AFTER TITANIC
Chapter Seven
Rose loved her new job. It was
sad for her to leave Amelia at the bookstore, but her former employer did give
her the lovely parting gift of some new books.
Teaching was a real joy for her.
The girls at the school were ranging from all different ages. The youngest girl
to participate in classes was five, the oldest was sixteen. Some of these girls
were only a year younger than Rose. It made her a bit uncomfortable, but she
made it a point to not tell them her age. Rose would spend hours each day
teaching sweet--and a few not so sweet--and eager--and a few not so
eager--girls about the English language and assigning them books to read and
grading their writing assignments, as well as teaching one French lesson a day
and tutoring a few girls who were slow with their Latin. Rose loved her job. It
made her think and was exciting for her. She had never realized how much she
liked children until she started working at St. Martin’s School for Girls.
Two months passed, pleasant
months for Rose. She and Meg decorated the second bedroom in Rose’s flat for
the new baby and filled it with all sorts of pretty things. Rose was rather
apprehensive. Would she be a good mother? Would her child grow to hate her?
Would her baby be all right growing up fatherless? Well, she would find out
soon enough. It was only a few weeks until her due date.
At the school, there was one girl
who was a particular loner. Her name was Mary and she was thirteen years old.
When Rose questioned another student she found out that Mary’s father and mother
had died a few months back, leaving her under the guardianship of an aunt, and
poor Mary hadn’t been the same since. Rose could see it for herself. The girl
rarely volunteered in class, but Rose knew she was smart. The essays she handed
in were magnificent and her tests were almost perfect.
Rose decided to talk to the girl.
"Excuse me, Mary?" Rose said after class, "I was wondering if
you would please stay behind. I would like to speak with you." The girl
nodded and looked to the floor, shuffling her feet. Rose pulled a chair up to
her desk and motioned for Mary to sit down. "I was wondering if I could
talk to you about your parents." Rose said. Mary shrugged. "All
right," said Rose, "What were their names?"
"Abigail and Joseph
McGee," Mary said quietly, not able to meet Rose’s stare.
"Abigail....that’s a pretty
name. What were they like?" Rose asked.
"They were great," Mary
replied. Rose pressed her harder. "My father decided to send me here a few
years ago. We were living in France, but my parents wanted me to get a good,
strong, American education. So they sent me here. But they would visit all the
time. My mother would sew things for me and my father would bring me books. I
really loved them."
"I’m so sorry for your
loss," Rose said with true affection. "When did they pass away?"
"Eight months ago,"
Mary replied.
"How? If you don’t mind me
asking."
"I’d rather not say,"
Mary began.
"All right, but you don’t
have to be ashamed. Mr. Dawson, my husband, he passed less than a year ago, and
I don’t like to talk about it." Rose said. Mary looked up at her.
"They were on their way to
see me!" Mary cried, tears welling in her eyes. "It was my thirteenth
birthday and I wanted them to be here. My father said he couldn’t book a
passage, but I begged him to find a way! And he did! He did! He got two tickets
for Titanic! And they both died. They both died and it’s all my fault!"
Rose was stricken. She couldn’t
believe what she was hearing. Rose leaned forward and brought her student into
an embrace, and Mary cried on her shoulder. "I know how you feel,"
Rose told her.
Mary pulled away. "No you
don’t! You have no idea how I feel!" Mary got up to leave, but Rose pulled
her back down.
"Yes, I do," Rose said.
"I was on that ship, too. And that is where my husband died. And he died
saving me. So I know exactly how you feel." Mary stared into her teacher’s
eyes, trying to tell if she spoke the truth.
"Mrs. Dawson, are you
telling me that you were on the same boat my parent’s were on? That they died
right in front of your own eyes?" Rose nodded, tears welling up in her
eyes. "Yes," she said, "I am."
"Can you tell me…what it was
like?" Mary asked.
"Are you sure you want to
hear this?" Rose asked. Mary nodded. "All right," Rose said,
"But I’m going to tell you exactly what happened." Rose told her
student everything. Not so much her own personal story, but she did admit,
under terms of absolute secrecy, that Jack was not her husband and she had met
him there. Rose told Mary about what it was like on board, being on the ship
when it sank, and the water. The cold, cold, water. When she finished, both
were in tears.
"So…that’s how my parents
died. They didn’t drown? They froze to death?" Mary asked.
"Perhaps," Rose said.
"That’s how most of them died." Mary bowed her head. Then Rose said,
"But during hypothermia, your body stops shivering because your blood is
concentrating on your most vital organs. It’s a very peaceful feeling."
Mary smiled, and was thanking her
teacher when she was interrupted by a bell warning them that dinner was in ten
minutes. Mary stood up to take her leave. "Umm…Mrs. Dawson? Would it be
all right if I came by your classroom sometimes to talk?"
"I would like that very
much," said Rose. They hugged and Mary was about to leave when she heard a
strange splash like sound and turned around. She saw Rose’s face, which was
frozen with wide eyes. "My water just broke!" Rose cried.