ELUDING DESTINY
Chapter Seven
The gilt pattern on the carpeting
blurred together and he blinked several times, listening as the clock inside
chimed the hour. He heard nothing else. All was well. He stood up slowly, his
muscles aching from crouching, and turned away from the door. His footsteps
receded down the hall.
*****
Her hand reached for the switch
beside the lamp and she saw that it was trembling slightly. The room plunged
into darkness and she felt her way into her room, the left side of her face
still stinging. He had long been gone, but she'd had to be sure. Except for the
brush of footsteps out in the hallway ten minutes ago, there had been no other
sign of life. He had gone for the night. She was safe.
Inside her room, she changed
quickly into her nightgown, her dress dropping onto the floor, and she climbed
into bed, glancing toward her door to make sure it was locked. Then she removed
the leather-bound book from underneath her pillow, and, her hand shaking
slightly as she grasped the pen, began to write.
Monday, April 15, 1912
"Where were you last
night?" Fabrizio demanded as Jack slowly got dressed the next morning.
"I wake up at two, three o'clock--and your bed is empty."
Jack had a pounding headache,
probably a combined effect of his lack of sleep and the stress he'd been under.
He didn't feel like dealing with Fabrizio's questions.
"I was out," he said
shortly. He bent down and began lacing his boots.
"Why you so secretive all of
a sudden?" Fabrizio complained. "You were with that girl, no? Miss
whatever-her-name-is?"
"Rose." Jack instantly
regretted his testy tone. He glanced up quickly and saw that Fabrizio was
staring at him, his eyes clouding. "I'm sorry, Fabri," he apologized
quickly. "I'm just--tired."
And worried. What if Rose
isn't all right? Was I wrong to leave last night without making sure? Did I
chicken out?
"You have time for
breakfast?" Fabrizio asked a few moments later, grabbing his jacket.
"Uh…no, you go ahead,"
Jack told him distractedly. "I have some things to take care of."
"I see right through you,
Jack." Fabrizio rolled his eyes. "You have fun talking to your rich
girl. I see you later." He disappeared through the door.
Your rich girl.
The words rolled around in Jack's
head as he stared after him. Fabrizio had only meant it lightly, of course, but
it was true. Rose was rich beyond all imagination. What the hell was he even
doing with her? Was he digging himself into a hole that would be impossible to
get out of?
He hesitated, contemplating this
thought. Then he shook his head. It didn't matter. Yesterday he'd had the
courage to tell her the way he felt, and today he would have the courage to
live up to it. Money did not matter. All that mattered was Rose.
The door clicked shut behind him
as he hastily left the cabin and headed towards the boat deck.
*****
It was a cool, windy morning, the
sun often slipping behind heavy patches of clouds. Rose stood at the
railing--the boat deck had come to be her favorite place on the ship--and
stared down at the water.
A little smile was playing on her
face. She felt so light that she could fly. Despite the fact that she'd only
gotten about four hours of sleep the night before, she was in an incredibly
good mood--giddy, her mother had said disapprovingly. Rose grinned at the
thought. She certainly was giddy.
Rose had slipped out of the suite
while her mother was dressing, walking around the boat deck once in search of
Jack before coming to stand here at the railing, but she was itching to move.
She wanted to spin around in circles down the deck. So this is what it's
like to be in love, she thought, rising on her toes and falling back down
again, unable to sit still or remove the ridiculous smile from her face. So
this is what it's like to be truly happy.
Unable to contain herself any
longer, she hummed softly and then said his name out loud. "Jack."
She stared off into space, thinking. "Jack Dawson. Rose DeWitt Bukater
Dawson. No. Rose Dawson. Mrs. Rose Dawson. Mrs. Jack Dawson. Mr. and Mrs. Jack
Dawson."
She quickly glanced around to see
if anyone had heard her absurdity. Seeing no one, she spoke a little louder.
"Mrs. Rose Dawson." She peeked around furtively, like a spy,
trembling from held in laughter. "Hello," she said regally to the
air. "I am Mrs. Rose Dawson, daughter of Ruth the society empress. Pleased
to make your acquaintance."
What my mother's conceited
friends would think of that! Rose was incredibly amused. She fell silent as an older gentleman
walked by, nodded politely to him, and then turned back to the railing,
resuming her game while she waited patiently for the man she loved.
*****
What on earth is she doing?
Jack stared at Rose further down
the deck, unable to keep the grin off his face. She appeared to be talking to
someone, but...there was no one there. Once in awhile, she waved her hands
around a bit, like she was proving a point, but Jack didn't see a soul.
Finally, it dawned on him that she was talking to herself, which he found
incredibly funny.
Wondering what she was saying, he
slipped quietly along the deck, still wearing his borrowed coat, and came slowly
up behind her, straining his ears.
"Mrs. Rose Dawson," she
was murmuring to herself. "The beautiful, talented, brilliant Broadway
actress. No...dancer. No...actress and dancer."
Jack couldn't contain himself any
longer. "Would that be like a dancetress?" he suggested with a
straight face.
Rose jumped a mile, clapping a
hand to her mouth and whirling around. Her face went bright red when she saw
him. "Jack," she gasped. "How...how long have you been
here?"
Jack was laughing too hard to
answer. "So...beautiful and talented and brilliant, huh, Mrs. Dawson? Boy,
did I hit the jackpot."
Rose looked mortified.
"Well, you--you eavesdropped on me!" she finally accused, her face
even redder than before, if that was possible.
That set him off again.
"It's a public deck," he managed. "I was just taking a little
stroll when I saw you were deep in conversation with the railing here."
Rose glared at him, trying to
cover her humiliation. "Well, now you can have a little conversation with
the rail!" she snapped. "Because I am leaving." She turned and
started to stomp away.
Jack lunged after her, grabbing
her arm. "Oh, no, you don't," he said.
"Let me go," Rose said
unconvincingly, moving closer to him. "I don't wish to speak with you
right now."
"Fine," he said.
"I didn't plan on talking." He leaned forward, his lips brushing
hers. He felt all her anger melt away as she closed the short distance between
them. Then the rest of the world receded, and all the doubts he'd had only
minutes before disappeared, as though they'd never been there at all.
*****
His fingers slid along the
mattress until they found what he was looking for. Without a moment's
hesitation, he pulled the leather book out from under the pillow and sat down
on the edge of the bed, glancing once at the door to make sure it was shut.
He opened the book, rifled
through until he found what he was looking for. The most recent entry, dated
4/15/12. Good lord. She must have written this last night.
He skimmed the entry, not a shred
of guilt tugging at his conscience. His eyes grew narrower as he read of the
escapades his dear, sweet, innocent fiancée had involved herself in since
they'd come aboard...she and that worthless bastard, Dawson. He'd wanted to
nail him the night before, but the minutes ticked by and the plan he and
Lovejoy had so carefully put together fell apart.
Now, as he continued reading the
innermost secrets of the woman he had thought he knew, he only wanted to get
rid of Dawson more. And in a far worse way.
...it was as if we existed in
our own world, the two of us, in which we wanted and needed nothing more than
each other...
...the way his hands felt on
me, indescribable, I cannot...put into words, those hands, artist’s hands,
roughened by work but so tender and so gentle and the way he touched me, so
beautiful...
...I can't express the way I
feel about Jack. I love him, but so much more. Words don't do justice...he
loves me, too, he said, and I wanted to cry and laugh and demand to know where
he'd been all my life...I need him so much...
...suddenly my future is
bright--no ring, no engagement, no wedding, no Cal. He struck me last night. It
didn't hurt very much, not when I know that tomorrow Jack will touch that very
spot on my face. Cal is less of a man than I had previously thought. He is no
gentleman. No true gentleman would strike a woman. Cal is a bastard, a fool,
and I can't wait until he is out of my life...
...I can't wait until this
ship docks in New York...I can leave all this behind me forever, and a future
with Jack is the most beautiful thing I can ever imagine...
Cal slammed the book shut, his
face darkening. He did not want to read anymore. His fiancée certainly was
quite a writer. Luckily for him, she was not a very careful one. He'd seen her
scribbling in this damned thing before, and it wasn't hard to guess where she
kept it.
He slid the book back where he'd
found it and smoothed the blankets again. Then he walked to the door, through
the sitting room, and left the suite.
Where was that idiot Lovejoy? It
was time to squelch this problem before it got out of hand.