CAL'S CHRISTMAS VISITOR
Epilogue

October 29,1929

“Get out. Just leave me alone, Helene,” Cal raged shaking his fist at his wife.

Cal watched almost regretfully as she quietly closed the study door behind her. Her head was bowed and he could see her slender shoulders shaking with sobs. It hurt him to see her like that, but today, he had no choice. For in a few hours, days for sure, the creditors would be knocking on his door and he and his family would be on the street. No, there was only one solution and he wondered if he were brave enough to carry on with his plans.

Cal had done well in the business for the last thirteen years. His personal life had been good too. Every night since that Dawson had appeared in this very room and shown him the damage he had been doing in his life and everyone else’s, he had really tried to make some changes. He had been fairly successful too. He had met and actually fell in love with Helene Hopkins. She had given him two sons, Matthew and Andrew. They’d had a nice life. They had traveled and had some good family times together.

When his father, Nathan, had died three years ago, Cal had started to change. He found that he had little patience for the boys. The romantic evenings at home with Helene grew less frequent. He’d started drinking again. Not only had the death of his father affected him, but it was the business too. The steel manufacturing business was growing more competitive all the time and Hockley Steel was having a tough time measuring up to such big names as U.S. Steel and Bethlehem. Since 1926, he had lived in fear that something would happen to the company and finally it had. Only not the way he thought. First he was afraid that someone would buy him out. But before that could happen, the events of the past week had occurred. The bottom had fallen out of the U.S. stock market and in the matter of a few hours, he had nothing. The company stock was worthless and he had no way to make the payroll.

He was sorry now that he had not given his all to Helene and the boys in the last couple of years. They probably hated him, even though the boys still looked up to him with shining eyes, as if he were some sort of idol. Some idol he was going to be. But it would be for their benefit, even though they would never know.

Cal opened his desk drawer and took out two items. One was an envelope written in his father’s handwriting. The other was a pistol. He looked over the contents of the envelope to be sure that everything was in order. In short, it was a document about a small piece of property in Cape May, New Jersey. A small parcel of land and a house that was held in trust to Cal’s heirs. It could only be inherited on his death and through a loophole would be protected from his creditors. The house was large and it could become a hotel or boarding house. At least Helene and the boys would have a roof over their heads and the chance for some income. If they stayed here and allowed themselves to be thrown out of the house, not only would they have that shame, but there would be no place to go. This was the only solution. And what was left? The business that Cal knew was no more?

Carefully he put the envelope back in the drawer, close to the front where it would be found easily. He was sure that his cousin Phil would give Helene and the boys whatever help they needed for the first few days. The drawer closed with a quiet click. He hoped that somehow the next noise would be just as quiet.

Cal took the pistol in his hands and looked at it for a moment. It was the same one he had carried in his pocket for the first few years after Titanic. The one he had tried to pull from his pocket the night Jack Dawson appeared in here.

“Well, Dawson, I tried. I really did. I hope you know that. And for a few years, I did okay. But I know what is coming. We both saw the gravestone. And I’ll be there soon. It’s just that they will never know what I sacrificed for them. They’ll never know.”

Cal pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the nervous sweat from his brow. Then with shaking hands, halfheartedly polished the body of the gun.

“They will think I disgraced them, Jack. But it’s the only way for them. For me too.”

Cal felt a sudden chill around him. “What difference does it make. Plenty of cold where I am going,” he thought, remembering the dampness that seemed to follow Jack everywhere.

He lifted the gun and aimed. With the rustle of his sleeve, he thought he heard a slight metallic sound. Was it the cocking of the trigger or something else. He had no time to think or worry. This had to be done before Helene or one of the servants came back in here.

Cal blinked and heard a loud noise. He could not tell where it was coming from. But swimming in front of his eyes were his grandmother, Minnie and Jack.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled, looking from one to the other.

He saw them move closer to him. Their facial expressions portrayed sadness and disappointment.

“Cal, I’ve come to take you home. You’ll be safe with me,” said Minnie. He saw her arm move about his shoulder, but he felt nothing.

He looked over at Jack who stood with his arms folded. Jack shook his head sadly.

“Cal, I tried to stop you. It’s too late now. Now what will they have?”

Cal held his hands out in a pleading motion. “Jack, you don’t understand. This was all I could give them. They will have something now.”

Jack sighed. “Remember what I said about eternity being a long time. You’ve got to look at those boys growing up without you. Your wife not knowing where to turn, thinking that you didn’t love her. Is that what you wanted?”

Cal bowed his head. Had he acted too rashly? Should he have waited to see what would happen? Maybe Phil had been right that night at the cemetery. Greed and arrogance had gotten him after all. He would have to live forever with that.

“I let you down, Jack,” said Cal softly, his shoulders sagging. “I let them down too. I did try though, Jack. I did.” He looked at Jack pleading with his eyes.

Jack nodded understandingly. Perhaps he more than anyone else knew more about how the mind of Cal worked. He had learned a great deal that night so many years ago. Jack raised his arm and laid it on Cal’s wrist. “I know you tried, Cal. For thirteen years, you put forth a good effort. I know that. That counts for something. Come on, Cal. We have to leave here. This room, this place. And just maybe you can help me. There might be some people that can benefit from your mistakes.”

Cal looked from Jack to his grandmother. She watched him with a hopeful expression on her face.

“Come, Caledon. Come along now. We must be going, quickly now,” she urged gently.

Cal turned his head and looked once more on the study, the mess on his desk, the envelope sticking out of the drawer. It was over. He had lived his life with sadness, anger, confusion and a little love. Now he had died with these same emotions. He wondered how he would be remembered? Would anyone feel any fondness for him even in death?

He looked up and saw that light again, the same light he remembered from the night Jack had taken him on a tour of his life. He took a step and walked hesitantly toward it with Jack and his grandmother at his side. There were no choices now. He had made those years ago. Now he would live forever with those decisions.

Friday, November 1, 1929

Rose glanced up from the newspaper she was reading. It was Friday, November 1, 1929. The front page was covered with articles about the stock market crash. Here in Cedar Rapids the effects had not been that great so far. Though there were rumors that the banks were closing today. She looked around the room and saw the clutter on the counter left from where her husband and children had made their breakfasts.

“I better get going and clean that up. With all the stories flying around, perhaps I should go to the store and stock up on a few items,” she thought.

Just as she was standing up her eyes were caught by a small article at the bottom of the front page.

“TYCOON HOCKLEY SUICIDE”

Rose sat down suddenly, shocked to see that name in print. It could have been her last name, if fate had not intervened. She read the article about how Cal had ended his life and left behind a wife and two young son. There were not many details.

“What really could there be to say, with something like that.”

She looked out the window at the bright autumn sunshine. There were still a few colorful leaves on the maple tree in her yard. They were fluttering in the wind and slowly several of them broke off the branch and swirled to the ground. Inexplicably her eyes filled with tears. She felt a sadness in her heart for Cal’s family. No one deserved that. Then she thought of Jack and how the water had gently swirled around him as she let him go after the sinking in 1912 and about how she had kept the promises she’d made that night.

“How odd. Cal is with Jack now. I wonder if Cal ever changed? The only person who might have been able to help him was Jack. The way he helped me. Oh, the irony of that,” she smiled, wiping her cheeks.

Rose sighed. She stood up and opened the window. The kitchen was stuffy with the smell of fried eggs and burnt toast and she felt a need for some fresh air in here. The dampness that blew in smelled of wood smoke and moldy leaves. It smelled like autumn. As she turned away, carrying her dishes to the sink, she felt a slight breeze on her neck, even though she was far from the window. She could have sworn she heard a voice whispering, “I did help him, Rose. I did."

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