AFTER TITANIC
Chapter Thirteen
"Mama!" said Abby. She
toddled over to Rose and handed her a pen that had fallen on the floor, the
days at the hospital now just a distant memory.
Rose was sitting in her
classroom, grading French tests. Eleven-month-old Abigail had just started
walking a few days ago. "Why, thank you, darling," Rose said. Abby
had been talking for a few weeks. Just little words like mama, baba, and even
Mary--though it sounded more like Maui. Mary often played with the baby, which
was why she knew the word. Christmas was in a few short days, and Rose was
rushing to finish grading a load of tests and papers so her students wouldn’t
be worrying about unknown grades over the holiday.
This would be her first Christmas
with her daughter, her second since Titanic. Last Christmas had been a drag.
Rose was very pregnant, very anxious, and very lonely. But now she had her
beautiful, smart, sweet daughter. Abby had the lightest red-gold curls that
were rather short, but made her look absolutely adorable. She had her father’s
bright blue eyes and was just so small that when you looked at her, your heart
would melt.
Mrs. Dawson marked an A on the
last of the French tests, grabbed her bag and her baby, and headed home. There
was a chill in the air and Abby was wrapped in a few thick blankets, and Rose
wore the same coat she always wore, Cal’s old greatcoat. Rose passed a poor
little beggar, a girl who couldn’t be more than five or six years old. She wore
a thin, ragged dress and stood next to someone who appeared to be her older
brother. Rose removed one of Abby’s blankets and wrapped it around the little
girl. She looked at her brother, who nodded in approval. "Bless you,"
said the boy.
"And you," Rose said.
"Merry Christmas." Then Rose stopped at a few stalls in the outdoor
market and bought the rest of what she would need to make a pie and some other
pastries for the holidays. She headed down another street and stopped in front
of an old, homeless blind man. "Hello, Mr. Burns," Rose said.
"Ah…Miss Rose," said
blind Mr. Burns, without looking up. "How are you today?"
"I’m doing fine, sir,"
she replied.
"And how’s your beautiful
little daughter?" he asked.
"She’s well, sir, but how do
you know she’s beautiful?" Rose asked, smiling.
"There are some things you
just know," he said in his hoarse voice. "Besides, I lost my sight.
Not my vision. And that is a beautiful baby, in mind, body, and spirit. I’d bet
you get on your knees and thank God for her every day."
"I do," Rose said. Just
like she did almost daily, she reached into her bag and brought out a hunk of
fresh bread for Mr. Burns. "Here you are, sir," she said, placing the
food in his hands.
"Ah…Rose, you really don’t
need to do this," he said.
"We go through this every
day," she reminded him. "Besides, it’s Christmas. Now eat, sir!"
"Why do you call me
sir?" he asked. "No one else would. The word sir is generally
reserved for fine, upstanding gentlemen. Not me."
"If a sir is a fine man,
then you are a sir. I should be getting home. I don’t want Abby to catch a
cold. But I do hope you will let me bring you to the school for Christmas
dinner! Please!" Rose begged.
"Oh, you don’t want someone
like me there…" Mr. Burns began.
"Nonsense," Rose said.
"This is what Christmas is about. I’ll take you there at sunset. Now
eat!" And with that, Rose took the final turn to get to her street, all
the while holding her child close.
When Christmas came a few days
later, Rose got up early and dressed in one of her prettiest, most festive
outfits. It was a red dress made of a soft material, low cut and lined with
green on all the hems, with a green sash around the waist. She had added green
embroidery all around it to make it look nicer. She brushed her hair and left
it down. She walked over to Abby’s bedroom, where she found her daughter awake
and standing happily in her crib. Rose dressed her in a green dress she had
made, with a red sash and a pretty red bow for her hair. Rose studied herself
in the mirror and knew she looked stunningly beautiful. She shone with the
special radiance of one well-pleased with herself.
Rose gathered an armful of
presents, her daughter, and her skirts, and headed over to Meg’s flat.
"Merry Christmas!" she cried, bursting through the front door. Meg
and her children ran over to her and they all hugged. As the children opened presents,
the adults enjoyed some coffee and then exchanged gifts themselves. Rose had
made Meg a beautiful blue dress, which helped bring out her comely blonde hair.
Meg gave her something she could really use—a new coat. It was a pretty, long,
black wool woman’s coat. "Thank you so much!" Rose said. "Now I
can finally put away Cal’s old one!" The day passed pleasantly for the two
of them. When it got a little later, Rose freshened up and helped Meg into her
new dress. She then put on her new coat, and she, Abby, Meg, and Meg’s children
set off for St. Martin’s.
Most of the girls there went home
for Christmas, but there were a few whose parents didn’t want--or couldn’t
afford--their children to visit. Others were orphaned and had guardians who
weren’t keen on being bothered by them. A few girls had parents who had made
other plans. All in all, there were fourteen girls left there for Christmas,
Mary and little Elsa among them. In addition to bringing Mr. Burns, she had
invited Meg and her family to help fill up the empty seats at the long table in
the dining room.
When Rose found Mr. Burns, he
looked much better than usual. He had most likely washed his beard and face at
the water tap and dusted off his clothing. Rose had brought with her one of
Meg’s late husband’s jackets for him to wear. "You look very handsome,"
she told him when he put it on.
"Why, thank you, Miss
Rose," said the old man. "I only wish I could see for myself."
And then the group went off in the direction of the school, Rose holding Mr.
Burns’ hand and steering him in the right direction.
She couldn’t help but feel pity
for this old man. He had no home, few clothes, no sight, and no one who loved
him. Well, except Rose. Mr. Burns had become like a grandfather to her. She
often offered to give him a place to stay, but he always refused. He had lost his
sight in the same accident that had killed his wife, and he went to live with
his daughter and son-in-law. But then his daughter became a widow, leaving her
with a sick son. After her son died at the age of six months, the mother joined
him. His story was so tragic! At least his Christmas would be merry.
And merry it was, indeed. The
feast was large and everyone was happy. When Rose was walking home, Mr. Burns
said he felt so full and warm that he didn’t think he could ever feel cold or
hungry again. Then, as always, despite her pleas, Rose left the blind man at
the street corner where he slept.
The next morning, when Rose woke
up, she made a large breakfast just for Mr. Burns. She took her little Abby and
walked down the street with the sausage and eggs and hot tea. She spotted him
lying under his coat, asleep. She knelt down beside him and tried to shake him
awake. But he didn’t wake up. "Mr. Burns," Rose whispered. "Mr.
Burns. Mr. Burns." She shook him again. "Mr. Burns, I brought you
some breakfast. Mr. Burns!" The realization went through her and her heart
began to pound. "Mr. Burns! Mr. Burns!" Mr. Burns had died peacefully
in his sleep at the age of sixty-seven. Rose collapsed on the street next to
his body and held her daughter close. Tears gathered in her eyes and she
remembered something. "Jack. Jack, there’s a boat Jack. Jack…Jack…Jack!
Jack!" "No!" Rose cried. and covered her ears, trying to shut
out the memory. Why does God insist on robbing me of all the people I love?
Will I ever go on?