His blue eyes flickered open. His entire body was cold and numb. Where was he? In heaven? As his vision cleared, he saw rows of beds like a hospital, and looking down at his body, he saw he was wearing the same clothes he had worn the night before, although he was wrapped in several blankets. Where was Rose? Had he dreamed the sinking of the Titanic? How had he gotten here? So many questions ran through his mind.
“Rose?” he called out.
A small blonde girl appeared, dressed in a nurse’s outfit, and hushed him. “You need to be quiet, sir. There are other survivors here, too,” she told him calmly.
“Survivors?”
“Yes, sir. The Titanic disaster survivors.”
Looking around, he saw motionless bodies in the beds. He guessed they were sleeping. He hadn’t known he was a survivor. He had thought he would die. Then one thing came to his mind.
“Rose…”
“Hush. Don’t worry,” she soothed him, doing as Dr. Connelly had told her to do. Any mention of lost family members would upset the survivors more right now, so she had to simply steer the conversation away and assure him that he would be all right.
“Where’s my wife?” he asked, attempting to move his hand but finding it hard. He didn’t know he had frostbite on his fingers and had lost feeling in most of his body. It was unknown whether or not it would ever return.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have a copy of the list at the moment. Please eat a little, though, and I will try to find out for you, sir.”
Accepting the answer, Jack watched as the nurse put a small bowl of soup in from of him.
“Can you sit upright?”
Struggling, Jack tried to sit up, but felt too weak. The nurse propped up Jack’s pillows to make it easier for him. He was just nineteen years old and he felt like a cripple. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he shouted, frustrated with the fact he could barely move.
The nurse pulled up a chair beside Jack. “Do you have a name, sir?” she asked him.
“Jack Dawson,” he told her, uninterested in what she had to say unless it was about Rose.
“Jack, I’m Gemma Rowe. I’m a nurse on the ship. Um…I’m not really supposed to say this, but…you have frostbite and hypothermia.”
Frowning, Jack held up his hands. Gemma touched his fingers one by one.
“Do you feel anything?” she asked him, testing to see if he could feel her touch.
A few tears fell down his face. He could barely feel anything. He shook his head slowly. “Not a thing.”
Gemma watched as his face screwed up as he cried. She knew he was in pain, but she didn’t know what to do. She had experienced this with other survivors, some of whom had passed away in their sleep. She hoped with all her heart that this didn’t happen with this young man.
“Are you married, Jack?” she asked him.
“Yes, I am.” He covered his face with his hands. “Is she here? Is she alive?”
Gemma shook her head. “I honestly do not know. I don’t have a copy of the survivors’ list, and I am not supposed to tell patients if relatives have survived or not.”
Jack felt anger overcome him. “Damn it all!” He shoved the tray of soup of out the way, spilling it everywhere, and pulled the blankets back off his body, attempting to move his legs out of the bed, to stand, but he could barely manage. “I want to see Rose!” he shouted.
Dr. Connelly came into the infirmary. Jack watched as he came towards him. “I’m Dr. Connelly,” he told him. Jack just looked at him blankly. “I suggest you rest some more, son.”
“I don’t need rest. I want to see my wife.”
Dr. Connelly took Jack’s hand. He couldn’t feel much. “Look, I know you want to see your wife, but please concentrate on getting better. You need to stay warm. You have suffered a terrible ordeal, but I am worried about you, especially out of the other survivors. You were exposed to the cold for a long period of time.”
Jack sighed heavily. Why the hell had this happened to start with? Rose had to be all right. He had put her in a boat. He knew she was alive, and he wanted to see her.
“Please check the list for Mrs. Rose Dawson. Tell her where I am, please.”
Dr. Connelly nodded. “Of course. Now, please eat and rest. We will be docking in New York in a few days. I want to have you on the mend.”
*****
Gentle snores could be heard from inside the ship’s infirmary. The room was pitch black and Jack sat upright in bed, bending his fingers backwards and forwards, trying anything to regain feeling. The door opened squeakily, and a figure walked through the room and approached his bed. Leaning forward, he saw that it was Gemma, the nurse from earlier.
“Mr. Dawson…” she whispered. “I really shouldn’t be here.”
“Then why are you?” he snapped, whispering.
“I checked the list…your wife, Rose?”
Jack turned to her, obviously wanting to know whether or not she was on the list. “Is she there?”
“There is no Rose Dawson on the list.”
Jack felt pain overcome him. She was dead? His beautiful Rose was gone? How? He cried out loudly and thrust his fist into the pillow several times.
happened? Why did so many innocent people die? Why isn’t my Rosie here with me?”
Gemma could do nothing but sit with him. Other survivors heard his words and cried silent tears into their pillows, still praying for their families to be found on another ship.
“Jack…”
“Rose…Rose…” He repeated her name time after time, as if thinking that calling her name would bring her back—but it wouldn’t. “Rose…I love you so much, darling. I wish I had died with you…”
Gemma silently walked away from Jack, crying tears herself for those who had lost people in the terrible tragedy when the Titanic sank. She couldn’t imagine the pain all of them were going through. She couldn’t stay in the room anymore and ran out crying.
The aftermath of the Titanic’s sinking was still settling in—so many unanswered questions, so many people searching for an absolution that would never come.