ANOTHER CHANCE
Chapter Six

"Cal? Cal--is that you?" Rose was sobbing now. She couldn't believe that that man was about to--

"Shh. Everything will be fine, Rose. Don't worry."

She continued to cry as Cal led her to his hotel room.

*****

"Here we are, the Waldorf-Astoria Room 126." Cal opened the door. "After you, my lady."

Rose stepped inside and placed herself on the bed. "How did you find me?"

"I followed you."

"Followed me! You little--"

"Aren't you glad I did, though?"

Rose sighed. "Yes, I am."

"I really wish you would reconsider my offer. You do need a job, you know."

"What exactly is this job, anyway?"

"French tutor. I have a nephew. He hasn't exactly mastered the language."

French tutor! That was her dream job! Ever since she was a small child, she had loved the language. So if she had to work, this would be perfect. "I'll take it!"

"Wonderful! I have business matters to take care of so I'll leave you now."

Rose stretched out on the bed. It had been less than a week since she had met Jack and here she was working for Cal. Everything was so confusing.

Cal returned an hour later with a sketchbook in his hand and a puzzled look on his face. "Do you know anyone named Michael Calvert?"

"Why do you ask?" She knew him all right. He had saved her life once, though he didn't know it.

"He asked me to give you this," he said as he handed her the sketchbook.

She took the sketchbook. When she opened it, she couldn't believe her eyes. There were scenes from Titanic in there. The dinner party, her standing on the promenade her hair blowing in the wind. The very last picture was of her and Jack on the bow of the ship, kissing.

"How did he know?"

"You never told me about your connection with Mr. Calvert."

"No, I didn't. Do you remember when we first got engaged and I had pneumonia and the doctors didn't think I would make it?"

"All too well."

"I received a mysterious package one day. A sketchbook a lot like this one. There were scenes of me outdoors, doing the things I loved to do. Those pictures touched me like nothing else had before. They gave me the will to survive. But I never got a chance to thank the first artist who saved my life."

"Perhaps I can help. I happen to know that an exhibition of his work is opening in gallery not far from here. Would you like to go with me? My treat."

"I'd love to."

Chapter Seven
Stories