August, 1922
Jack took his eyes from the drawing before him and looked to see his two sons playing together in the center of the room. For a second, his heart melted and a smile crept across his face. Though there was quite an age gap between them, five years, they loved each other. Jack had often heard that siblings fought like mad, but his children rarely did, and the few times they had squabbled, it had been over something like who stole whose teddy bear.
The younger boy, Harry, was just finding his way in the world. At almost three, he found everything to be amazing and interesting, whereas William had been a quiet baby, happy to sit and play alone. William took care of Harry in every way and they slept in the same bed. No matter how many times Jack or Rose had placed them in separate beds, they always ended up waking up in the same one.
Shaking his head, Jack picked up his charcoal and looked at the half-finished drawing before him. He scratched his head. After watching his sons, he felt as though he had lost interest in the project. In fact, he had forgotten what he was drawing in the first place. Sighing, he crumpled up the paper and lobbed it in the direction of the fireplace.
The mail arrived at that moment. Both Will and Harry started for the mailbox, arguing over who would take it to their father.
“Hey! Calm down, you two.” Jack half-smiled.
William handed several letters to Jack. “There you go, Dad.”
Jack thanked him, stroking a small tuft of his older son’s blonde mop. He thumbed through them and saw the usual bills and junk mail before he came across a handwritten letter addressed to both him and Rose. Frowning, he tore open the letter.
Jack and Rose,
I’m sorry it has taken so long to write to you. It has taken me a long time to accept that my Fabrizio isn’t coming back. The children are eight now and the exact image of their father. I settled in Italy with Fabri’s family until his mother sadly passed away earlier in the year. I would like to invite you both to come stay with me in Italy. I have my own small place and would love to see the you both. It has been too long and I still consider you both true friends.
I hope you are well.
All My Love,
Maria
Jack was in shock. He hadn’t heard from Maria since she had moved to Italy. The back of the postcard was stamped from Santa Monica, so Jack guessed it had been forwarded from their old address.
Rose walked into the house, shopping bags in both of her hands. Jack looked up at her, a smile on his face. She wore a knee-length beige dress with short sleeves and her hair was swept back into a bun. She put the shopping bags on the floor. Immediately, the children ran and dove into the bags to see if she had purchased anything for them, but all she had was clothes for herself.
Letter in hand, he came towards her, pecking her cheek and causing her, too, to smile. “Something interesting happened today,” Jack told her.
Rose stopped rummaging her bags, intrigued. “Really? Like what?”
Jack handed her the letter from Maria. Quickly, she read it over. She, too, was floored. “Oh, my God…five years it’s taken her to contact us.”
Jack nodded, taking the letter from Rose. “She said she had a hard time accepting Fabrizio’s death.”
Rose nodded and grew quiet. She looked over at the children, who had discovered their father’s charcoal and paper. “We simply can’t go to Italy. What about the children? What about my work and the gallery?”
Jack shrugged, sighing. “I can close the gallery for a few weeks,” Jack said casually.
In the back of his mind, he knew they couldn’t just up and leave like they had when they had first met. They had the children and the house, as well as work. There was too much to leave.
“Jack, I’d like to see her again, too.” Rose wiped her brow, feeling the sweat from the warm summer day. “I just…I don’t want the children boarding a ship,” she confessed.
Even though it had been ten years since they were on the Titanic, she still felt the same chill and was haunted by the nightmares. Poor Tommy, as well as Sharon, who never saw her unborn child.
“No, Jack. I won’t let the kids on a ship.”
To turn her attention away from the conversation, she picked up her bags, finding her way to the bedroom she shared with Jack.
“Daddy, help us to draw,” the words came from Harry, whose hands and face were covered in charcoal.
Jack shook his head. Grabbing a cloth from the sink, he wiped Harry’s hands and face. “You little devils.”
He grinned. Grabbing the paper, he threw it on the floor and sat beside his sons. Harry climbed onto his knee and Will sat beside him. The boys were so alike in looks and had inherited everything from their father.
“Draw a cat,” Harry suggested.
“No, draw me,” Will piped in.
“I’ll tell you what. How about we draw something for Mommy, huh?” Jack suggested.
They both nodded. “Some pretty flowers for her,” William told Jack. For once, Harry agreed.
Jack began to draw a rose from his imagination. Harry put his tiny hand on top of his father’s, pretending he, too, was drawing, while Will simply watched, his large blue eyes wide.
Rose came out of the bedroom to find her husband sitting and drawing with a serious look on his face and their two sons sitting with him. She smiled, feeling her stomach flutter.