She stood in a lovely white dress, her hair still lovely. As Jack took in the length of her, he felt he was unable to move. He was floored by her beauty. Memories of the last time they had met came rushing back to him and he suddenly had the urge to vomit. Their eyes interlocked for several minutes. It was as if time stood still. Neither of them knew what to do or say.
“All right. Let’s get on with this. It costs money to rent this damned room.” Derek kicked back in a chair as Rose positioned herself on the couch in front of Jack. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would jump out of her chest. What a massive déjà vu this was. The last time they had been remotely like this, she had been nude on the Titanic. Her cheeks flushed as she felt herself being watched by not only everyone else in the room, but by Jack.
Jack took small, deep breaths and allowed the artist in him to take over. After all, he was still here to do this job. He looked at Rose, trying to picture how she should sit. Memories of sketching her naked body came rushing back to him and his cheeks reddened a little.
“Could you…um…” Jack straightened his back and crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed as he tried to picture Rose as an actress. Her character was seductive and beautiful and he tried to envision some sort of pose to embody that. “Could you sit upright and just sort of look at me…keep your eyes on me?” Jack asked her.
Rose sat up straight and locked her eyes with his. He stepped behind the camera and did some small adjustments. Rose felt her whole body shaking. Even though the room was full of people, she felt as though it was just her and Jack. She contemplated pinching herself to try to wake herself from the dream she was probably having.
“Can you smile a little?” His voice disturbed her thoughts. He flashed her that sloppy grin he had always possessed and she knew right there and then that it was him.
She said nothing, but a small smile came across her face. Rose felt her heart beat quicker. Maybe she had gone insane. She could feel all of the eyes in the room on her, but all she wanted was for all of this to be over so she could talk to Jack. But would he want to talk to her? Had he thought of her as dead, too? So many unanswered questions she had from over the years.
Twenty photographs were taken. Once he was finished, he simply walked away from the set. He removed his camera from the tripod and packed it away in the little case he had brought with him.
Rose was still reeling from the afternoon’s events. Derek shook hands with Jack. She felt as though she was watching a silent movie and a story was unraveling before her. Her hands and body still shook violently. How did Derek know Jack? Rose noticed that one of Jack’s hands was on the doorknob. Was he really about to leave without speaking to her?
“Wait!” she called, surprising herself. She wondered what to say next. Did she keep her professional stance and simply thank him, or did she ask him why he was here? How had he found her? She found that no words would come out of her mouth.
Suddenly, she felt both Derek and Jack watching her and felt foolish. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She scanned Jack’s face for something, any clue to how he was feeling, but there was nothing. It was a face she had longed to see for eight years. She had pictured this moment over and over in her head, but had never dreamed this would be how it would happen.
“I’d like to thank you.” She finally found her tongue.
“And so would I, Mr. Dawson.” Derek shook his hand once again. “Rose, did you know Jack is quite a fine artist? He owns his own gallery in the city where I found him.” The smile on Derek’s face reached his eyes, showing he was genuinely happy with the work that had been done that day.
Rose turned to Jack, smiling. “No, I didn’t know,” she lied. “Perhaps you could show me sometime.” She tried to find any excuse she could to see him again, hopefully alone. She didn’t want anyone else to know they had met previously.
Jack tried to calm his breathing and keep his nerves down, at least while they were still in the presence of Derek. “I would love to.” He smiled. “Derek, weren’t you off to meet the wife?”
“Oh, sure, sure.” He pointed to the door. “I must get going, but thank you for today.” He spoke as he walked away.
Rose watched as he disappeared out the door. She put her shaky hands over her face and took him in. He was there, standing before her. She felt tears in her eyes. Jack stepped outside the door quickly and looked around behind him to make sure no one had seen him.
“What…how?” Rose was speechless. “I thought you were dead,” she whispered hoarsely.
“I’m right here, darling,” he whispered in response. His eyes were brimming with tears. Neither of them knew what to do or say. They still weren’t alone, and even if they were…what could they say to each other?
“Do you have a pen?” Rose asked.
He fiddled in his suit pocket and Rose found a piece of paper on the table beside them. She scribbled something on it quickly with her quivering hands. She held out her hand to Jack to shake. She knew full well that eyes were on them both. He took her hand, both of them feeling the unsteadiness running through their bodies. She thrust the paper into his hand, mirroring his move from eight years before.
He frowned, feeling the roughness, and saw the note that she had shoved into his hand.
Once Jack got into the elevator, he saw what it said.
Meet me in the hotel lobby. Six o’clock. We have lots to talk about. Wear something suitable.
Jack frowned. He had wondered how he would be able to speak to her alone. He knew he would have to keep a professional manner inside the hotel. He thought of someplace to take her so they could talk properly. How would they react to each other?
*****
Three men who were smoking cigars approached Rose. One young man dressed in a tuxedo smiled before asking her for an autograph. “I’m a fan of yours,” he said abashedly. Rose simply signed her name for him.
It was then that Jack had some sort of an idea of how much of a star Rose really was in these parts, but to him she was just the same Rose she had always been, the woman he had met eight years before. The day they had spoken on the Titanic she had told him of her dreams to become a dancer like Isadora Duncan, and here she was in the pictures. Jack shook his head slightly at the irony.
“I remember, Rose.” The bartender brought their drinks and Jack sipped his cautiously. “I remember when you were just a seventeen-year-old girl telling me of your dreams and how you wanted to go to Santa Monica, to be a dancer and not just a society girl, and here you are, Rose. Here you are.” His voice trailed off as he lost himself in memories of the two. He smiled a little, just to himself.
She watched his lips curl into that beautiful smile she had fallen in love with. She couldn’t believe he was here. It felt as though the afternoon had been a distant dream. Now she had awoken to be faced with reality.
“Where have you been, Jack?” she asked, wanting to cut out all formality. She had questions that she wanted to be answered. Why hadn’t they found each other?
Jack bowed his head. “I’ve been right here, Rose,” he started. “I haven’t left New York except for the war,” he told her. He could see her body shaking. He wanted to comfort her in any way he could, but knew that the memories were still fresh for them both.
“You have a gallery?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Yes. I set it up after the war.” He sipped his drink. “Being out there taught me to never take my life for granted.”
Rose reached out to touch Jack’s hand without even realizing she had done it. She felt like it was the most natural thing in the world. She knew that if people saw them, they would talk, but at this precise moment, she didn’t care.
“I’m so sorry. I saw the horror stories in the papers.” She ran her fingers over his skin, remembering their touch.
Jack nodded just once. He didn’t want any reminders of the war. He was just happy to have gotten out alive. Rose’s image had pulled him through the war, how he had imagined her smiling down at him, encouraging him not to give up, reminding him of the promise that he had made her make. How insane had he become? It turned out she had been alive the entire time.
A jazz band started up on the stage, breaking Rose’s concentration.
"Dance with me, Rose."
It wasn’t a question. It was almost an order. He wanted to dance with her. He wanted her body to be close to his as they glided wordlessly to the graceful music.
Rose stood, removed her gloves, and put them on the table. Jack led her to the small dance floor. Rose suddenly felt a little self-conscious, as if all the eyes in the room were on her.
Swallowing her nervousness, she and Jack faced each other. She could feel herself trembling as he took her right hand in his left and put the other hand on the small of her back. It was an electrifying moment for them both.
They danced a little awkwardly at first, but they sank into it. The feeling of his hand at the small of her back was causing her to tremble slightly. Jack gazed down at the angel in his arms, dancing together slowly as if they had been lovers for years.
Rose, too, gazed up at Jack. Their eyes met. The gazes upon them were forgotten and they felt as though only they existed in the room. They hadn’t danced like this in years. She swore that all of the years that had gone by since they had last seen each other had melted away. If she closed her eyes, she felt like she was that seventeen-year-old girl on board the Titanic again.
Jack pulled Rose slightly closer to him and thought he could feel her heart pounding, just like his. It was then that the music stopped and the sound of the others applauding the band brought Jack and Rose back to reality.
*****
Her mind filled with a thousand thoughts. He began to slowly walk away from her, but he seemed hesitant. “Wait!” Rose shouted.
Jack turned, tears in his eyes. The speakeasy was empty except for the bartender cleaning glasses. Slowly, Rose came towards him and looked him straight in the eye. She could feel herself falling more and more in love with him just from talking to him.
“Please don’t go yet. There’s so much more left to say to each other, Jack. I…I don’t just want you to walk out of my life again.”
Jack gazed at Rose. She wrung her hands and seemed vulnerable. He came closer to her for a second. She smiled as he grabbed her hands and held them gently in his own. She could feel his rough fingers, yet they were always gentle on her skin.
“I’m not going anywhere, Rose,” he whispered.
A few tears ran down Rose’s cheeks. Jack slowly bent forward and kissed them away, leaving Rose trembling. Just such a small gesture was enough to make her weak in the knees. “Jack…I…don’t know what to say, but…do you want to have dinner tomorrow evening?”
He shook his head. “No.” He pulled her closer to him. “I can’t just walk away now, Rose, knowing you’re here and alive. I couldn’t live, knowing you were here and I couldn’t see you.”
“Then don’t leave.” Rose stunned herself with her own words. She felt foolish for suggesting such a thing to him. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“For what, Rose?”
“Suggesting that you stay. It’s obviously inappropriate.”
Rose looked down, feeling stupid. Her head felt a mess. She couldn’t concentrate on anything except Jack. Jack put his index finger on her chin and lifted her face.
“We have found each other again, Rose. This time, I think it’s special. I don’t want to let this chance get away. We need to take our time and figure out where our lives are going and if we want each other.”
Rose nodded in agreement. She smiled weakly.
“But for now, I will say good night, darling.” Jack gently kissed Rose’s left hand. She remembered the first time he had kissed her hand on board the Titanic, a night that seemed a million years before. “We’ve got a lot to talk about tomorrow.”