ALL THE WAY
Chapter Twenty-Nine

1996

Although they knew it would happen eventually, when Jack died in the spring of 1987, it threw the entire family for a loop. All of a sudden, the warm, friendly, joking presence that was always around, always ready to make you smile, was gone. It hit everyone harshly, but none moreso than Rose, his wife of seventy-five years.

She took the news badly, locking herself in her room for several days and refusing to see anyone. She didn’t eat, didn’t sleep…didn’t do much of anything except sit in her room. It was no surprise that she refused to accept it and kept saying repeatedly that he was just fine. However, the funeral was the clincher and in the middle of the ceremony, she broke down, sobbing her poor eyes out. The darkest days she had ever known had fallen upon her.

It took getting used to, not having him around. For a couple of years, Rose would still wake up thinking he was going to be next to her. She would reach for him in vain and when she realized her mistake, it would bring about another crying fit. That was the hardest, not having anyone to sleep next to after so many years. Their bed was so very cold…so lonely.

Finally, she decided to sell the house, claiming there were too many memories, and moved to a smaller place in Malibu. However, the Dawson Estate, as it had come to be known, was not passed out of the family. Michael’s eldest child, Brandon, moved in with his wife and children. This was a relief for Rose, who could then stop and visit.

It was in 1992 that she began to have a lot of problems getting around, thus leading to her decision to get some live-in help. Rose turned to Mary’s youngest child, Elizabeth, to come and live with her. In exchange, Elizabeth, or Lizzy as she was affectionately called, was given room and board and a small salary each month. It worked out perfectly; Lizzy was not married, with no intention of doing so, and Rose needed someone there all the time.

As the years passed, Rose began to get used to the void in her heart. However, certain times of the year were always difficult, especially around Christmas and mid-April. During those times, she would begin to feel alone and depressed. It worried her large family, but they left her pretty much alone when she requested they do so. Meanwhile, Rose tried to get her mind occupied on other things. She began to write children’s books, and had several of them published with the help of Jillian; she got into arts and crafts as well. Her favorite had become pottery.

She was doing as much one pleasant afternoon in February. Lizzy was in the kitchen getting dinner started and Rose was having a nice time at her wheel. She watched as the brown clay spun around and around as she molded it with her tired hands. She was trying to make a nice flower vase, but it wasn’t working very well and presently looked more like a bowl.

It was then that something caught her ear and she slowly looked up, stopping the wheel. The reporter on the television was talking about Titanic, and with curious ears, Rose got up from her seat and hobbled over. Ever since they had found the wreck, she had begun to pay more attention to the updates. With the new technology, they were beginning to see how and why the ship had sunk. It was fascinating, if haunting and hard to watch. Nevertheless, Rose felt it was her duty. This time the man was saying something about finding artifacts.

Lizzy was confused at her grandmother’s reaction to the news and came around to the other side of the counter. "What is it?" she asked.

"Turn that up, dear," Rose responded, peering at the television. Wonderful thing, this television. She listened curiously as the man said something about a piece of paper and then to her shock, saw herself fill the screen. Well, as close to herself as an eighty-four-year-old picture was. Rose felt her heart start to pound and she couldn’t blink.

"I’ll be goddamned," she whispered faintly. Oh, my God. They had found her drawing? Oh, my God. Oh, my God. The rest of the world faded away as Rose stared at the picture. Her picture.

Lizzy watched in shock as Rose’s face went pale and her hand rose to her mouth. She was instantly by her side, holding onto her arm. "Nana? Are you all right?"

Rose nodded mechanically and waved her arm toward her folded wheelchair. "Bring--bring--bring that over," she stammered softly. Lizzy quickly complied with her request and Rose sank down in the chair. Her mind could hardly focus on what was going on around here. All she could think about was her picture. The picture Jack had drawn for her. Jack, who was now gone.

Lizzy pulled up a chair and sat across from her grandmother, watching her closely. In all of her thirty-five years, she had never seen her act like this. Usually, Rose would talk to you, explain what was going on. Now she just sat there, one hand over her heart and one gripping the edge of the wheelchair. Some color had risen in her cheeks again, but it was hardly the normal shade her skin usually was. Her eyes were even beginning to change to a green, a telltale sign that she was emotionally troubled. This went on for about twenty minutes until Rose finally started to move again.

"Bring me the phone," she whispered to Lizzy. She had to get hold of this man, this Brock Lovett that was all over the news. She didn’t know what she was going to do past then. All she knew was she had to talk to him.

Lizzy pushed back the chair and jumped up, reaching for the phone. She dragged it over to Rose and with trembling hands, Rose pressed the zero button. After dealing with some less then cooperative operators, she finally got hold of the TV station, and from there retrieved the number for the Keldysh through some other contacts. Rose copied the digits down, thanked the man, and then hung up. Exhaling a deep breath, she looked at her granddaughter for some sort of reassurance, but Lizzy just stared blankly at her. Rose sighed again, picked up the phone and then started to dial the new number.

"Nana, are you sure you know what you’re doing?" Lizzy asked, finally finding her voice.

Rose cast her off with a wave of her hand and listened impatiently for someone on the other end to pick up. With each ring, she became increasingly anxious, her heart beating faster and faster. She knew what they wanted; she had figured it out making all those calls. They were after the diamond, that damned Heart of the Ocean.

"Keldysh. Bobby here."

The voice startled Rose and she had to blink a few times, clearing her mind. "Bobby?" she repeated.

"The one and only. How can I help you, ma‘am?"

"I suppose you want to know where the diamond is?" Rose asked bluntly. She was trying to ignore Lizzy, who was pacing around in front of her grandmother with her arms folded.

Needless to say, it took Bobby a few moments to respond. "Ah…um, yeah, actually. I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name."

"Rose Calvert."

Lizzy’s jaw dropped, her arms flew up into the air, and Rose shot her a look that said keep your mouth shut. She knew what she was doing; she didn’t need to be reprimanded by her granddaughter.

"All right, Mrs. Calvert. Let me put you through to someone else. Oh, here he is now…Brock!"

Lizzy watched in utter shock as her grandmother started talking with the person on the other end of the line. She kept mentioning something called the Heart of the Ocean, whatever that was. Then there was some business about a picture. Surely she did not mean the picture they had just seen on the news? Moreover, what on earth was this Rose Calvert crap? Her grandmother had never once hesitated to make it known her last name was Dawson.

"All right. Good-bye, Mr. Lovett."

Rose hung up the phone, jerking Lizzy back into the present. Mystified, she stared at her grandmother, who was just sitting there with a small smile pasted across her face.

"What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?" Lizzy didn’t mean to shout, but she was pretty sure her grandmother was going insane. "I’m calling Jillian," she mumbled, reaching for the phone. Rose’s hand was upon it before her granddaughter could get to it, however.

"Your aunt is going to tell you to mind your own business for now," Rose cautioned her. Although her children knew, none of the grandchildren were aware of their grandparents’ connection with the Titanic disaster. It had been decided long ago not to mention it, because the more people that knew, the more chance of the rest of the world finding out. Rose’s connection would bring up the Heart of the Ocean and God knew that would be a media heyday. She knew was she was doing now; it was best that Lizzy not figure everything out until she was on the Keldysh--less chance of leakage that way.

"We’re leaving in twelve hours, dear. I suggest you start packing."

*****

"She’s a God damn liar! Some nutcase interested in money or publicity--God only knows what! Like that Russian babe, Anesthesia!" Lewis shouted at his partner, throwing up his hands.

"They’re inbound!" Bobby’s call came unexpectedly and Brock shot Lewis an excited look as he started to hustle off. Lewis followed, still trying to prove his point.

"She told us she was the DeWitt Bukater girl, right? Rose DeWitt Bukater died on the Titanic when she was seventeen! If she had lived, she’d be over a hundred by now!"

"A hundred and one next month," Brock corrected without even bothering to give Lewis so much as a glance.

"Okay, so she’s a very old goddamn liar. Look, the DeWitt Bukater girl’s first name was Rose. That’s the only connection I can find here. I can’t even pick up any information on the Calvert deal! There isn’t one by that name in Malibu around her age, Brock! The only woman named Rose her age is someone by the name of Rose Dawson! Dawson, Sherlock! There was no Dawson connection with the Titanic other than that one stoker guy. She’s lying about something!" Lewis was just ranting now, but with good reason. He had no doubt in his mind that this woman, whoever she actually was, was completely insane.

Brock turned around finally and pointed his finger at Lewis. "But she knows about the necklace! That has to mean something."

"The name!" Lewis exploded, throwing his hands up.

"Maybe she changed it," Brock said, sighing, as he turned around. He was hardly in the mood for Bodine’s insipid ranting.

"The DeWitt Bukater girl died!"

Brock took off into a sprint to where the helicopter landing pad was. It took a few moments, but Lewis finally caught up. They stood, the gust from the helicopter blowing their hair all about, with their eyes shielded from the midday sun as the transporter landed in front of them.

With a look that told Lewis to keep his mouth shut, Brock left him again. The crew began to unload suitcase after suitcase and with excitement, he ran up to the side of the helicopter as the doors opened.

Rose, in her wheelchair, was lowered down first. Brock was initially shocked at how old she was. He knew she was old, but his mind hadn’t comprehended just how old she actually was. For a moment, he heard Bodine’s voice echo in his head, but he shook it away.

A woman with blonde hair jumped down after Rose, and Brock realized it must be her granddaughter. He had been expecting someone around eighteen when Rose had described her over the phone. However, this was no eighteen-year-old.

"Miss Calvert?" He stuck out his hand to hers. She responded with a warm handshake and a quick hello. Then he watched as she shrugged off the help that was being offered to her and then wheeled her grandmother off.

"Hey!"

Brock turned his head toward the voice shouting into his ear. A fish bowl was instantaneously thrust in front of his face and with some bewilderment, he took it. Again he turned his attentions toward the two women being directed inside. He was going to get to the bottom of this and if he had his way, he would have that diamond in his hand by this time tomorrow.

Chapter Thirty
Stories