Rose looked down at her engagement ring, feeling her stomach flutter. She had never felt so happy in her entire life. Today was her seventeenth birthday. Already she had received well wishes from work colleagues and Mrs. Brookes, but she had yet to see Jack.
Her sixteenth birthday had been celebrated at her Philadelphia home, surrounded by her mother, father, and socialite friends. Many of the three hundred people who attended she had never met in her entire life. Most were her mother’s friends and their families. She had worn a beautiful floor length royal green dress, which was decorated with crystals. Her hair had been styled by the maids all day, and had been twisted into a bun on her head. She had worn a diamond tiara that matched her bracelet and earrings.
After the party, the family had sat down for a roast lamb dinner and then Rose had opened some of her gifts. They had all been very expensive. Some were jewelry, others had been dresses specially made for her—all of which were pointless, as Rose had possessed plenty of jewelry and clothes.
Cal had attended the party with his father, Nathan, and mother, Alison, who were acquaintances of her mother’s. Rose knew even then that Cal had an interest in her, but she’d had no intention whatsoever of courting him, and she had told her father right away how much she despised his snootiness.
Her father…this was her first birthday without him, and she wished with all her heart that he was there. But she had a lot to be thankful for. This birthday couldn’t be more different from her last. She felt so much more mature and happier this year. She had a job, a place to stay, great people around her and, of course, she had her Jack, her fiancé.
“Happy birthday, Rose, darling.” Larry hobbled into the parlor, interrupting Rose from her thoughts. Rose turned to him, seeing him struggle into his armchair.
“Thank you, Larry, but are you all right?” she asked, worried. She went to the chair where he sat and attempted to rearrange the cushions to try to bring him more comfort. He waved his hand, indicating to her to stop fussing.
“Don’t worry about me. It’s your birthday.” He grinned, showing his gums.
He had lost his teeth in his fighting days. Mrs. Brookes had told her he was one of the greatest fighters in the East End in his heyday. Larry was sixty-five years old, and even though he was a fairly large man, he was frail and weak. Mrs. Brookes, or Doris, as she had told her and Jack many times to call her, had to manage to look after Larry as well as run her business. She was a seamstress and had been for many years. She made lovely wedding dresses and kept photographs of all the brides’ dresses she had made.
“I don’t care if it’s my birthday. Now, come on. Sit forward. Let’s sort the cushions out.” Larry sighed. He hated being told what to do by a young woman, but he knew he had very little choice.
“You are a little gem.” He grinned at her.
Rose sat across the room from him on the sofa. The parlor was a large room, with an adjoining dining room. The building was a five bedroom house, but Doris rented the upstairs rooms to people who passed through town, like Rose and Jack. The downstairs bedroom was where Larry slept. There was a large kitchen, parlor, and dining room downstairs.
“And you’re a charmer,” Rose teased him, knowing he enjoyed having a good laugh. She felt sorry for him, and she wished there was something she could do to help him.
“What’s the birthday plan, then? You off to kick up your heels?” Larry attempted to reach for his cup of tea, which he had placed on the coffee table, but couldn’t. Rose jumped up and handed his tea to him. “I know Doris plans to cook you and Jack a slap up meal when she returns.”
Rose sighed. She didn’t want anyone to go to a lot of trouble because it was her birthday. “I’d rather she didn’t.”
“Oh, you know my wife. She won’t let you off that easily.” He shook his head and sipped his tea. “Always been the same, she has. Very helpful, wouldn’t see anyone hurt. Ah…she was a beauty.” Larry remembered the day he had met her. August 14, 1870. “She was seventeen when I met her at the annual fair. She was with another man, of course. She always was.”
Rose laughed. She couldn’t imagine Doris with any other man. “How did you two get together?”
“Well, we went dancing at the civic hall just before her eighteenth. I’d admired her from afar for a while. I was shy. I had been boxing and was ready to leave when the dancing class began. Doris was there with her best friend, Sheila. I was sitting on the edge of the stage and just watching her dance with her friend. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her…” he recalled. He looked at Rose, laughing. “She was the girl that all of the men wanted—blonde hair, blue eyes, and…um…busty.” He grinned, winking at Rose. “Anyway, I asked her to dance and she said yes. She told me her friend had seen me looking at her, and she had felt a connection to me. She said to me, “Larry, believe it or not, but as soon as I saw you, I said to Sheila, I’m going to marry him.”
Their story sounded perfect, like something from a romantic novel. “And you did marry her. You two are so perfect together.”
“Ah…I love her to death. But we haven’t had a perfect marriage. Doris could never have children. She felt as though she failed me and left me for a summer, until I found her in Scotland and brought her back home. I wasn’t having any of it. She is mine and will be until the day I die and beyond.” Larry moaned slightly and attempted to stand. Rose immediately stood up to pass his walking stick. He limped into the kitchen and reached into the cupboard.
“Larry, what are you doing?” she asked, not wanting him to hurt himself. Removing his hand from the cupboard, he moved out of the way slightly.
“Top shelf. Can you reach?”
Rose tiptoed and tried to feel around for something, but all she could feel was paper. “What am I reaching for?”
“Photographs,” he replied, walking back into the parlor. Rose pulled out the paper, reached back up, and found a pile of photographs. She looked at the top one of Larry, when he was younger, wearing boxing gloves.
“My, my. Larry, weren’t you a handsome devil in your time?” She smirked at him.
“Hey. Be careful. You are engaged to be married,” he joked. “But I was a bit of all right.”
Rose laughed. She handed Larry his spectacles, knowing he couldn’t see without them, and she sat on the arm of the chair next to him. He searched through the pile of photographs on his knee, finding the one he was looking for. “Here it is.” He picked the grainy, black and white picture out of the pile. He examined it carefully before handing it to Rose. “January 5, 1873. The day she became my wife.”
Rose brought the photograph to her face. Never in a photograph had she seen someone smile—even on her parents’ wedding day. “Larry, you look so happy. Doris was lovely.” She was stunned. Doris wore a lace wedding dress and a beautiful veil.
The door slammed, and Rose guessed Doris was home. She handed the photograph back to Larry, who himself admired it. She heard voices from the hallway and guessed Doris was not alone. Jack came through the door, carrying a large box of different materials. Doris followed. “I borrowed your husband-to-be for the afternoon for a spot of shopping.”
“Where do you want it?” Jack shouted from the kitchen, still holding the box.
“Anywhere will do!” she shouted back. Larry looked as confused as Rose did.
“What’s all of this in aid of?” Rose pointed to the bags at the front door.
“I’m going to cook you a birthday meal. There are also a few presents in there, so don’t go snooping, young lady.” Doris lifted her finger up at Rose and smiled.
Rose felt guilty, not wanting such a big deal. “But…” Rose started to say something, but knew she had no choice in the matter. She was grateful to everyone for how they had rallied round and were trying to make it a good birthday for her.
*****
Rose laughed hysterically as her eyesight blurred. She fell against the wall in her pathetic attempt to climb the stairs. Jack grabbed her arm, stopping her from falling anymore.
After having dinner with Jack, he had taken her dancing for the first time since his fighting days. They had drunk probably more than they should, but Rose hadn’t had so much fun in a long time.
Jack shushed Rose so they didn’t wake Larry or Doris, but Rose still giggled loudly. He had to laugh at her attempts to play sober and climb the stairs. He held her waist tightly so that she didn’t fall.
She had never drunk so much, but that, combined with the dancing, had made her feel wild. She had danced with Jack all night, despite offers from other men, who she politely declined. She only intended to spend her birthday with Jack.
Finally reaching their bedroom, Rose kicked the door open and removed her coat, throwing it to the floor. She felt crazy tonight, and she watched as Jack hung her coat up and removed his own.
Coming towards him, she smiled at him. Jack seemed confused. He hadn’t seen that smile from her before.
He had to admit she looked stunning. Her curls cascaded down her back, and she looked amazing in the royal blue dress he had bought for her birthday. Her engagement ring glittered on her finger, and he felt happy knowing she was going to marry him one day.
Slowly, she came towards him and leaned forward to kiss him. Both felt the spark between them. She grew more passionate as she kissed him. He became lost in her as he touched her face, then her hair. He loved her so much. The power she had over him was immense.
She backed him up against the wall. She could feel their bodies close together. She wanted him. She was sure of that. Breathless, she pulled away from him and slowly began to unbutton his shirt, one by one, just as she had the night in the bathroom in Paris.
“Rose…” Jack whispered, not sure if they should be doing this. She was intoxicated, and he didn’t want to take advantage of her.
Shushing him, she kissed him once again. He felt himself throb for her. She undid all of his buttons, pulling the shirt down his arms and throwing it to the floor. He wrapped his bare arms around her body and pulled away from her, turning her back to him so that he could unbutton her dress. He moved her hair to one side and kissed her neck as he undid her dress. It fell to the floor and she kicked it away.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Once she was lying down, he removed her stockings before laying on top of her. Neither of them knew what would happen as they continued to kiss. Rose had never wanted anyone more in her life.
Jack kissed her neck and bit her in places, seeing the reddened areas that he had sucked. He felt slightly guilty. He couldn’t do this now. She was drunk. He felt disgusted with himself for getting so carried away.
“Rose…” he whispered to her. “We can’t do this.”
She looked up at him. He could see the hurt in her eyes. Twice he had turned her down, but not because he didn’t want her. He did—it killed him. But he had to respect her. If she wasn’t intoxicated, maybe he would have made love to her, but he couldn’t.
“Why not?”
Pushing himself off of her, he sat up on the bed, running his fingers through his hair. She looked at him with confusion in her eyes.
“Rose, don’t think it’s because I don’t want you, because I do…I just…I’d be taking advantage of you if we made love.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I am here, giving you the advantage.”
She stood, feeling unwanted. Jack took her arm and pulled her back to the bed so that she sat on his knee. He placed both his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. He knew that she must think he didn’t want her, and she probably didn’t understand his reasons, but he had to make her see.
“Rose, I love you so much, and believe me, I don’t know how I can resist you. You’re so beautiful.” He kissed her cheek, and she smiled a little. “I want to wait until we’re married. I want everything to be perfect and for us both to have an amazing wedding night.” She pulled away from him slightly and he winked at her.
She nodded slowly. “All right. I’m sorry for being so forward.”
“No. Don’t be. I can’t wait until we’re married. I want you.”
“When are we going to get married, Jack?” she asked him. The topic of their wedding was something they hadn’t discussed.
“Soon, I hope. But I don’t want you to think I’m rushing you into anything.”
She played with his hair, feeling her heart still racing from their passionate embrace moments before. “I don’t, but maybe before the year is out.”
Jack looked at her in disbelief. “December?” he suggested to her. He knew they had known each other just a few months, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t care if people thought they were stupid.
Rose giggled hard. “Jack, this is crazy. But I like it.” She kissed him just once. “December it is, then.”
They both felt their hearts race. Now that they had discussed a date for their wedding, they had to make preparations.
“But there is one more thing I want you to do for me, Jack…”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to draw me…like one of your French girls.”
*****
Jack set out his drawing materials, feeling his hands shake violently. How the hell he was going to get through this was beyond him. He was going to draw Rose nude. He had seen other girls naked, but not Rose. He knew that tonight was going to be special for them both.
Poking her head around the door, Rose felt herself feeling more sober than she had before she left the room. Her nerves kicked in. She had never appeared naked in front of a man before. The only other time she had even had this much guts was in Paris in the bathroom, when she had been pressed up against Jack.
A kimono was wrapped around her body. Jack sat on a rickety chair with a small table in front of him, his drawing materials laid out in front of him. Their eyes never left each other’s as she stood before him. As if in slow motion, she parted the kimono, exposing her naked body for the first time in her life.
Jack was stunned. He almost couldn’t breathe. His eyes traveled down her naked body just once before the artist in him took over.
“Lay down…on the bed,” he stuttered.
Rose smiled at his nervousness, and he knew she felt it, too. Settling herself on the bed, she attempted to position herself, remembering how the French girls had lain, but she knew this was different.
“Tell me when it looks right…”
“Put your hand up by your face, put your head down, and keep your eyes on me,” Jack told her before picking up his portfolio and pulling out a blank sheet of paper. “Try to stay still.”
He sighed heavily before beginning his drawing. She could feel Jack’s eyes on her naked body. She had never felt so exposed to anyone in her entire life, but she felt so free.
He began to sketch, line after line. He looked at Rose’s body every few seconds, his face deadly serious. Rose felt his eyes on her body and a small smile appeared on her face. She took note of how serious his face appeared when he sketched.
“So serious,” she teased.
He smiled. His artist’s eyes looked over her body and she shivered, feeling goosebumps appear. The effect he had on her with just one look was immense.
The sketch had began to take form. As he sketched her breasts and smudged the charcoal on the paper, he looked up once more and felt his cheeks redden slightly, but still he continued to sketch.
“I believe you are blushing, Monsieur Big Artiste.” She smiled at him. “I can’t imagine Monsieur Monet blushing.”
Jack stopped for a moment, feeling himself sweat even though he was shirtless. “He does landscapes.” Rose smiled at him. “Just relax your face. No laughing.”
Rose relaxed her face, feeling her heart still beating and the butterflies in her stomach. She couldn’t concentrate on anything else besides Jack, his boyish face, his gorgeous blue eyes that saw right through to her soul.
Despite his nervousness, he drew with pure strokes, and from it emerged the best thing he had ever done. Her pose was languid, her hands were beautiful, and her eyes radiated energy. The night would be one neither of them would ever forget. All the boundaries that were preventing such an event from happening had been torn down and discarded forever.
Rose knew where she wanted to be from the moment she had lain eyes on him, the man who had saved her in every way possible. When the sketch was finished, Jack looked at her naked body one last time before sighing.
“Done,” he announced.
Rose stood, pulling her kimono on. She stood behind him and looked at the drawing. It was perfect.
“Date it, Jack. I want to always remember this night.”
Scrawling JD, August 14, 1911, Jack threw his charcoal on the table and blew the excess dust from the drawing before closing his portfolio and handing it to Rose. She kissed him, taking the portfolio from him, before giggling as she pulled away.
“Thank you. I love you,” she told him.
“And I love you.”