ADJUSTING
Chapter Ten
Anniversary
April 14, 1913
One year. It had been one year already. So
much had changed for Rose since then. She had completely re-invented herself.
She was no longer the frail, weak first class girl who was engaged to Caledon
Hockley. She was Rose Dawson, a strong, single mother of a beautiful baby girl.
Rose felt Jack’s presence all that day. He
would not show himself, but Rose knew he was there with her, and that he, too,
was feeling the grief of the dreadful anniversary.
Hope, sensing her mother’s discomfort, whined
in her crib next to Rose’s bed. "What’s the matter, honey?" Rose
asked as she picked up her daughter. She cradled the baby in her soothing arms.
Hope seemed to be entertained by Rose’s loose curls. She reached out to grab a
stray strand of hair and began to curl it around her tiny fingers.
Rose sat down on her bed and scrunched up to
the backboard. She laid Hope down in the middle of the bed and began to tickle
the baby’s stomach. Hope smiled and giggled, thrashing her legs up and down.
"You like that, huh?" Rose said playfully.
Rose bent over and touched her nose to Hope’s. Hope liked that all the more and
began to play with her mother’s curls once more.
Rose picked up her daughter again and laid on
her back. She stretched her arms straight upward, holding Hope in the air. The
baby let out giggles of delight. Rose moved her arms forward, then back again
in circles, giving Hope the sensation that she was flying.
When Rose’s arms finally began to wear out,
she placed Hope back onto the bed again. "Aren’t you tired yet? Are ya?
You know, it’s almost eight o’clock. Little girls such as yourself should be
sleeping by now."
As if on cue, Hope let out a yawn and began
to close her eyes. "That’s my sweet little girl." Rose scooped Hope
up into her arms and placed her back into her crib. Within minutes, she had
fallen asleep.
Rose looked at her clock; it was 7:56. The
sun would just now be setting--Rose’s heart would have taken flight. The colors
were oh-so-brilliant, and the wind blew wildly around her face.
Rose closed her eyes and relived the moment.
She could smell the sea air, feel Jack’s body pressed against hers from behind,
feel the wind against her cheeks.
"Come Josephine in my flying machine
going up she goes, up she goes..." she heard Jack whisper in her ear.
The rest of the night went on to be
remembered, minute by minute, hour by hour, until the very last survivor had
been brought aboard the Carpathia.
Rose Dawson became Rose DeWitt Bukater that
night once more. And for every April fourteenth thereafter, she would relive
the entire night. Again and again, until she was finally with her Jack once
more.