen once when she was traveling in Europe after college. A painting by a Danish artist who painted people on a beach using casts of blue lighting. This one had that same feel. The influence of Jack's love of Impressionism was evident in his style and use of colors.

"Yes, yes. I was wondering who those people were." Ruth studied it a bit more closely and noticed that Jack bore some resemblance to the man in the picture. Once again Ruth felt like an outside looking in. For in the painting not only had Jack managed to capture to love he felt for his deceased parents, but also the kind of magic that those two people must have shared in their relationship. Her thoughts strayed for a moment as she tried to remember all that Jack had said at dinner about his Wisconsin childhood. Whenever he described something, his words were so vivid, his memories were so clear, that he made her feel as though she too were experiencing what he talked about. Her own parents had been somewhat cold and remote. Jack on the other hand, had warm, rich recollections of planting a garden with his mother in the fertile, glacial soil. He spoke of listening to the crickets on hot summer nights before she put him to bed and how when he and his father were alone, they had spent Saturday nights together ordering pizza and watching videos. There was no denying the gentle, loving background he came from. She looked at Rose who seemed to be staring at her, wondering what Rose would say about her own childhood if asked. Surely she could not speak of the real estate award banquets and their professionally decorated home with such fondness. Somewhere she had gone terribly wrong and yet Rose still seemed to love her and defend her when necessary.

"Mother? Are you still with us? Rose tried to get her mother's attention, moving her head to look her straight in the eye. She was curious to know what her mother thought of Jack's work. In fact, she was dying to know her mother's opinion on everything that had transpired so far this weekend. They had talked a little about Jack when they were getting ready for dinner and she knew that her mother had by now seen the matching photos they had of each other. Both she and Jack had tried to be discreet in their hand-holding and kisses, not so much to hide their feelings, but because they both had good enough taste not to want to embarrass Ruth. Now she saw her mother lost in her thoughts, staring at the picture over the mantle. Jack was intensely proud of that picture and in his own way felt a closeness to his parents. He had chosen to hang it near to his work area, where she was sure that their presence on canvas was an inspiration to him. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Ruth shook her head in an attempt to come back to the present. "Oh yes. Quite lovely. He is talented. I must say that."

Rose beamed from ear to ear upon hearing her mother's praise. She so wanted her to like something, anything about Jack. In the back of her mind, she sensed that there was permanence to their situation and having her mother's approval would make things so much easier. Even though they had vowed that they would love each other forever, Jack had not yet said anything else. But Rose hoped that it would only be a matter of time. She knew him well enough to understand that while Jack was modern in most ways, he seemed to be conducting a very traditional courtship. And that made him all the more romantic to her.

Her eyes roamed around the room, anxiously anticipating the gift that Jack had talked about. Everything seemed to be in place. There was nothing out of the ordinary to indicate that the gift was even in the room. Rose looked again at her mother, who seemed to be lost in her thought. She looked to be struggling with something very profound.

Ruth gazed at the picture of Mr. and Mrs. Dawson. People whose lives had been tragically cut short, leaving their only child to fend for himself at a critical time in his life. Somehow, he had made it. He had managed to rise to the top and not let himself get bogged down in a quagmire of self-pity. What was it he had said at dinner? Something about making each day count. He said that he had learned from his parent's deaths not to look back but to aim for the future and live everyday to the fullest. It was just the opposite of what she had done. She focused each day on the past, trying with her thoughts to get revenge on those who had hurt her. Whether is be her ex husband or a fellow Realtor who had beat her to a sale, she continued to dwell on what could have been. Slowly she started to realize all the time she had wasted with her bitterness. Nothing could change what had happened. But as Jack had confidently explained, the future was like a blank canvas and he was determined to make each painting or life's experience the best it could be. Ruth thought of blaming her own parents for the way she was. That of course was futile. They were gone and she was here. Perhaps she should heed the advice of this wise twenty seven-year-old and live for the now. Just soak up the joy of each precious moment. She closed her eyes momentarily in an attempt to try and center her thoughts and calm her frazzled mind, wondering if she was too old, too far gone to change her ways. But she was jarred into reality by the shouts of Jack and Rose and the feeling of something big and clumsy crashing into her body.

She threw her hands up in the air in an attempt to protect herself from the large furry paws that landed on her lap. "Oof, get off of me." Ruth shrank back into the corner of the couch and leaned her head back, distancing herself from the pink tongue that was now dripping on the green dress she wore.

"Claude, get down." Jack grabbed the plaid woven collar that his dog wore, trying to pull the friendly animal from Ruth. Too late he remembered what Rose had told him about Ruth and her opinions of dogs and pets in the house. But not before had Claude charged into the living room and headed straight for Ruth. He was not malicious, just overly friendly. Claude appeared to be transfixed with Ruth. His tail was wagging furiously and he was panting heavily, eagerly hoping to get a chance to lick her face. "Claude, come on. Get off of there." As Jack strained with the eighty-pound dog, Rose stood in the center of the room, biting her lips. This was going to be the end of the evening. Her heart sank. Things had gone so well and now Claude's misconstrued affection would leave Ruth back in her bitter shell. She winced as she watched Claude slide down off of Ruth's lap, his claw sticking in her mother's sheer panty hose.

Finally Jack got Claude into a sitting position on the rug and he held the dog firmly by his collar. "I am sorry Ruth. He has never been so excited to see anyone before." Jack looked down and noticed the torn hosiery. He cleared his throat, trying to find a way to find a way out of this mess. "I'll be happy to pay for what Claude ruined, Ruth. It's the least I can do. Are you all right?" He struggled with the exuberant Claude who was still trying to close in on Ruth again. "He's never acted this way." Jack reiterated this comment hoping that it would sink in and Ruth would understand that the dog had meant no harm.

Ruth slowly sat up straight and in a habitual motion, her hands went directly to her hair to be sure that was all in place. She tugged at the bodice of the dress and held her head high. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a look of fear on Rose's face. Jack stood next to her, his hand still on Claude, with a questioning expression in his eyes. She shut her eyes for a second and in her mind she could hear her own voice shrieking at Rose for bringing a stray cat into the house, and reminding her not to touch any of the animals at a petting zoo that had been brought to her school. Always the need for perfection and control. How must this all have sounded to her daughter. The last thing she needed now was for all of her pent-up emotions to burst forth, to make a fool of herself in front of Rose and Jack. Then she thought to herself about the contradiction of her thoughts. Just by having those fears she was getting into her control mode again. "Let go, Ruth. Just let go." She took a shaky breath and smiled weakly. "I was just surprised that's all. No animal ever liked me before." Ruth rested her hand at her throat and could feel the pounding of her pulse. Clearly she was on new turf here and she found herself uneasy, but still wanting to please her daughter.

Rose and Jack glanced quickly at each other, Jack's forehead furrowing and Rose lifting her eyebrows. They were not quite sure they had heard right. But if this was the way Ruth wanted to play the game, they would go along with her.

"Mother, it does look like you have made a new friend. Claude was not that excited about me the first time we met. You really have made an impression." She watched as her mother licked her lips in uncertainly, and then nod in agreement.

Feeling that enough attention had been called to the situation with Claude, Jack spoke up. "Ladies, we still have the big surprise I was talking about and then we have to have some cake for Rose's birthday." As he spoke, he coaxed Claude into the down position, and then reached out for Ruth's hand.

She gave him a puzzled look, not understanding what was happening. "What are we doing?"

"You are going to get a sneak preview of Rose's gift. Come on. It's just over here." He waited while Ruth got up from the couch before leading her over to the easel in the corner of the room. As she walked reluctantly behind him, Jack glanced back over his shoulder taking in Ruth's tentative steps. "Don't worry, I don't bite," said Jack, hoping to lighten her mood.

Ruth looked at Rose for encouragement, hoping to convey the message to her, that she was not afraid of Jack, just not understanding what was going on. But Rose's eyes were on Jack alone.

Rose smiled to herself and watched carefully as her mother followed Jack across the rug to the corner of the room. She too was confused. He had talked about a big surprise, but where he was taking Ruth was just his work area in the living room. She saw no wrapped presents, just the remains of his everyday activities; the messy desk and a work in progress on the easel. The one thing that did not confuse her was how handsome Jack looked tonight. He was a feast for any woman's eyes all the time, but tonight he had never looked better. He still wore his navy blue blazer, which heightened the blue of his eyes. The lighter blue shirt, open at the neck, revealed a column of golden tan that had deepened on their days on the boat. Every time she saw Jack from a distance, she still felt overwhelmed that he had chosen her. The dream of meeting and loving someone like Jack was something she had never thought possible.

Jack pulled Ruth behind the canvas and told her not to say a word, only to look. Rose saw her mother gasp and put her hand at her throat, Ruth's usual gesture for being in shock. She had absolutely no idea of what she and Jack were looking at. Finally Jack asked Ruth her opinion. "Now don't give anything away, Ruth," he cautioned. "Just tell me what you think? Does it pass your inspection?" Jack knew perfectly well that this picture was the best thing he had ever done, but until now, he had showed it to no one and he was curious as to Ruth's opinion.

Ruth could not believe her eyes when she looked at the painting. She had to admit that Jack was more than talented. He was gifted in the way he was able to capture the emotions of his subjects. She had seen that in the work of his parents. But this painting was unlike nothing she had ever seen before. "It's…it's wonderful Jack. I don't know quite what to say. Ruth looked from him to Rose, the picture swimming before her eyes as she tried to digest the passion portrayed in the work of art before her.

It was Rose, dressed in jeans and a white shirt, reclining on the ground, surrounded by a bed of wildflowers, but the flowers dimmed in contrast to the details of Rose's face and hair. The luminosity of her eyes allowed the viewer to venture into her very soul. The soft tendrils of her hair seemed to come to life in the wind. While the picture did not exactly have sexual connotations, the tone of the painting was still somewhat sensual, as though the artist knew…But Ruth stopped her thoughts there. Rose was 21 and Jack 27. She knew now that her daughter was beyond her control. A sideways glance at the photo on Jack's desk told her that it had been the model for the painting in Rose's absence. The same mischievous smile and hint of childish delight was also visible on the canvas. It seemed that Jack Dawson had the ability to bring out the one characteristic in Rose, that Ruth, her own mother, had failed to do. The ability to be herself. In this piece before her, Rose looked free and wild, earthy, yet stunning. No one else could have painted this work of the heart. Ruth stepped back again to admire it from a distance. "Jack, I have only seen a few pieces of your art, but…well" She stopped for a moment and paused, trying not to sound haughty, "even I have to admit I had never seen such a portr…uh, picture." She caught herself in time, not wanting to spoil Rose's surprise.

Rose cleared her throat. "Have you forgotten about me? I thought I was going to see my gift." She smiled broadly at Jack and her mother, still puzzled at what they were looking at.

Jack stepped over to where she stood and put his arm around her shoulder. "Now Rose, it is your turn. I just needed my toughest critic to see it first. Just to be sure." He winked at Ruth as he spoke, hoping that little by little, they could chip away at the brick wall she had built around herself. When a tiny smile appeared on her face, he felt truly rewarded. "Now close your eyes and keep them closed. Promise?"

"I promise." Rose closed her eyes and Jack put one of his hands over them, just for good measure. "Now, let me guide you over there. Just walk slowly. Do you trust me?"

"I trust you, Jack."

Ruth watched the satisfied expression on his face and saw how tenderly he touched her daughter. The more she saw of the two of them interacting, the more she realized that she truly had nothing to worry about. Jack treated Rose respectfully and gently, but leaving plenty of room for playfulness and her independence. She silently berated herself for the rather aloof way she had treated him a first. But then Rose had not exactly been too forthcoming in giving out information on Jack. She guessed that she herself was the problem. That was something they needed to work on, both of them. Better and more open communication. Maybe if she let Rose see that she approved of Jack, that might help.

"Almost there. Don't peek."

Rose giggled, "I can't peek. You won't let me. Are we there yet?" She reached her hands out in front of her and came in contact with a canvas. Jack seemed to be positioning her in a certain way. His warm breath tickled her neck and sent a few strands of hair flying into her face. Having Jack this close and only feeling his presence, sent her pulse rate soaring. Every nerve ending in her body was acutely aware of his touch and the affect it had on her. Rose tingled from head to toe with anticipation and she was having a hard time catching her own breath. He too seemed to be holding his breath, expectant about something. "Jack, what's going on? Can I look yet?"

The golden sound of his laughter rang through the room. He let go of her shoulders and carefully removed his hands from her eyes at the same time telling her not to open them yet. He saw the look of eagerness on her face and hoped that she would be pleased with his efforts. "All right, Rose. You can look now. Happy Birthday, Rosie," his special endearing version of her name spoken so softly only she could hear. He stepped behind her and rested his hands on her waist, waiting breathlessly for her reaction.

"Jack…Oh, God, Jack. It's so beautiful. I, I don't know what to say." Gently she touched her finger to the canvas as if to convince herself that it was real. "I just can't believe it's me. Oh, Jack, thank you." His hands tightened around her waist and she felt body draw back slightly against his. It was the way they were almost molded to each other, that made her heart quake wildly, feeling like she was experiencing her own movement of the San Andreas Fault. She heard his soft voice murmur in her ear and for a second she forgot that her mother stood inches away.

"I hoped you would like it. When someone is as beautiful as you Rose, it is not always possible to get it just right on canvas. But I have the real thing."

"Oh, Jack, I don't really know what to say." She pulled his hands closer in front of her, listening to his ragged breathing. "I really don't. Just thank you." Rose was suddenly conscious of a sniffing noise next to her, then her mother's voice.

"Jack, it smells like the coffee is done and I thought I heard the timer for it go off. Perhaps I should go and turn it off." Ruth felt a need to leave the room. Rose and Jack had not offended her in anyway. She was just uncomfortable, having forgotten what it was like to be in love. Thinking back to her youth, when she had first met Rose's father, she wondered if they had ever really shared the same emotions that she had just witnessed. For now, seeing the two of them, she knew, that Rose and Jack were deeply in love. And for the first time in a long time, she knew she could not raise any objections, mostly because she could not think of any. Rose was grown up now and Jack was a perfect match for her. Gentle, thoughtful and intelligent.

"No, I'll go, Ruth." Jack removed his arms from Rose and took a few steps toward the kitchen, slightly rattled that Ruth should have witnessed this tender moment with Rose.

"It's all right, Jack. I've been wanting to see the garden that Rose had told me about anyway." She headed across the room, without giving him a chance to say anymore and disappeared around the hall corner, hesitating for a second, when she noticed that Claude was following her. They were both amused when she shrugged her shoulder and continued on her way.

Rose covered her mouth, stifling a laugh and Jack's eyes captured hers with a dangerous expression in them. They were not laughing at Ruth, only shocked at her strange behavior in the last hour or so.

He turned Rose to face him. Jack studied her face, tucking a few loose tendrils of hair behind her ear. "Now…where were we?"

Rose stood up straight in his arms and lifted her chin, so that she was almost looking him right in the eye. With a sultry fluttering of her eyelashes, she answered him. "I believe Mr. Art Professor Dawson, that I was about to thank you for my painting."

Jack put on his best innocent face. "I thought you already did," he answered.

She stood on tiptoes and put her hands around his neck, pulling his face into reach of hers. Rose sighed and found herself drowning once again in the familiar pools of shimmering blue as she gazed into Jack's eyes. "I don't think I thanked you quite enough. And since we are alone now, I don't see any reason for not accepting your gift without giving something back."

"Remember, the other day when I said that I had been up all night working on something?" He gave her a hopeful expression, the lesson of their angry words at each other still close to the surface. "This was it."

She shook her head gently from side to side. Rose looked down at the floor and then back at him, also feeling bad about what had gotten out of control the other day. "I guess that was a real learning experience for both of us."

Jack rubbed his thumb along her cheek, a favorite way he had of trying to soothe her. "I only brought it up because sometimes I do that, get crazy and can't stop working on something."

Rose flashed him a smile and he thought he recognized a sparkle of fun in her eyes. "Would you like to do that now? Get crazy and not stop?" She playfully threaded her fingers through his hair and lightly touched his lips with hers. Instinctively, Jack responded, both of them lost in their own world of affection that they were coming to know so well.

As a soft groan escaped from him, he was barely able to whisper his answer. "Rose, sometimes I really wonder where you get these ideas. You seem like such a well brought out girl."

"Oh I am," she said resting her forehead on his chest. "It's just certain people bring this out in me." The look in her eye told Jack that life with Rose would be a constant game of daring and teasing. And after the quiet solitude of these past years, he couldn't think of a better way to spend his future.

Later

"Well, Rose, aren't you going to open your other gift?" Ruth pushed the small, elegantly wrapped box in front of Rose. She had been hiding it in her lap, waiting for just the right moment in their conversation to make her presentation.

"Oh, Mother, I thought the new dress you got me today was my gift." Rose noticed a look of satisfaction on her mother's face, an expression that indicated that she was relaxed and having a good time. She was in the kind of mood that Rose had rarely seen her in.

"Rose," her mother said, trying to sound shocked. "You don't think that I would give you just a dress for your twenty-first birthday. Go on, open it. Please, dear."

With her eyes darting from Jack to Ruth in anticipation, Rose slowly tore the paper from tiny box. In the centuries old motion of gift opening, Rose shook the package and was rewarded with the sound of something rattling inside.

Jack leaned back in his chair, holding his coffee cup between his hands. He was studying the interactions between these two women who he knew were going to be a part of his life. Ruth had certainly backed down from her rather haughty attitude that she had displayed at breakfast the other day. Tonight or at least in the last hour or so, she seemed more relaxed and less controlling. Whatever had happened to turn the switch on her behavior, he was not sure, but she certainly was much more pleasant in her present mode. Rose had been laughing and carefree all night, at first trying to please her mother and now enjoying Ruth's eager participation in their little party. Maybe one day both of them would be comfortable enough in their relationship to really enjoy each of their interesting personalities.

"Oh, Mother, it's lovely." Ruth looked satisfied as Rose pulled a delicate pearl necklace from the lined box. There were twenty-two pearls and now one diamond drop at the center of the necklace. It was the necklace that Ruth had given her as a child, promising that each year one pearl would be added. And how she had dreamt of what the necklace would look with twenty-one pearls. She had started wearing it when she was sixteen when it was no longer too big for her and full enough to look elegant. "But Mother, there are twenty two pearls. And how did you get this anyway? I thought I had brought it back to school after Spring Break."

Ruth laughed softly. "Well, you thought you took it back. I slipped it out of the little bag and you only took back the bag. And since we had to put the diamond in the middle, there had to be an equal number of pearls on each side." Ruth stood up and moved behind Rose's chair. "Here, hand it to me. Let's see how it looks."

Rose sat up tall, moving some loose strands of hair out of the way, while Ruth hooked the clasp. When it was in place, Rose touched the necklace, adjusting it so it lay just right. Then she turned to Ruth. "Thank you, Mother. I really am pleased." She got up and placed her hands on her mother's shoulders. "I'm really glad we are together tonight. It, it means a lot to me, well…" Rose cast a glance in the direction of Jack who grinned back. "Well, to both of us."

"I know dear. I would not have missed this celebration for anything." This time though Ruth's tone was not sarcastic as she often sounded in the past. Tonight, her voice was filled with sincerity.

Jack cleared his throat, hesitant to interrupt this special moment between mother and daughter. He reiterated Rose's comment of how special it was that Ruth had come for this birthday. And in a short time, she would be heading back to Seattle. "Too bad that you have to leave so soon. But I would imagine that Seattle is quite pleasant at this time of the year."

"Oh, it is lovely, Jack. When the wind is right and the air is clear you can see Mt. Rainier. And out where we live you can even smell the pine trees. It is beautiful."

Rose watched her mother as she spoke of the attributes of her birthplace. It was true that Seattle was lovely, but her mother knew just how to make it sound even more appealing. A trait she had developed as a Realtor. Ruth paused in her description of her hometown, letting her eyes come to rest on Rose and then Jack.

"Mother, what are you thinking about?" Rose saw the uncertain look on her mother's face and hoped that after the last hour when things had gone so well in the visit, that suddenly she was not going to have second thoughts about Jack.

"Don't worry, dear," said Ruth reaching out and patting her daughters hand. "I was just wondering about something. A few months back, we had talked about you coming home for the Labor Day weekend, and then all of a sudden, you dropped the subject. And I think I know why now." She smiled knowingly at the couple across the table from her.

Rose could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She gave Jack a tiny glance from down turned lids and was rewarded with a squeeze of his hand. There was no way for her to be prepared for her mother's next unexpected remark.

"Perhaps you and Jack would like to come up for that weekend, as my guests, of course. Airfare, everything. And if the weather is good we could even take a ride over to Hurricane Ridge in the park, if you would drive Jack. I really don't like that road. Then we could go out on one of the Washington State…"

"Whoa, Mother. We'd only be there three days. Not a week." Rose shook her head at this unexpected turn in her mother's behavior. Such a difference in literally a few hours. She couldn't help laughing though since her mother had already started to plunge them into activities when they hadn't even arrived yet. "Jack, what do you say?" Rose felt a little nervous putting Jack on the spot.

"Sure, we'll come. Only about the airfare. Ruth, I really couldn't let you do that too."

He was stopped by going any further when Ruth raised the palm of her hand. She was impressed that he was not intending to take advantage of the situation and admired his pride. She knew enough to back off and not embarrass him. "All right, Jack. I'll let you deal with that. But you must let me take care of everything else. Please?"

Rose working hard to control herself and stay out of the conversation with Jack and her mother. Mercifully they had both backed down. Jack would get the plane tickets and her mother would get to be the hostess in her own home. It seemed an even exchange.

"Fair enough. Thank you Ruth. I know we will have a great time. And Rose has told me so much about all the things there are to see in Seattle," he said sincerely.

"Mother, maybe you could check the art museum and see what is going on while we'll be there. Or do you want a vacation from art, Jack?" Rose knew perfectly well that Jack was always eager to go to see an exhibit.

"Once we get there, I'll put the arrangements in your capable hands, Ruth. Do you think that is safe Rose?" He sensed that Ruth was in a good enough frame of mind now to understand his teasing.

No answer was forthcoming from Rose's mother who suddenly had covered her eyes with her hands. Quickly Rose went to her mother's side. She recognized the posture that signaled the start of one of Ruth's migraines. "Mother, are you all right? Where is you purse so you can take that pill?" When Ruth mumbled that her purse was in the kitchen, Jack jumped up and returned quickly with it and a glass of water. Rose squatted down next to the chair and handed Ruth the tiny pill that dissolved under her tongue. It usually obliterated the pain before it had progressed too far.

"Let me take you home, Ruth." Jack had heard about the viciousness of migraine pain and certainly hoped that none of the food or activities tonight had been to blame. "If you can stand up, I'll get you to the car."

Rose had turned the lights down in the room, knowing that anything bright or loud intensified the pain. "She hasn't had one of these in a long time." She walked along side her mother, with her arm around her shoulder. "I get you in bed and you'll start to feel better." Rose was confused when her mother shook her head from side to side.

"No, Rose," he mother answered softly. "I'll go right to bed when I get home. I promise. You stay. It's your special day. I'll be fine by morning."

Rose stood helplessly aside as Jack helped her mother out to the car. She had learned not to argue with her mother when she had a migraine. It only aggravated her condition. And in a sense, Ruth was right. She would just go right to sleep anyway.

Jack gently buckled the seat belt around her mother and then went to the driver's side of the car. He whispered to Rose that he would be right back. Watching him like that, taking care of her mother who he hardly knew, again reminded her of what a special individual Jack was. He gave a great deal and asked for little in return, only her love. From out of nowhere came the thought of what a wonderful father he would be. She shut her eyes against the headlights and saw visions of tiny blond-haired children, all with Jack's eyes, dancing before her.

Rose heard the rolling of the garage door opener and the metallic click of Jack's key in the door. Looking back into the kitchen she was pleased with her efforts to tidy up the room after their dessert. She was sitting on a bench in the garden, patting Claude on the head. It was getting cool, but for a change, the skies were clear and the stars were glittering brightly. Jack called her name and she replied that she was out in the garden.

"Rose, are you all right? You look sort of forlorn." Jack slid next to her on the bench and put his arm around her shoulder. "I got you mother settled. Will that go away by tomorrow?" He had been able to see that Ruth had been struggling against pain and nausea all the way back to Rose's.

"Yes. It seems as though she suffers so much. She can go a long time without one and then it comes from out of nowhere. I feel sorry for her." Rose cuddled up next to Jack, her shoulders hunched from the night breeze. "And I worry a little, knowing that she has these when I am away. I guess this new medicine helps. It's supposed to take care of it instantly, as long as you take the pill the second the pain starts. And sometimes that is hard to do." Rose leaned her head back, thinking about all that had happened in the last few days. Their terrible fight, Ruth's attitude toward Jack when she first met him and now tonight, the astounding changes in her mother's demeanor. And of course, her birthday gifts. It was almost too much to really sink in.

"Jack." Rose pointed breathlessly to the sky. "I saw a shooting star. Right over there." She took his hand and pointed his finger to the exact spot where it had been.

"I haven't seen one of those in awhile. Used to though, back home. There the sky was so black, so dark, the stars looked twice the size that they do here." He spoke softly, almost reverently, as he usually did when referring to the time when he was growing up. He tightened his hold on Rose, pulling her even closer to him, so he could keep one side of her warm against him and the other side covered with his jacket. "My father used to say…" Then he stopped.

She lifted her head and saw sadness in his face. "What did your father used to say?" Rose was curious now as to why Jack had paused there.

"Well, tonight's your birthday and we don't want to talk of sad things. But since you want to know, I'll tell you. He used to say that when you saw a shooting star it was a soul going to heaven." Jack sighed and sounded melancholy as he finished his explanation. "I guess that made him feel better when my mother died."

"Well, it is a beautiful thought," she whispered.

They were both silent for a few moments, each lost in their own world. Jack was sorry in a way he'd mentioned his father's opinion on shooting stars. On the other hand, thinking of his parents always gave him strength and hope and tonight he sincerely hoped that they knew what a wonderful turn his life had taken.

"Rose, my mother had her ideas about shooting stars too." He felt Rose turn her head that rested against his shoulder and looked up at the sky.

"What?" she asked in a husky voice.

"She used to say that if you wished as soon as you saw one, that your wish would be granted. That your wish would fly to who ever grants wishes. Maybe you like that story better."

Rose did not respond right away. She was concentrating her eyes on the heavens, waiting for another star to come into sight.

"Rose?"

"Shh." She whispered. "I'm watching for another meteor to fly past. I've got a few things to wish for."

He felt her hand tighten on his knee and saw her beautiful face light up with joy as she spotted another flash above them.

"I've made my wish." She sounded gleeful and pleased with herself. He loved the way Rose found contentment in such simple activities. "And don't ask me what it is, Jack. Then it might not come true."

"Does it have to do with me?" he teased. Jack was assured enough of their relationship to gather as much.

"Of course, silly. But I am still not going to tell you. I will say one thing, Jack. This has been the very, very best birthday that I ever had. I love you, Jack. I really do." She knew that tonight she would dream of Jack and the future she wanted with him. A future that even included those dancing children that they would have some day. In a few years, she'd be ready to share tonight's wish with Jack.

Chapter Eleven
Stories