About a week later, Rose received another letter from Jack, which was delivered by Francesca early in the morning. Rose awoke with a fright at the sound of pounding at her door, and she got up to answer it.
"Miss Rose, I am sorry, but you have a letter," said Francesca, curtseying to her. Rose sleepily took the letter and watched as Francesca scurried off. Looking at the address, Rose closed her door and sat down on her bed, opening the letter:
My Dearest Rose,
My work is complete and I still have not heard from you. I am beginning to worry if you're even getting my letters. If not, then I guess writing to you would be pointless, but if you are, I can't help but wonder; do you still love me? If you do, why haven't you written to me? Do you fear that I do not love you anymore? I love you so much and I am desperate to hold you in my arms once again, unless you do not wish me to. If you do not love me, what happened? Are you married or engaged? Are you in love with another? Did your mother force you to marry Cal? Rose, I love you too much to keep myself from you much longer. Your father has a portrait appointment at the Portrait Studio on Wednesday and I am scheduled to paint his portrait. I am not asking you to come, unless you would like to. I am hoping to see you soon, my love.
Jack
Rose gaped at the letter, shocked that her father was now going to meet the man that stole her heart so long ago. She was desperate to see him, but what about James? She didn't love him, though…did she? Men are so selfish, she thought. All they're good for is stealing a woman's heart and forcing her to choose between a sweet man and an even sweeter one. She did not know James Sherman as well as she knew Jack. Then again, she didn't even know Jack that well either. All she knew was that he was a penniless man from Wisconsin with neither parents nor siblings.
She did miss Jack, and she knew that he missed her. She thought back to that letter hidden in her drawer. He must be hurt that she never sent it, that he never heard from her. She did want to see him, and at the same time, didn't. What was she to do? She was in love with Jack still, and she was beginning to fall in love with James Sherman. She looked at her bedside table, where the bouquet of red roses from Jack and the pink rose and gardenia from James sat. James had told her that giving one a rose meant true love, and then she looked at Jack's rose. He'd given her twelve. She'd counted that day. He'd told her he loved her twelve times, that's eleven more than James. But it'd taken so long for Jack to contact her.
Rose sighed, not knowing what to do. She did love Jack, and she wanted to tell him that. But she also didn't want to hurt James. How could she tell either that she was in love with one and starting to fall in love with the other? She couldn't, and she had to choose quickly. On one hand, James is wealthy, while Jack is poor and can't support her. On another hand, she'd only known James for a week and had known Jack for four months. But then again, she hadn't spoken to Jack in four months. James she had spoken to recently. She imagined looking directly into both of their eyes. In Jack's, she saw pure love and protection, and she knew that Jack would love her no matter what and she was assured that everything would be okay. In James's, she wasn't sure what she saw. She did see that he had his heart set on her, but he wasn't sure of his feelings yet. After all, he'd known her for only a week. Then she thought of age, how Jack was twenty and James was nineteen. She was only seventeen, and to her, age didn't matter. She loved both men and didn't know what to do. She sighed, and decided to talk to Lynette.
*****
"What do you mean you don't know who to love?" Lynette exclaimed, clearly shocked at what her close friend had just informed her of.
"Well, Lynette, James Sherman is so kind and Jack is so loving and protective…I don't know…" Rose told her friend, looking away.
"Rose, Jack is the one that you love. Do not forget that! Who was it that saved your life more than once?" Lynette asked her.
"Well, Jack, of course…"
"And who was it that didn't care what class you were in, he loved you either way?"
"Jack, but…"
"And who was it that you thought had died for you for the past four months?" Rose sighed.
"Jack of course…"
"Then isn't your decision obvious? It's Jack that you love, not James!"
"But my father wants me to marry rich, and I can't disrespect him by saying I've fallen in love with a working class man!"
"Rose, listen, I don't care what your father wants. Jack is the man you love, and you belong to him. You've loved him for the past four months and he's loved you even more. Rose, go to him, or write him and tell him to come to you. He loves you, Rose. Every time he comes in here, he asks me if you're here, and I always have to break his heart and tell him no. Rose, go to him. Please."
"I-I can't…" Rose told her, looking away again. Lynette sighed as the door opened. She looked over in the direction of the door and grabbed Rose's wrist, smiling.
"Rose, guess who’s here!" she exclaimed excitedly. Rose looked up, and she was instantly overcome by a feeling of warmth as her green eyes locked on the piercing blue gaze of Jack Dawson.