As two o'clock neared, Rose felt her stomach plummeting downward. She was nervous around James or Charles Sherman. She didn't understand why. She couldn't love him. It wasn't possible. But for some reason, every time she thought of him or his name was mentioned, her heart fluttered and her knees went weak. She thought of this as she put her beige hat on her head. Again, a knock interrupted her thoughts. Another housemaid named Francesca, a young girl with red hair who was born overseas in France, entered the room.
"A letter for you, Miss Bukater," said Francesca.
"Thank you, Francesca," said Rose, taking the letter from her hands.
"You are welcome, Miss Bukater," said Francesca, curtseying and scurrying off. Rose looked at the front of the envelope and again, Jack's handwriting was scribbled onto the front. She smiled excitedly, sat down in a navy blue armchair close to her balcony and opened it, reading it to herself.
My Dearest Rose,
I apologize for not giving you an address to write to if you'd wished to write me back. If it helps, I live above the Portrait Studio in lower Manhattan where I work painting portraits. I am not there most of the day, for I am usually out and about working, visiting with Lynette and Martin Schrieffer and the saloon across from Broadway or running errands for the people of the town, which I do often. But I will cancel everything to see you, my love. Unfortunately, everything is too big for people to do on their own for the next week, and I cannot stay in my apartment waiting for you. But I promise that, as soon as you call, I will come running to you. I love you desperately and my heart beats for the growing love that I feel for you. I cannot wait to see you.
Jack
Rose frowned at his letter, for she was desperate to see him. She loved him with all of her being and he was too busy all week. But at least she now knew how she could contact him. She quickly grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and began to scribble out a letter to him.
Jack,
Oh, Jack! How I long to see you! How desperate I am for your touch and how I yearn for your kiss upon my lips! I am grateful that you are alive, and I will wait for you. I will not stop you from helping those in need. I must tell you that I love you desperately and that I miss you terribly! I must tell you something first…Jack, I…
Suddenly, a knock was heard at the door and Rose stood up, hiding both his letter and her unfinished letter behind her back as her father entered.
"Rose, my darling daughter, it is time for us to leave for lunch at the Sherman mansion," he told her. Rose nodded.
"I will be out shortly, Father. I just have to fix my hair," she replied. It was now Joseph's turn to nod.
"All right, Rosebud. You have a few minutes to fix your hair," he said, and closed the door behind him. Rose sighed as she turned back to her unfinished letter, shoved both letters into her vanity drawers, and gazed at her reflection. Later, she thought. I will finish my letter later. She adjusted her hat and left her bedroom.
*****
Rose sat at a table with her father and Henry Sherman while they awaited the twins' arrival. Henry Sherman was a heavy man with a red beard that was graying and was balding on the top of his head. Suddenly, the two Sherman boys arrived, one dressed in a dark green suit and the other dressed in a navy blue suit. The one in the dark green suit took Rose's hand and kissed it.
"Good afternoon, Miss Bukater! Quite beautiful you are today! I am Charles Sherman, but I believe that you knew this already!" he exclaimed, slightly obnoxiously. Rose smiled nervously.
"Charmed, I'm sure," she told him. Then his brother took Rose's hand and gently brushed his lips against it.
"I, my dear, am James Sherman. I apologize for my brother, for he tends to be obnoxious at times," James told her. Rose's nervous smile grew even more nervous.
"'Tis a pleasure, Mr. Sherman," she said, butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. James smiled at her and took his seat next to her while Charles, grunting to himself from jealousy towards his brother, took the seat across from Rose and Joseph.
*****
Once lunch was served and eaten, James and Rose separated themselves from the group and were walking through a large, ornate garden with many exotic flowers that Rose had never before seen or heard of.
"This is a Bouvardia," said James with Rose on his arm, referring to a grouping of small white flowers on a green stem. "It came from South America." He pointed to a flat pink flower. "This is an Anthurium, originally from Greece." He then pointed to a yellow cup-shaped flower. "And this is a Calla Lily, believed to have its origins in South Africa." Rose smiled as he pointed out the flowers. "And this is my favorite, a Gardenia." He picked a white flower that smelled of such a sweet fragrance and handed it to Rose, who happily took it. "It was chosen by my mother. They were also her favorite. My father gave her a bouquet full of them. Their name means you're lovely in I believe Italian or French."
"Oh, it's lovely!" Rose exclaimed, smelling the flower. "And it smells so sweet!" James chuckled as he picked another flower from another wall. He took out a pocketknife and trimmed the thorns off and handed it to her.
"Do you know what this is?" asked James. Rose smiled and nodded.
"A rose, of which I am named after," she told him, smelling the pink flower. "It is so beautiful!"
"To give one a rose means love at first sight," James explained, his happy expression turning into a nervous one. "Not that I am telling you that I have fallen in love with you…" Rose looked at him, suddenly feeling something that she did not feel with Jack. She couldn't be falling in love with James Sherman…could she? No…it wasn't possible…she couldn't love him. She loved Jack, not James. Oh, but how James made her blush. Jack did the same, though she hasn't seen him in months.
Rose thought back to that letter half-written and shoved into her vanity drawer. She was wondering if she should send out Francesca or Nancy or another housemaid to give it to him, but then she thought of James. He did make her happy, and he was so kind and gentle to her. Jack was as well…she could no longer take the stress of debating whether she loved Jack or James more than the other…
"James, my apologies, but I am not feeling well and I must go and lie down," Rose said suddenly, needing to be alone.
"Oh, that is quite all right, my dear. I will not keep you if you are feeling ill. I appreciate you walking through my mother's garden with me. No one else appreciates these flowers the way I do except for you," James replied. Rose smiled a half smile.
"Thank you for allowing me to see it," she said. "Good-bye, Mr. Sherman." With that said, she left James standing in the garden and carefully slipped from the house, avoiding Joseph's gaze. She raced home, threw herself onto her bed and cried, her heart being thrown back and forth from the kind, loving, working class man who had stolen her heart four months ago and the kind, loving, upper class man who had treated her so dearly, as no upper class man ever before had.