July 5, 1918
Dear Mrs. Dawson,
We're sorry to inform you that your husband, Jack Dawson, has gone missing in action. The United States government is doing everything that they can. We shall keep you both in our prayers.
Rose read the telegram again.
"Oh, my God." She gasped.
"What's wrong, dear?" Liz asked.
"He--he's missing. He's gone!" she cried.
"Let me see that." Liz took the note away. "God almighty!"
"This can't be happening! He said he'd make it. He promised." Rose sobbed uncontrollably.
"It's okay, love. They'll find him soon. It's their job."
"But...what if he's dead?"
"No, he can't be. He's a survivor. Trust me," Liz said.
Her blue eyes gave her a look of truth that Jack gave her.
It was a worried look, but there was truth, also.
"Rose, I'll watch the children tonight. Go visit your mother. You've been too busy with the children lately. You've barely seen her."
"All right. Thanks, Liz."
"You're welcome. Go on."
A few hours later, Rose was at her mother's doorstep.
"Rose, darling? What's wrong?"
"It's Jack...he's missing. And today is our sixth anniversary."
"Oh, my! Come on...you'll stay with me tonight. Where are the children?"
"They're with Liz and Brian."
Rose followed her mother up the stairs to one of her guest rooms.
"Thanks, Mother."
"You must feel horrible. Get some sleep. You'll need it."
Rose cried herself to sleep that night.
She had horrible dreams of the past tragedy, the Titanic disaster.