NEW IMPRESSIONS
Chapter Five

The sound of the water running and the clinking of glass and china as Rose loaded the dishwasher prevented Jack from being heard in the next room. There were wooden shutters that opened along the counter, connecting the living room to the kitchen when opened. Rose's back was facing him, and every few moments she would lean over to place something else in the machine. He smiled at her routine, impressed and shaken all at once. How surprising to realize how normal this scene seemed. His eyes left her and roved the room in which he stood. It was obvious that several young women lived here, what with the soft colors and the flower-prints that hung along the walls. But it was nice and comfortable, and the plush carpeting swayed under his feet as he walked. He was full from the wonderful dinner Rose had managed to prepare, and so he took his time ambling around the room.

His eyes moved over a small bookshelf in the corner, which at the moment seemed very empty. All the textbooks from the school year had been re-sold, and Jack guessed that Rose's roommates had taken many of their belongings back for the summer in Seattle. He bit his lip, running his fingers over several worn, leather-bound books that appeared to be photo albums, and found himself wondering why Rose never seemed to talk about that part of her life. He'd scarcely heard her mention anything about her mother, except her occupation and where she lived. Judging by Ruth's reaction on the phone, Rose had not told her mother about him either. And as he often told of his own childhood antics, she remained silent. Perhaps this was the only mystery left about Rose...or was it possible that he really knew nothing of her at all?

Shaking his head once, he was slightly angry with himself for thinking that. "Some people are just reluctant to talk about these things, Dawson. So were you at first," he thought, letting his gaze fall to an opened envelope, where a brightly colored card was partially sticking out. His brow furrowed and with one quick glance to make sure Rose was still occupied with her task in the kitchen, he gently picked the item up. The cream-colored envelope had Rose's name scrawled across the front, in a handwriting that was distinctly masculine. And in the corner was a return address that read 26 Kensington Rd., London. Now he was even more confused. Jack abruptly turned around, not sure if this was indeed something he should be viewing. But he was willing to take the risk of asking her about it.

The faucet had just been turned off, and Jack lifted his chin, saying her name softly. "Rose." He watched as she turned to face him, her beautiful hair moving with her. There was a smile on her face, and Jack returned it, only to lift the letter he held into view. "Rose, who lives in London?" He saw her face drop considerably, and the brightness in her eyes dwindle. A hand came to her face, and she lowered her head, leaving Jack to wonder the worst. Could it be that this letter was from some kind of boyfriend? Someone she had failed to tell him about? But knowing Rose, Jack immediately realized how absurd those ideas sounded.

"Jack, I..." Rose felt a hot tear threatening in her eye, and turned back to the sink, trying to form the right words to speak. Why did he have to find that tonight? Everything was going to be perfect, but with her mother's call and now this, the joy of the evening was dissipating. Suddenly she lifted her eyes, finding his expectant gaze across the room. He was moving closer now, a worried expression on his handsome face.

"Rose, if this is something..." But Rose stopped him, holding her hand up weakly.

"Jack, that's...that's my father. He lives there now. He has for about 10 years." There, she had said it. She watched patiently for a reaction from Jack, only to find one full of surprise and confusion.

He had not realized that Rose never referred to a father...in fact, the thought had not even crossed his mind. He guessed that with the excitement of the past few weeks, things like that had not had time to surface. Now, seeing the pain and sadness in Rose's eyes, all Jack wanted to do was comfort her. But how could he, not yet even knowing the circumstances? "Do you want to talk about it?" Jack's voice was gentle and soothing, and Rose swallowed. No one had ever offered that to her- not even Ruth, who had promptly thrown away any of Paul Dewitt-Bukater's remaining belongings after his hasty departure almost a decade ago.

Rose hesitated, then locked gazes with Jack, unable to speak. Closing her eyes, she recalled the sadness in his own blue eyes, two weeks earlier when he had confessed the demons of his past. Speaking about his parents' deaths, the grief he was forced to deal with, Jack had opened up to her in a way he never had before. With that insight into the depths of him, Rose knew that very few people, even Jack's closest friends, knew these things. She herself had been on the verge of tears, as she imagined a confused young boy in a Wisconsin farmhouse, longing for his mother's touch. And the young man, who at the age of eighteen set off to follow his dreams in California, knowing already that no one he loved would see him reap the benefits of success. During that conversation with Jack, Rose had felt closer to him that anyone else in the world.

He had trusted her enough, after only a very short time together, to show his weakness and his vulnerability. Was it time for her too, to wipe the slate clean? While she thought, Jack had come closer, and now he was only several feet from her. There was such compassion in his eyes, such consideration. And as if he had been reading her thoughts, his next words made Rose's heart thump loudly in her chest.

"Do you trust me Rose?" Wide-eyed, Rose felt herself stepping closer to Jack, and all she could do was nod.

"Yes, yes I do Jack." And she did. She swallowed and looked up at him, a small smile shining through her misty eyes. "I just...I've never really talked about him to anyone. I've wanted to put that behind me for so long, but I never can." She seemed almost frustrated with herself, and Jack moved him arms loosely around her shoulders. His touch felt so calming, as if his presence could possibly put some of this into perspective.

"I don't want to pressure you Rose. It's just that...when I talked to you about," he paused and ran his thumb along her collar, "about everything I've been through, it helped so much. To finally hear it spoken, hear it out loud." Jack nodded to himself, slowly pulling her to him. "I'm here to listen whenever you're ready."

Rose let out a long sigh. How could a man have this much of an effect on her? Being in his embrace felt as natural as breathing, and as much as she would have liked to keep these secrets of her past just that- secrets- it was impossible now. They had seen the depths of each other’s souls. And as their relationship progressed, her silence would only become a barricade between them.

Rose found herself clutching Jack very tightly. After a few moments in his strong arms, she felt that maybe she could put his confusion to rest. "No, Jack, you deserve to know. And there's no reason for stalling..." She lifted her head and looked upwards at him, finding more strength in his honest and caring eyes.

"You're sure?" Jack saw that she stilled seemed a bit uneasy. While all this had happened, the card he'd been holding ended up on the counter, where Rose's eyes darted now. She nodded and leaned back from their embrace, taking his hand. With her other she reached for the envelope and motioned for Jack to follow her. As they sat together on one of the couches, Rose moved her index finger over the paper, silently taking the card out. She shook her head back and forth subtly, holding it up for Jack to see. He squinted, finally making out the image of a castle, a glossy picture that would probably appear on a postcard.

"All these years, and he can only write three or four sentences." Rose sighed and read the back of the card to herself, remembering the day she had received it last month. The first she had heard from her father since the previous year. Jack studied her sorrowful face, seeing her lips move noiselessly as she read. "'Knew that you loved history...'" she seemed to quote from the message, a sarcastic tone in her delicate voice. "That was when I was 8...it's just unbelievable. Jack, this man knows nothing about me at all. Nothing at all." She quickly threw the card down.

Sensing her frustration, Jack moved a little bit closer, offering his shoulder for Rose to lean on, and she gladly accepted.

"He left us when I was 10- just up and left." She paused as if in thought, and Jack flinched, surprised and saddened to hear this. Never would he have thought that Rose, with all her fire and life, would have a history like this. He ran his hand over her arm softly. "My parents had never gotten along...not at all. But I didn't expect that to happen. Jack, if anyone knows what I'm talking about, it's you. I just..."

Cradling her head against his chest, Jack closed his eyes and nodded, gently kissing Rose's forehead. "I know this is hard. Rose, you can stop anytime."

"I have to finish, Jack." Rose brought one hand up to wipe her eyes, feeling safe and welcomed with Jack so close. "My dad is a researcher in London now. He used to work at a company in Seattle and part-time at a museum. He never told us about the job...I guess he knew he'd be leaving for awhile before he actually did. And that's what made me angry." Rose took a shaky breath and rested her hand on Jack's stomach. "My mom refused to acknowledge any of it...and she tried to act as if she was glad he'd left. She never got any of that anger out- never vented any."

"Is that why she's so..." Jack couldn't find the right word at all, for the woman he had spoken to on the phone earlier that night. Rose let out a soft laugh.

"Yes, exactly. But she's always been stern. It just got worse after that happened and we were alone. See she didn't have to work before. And my mother was forced to fall back on her real estate degree. It was hard at first, but she became successful with it. And I'm proud of her for that. She's just so hard to get along with..."

Jack smiled. "Well, we'll work on that."

Rose could tell that he was trying to cheer her up, and she grinned in response, lifting her eyes to see him. "Oh I see...but, Jack, that's a task harder than you think." She raised her eyebrows.

"You're right. I really don't know her yet...but weirder things have happened right?" His blue eyes were dancing again, and Rose couldn't help but admire his charm and his adorable wit.

"I guess you're right." Rose settled back against him, thinking of her estranged father so far away. "But she won't have anything to do my dad now...I don't think I've even heard her say his name in years. There was a conflict with the whole child support thing awhile back, but now that I'm older, it really doesn't matter."

Jack appeared both interested and concerned, and Rose knew that no one else would listen as attentively as he would. "So, how long has it been since you've seen him Rose?" He inquired gently.

"I haven't seen him since my high school graduation. He showed up very suddenly, and he," Rose swallowed, trying to keep those awful memories of that day, at bay, "he basically ruined the day for me. He was so stuck on old issues, always trying to prove that he was right. That what he did was not his fault..."

"It's certainly not your fault Rose," Jack looked her in the eye, "but some people are just hard to understand. Their motives are difficult to figure out...and maybe your father is like that."

Rose nodded solemnly, "I know he is. But it takes so much energy to solve these problems...and he's never shown any interest in working on them. He sends little notes like this one, every few months, with pictures of all he's done, all he's doing. While I'm stuck back here wondering why, always trying to reshape what he left behind."

Rose's words sounded almost poetic, and the emotion in her cultured voice was strong, like Jack had never heard. But she looked at him with eyes so grateful and loving. "Rose, you have to move past that." Jack's words were like a hammer reverberating inside her chest. He was right about that- but up until now, Rose had never met anyone who could help her do just that. And she had this strange feeling that Jack Dawson was that person.

"I know, Jack. It will just take time...but now I have you to help me." Rose smiled and stared at the man so close to her. It was hard to imagine that only a month ago, they had not even met. And now his presence was something she needed desperately. "Thank you, Jack."

Jack placed his palm on her cheek, and his eyes were so hopeful. "My pleasure. And you're right about one thing I know."

"And what's that?" Rose laughed and widened her eyes playfully.

"You have me now." Jack's sincere eyes were sparkling, and Rose lowered her head almost shyly, not expecting what he had said. She hoped that the look in her eyes- one of joy and promise would be suitable as a response. She moved her face to kiss him, protected as his arm slid around her waist. It was a soft and meaningful kiss...one that Rose thought would transmit the way she felt at this very moment. Once again, she felt the familiar jolt of electricity that his affection always brought.

When their lips parted, Rose jumped up happily and looked down at Jack's questioning face. "The pie Jack...I'll get it, just stay here." He let out a hearty chuckle as she walked into the kitchen.

When Rose returned, two large slices of the French silk pie on plates in her hands, Jack had turned on the television, and he sported an amused expression. He reached for one of the heavy dishes she held, and took a fork from her. "This looks wonderful, thank you Rose." He smiled and motioned for her to sit next to him, pointing to the screen. "Guess what's on?"

Rose turned to look and opened her mouth in awe, watching as the opening credits of Casablanca flew unto the screen. "I can't believe this."

"Well, now we can watch it together." Jack leaned forward and took a bite of the pie.

"We already have...in a way." Rose tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and eyed Jack. "But this is much better." She moved to the edge of the sofa, slowly sliding down unto the floor, and leaned her head back. "It's more comfortable down here. Come on, Jack." He paused for only a second before joining her on the carpet, scooting next to her until their arms were touching just the slightest bit.

"I love this movie...my dad, he had an old bootleg copy of it on video. This was before they restored it and everything or started showing it on these cable channels." Jack smiled and reached to turn the volume of the set up slightly.

"Oh, I didn't even see it until I was in high school. And there was no one really to explain the history of it to me. But after I saw it a few times, I think I caught on." Rose studied the old black and white map now on the screen.

Jack nodded to himself. "I'm pretty sure I was the only 8 year old in my town that was in love with Ingrid Bergman." He looked to the side just in time to see the dimples showing in Rose's cheeks. She pretended to be engrossed with eating her dessert, but once she glanced up again, she couldn't control her laughter.

"Sure, sure, it's funny I know," his eyes were teasing now, "but I've moved on." They shared a small smile, and Rose returned her attention to the film. They had been lucky enough to catch it at the beginning, and she listened thoughtfully as the town of Casablanca was explained. The black and white images were comforting, just like always, and this time, she actually had someone to share it with. Ruth refused to ever watch much television, let alone 50 or 60-year-old movies. In her words, it was all a waste.

"People come to Casablanca, and they wait, and they wait."

"Just like I waited for you, Rose." She felt Jack's warm breath on her ear very suddenly. He had leaned forward, and he rested his chin lightly on her shoulder for a few seconds. And in even that short of a time, his touch had managed to make her weak.

Trying to sound calm, Rose bit her lip and turned her head. "Waited for me?" She raised her eyebrows and her forehead crinkled in a question.

Jack looked a little embarrassed and backed off, nodding once. "I just meant...that I've waited for someone like you..." He twisted his hands together in front of him, a sweet expression on his youthful features. If Rose didn't know better, she would have sworn there was absolutely no way that Jack was 27 years old. At least not the way he appeared at this moment.

"I understand." Rose laughed delicately and touched his arm, moving closer to him again. "I feel the same way, don't worry." There was silence, but she felt his left arm drape across her shoulder, pulling her warmly against him.

As the movie progressed, and the windows darkened into night, Rose could sense the light and carefree mood of the evening returning. Jack was engrossed in the film, but he also seemed to want to share every second with her. She guessed his neighbor from the night at the student center, had been annoyed by the very same attempts. It was amazing how much he knew about both the history of the time period, and how perfectly he had memorized every line and every look. He could impersonate Bogart with the straightest face she had ever seen.

"Play it again Sam." Rose watched with a smile as Jack spoke in unison with the character onscreen. The corners of his mouth were twitching slightly, and his blue eyes were simply sparkling.

"Jack, don't...stop..." Rose broke into a laugh, knowing that was just what he was trying to make her do. His face finally cracked, and he threw his head back against the soft cushion, tilting it towards Rose. "You must have seen this a million times." Rose grinned and turned her body to face him, her voice low, as not to disturb the peace around them. The candles she had lit earlier were flickering behind Jack, making a halo of light around his head.

"Well, what can I say?" Jack sighed and rolled his eyes, swatting a piece of golden hair from his face. "I came for the waters, I was misinformed..." He whispered the famous line and watched delighted as Rose shook her head back and forth, trying to suppress another attack of giggles. He moved his head closer to hers, and it seemed that suddenly their shared space was extremely intimate. Rose's eyes were glistening, and he was happy to see her spirits raised so much, even after the intensity of talking about her father.

"Tell me Rose...are my eyes really brown?" Jack couldn't help but chuckle, and ducked his head behind her neck, nuzzling her slightly. Rose closed her eyes, basking in how wonderful and how right this felt. His presence, his voice, his tender touch.

"Jack, do you ever stop?" She asked happily, lifting his head to face her again.

"I don't think so...didn't Seth warn you about me?" Jack had that teasing look again, but something else was behind it as well.

"I wish he had..." Rose laughed, knowing Jack would not take offense at her own teasing. "So tell me, Professor," Rose raised her chin, mocking the sound of a serious journalist, "your favorite line in this whole movie...if you had to pick only one?"

"Not fair," Jack beamed, sliding one arm around her waist, "what's yours? I have a right to ask. And at least you understand it...unlike some other people." Jack seemed to be referring to the same night at the Chavez Center, with the blasé woman he had sat next to then.

"Hmm...let me see." Rose pretended to ponder the question, opening and closing her mouth several times. "I think this may be the..."

"Beginning of a beautiful friendship." Jack finished the sentence for her, laughter and amusement in his eyes. "That's my favorite too." He looked down and then up at Rose, touching his forehead to hers. She immediately recognized a more serious look in his eyes, and all at once, it seemed they were very close. The warmth of his body against hers was causing her heart to pound erratically. "I was hoping that what we had would be a lot more than that Rose....more than just a friendship."

Rose swallowed hard and took a deep breath, aware of Jack's lips so close to her own. "I hope so too, Jack. And I think it already is." Before he could say another word, she leaned forward, closing the small remaining distance between them by pressing her lips to his. It might have been the darkness outside and romantic light behind them, provided by the candles- that made this kiss seem special. But Rose was almost certain that it had more to do with their feelings for each other that seemed to be bubbling to the surface more and more.

She moved her hand to his hair, threading it through her fingers, and settled against him. When they finally broke apart, Jack's breathing had quickened. He placed a hand on her cheek, stroking it softly. "Saturday, Rose- the weather is supposed to be beautiful. A friend of mine owns a boat down in Sausalito...he's gone for the summer, and he left me to look after it." He saw that Rose was absorbing this information, and continued, "How would you like to go for the day? We could maybe drive back that night even. The boat is nice, and we could make dinner onboard."

Rose smiled. She remained silent for a moment, observing the depth inside of Jack's gaze. There was a slight worry there, if she wasn't mistaken. As if he thought she would not accept his heartfelt invitation. How could he think that she wouldn't want to spend the weekend with him?

"That sounds wonderful, Jack." Rose watched as relief flooded over his face, and just as she was about to speak again, some very high strung cords of music floated from the forgotten television.

"I think we just missed the end." Jack opened his eyes wide and looked for Rose's response. She just shrugged her shoulders and cocked her head, a bold grin on her face.

"It was worth it."

Chapter Six
Stories