DEAR DIARY
Chapter Nine
May 9, 1912
Dear Diary,
I've been on this train for three days
now, headed towards Denver. Just as we passed through Iowa, I remembered that
Molly Brown lives there. If there is one person I know I can trust, it’s her. I
read in the paper a man had left behind that she had returned there last week.
So now I have a destination.
My emotions have been on a roller coaster
since leaving Chippewa Falls. I keep having this dream, that just as I left,
another train came in and off stepped my Jack. I know its crazy and my heart is
telling me I’m going insane, but what if it were true? I know it’s not. Jack is
gone. I watched him go under the water…but there’s just a part of me that’s
begging for me to go back. I cannot though, not after all that’s happened.
It’s near noon now and I’m rather hungry.
I'll leave it here.
Rose Dawson
*****
Two days later, after a rather long and rough
train ride, Rose stepped down from the train and into the bustling Denver
station. Loud and busy, it was quite the opposite of the one she boarded in
Wisconsin. Tightly grasping her only bag, Rose held her head high and walked
confidently out onto the streets. Cars moved about, people walked, conversing
with familiar faces as they continued onto wherever they were headed. Inhaling
deeply, Rose watched, anger building within her. How dare these people just
continue on, return to life as if Titanic had never happened, as if thousands
hadn't died, as if Jack weren't gone. The nerve of these people, the
inhabitants of the Earth, to be able to live without the desperation, fear, and
heartbreak she endured every day. And then she exhaled. They hadn't been there,
they hadn't watched as so many people took their last breaths, hadn't let the
other half of their soul sink to their watery grave. Life went on. That was
just the way it was. You could continue to live or stay huddled in a corner,
but either way, life went on.
Starting to walk again, Rose sighed to
relieve herself of her thoughts. It was then she caught sight of a friendly
looking street vendor. Smiling tensely, she hesitantly made eye contact.
"Hello. I'm looking for Molly Brown's
place. Could you possibly help me?"
The man, with skin the color of cocoa, smiled
back. "Mrs. Molly Brown. Ah, yes. Lovely woman, she is. Sure thing. You
just keep on a walking down here, about three or a four blocks. Then you'll
want to take a left onto Greenford Road. After, you'll take that down to
Havenwood, and it’s right there on the corner. Real big place. Red brick with
one a them big porches. Can't miss it."
Rose smiled again, more genuinely.
"Thank you so much."
"My pleasure. You tell Mrs. Molly that
'Ordon says hello."
Nodding, she thanked him again and turned on
her way.
*****
Twenty minutes later, Rose, tired and hurting
from the walk, stood outside the large brick home, suddenly reluctant to enter.
It had been almost a month since she had last been among such posh
surroundings, though with the money Cal had afforded her and the Heart of the
Ocean she had in her possession, she could definitely live among the most
elite. But that would be disrespectful to those first and last few days with
Jack. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and started up the stairs. Shaking
slightly, Rose lifted a hand and soundly pressed the bell. Mere seconds later,
a young African-American woman pulled the heavy oak door open.
"May I help you?" she asked, her
accent thick.
"I-I'm looking for Molly," she said
softly.
"An' who might I says is calling?"
Rose was silent for a moment before quietly
saying, "Just tell her Rose Dawson. She'll understand."