JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Eighteen
June 21, 1927
Rose turned from the porthole, where she had
been standing, watching it grow light outside. John was still asleep, the
blankets kicked off the bed in response to the tropical heat. She smiled,
watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Thus far, the journey had been uneventful.
After the ship had left New York, they had sailed south, the weather growing
progressively warmer as they moved closer to the equator. There had been no
storms, and of course, no icebergs, something for which the Calverts were
grateful. Even after fifteen years, the memory of the Titanic still haunted
them.
They were traveling second class, as John had
never cared for the ostentation of first class, and he knew that Rose wasn’t
fond of high society, either. It was more comfortable than steerage, but far
more relaxed than first class.
Each day, they had eaten breakfast and lunch
alone together, joining their fellow passengers only for dinner. They spent the
days walking hand-in-hand around the deck, or sat together, sipping tea and
talking or reading. Nights, of course, were spent alone together, in the
privacy of their room. All in all, it had been a very relaxing, romantic trip,
and Rose was glad that they had come.
Turning her attention to her husband, Rose
walked over to the bed, shaking him gently. "John, wake up. I want to show
you something."
He turned over, looking at her blearily.
"Can’t it wait?"
"No, you have to come right now. We’ve
only got a few minutes." She tossed him a pair of pants and a shirt.
"Come on, get dressed."
Since whatever it was that Rose wanted to
show him didn’t seem to be an emergency, he closed his eyes again, only to be
rudely awakened as she dropped his clothes and shows on him.
"Get up! We’re going to miss it!"
She was already wearing a light dress and sandals.
"All right," he grumbled, pulling
himself slowly out of bed. At Rose’s look, he hurried to get dressed, still
yawning sleepily.
The moment he was decent, Rose took his arm
and pulled him out of the room and down the hall, emerging on the
almost-deserted deck. Most people were still asleep this early in the morning.
John leaned on the railing, rubbing the sleep
from his eyes. "What was so important that you got me up so early?"
"Look out there." Rose pointed to
the magnificent sunrise, glorying in its beauty.
John, still groggy, was not so impressed.
"What about it?"
Rose sighed, taking his hand and leading him
toward the bow. Once there, she stood behind him, encouraging him to step up
onto the rail.
"Close your eyes. Trust me, I know what
I’m doing here. Now, climb up on the lowest rail, right here."
John complied, humoring her, though he would
have been happy to lay down right there and go back to sleep. He was snapped
into alertness, however, when Rose climbed up behind him, standing two rails
higher so that she could see over him.
"Open your eyes," she told him,
putting her arms around him.
He did, opening his eyes to see the sunrise
before them. The sea moved along under them, reflecting the beauty of early
morning, making it seem as though they were the only people in the world.
"Wow," was all he could say,
impressed by the view and Rose’s idea for showing it to him.
"It’s like flying, isn’t it?" Rose
asked, smiling and resting her chin on his shoulder, remembering another time,
another bow, another man long ago.
But this time, instead of darkness settling
over them, they were heading into the light of a new day, and of a new life.