FALLING STARS
Chapter Seventeen

December 5, 1918

Rose steered the car through the Philadelphia traffic, heading for the train station. Her heart beat with anticipation as she drove. Jack was coming home! After being gone for nearly a year and a half, he was finally coming home!

Rose glanced into the back seat. Gregory and Libby were sitting on opposite sides of the car, where she had put them to keep them from bickering. The usual complaint was that one was looking out the other’s window, but today they were behaving well.

Rose turned her attention back to her driving. She had insisted that they dress nicely for this occasion, despite Gregory’s complaints that he hated getting dressed up. But they hadn’t seen Jack in a long time, and she wanted them to look nice for him.

Rose drove around the block near the train station, looking for a place to park the car. She wondered what Jack would think of the fact that she’d bought a car and learned to drive it. They still usually walked to local places, but Rose had found the car very convenient for going any place more than a few blocks away, especially with small children who walked rather slowly.

Rose parked the car and climbed out, helping the two children down to the street. Taking their hands, she headed for the waiting area, her anticipation now tinged with a bit of nervousness.

What would things be like, now that Jack was coming home? Had he changed? Had she? She knew that the children had grown a great deal, but that was to be expected. Gregory had been four years old when Jack had left, and now he was nearly six. Libby had been two years old, and was now three and a half. Rose wondered if Libby remembered her father at all.

She scanned the people milling around, seeing no sign that the train with the returning soldiers had arrived yet, and sat down to wait.

What would Jack think of her now? She had taken care of herself and the children the past year and a half, with occasional assistance from her mother. She had taken care of everything that needed doing, and had even learned to drive. She was more independent now than she had ever been before, but she would be glad to have Jack home again. She had missed him.

Would Jack have changed at all? she wondered. He had seen and done things that she could hardly imagine, and war had a way of changing people. She knew that some men who had come home early from the war had changed a great deal from when they had left, sometimes for the better, sometimes not. Others seemed to have not been greatly affected by the experience.

Another train pulled in. Rose stood up, straining to see which one it was. Gregory climbed up on the bench beside her, trying to see.

"Is that Daddy’s train?" he asked her, as several soldiers stepped out of the train.

"I don’t know," Rose told him, still straining to see.

Gregory stood on tiptoe, trying to see over the shoulders of people. His eyes caught someone emerging from one of the last cars on the train.

"It is! I see him!" he shouted, jumping off the bench and darting into the crowd before Rose could stop him.

"Gregory! Wait!" Rose called, hoisting Libby onto her hip and running after him. She stopped only long enough to pick up the hat that her son had tossed aside before following the bobbing red head into the crowd.

Gregory rushed through the crowd, heading for the place where he had seen his father step out of the train. He ran around the milling people, avoiding the press of soldiers and families come to greet them. He could hear his mother shouting after him, but he ran on, determined to find his father first.

He finally found him. Jack was trying to see through the crowd, looking for Rose and his children, when Gregory ran up to him.

"Daddy!" the boy shouted, launching himself at his father with such enthusiasm that Jack stumbled backward, knocked off balance by his son’s exuberant hug.

He picked Gregory up. "Gregory! You’ve grown! Nobody told me you’d gotten so big."

Gregory nodded happily. "Mom says that if I keep growing like this, I’m gonna be as tall as you." He grinned. "I’m already halfway there."

"That you are." Jack turned as he heard Rose’s voice. She was moving as quickly as she could through the crowd, Libby balanced on her hip.

"Ran away from your Mom, did you?" Jack asked Gregory.

Gregory looked a little sheepish. "I had to go find you."

"And you did. Let’s go catch up with her before she thinks you’ve disappeared." He set the boy down.

Gregory grabbed his hand and hurried toward his mother. "Mom! Mom! Look, Daddy’s home! I found him!"

"Gregory--" It took Rose a moment to comprehend his words. She looked up at the man at his side. "Jack! You’re home! You’re really home!" She set Libby down, running into his arms. "I’ve missed you so much--"

Her words were cut off as Jack kissed her, not caring who was watching. Rose kissed him back, throwing her arms around his neck. They had been apart for so long.

Libby clung to her mother’s skirt, staring at the vaguely familiar man who was kissing her mother. She put her thumb in her mouth. Gregory had said that this was their daddy, but she wasn’t so sure.

Gregory stared, too, at his parents kissing. "Yuck! They’re kissing," he told Libby. "Grown-ups can be icky."

Jack and Rose broke apart at the last comment. "Are you ready to go?" Rose asked him, picking up Libby again. The little girl’s eyes were wide.

"I’m ready." Jack picked up his bag, the same one he had taken with him when he left, much the worse for wear now. Gregory took his other hand, and the set off in the direction of the street.

"You’re looking good," Jack told Rose. "You all are."

And it was true. Rose was wearing a deep blue dress, similar in color to the one she had worn when they had "flown" on Titanic. It was topped with a warm white coat, and she was wearing a blue and white hat that complemented the outfit perfectly. Libby was wearing a green dress with shiny white shoes, and Gregory, now slightly rumpled from his run through the crowd, was decked out in a pair of short brown pants and a brown jacket, as well as the hat he had almost lost in the train station.

Jack looked around for a taxi, but Rose stopped him. "This way," she said, leading him around the corner and toward the car.

Jack was surprised when they walked up to the car--Rose hadn’t told him about that in her letters. He was even more surprised when, after she had put the children in the back seat, she climbed into the driver’s seat. Of course, he thought after a moment, who else would be driving? But when had she learned how?

Rose smiled at Jack’s surprised expression. He climbed into the passenger seat, looking around the inside of the car. It wasn’t the newest or the fanciest model--she had bought it a year earlier--but she had bought it new, and kept it in good condition. It had taken two months of practice before she was comfortable driving it on the streets, but now she was as skilled as any other driver; more skilled than some.

Rose started the car, moving it carefully into the street. Jack finally got over his surprise. "You bought a car?"

She nodded. "Yes. It was more convenient than walking everywhere, especially with the children." She gestured to the dashboard. "It even starts from the inside, so I don’t have to crank it."

Jack looked it over. "That’s handy."

She smiled. "It is. When I was a child, we had a couple of cars, and they were the kind that had to be cranked. There were two people who drove them--my father and a chauffeur. Father would get so mad at those cranks. He said words a couple of times that made Mother cover my ears, but I still heard."

Jack laughed. "You’re lucky the technology has improved."

"I am." She stopped, thinking of something. "Jack, do you know how to drive?"

He shook his head. "No. Not cars, anyway."

"I’ll have to teach you." She tossed her head.

"Is that a challenge, Mrs. Dawson?"

"That depends. Do you think you can learn?"

"As well as you can."

"Then I can teach you."

*****

Rose and Gregory were delighted to have Jack home. Even Libby warmed to him a little bit when he brought out the gifts he had brought from Europe.

For Libby, he had brought back a beautifully dressed doll, made of a relatively new material, plastic, that the child couldn’t break easily. Libby took the toy and settled into a child-sized chair near the fireplace while Jack brought out the things he had selected for the others.

For Gregory, he had brought a leather portfolio not unlike the one he had lost when the Titanic sank. He had stocked it with art supplies before returning home, and Gregory, who had taken as much interest in art as his father, was delighted.

For Rose, he had brought back a green velvet dress that he had purchased in Paris just after the war had ended, thinking of how the green would bring out her red hair. Rose tried it on, modeling it for him and the children. Libby looked at her admiringly and told her how beautiful she looked, then stood beside her in her own green dress and declared that they matched.

Later, as Rose was fixing dinner and Gregory was searching his room for artwork to show his father, Jack approached Libby. She was once again sitting in her little chair near the fire, playing with her doll. Jack sat down near her.

Libby looked up at him, still not quite sure what to make of him. He was vaguely familiar, and he had given her this nice doll, but she still wasn’t sure she trusted him.

"Do you remember me, Libby?"

Libby put her thumb in her mouth, still holding the doll in her other hand. Finally, she took her thumb out of her mouth.

"Greggy says you’re our daddy."

Jack nodded. "I am your daddy."

"Are you sure? Greggy says lotsa stupid things."

"Yes, Libby, I’m sure. Your brother’s right about that."

"Okay." She set the doll down, still looking at him warily. "Mommy has pictures of you."

Jack remembered all of the pictures that had been taken over the years. "I’m sure she does. She has pictures of all of us."

"Uh-huh." Libby put her thumb back in her mouth.

"Libby, let me show you something."

"What?"

Jack took the little girl’s hand and helped her out of her chair. "A picture." He led her upstairs to the bedroom he and Rose shared. On the wall was a photograph of the entire family, taken about two years earlier.

"Has your mommy shown you this picture?"

Libby screwed up her face, trying to remember. "I dunno."

"Well, this is all of us. Me, your mother, Gregory, and you," he told her, pointing to each person. "We’re all a family."

"That’s me?" Libby looked at the tiny girl in Jack’s arms, looking curiously at the camera. "I was cute!"

He laughed. "Yes, you were, Libby. You still are."

She looked at him, a bit indignantly. "I’m almost grown up. I’m three and a half!"

Jack heard Rose calling through the house, announcing that dinner was ready. "Come on, Libby. Your Mommy’s cooked a good dinner."

"Give me a piggyback ride?"

"You remember that, do you?"

"Uh huh." Libby nodded enthusiastically.

Jack picked her up, putting her on his shoulders. Libby giggled with delight.

"I’m taller than you!" she shouted at her brother as he came out of his room. She reached up. "I can almost touch the roof!"

"The ceiling," her brother corrected her. "The roof’s outside."

"You don’t know everything."

"Yes, I do!"

Jack laughed, so happy to be home at last that the children’s bickering didn’t bother him.

"Come on, you two. Let’s go see what your mother has made for dinner."

*****

All evening, the children vied for their father’s attention. Gregory showed off his artwork, and begged his father to tell him stories about the war. Jack told him a few, those that he thought were appropriate for the ears of a child. Libby crawled into his lap with a book her mother had bought her, asking him to read it to her. Jack put both children in his lap and read the book to them, while Rose snuggled against him, her arms around his shoulders.

Libby finally fell asleep in her father’s lap, and Jack carried her upstairs and put her to bed. After tucking her in, he went to tell Gregory good night, and then went to his own room, looking forward to being alone with Rose for a while.

Rose was in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, when he came in, so he changed his clothes and slipped into bed to wait for her.

Rose stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining her appearance. It had been so long since they were together. Would he still find her attractive?

She smoothed her nightgown. It was really too cold for the thin, low-cut satin, but she thought she looked better in it than in one of her warm, encompassing flannel nightgowns. Looking at herself in the mirror again, she pinched her cheeks to add a little color, then applied a tiny bit of lipstick. She hoped Jack would appreciate her efforts.

Rose stepped from the bathroom, shivering. It really was too cold for this particular nightgown. Jack looked up from the book he had been reading and set it aside.

"You look nice," he told her.

"Thank you."

"You also look cold." He pulled back the covers. "Come on. Lay down."

Gratefully, Rose slipped into the warm bed, still shivering. Jack pulled her into his arms.

Rose put her arms around him, pulling the quilt up farther. She wasn’t cold now.

"I’ve missed you, Rose," he told her, kissing her softly on the mouth.

"I’ve missed you, too," she replied, putting her head on his shoulder. "It’s been a year and a half..."

"Almost. I’ve thought about you every day."

"So have I. When those weeks went by without a letter from you, I was so worried. I didn’t know what had happened."

"I know. I’m sorry, but for some reason our mail wasn’t getting through. I didn’t mean to worry you."

"I know you didn’t." She sighed softly, snuggling against him. "What was it like over there?"

He lay back, considering. "Unpleasant, for the most part. It was hot in summer and cold in winter, and eternally muddy. There was disease and death, and the constant fear that you’d be next. It wasn’t like it was when I was roaming Europe, before I met you. At least, not most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"There were times, once in a while, after the rain stopped and it had gotten quiet, when I could look up and see the stars, and it was almost like there wasn’t a war at all, as though everything was right with the world."

"I wish I could have been there with you."

"You were, in a way. I thought about you every day; you and the children. I could almost imagine you there, in the times when it was calm." He sighed. "War is terrible thing, something that I hope I’ll never see again. I hope that they’re right, the ones who are saying that this would be the last war. I hope that our children will never have to live through a war."

Rose hugged him. "It’s over now, and you’re back, safe and sound." She paused. "When you visited Paris, did you meet anyone you knew?"

"You mean, my former art subjects?"

Rose nodded.

"No. I didn’t see anyone I knew. Things were very different from when I was there in 1911 and 1912. Many of the places I had been familiar with were gone, and I didn’t stay long, anyway. There wasn’t much time, with all the fighting going on, and when I stopped there on the way home I was too eager to get home to pay much attention to what was there." He pulled her tighter. "Maybe someday, after they’ve rebuilt everything, we can go back there, and you can show me the places that you visited, if they still exist."

"I’d like that."

They kissed, and she knew that nothing had changed. She felt his hands working their way down, searching for the hem of her nightgown, and moved to help him. He switched off his lamp, and her nightgown landed on the floor.

*****

Jack and Rose’s third child, Nancy Ruth Dawson, was born September 7, 1919.

Chapter Eighteen
Stories