HEARTS CAN BREAK
Chapter Four
Ruth noticed that although Rose
had become pale and cold, her cheeks were still warm and the sparkle was just
starting to dim from her eyes. She didn't know what to do except leave.
"Rose DeWitt Bukater,"
she seethed. "This could ruin our family. The very thing we have worked so
hard to build. How could you do--something--like that with--him?" Rose's
mother whirled around and left the room, sobbing into her hands, her hair
braided around her shoulders. The maids excused themselves to attend to her. Lovejoy
also slipped out, to follow Jack below.
Now Rose and Cal were alone.
Cal's feelings of desire were
immediately overwritten by his anger and fury at the events that he could guess
had taken place with that gutter rat and his fiancée. He no longer had an ounce
of love in his brain. He leaned against the door frame, trying to keep his
composure, desperately wanting to take back this night. An affair in the
Hockley family? Unspeakable.
He walked over to her, intending
to say, I hope he ruined you, but words wouldn't form in his throat.
Automatically, his hand raised. Rose sighed and rolled her eyes, but didn't
flinch as he slapped her with incredible force across her face. He grabbed her
shoulders with an iron grip.
"Oh, if it isn't the little
slut, is it?" She didn't respond, awash with the memories of Jack's
gentleness against the stinging blow of her husband-to-be. "You will look
at me when I'm talking to you!" Cal screamed in madness.
Rose suddenly feared for her
life, and might have been injured much worse if her steward hadn't chosen that
moment to stride into her suite.
"Not now. We're busy,"
Cal fumed.
"Mr. Hockley, sir, I've been
asked to tell you to put on your lifebelts and--" the steward began.
"I said not now," Cal
shouted, releasing his hold on Rose in the slightest manner.
"I am sorry, sir, but it's
captain's orders. Now please, dress warmly, it's quite cold out tonight. And
may I suggest top coats and hats." The man disappeared into the wardrobe,
returning with two lifebelts and several coats. Cal looked at Rose as though it
was her fault.
"This is ridiculous,"
he muttered, rolling his eyes. She put a hand to her cheek, trying to cool the
burn, as she sunk to the back of the sofa.
"Not to worry, miss,"
the steward said, mistaking the hand for panic. "I'm sure it's just a
precaution."
Rose met his eyes. A precaution?
*****
Jack was hustled below to the
crewmen's passage. After Rose had been out of earshot, he had just given up.
Every few seconds he threw livid looks at Lovejoy, who ignored every single one
but simply held Jack's arm tightly. The Master-at-Arms led him into a bland
white room and handcuffed him around a pole. As he was jamming the key in the
lock, yet another man in a woolen cap woven with the words White Star Line
raced into the room.
"Sir," he gasped
breathlessly, "They need you up at the second class purser's office.
There's a big mob up there."
The chief looked around
helplessly, not willing to leave a criminal alone. Lovejoy, seeing his chance,
took out his revolver from his pocket and smiled. "Go on," he
breathed, his voice full of vengeance. "I'll keep an eye on him."
Again the master hesitated, but
with a click locked the handcuffs and mumbled, "Right." In two
seconds he was out the door, moving with surprising speed for one so bulky.
Lovejoy sat in a chair, crossed
his legs, and laid the gun across his lap. He sat there, grinning at Jack,
waiting.
*****
Rose stared uncomprehendingly as
Trudy, her maid, helped her into her embroidered coat. Cal himself was dressing
in the corner, but Rose paid him no mind. She was thinking of Jack, couldn't
stop remembering him. Regret might have been a proper feeling at the moment,
but she was experiencing something completely different. Why did these things
happen to her? She had jeopardized everything that was her life and it had
turned out to be all a lie.
Or was it?
Like someone had turned on a
switch, she began to recall the words that had been spoken with such
earnestness.
They've got you trapped, Rose,
and if you don't break free you're going to die! Maybe not right away because
you're strong, but--that fire that I love about you, Rose…sooner or later that
fire's gonna burn out.
Could that possibly be spoken
from a man who wanted to hurt her?
As she was fumbling for the
answer, her mother whisked into the room, ordered the maids with a few sparse
commands, took her daughter's arm, and led her into the hallway. Cal followed.
The cold, dead, murderous stares
of her fiancé sent shivers to her bones as the suite was locked by the steward.
The only way Jack had ever looked at her was with raw, anguishing love, and she
needed his gaze now more than anything.
Before she knew it, she was in
the main Grand Staircase Entrance, located on A-Deck. The dome glistened above
her, sparkling pearl even in the blackness of the night, reflecting the
glimmers of thousands of electric lights.
Jack! her heart cried. Help me! Tell me the
truth! She closed her eyes against a rush of tears, and when she opened
them, she found herself staring at the back of Thomas Andrews.
"Mr. Andrews!" she
exclaimed, grabbing his coat as he started up the steps. He turned to face her,
and she saw something that made her soul freeze. There was utter despair in his
face. Terror, guilt, and sorrow lined the creases of his mouth.
She swallowed as he watched her,
dazed. She needed to know the answers. "I saw the iceberg," she
continued, "and I see it in your eyes. Please tell me the truth."
He considered her for a moment, looking
her over to see if she was strong enough for the facts. Finally, he decided
that she was and, taking her hands, led her back down to the landing. She
watched him anxiously. "The ship--will sink," he answered softly.
Rose's eyes widened. No, it couldn't
be true. The Titanic couldn't sink. Of course she had heard and seen the
iceberg, but nothing could happen to the ship of dreams.
"You're certain?" she
asked, her voice trembling with fear and shock. She felt as if the icy sea
water was already creeping into her brain, numbing her mind with the cold,
section by section.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"In an hour--or so--all this will be at the bottom of the Atlantic."
His breathing had become rugged and drawn out. Rose's body was carved of stone.
She could feel her own chest heaving with fear. If it was sinking--Jack wasn't
safe.
Jack.
"What?" Cal had
suddenly arrived at her elbow, and couldn't comprehend the words from the
shipbuilder's mouth.
"Please," Mr. Andrews
continued, sweat beading on his forehead, "tell only who you must. I don't
want to be responsible for starting a panic. And get to a boat quickly. Don't
wait. You--you remember what I told you about the boats?" He met Rose's
eyes, to make sure he had her word.
"Yes," Rose mumbled.
"Yes, I understand." She never promised to board a lifeboat. She
still didn't grasp the events that had taken place, yet her mouth spoke an
unsought response.
He nodded, and the look of pain
in his face eased a bit, but not enough to matter. Then he turned and hurried
up the stairs, ushering passengers to hurry as he walked.
She stared ahead as Cal's hand
closed again over her arm and began to pull her to the boat deck.
*****
Jack continued to watch Lovejoy,
who rolled a bullet tauntingly down the desk beside him. The ship was at such a
steep angle that the steel cylinder slipped down the wood and into the older
man's palm. Finally, Lovejoy picked it up and thrust it into his revolver,
grinning an evil smile.
He waved the gun in the air.
"You know," he said lightly, as if commenting on the weather, "I
do believe this ship may sink." He paused and stood. "I've been asked
to give you this--small--token of our appreciation."
Suddenly, Lovejoy was in front of
him, and without warning, he felt a burning, splitting pain in his stomach as
the pistol was launched into his middle, knocking the breath out of him. His
lungs contracted, leaving him dizzy and light-headed.
Somehow, through his anguish, he
managed to make out the words, "Compliments of Mr. Caledon Hockley."
Jack heard steps retreating from the room, but he did not turn to look. His
eyes were squeezed in agony and he was bent over, groaning.
He knew what the punch had been
for. However, no matter how much anyone hurt him, he couldn't regret his love
for Rose.