Stretching out, Rose opened her eyes, perplexed as to where she was until a knock sounded on her bedroom door and her mother entered with a pot of tea.
“Good morning, Rose.” Ruth sat on the bed beside Rose. “Would you like some tea?”
Rose simply nodded, sitting up in bed. Looking about the room, she couldn’t remember the last time she had slept somewhere so luxurious. She wasn’t used to anything so dazzling anymore. She much preferred simplicity and the life she had led with Jack.
Ruth handed her a small cup of tea and she sipped it, feeling the warm liquid gush down into her body. She hadn’t felt so warm in days.
“Rose, Cal will be joining us in a few days. He is coming to New York by ship as we speak. I received a telegram from him this morning.” Rose looked at Ruth, wondering what she would say next. What was she expecting from Rose? For her to become Cal’s wife? “He will join us in Philadelphia. I have asked Lovejoy to purchase train tickets for us to travel home today.”
Rose didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t planned to go back home with her mother, but maybe it was the only option she had. She couldn’t exactly live in the city alone. She had no skills and would be mistaken for a whore if she stayed someplace alone.
“All right,” she said simply.
Ruth kissed her forehead. “I know it’s been horrendous for you, Rose. I have seen the papers, the death count, heard the horror stories of the sinking of the Titanic, but maybe back home we can start over again.”
Ruth took Rose’s hand in hers and their eyes locked for a moment. Rose thought that maybe, just maybe, her mother had changed for the better. She was never going to be the perfect mother. There were so many lost years after she had been forced into the marriage with Cal, but now she thought that maybe her mother would understand her reasons.
“I hope so,” Rose said quietly.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door and Lovejoy entered the room. “Good morning, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater…and Miss…ahem…Mrs. Dawson,” he corrected himself. He wondered in the back of his mind why Rose had married someone from the working class when she could have had everything from the great Cal Hockley. “I have purchased your tickets, first class. The train leaves Grand Central Station at two o’clock this afternoon and will arrive in Philadelphia. You will arrive home around six o’clock tonight.”
Ruth stood. She took the tickets from Lovejoy. Turning to Rose, she watched as her daughter sipped her tea. She hated seeing her like she was and couldn’t wait to get her home. Maybe it would do her some good after her wandering for so long. She couldn’t understand her daughter’s actions, but at this moment in time, she had to help her through the trauma she had lived through.
*****
The train sped through town after town, city after city. Rose sat silently, her body rocking to the rhythm of the train along the track. Her eyes never left the sights out the window, her mind only on one thing—Jack. He should be here with her to see the sights that they had planned to see together.
Dressed in a peach dress with a blue coat and white gloves, Rose watched the sights speed past. She felt the discomfort of the corset her mother had insisted she wear, and as she looked down at her hands in her lap, she felt tears come to her eyes. She was back to being the high society girl, the person she no longer wanted to be, the reason she had been going to jump from the bridge in Paris.
Her mother sat opposite her silently. When she looked up, her mother smiled a little. Ruth was unsure of what to say to her daughter. She just couldn’t wait for the two of them to return home. Ruth had put a claim into the White Star Line for Rose’s loss of belongings and the trauma she had endured.
Rose replayed the last few hours she and Jack had lived through together. How could he be dead? How had he died? So many unanswered questions she knew she would never receive the answer to. When her father had died, she had almost felt his presence still there. In times when she had needed him in life it seemed he had come to her in death, but now that she needed Jack more than ever, she felt nothing.
*****
Rubbing his back, Jack felt the pain worsen. Sighing, he gave up as he continued his walk to the park. For the last two weeks since arriving in New York, he had slept on park benches.
Today, he had received four hundred dollars in compensation from the White Star Line. He had put in a claim for injury and received far more money than he had ever hoped for, but he wasn’t complaining. It would buy him a bed in a cheap hotel and a good meal. No more park benches for a while. He felt as though the old Jack, the old happy-go-lucky guy, had gone, at least for now.
He wouldn’t be the same until he found Rose. A little feeling had returned to his fingers, but he hadn’t gone to see a doctor like he had been advised to. The only thing that was on his mind was Rose. He had walked around the city endlessly, trying to find someone who might know something. He had contacted the White Star Line to see if she had asked them about Jack, to see if he was alive. Did she even know he was alive? It seemed as though she had disappeared into thin air.
The late evening chill was biting, and as Jack sat himself on the same park bench he had slept on the night before, he pulled his thin jacket further around his body. He contemplated what his next steps could be. He needed to find somewhere out of the cold to sleep, and a place to eat something proper, for he knew how much weight he had lost since the sinking.
Looking out into the darkness of the park, he heard the wind blow through the trees. He felt lonely here, like he never had before. Raising his left hand, he touched his face, not sure why he felt like he did.
A few tears escaped his eyes as he remembered the horrific night he had lived through—the night the Titanic sank. How he had clung to the ship until the very end, and then the screams, the sight of dead bodies bobbing in freezing cold water, and the stars that shone beautifully and endlessly.
He was glad Rose wasn’t with him to witness what he had seen. He felt his wedding ring on his finger and looked down at it in the darkness. Oh, Rose, where are you? he shouted aloud in his head. Where was she? He felt his heart break. He needed her with him. He needed to know she was safe.
Standing, he took a deep breath and felt a sense of calm overcome him. He had to find a place to stay tonight. Looking around, he wondered where he could find a bed. He exited the park and walked numbly in the direction of several houses, which were directly in front of him. The buildings were tall and made of brick, with large front gardens and set back on a slight hill. Through the darkness, he couldn’t see anything that suggested the houses had any rooms to spare.
“Get the hell out of my house!” A voice boomed through the street and Jack jumped, looking up to see an elderly man grabbing a young girl by the scruff of her neck and throwing her from the house. “Don’t you dare come back here, you little whore.”
The girl seemed very young, no older than sixteen. She stumbled out of the garden, and because of the hill, she fell flat on her face. Jack immediately went to her. He took her hand. Even in the darkness, it was obvious that her hands and face were dirty.
“Hello? Can you hear me, miss?”
He shook her, but she didn’t respond. Her hair blew in the wind slightly, and Jack knew that something wasn’t right with this girl. Her clothes were tattered, and as Jack attempted to pick her up, he realized just how frail she felt. Her body was as light as a feather, and he knew he had to take her to get medical attention.
He stumbled slightly. He himself was weak and he could feel the pain in his back as he carried her. Her body was limp and lifeless. She stank of strong alcohol, and Jack wondered how this young girl lived. She seemed to be frail, weak, and had obviously resorted to selling her body as a way to live.
Jack remembered Paris, when Rose had told him that she was going to sleep with Cal—for money. He shook his head free of any thoughts like that. He knew he had to get this girl to safety.
The noise from a nearby bar attracted Jack. He would have to take the girl inside and then call a doctor from there. It was safer than trawling the city all night, looking for a hospital.
Once inside the bar, the few men who were playing cards looked up at Jack as if he was completely insane. A small, bearded man came towards him from behind the bar. He looked disgustedly at him and the girl.
“What the hell are you doing bringing that in here?” He shook his head. “Get her out. She is the neighborhood’s biggest slut. She’s filthy and infected.”
Jack felt anger rise in his throat. These people were so narrow-minded, so set in their ways, that they wouldn’t help a poor girl. Looking at her face, he saw just how young she really was. Her hair was long and light blonde and her light pink dress was torn and ragged. Her ribs were obvious through the thin material. She might be a prostitute, but maybe it was the only way the poor girl could get any sort of income.
“Will you open your mind for just five minutes and help this poor girl?”
“She’s a whore! Get her the hell out of my bar before I call the police!”
Jack felt his fists clench and his jaw tighten. “No, I won’t. You will get this girl a doctor!” Jack told him as he pushed past the round man and lay the girl down on a table. “I have seen whores, I have befriended whores, and I know people like you.” Jack pointed to the man, who was silent. “You’re so stubborn, so set in your damned ways, that you would see an innocent girl die because her profession. I have seen innocent people die. I was almost one of them. I lay in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean while fifteen hundred people around me screamed and clawed anything to survive, to stop the fucking pain!” Jack spat. “Now, you have the chance to stop this girl’s pain, but you won’t. Will you?”
The man looked at the few men playing cards. The stranger’s outburst had shocked him to his very core. It was obvious he was talking about the Titanic. “Yes, I will help her,” he said, almost silently.
“Good.” Jack nodded.
“Bring the girl back here. She will be more comfortable. Roy, go fetch Dr. Addison. Tell him to come quickly.”
One of the men playing cards ran from the bar and went to fetch the doctor. Jack lifted the girl once again and followed the man to a small back room. He lay her on the sofa and put his hand in front of her mouth. She was breathing. For a moment, Jack knelt by her side and saw just how lovely this girl really was.
“Her name’s Abigail. She’s fourteen.” The man stood behind Jack. He noticed how Jack looked at the young girl.
Jack’s eyes widened. She was just fourteen? He felt tears sting his eyes.
“And I’m Tony,” the man added.
Jack took his attention from the girl and turned his head to the man. He sat in a small chair and lit a cigar. “I’m Jack.”
“Where did you find her?” Tony puffed on his cigar. He knew that Jack didn’t know this girl or he doubted he would have gone near her. Everyone in these parts knew about young Abigail and her wild ways.
“Getting thrown out of a house. She landed on her face.” Jack touched the small cuts on the young girl’s face. She reminded Jack of Rose so much, it was almost sickening.
“Ah…sounds about right.”
“Who is this girl? Where are her parents?” Jack asked.
“Her father was shot some years ago and her mother is in an asylum somewhere. She’s had to fend for herself for some years, but she got involved in drinking, parties, and drugs. Rumor has it she lost a baby few months ago and almost died because of the infection from bleeding, but she never saw a doctor.”
Jack felt a tear fall from his eye. He hesitantly touched her long, blonde curls. How could anyone hurt someone so fragile and lovely? Footsteps could be heard coming into the room. Jack got to his feet, wiping his eyes and feeling them sting.
“I’m Dr. Addison. What seems to be the problem?” A tall young man entered the room. His hair was dark and he appeared handsome in the dim light of the room.
“Abigail’s her name. She was thrown out of a house up near the park. She was unconscious when I found her,” Jack told the doctor absentmindedly.
Dr. Addison removed a bag from his back and emptied it, thrusting a newspaper that he had retrieved from the bag into Jack’s hands. “Now, I want all of you out,” he told them.
Jack walked out of the room and sat on a bar stool. Throwing the newspaper onto the bar, he could feel how tired he was, how much he wanted to rest. Focusing his eyes, he blinked several times until he could see a little better.
Something caught his eye—or maybe he was so tired he was seeing things. A photograph on the front page of the newspaper. Immediately, he opened the paper and there it was…a photograph of Cal and Rose, and the headline Steel Tycoon Heir Caledon Hockley to wed Rose DeWitt Bukater. Blinking his eyes several times, he ran over the print.
Caledon Hockley, son of Philadelphia steel tycoon Nathan Hockley, is to marry the only daughter of the late James Bukater. The pair announced their engagement last night and are to hold an engagement gala in their Philadelphia home tomorrow evening. Five hundred guests are expected to appear, including several famous faces.
Rose DeWitt Bukater recently survived the Titanic sinking, but her upcoming marriage to Caledon Hockley is said to be helping her to forget the tragedy.
Studying the photograph, Jack knew it was an old one, perhaps from before he had met Rose. They were standing together at some sort of gala, but Rose wasn’t smiling, and Jack knew just how unhappy she was. How could this be happening?
“Fuck this!” Jack stood angrily, knocking the stool to the floor. He felt the cold evening air hit him as he ran from the bar. Tears flowed from his eyes.
He knew what to do now…he would go to Philadelphia and find his wife. He knew Hockley had done this. Rose wouldn’t become engaged to him ever again.
“Oh, my darling Rose…” he whispered into the darkness.