One Month Later
Ruth
I stepped off of the train and looked around. The train station here wasn’t that much different from the one in Pittsburgh. People were milling about, oblivious to the fact that I was here to get my daughter. The porter came over and told me that my baggage would be arriving at the hotel and a taxi was in front of the station, ready to take me to my destination.
After a long and bumpy ride into the night, the cab driver eased to a stop in front of the hotel. I waited on him to open the door and when he just sat there, I cleared my throat. He turned around and I gave him a look. With a heavy sigh, he got out of the cab and opened the door. "Ma’am."
I looked down to see a puddle of water. I strained, but managed to put my foot over on the curb and get out of the car with as much dignity as I could muster. The cab driver went to the back of the car and retrieved my bags.
He looked at me as I smoothed the wrinkles out of my coat. His accent was a thick Irish one. "D’you need any help inside with these, ma’am? I do believe that at this time of night, you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who would help you inside."
I glanced up at the hotel. It was a far cry from the Astoria, but I was assured that at this time of year, this was the only place that had a reservation. I turned my attention back to the cab driver who was holding my bags. "If you do not mind, please. I’ll find out what room I’m in and then you can go."
The cabbie nodded and disappeared inside the dimly lit reception area of the hotel. After one quick glance around at the trees and street lamps, I took my handbag and followed the man inside. The concierge was a bored-looking man, maybe in his late fifties. His gray hair was disheveled, as if we had just woken him up from his sleep.
"Name?" He grabbed a pencil off of the desk and approached the counter.
"DeWitt Bukater. Ruth DeWitt Bukater. I believe my servants called last week about the reservation. I’ll be here a week, perhaps longer."
The man took a ledger from the side of the counter. He penciled something in and then turned his attention to me. "Have you right here." He stopped and looked above his head at the keys. After selecting one off of the rack, he handed it to me. "Room 207. The elevators are over there. Fourth door on your left after you get off. Enjoy your stay." He held the key out to me. I reached out for it and thanked him.
The cab driver collected my baggage once again and we made it to the second floor after a brief delay at the elevators. He opened my door and I motioned for him to put the bags down by the bed. After retrieving some money out of my handbag, I made eye contact with him and handed him the money. He thanked me and gently shut the door behind him.
I walked over to the window and sat down at a desk near it. After opening my handbag, I retrieved a piece of paper with a name on it. Jason Wright. Cal had refused to help me with my journey to bring Rose back home, but had suggested I might need some help and offered me this man’s name and address. He knew I was coming. It was too late today to do anything, so after changing into my nightclothes, I pulled the covers back and slipped into bed, confident of the fact that I was doing the right thing.
The Next Morning
I changed clothes and headed out just after the sun came up. The concierge I had met last night was replaced with a bubbly young girl, approximately Rose’s age. She bade me a good day and after returning the favor, I slipped outside and began to walk in the general direction of Rose’s house. It didn’t take me long to find it. I stayed back, out of the line of sight for a minute as I caught the Metcalfe girl in the front yard of what I presumed to be their house. She had a cute little girl in her arms and as they walked out to the fence, I took a step back to hide behind a large oak tree across the road. The Metcalfe girl started down the street and after hearing her talk to the baby, they walked out of sight, not even paying me any attention.
I peered out from my safe spot to make sure that she was gone. I didn’t see her and began to walk closer to my daughter’s house. It was very plain. The picket fence across the front was peeling paint in places and the bushes across the front of the house needed to be trimmed. I slowly started up the cobblestone path to the front door and after a brief problem with the lock on the fence, walked through it and up the stairs. The door was a pale yellow and a brass knocker was shining as if it was inviting me to come in. I gathered my composure, and that was when I saw the name on the knocker. Dawson. I shook my head, lifted it, and knocked three times. I stepped aside and peered into the windows. The furniture was sparse, but looked as if it was at least twenty years old. The windows were a bit dusty from the dirt road in front of the house and the curtains were a lacy fabric that seemed to have yellowed over time. But no one seemed to be home.
"Looking for someone, ma’am?"
I turned to see a woman about my age at the Metcalfe girl’s house. She had an apron on and was drying her hands on a dish towel. "Yes, I am afraid I am. Is Rose…um…Dawson, is it? Is she home? I met her earlier this week and needed to speak with her."
The woman’s accent was English and was hard to understand, but she called back cheerily. "No, the Dawsons aren’t in town. Might try the harbor, though. ‘Bout mile and a half that away." She pointed over her shoulder. "Mr. Dawson and Mr. Lowe were coming back from sailing this afternoon. Mrs. Lowe left earlier with Anna headed to meet Rose and James. Ship should be there any time. Do you want me to tell her you’re here?"
"No. The docks, did you say? I believe I’ll head that way. Thank you though." The woman looked at me and nodded as she headed back inside.
I watched her gently shut the door behind her and I turned and headed in the directions of the docks. It didn’t take me that long to get there, and after walking around a moment, I spotted a crowd gathered by a large ship that had evidently just docked. I made my way closer to the front of the crowd, gingerly pushing passers-by out of the way. I looked down to tell a small child to get out of my way when I heard that musical laugh that was Rose’s. I quickly ducked behind a large car that was hauling some sort of load, so as not to be spotted.
"He’s gotten so big!" Jack held out his arms as he took the baby. The baby smiled and a bit of drool escaped out of the corner of his mouth. He squealed in delight as Jack took him in his arms. "Seems to get bigger every time I see him." Jack bounced the baby a few times and then turned in my direction. I moved back a bit farther to stay out of sight. I watched them pass by as the Metcalfe girl and a handsome man came up beside Jack and Rose and the baby. The Metcalfe girl held another baby, about the same age, though this one was dressed in a frilly pink dress. I recognized the man with the Metcalfe girl as one of the officers on board the Titanic.
"Anna’s not too far behind. Look at these cheeks." Mr. Lowe reached out for his daughter and again, I saw the same thing happen that just happened to Jack. The baby girl held out her chubby arms and squealed and babbled some nonsense as Mr. Lowe held her close. They began walking again and pretty soon, I started to follow. I stayed back, out of sight, but close enough to hear that they were going to be going back out at the end of the week. I could see the pained expression on Rose’s face as Jack broke the news to her. It made me want to rush up to her, grab her by the hand, and lead her to the train station to catch a train back to her life in Pittsburgh, but I held back.
I followed them all the way back to their house. After hugging good-bye, the Metcalfe girl and Mr. Lowe went into their home and Rose and Jack went to theirs. I retreated back to my spot behind the oak tree as I watched Rose and Jack, who was carrying the baby, walk into their home. After hearing the faint click of the door shutting, I started up towards the house. I stood in the street, trying to get a peek inside, when I heard a car coming. After moving towards the other end of the street, it gave me an idea.
I hurried back into town and after retrieving that slip of paper, found Jason’s house easily enough. I knocked on the door. A young woman appeared at the door. "Yes?"
I stared at her a moment, then continued. "I’m looking for Mr. Wright."
She nodded and opened the door, a silent way of inviting me in. She shut it and excused herself to go find him.
There was a large framed mirror in the entryway of the home. To the right of it was a family photo. I squinted my eyes to get a better look as Mr. Wright came to me.
"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater?" He held out his hand. "Mr. Hockley said you’d be dropping by. What can I help you with?"
The young woman appeared before heading upstairs. "Is there a more private place that we can talk, other than the foyer of your home?"
He nodded and led me to the back part of the home. He poured himself a glass of brandy and offered me one. "No, thank you." He sat down on the couch across from me and crossed his legs, then took a long sip of his brandy. "Did Mr. Hockley tell you why I was here or anything?"
He nodded. "Yes. Something about your daughter. What does this have to do with me?"
I cleared my throat, unable to word my question properly. "He said that you…well, you helped him out when he needed you. That you were, well, the man to know, in his words. I need help. Similar help to what he asked you to do."
Mr. Wright put his glass down and looked at me. "Do you know what I did for Mr. Hockley?" I nodded, and he continued. "I don’t work for free. Mr. Hockley paid me good money to do what I did for him. Are you prepared for that?"
I reached into my handbag, pulled out a brown envelope, and tossed it to him. "There is more when the job is done."