DEAR DIARY
Chapter Ten
May 11, 1912
Dear Diary,
Oh, where to begin? I arrived here in
Denver this afternoon, and eventually found myself standing on Molly's
doorstep. She was more than surprised to see me there, and ushered me inside.
We sat in the parlor and I told her all of that happened since the last we'd
seen one another. She was extremely saddened to hear that Jack did not survive
Titanic, and we spent some time talking about him...it’s such a huge load off
my shoulders to talk to someone about him, without worrying about how they're
going to judge me and my feelings. Afterwards, she invited me to stay with her.
It may sound a bit brash, but I was hoping for such. I just need a familiar,
friendly face right now. I fully intend on finding a job of some sort and pay
her back for everything...but I must retire to bed now. Good night.
Rose Dawson
Rose awoke the next morning, feeling
refreshed for the first time since Titanic. As much as she might not want to
admit it, she missed the lavish lifestyle of upper society. The plush, large
and comfortable beds, the maids who were always available--part of her felt as
though she needed these things. And for a fleeting second, she found herself
considering returning to Philadelphia, to her mother. But with a shake of her
head a half second later, she dismissed the thought. Sure, her life before was
very luxurious, but with that luxury came the lack of freedom, something she
had come to cherish immensely in the past month. A gift from Jack, she often
thought. He'd died for her freedom, and she would not, could not, let him down.
A knock on the door shook her from her
reverie, and a soft, feminine voice sounded from the other side. "Miss
Dawson, Mrs. Brown has sent me to help you dress. Are you awake?"
"Yes. Come in," Rose called, from
her place on the bed.
The door slowly opened, revealing a slim,
timid, blonde-haired woman. She smiled hesitantly as she stepped into the room,
wiping her hands on her apron. "Good morning, Miss Dawson. I--"
"Call me Rose," Rose interrupted,
not at all impolitely.
The maid nodded. "As you wish, Miss
Rose. I’m Patricia, or Patty, as I prefer."
Smiling, Rose stood up. "Nice to meet
you, Patty."
Patty returned the smile and the two of them
began to prepare for the day, both somehow realizing this was the beginning of
a wonderful friendship.
May 18, 1912
Dear Diary,
I have been here in Denver for a week now,
and I’m so glad I decided to come. Molly has almost become like the mother I
always wished I had. And she's been keeping me so busy, I’m afraid to say, I've
barely had time to think about Jack. As bad as it sounds, perhaps that’s for
the best. We've been scurrying around, trying to get the house ready for
Andrew’s return. Andrew is Molly's eldest son, you see, and he hasn't been back
to visit his mother for nearly five years now. They're coming next week, him
with his wife, their two children, and his wife’s cousin, who has been staying
with them in New York for a while now. That’s quite a crowd, Molly keeps
saying, since there’s been no one but her, Patty, the butler, and the cook
since her daughter left for University some two years ago. Oh, I must tell you
about Patty! She has been absolutely wonderful. I've never had a friend like
her. She's the sweetest thing, always there when my emotions start getting the
best of me. I’m so grateful for both her and Molly, for without them, I believe
I would be lost.
Rose Dawson