The days melted into weeks after Jack returned to Rose’s life. Their days were spent together. Since the night Jack had attended Hamlet, they had carried on their love affair, unbeknownst to anyone. After Rose’s performances, Jack would be waiting in her dressing room. He would take her to dinner before taking a detour home by the river. People thought of Jack as nothing but an old friend of Rose’s. They knew they must have been close from the way they spoke fondly of old times when they had first met, although no one quite knew when that was. Rose couldn’t remember a time when she had been happier. She was a successful actress and had the love of a good man.
*****
After two weeks, Jack had returned home to New York. That was four months before, and now, as he stood in the window of his gallery, he saw the seasons change from summer to autumn and now winter.
Snow fell thickly over New York City. It was Christmas Eve and Jack was just about ready to close. His body felt numb from the cold. Customers had ceased to arrive a few hours ago. Jack felt the bitter sting of loneliness, just like he had for many years. Other men his age were fathers and husbands, but he had nothing. His Rose had had to stay in L.A. and he wouldn’t see her for another month or so.
He buttoned his jacket before reaching the coat stand and pulling his outer coat over his body. The snow had calmed a little, but it was almost shin deep and Jack dreaded the fifteen minute walk to his apartment. He loved the seasons, and the scene outside was almost like something on a postcard, with the snow falling and the streetlights just coming on, but he knew that only loneliness awaited him at home. He paused for a moment and thought of Rose. He knew this weather wouldn’t have hit where she was. He wondered what she was doing at this precise moment. Thinking of him, too?
Something in the distance caught his eye. He narrowed his eyes and saw the figure of someone struggling with a suitcase in the snow. Relatives visiting at the last minute, he thought, proceeding to look for his keys. Upon finding them, he flicked out the lights and realized that the street was almost pitch black. He opened the door, causing bits of snow to fly inside. He quickly shut the door behind him.
He wouldn’t be heading back to work until after the new year and would have to find something else to do with his days. When he was younger, he would always find a way to amuse himself, something which he learned early as an only child with no brothers or sisters to play with. But now, as he had grown older, he simply found he had nothing much to do.
His thoughts were all of Rose. He hadn’t sketched her in years. For the months after the Titanic sank, that was all he took comfort in until he opened the store, but now, with a week away from work, he didn’t know what he would do.
The figure was closer now. It was a woman dressed in a long fur coat. For some reason, he thought it was Rose, but then he shook his head, realizing it couldn’t be. He couldn’t get her out of his head, but his heart soared, knowing that she was alive and well, thriving and doing what she loved, although he did wish she was there to spend Christmas with him.
He locked the door and fiddled inside his pocket to find his gloves. He was about to head for home when he heard his name being called.
Quickly, he turned his head in the direction of the woman. Her features became clearer. It was Rose. She carried a small suitcase and struggled to walk through the thick snow, her feet sliding. “Jack!” she called again.
As quickly as he could, he sprinted through the snow, leaving deep prints. The snow crunched under his feet and he almost slipped a few times, but he didn’t care. Upon reaching her, he pulled her up into his arms, covering her red face with kisses.
She had dropped her suitcase to the ground, struggling with the weight. She hadn’t packed much, but with no cabs were running this direction, she knew she would have to walk. It had taken about forty minutes, the snow and cold not making things easier.
“Rose.” He kissed her face again and stroked her cheeks, feeling just how cold she was.
Her face was flushed and her hair blew wildly. Her whole body felt numb, but just seeing Jack filled her with warmth.
“I had to come, Jack,” she managed. She saw the smile across his face. It reached his eyes. She threw herself against his chest, feeling how warm he was. Snow began to fall harder and thicker, but they still didn’t move for a few moments. “I couldn’t be apart from you any longer,” she told him.
He stroked her hair. “I’m so glad you came,” he whispered as she touched his face. “You should have called. I would have met you…”
“No.” She smiled. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“It definitely was.”
Jack put his arm around her waist. Her face was flushed and bits of snow landed in her hair before melting, causing her curls to go limp. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He picked up her suitcase from the ground before taking her hand and leading her back to his house.
*****
It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was enough for him. He didn’t have any Christmas decorations and didn’t have many cards, just a few neighbors who had posted well wishes through his mailbox the day before. In fact, he didn’t even have anything to cook for Rose for dinner. He had planned a lonely day, dinner by the fire followed by reading, maybe a little drawing before heading off to bed for an early night. He had planned to head to a lake while it was frozen, do some ice fishing like when he was a boy.
The roads were more narrow than she remembered and the houses seemed a lot smaller. Maybe that was because she was so used to the opulent houses in Los Angeles where the stars lived.
"So, what do you think?" Jack smiled at Rose, indicating the house.
Rose smiled. "It’s lovely, like a house from a dream or something."
"Yes. It’s home," Jack said, almost to himself. Today did feel like a dream to him. “Where I’ve lived since the war.”
Walking up to the porch, Jack carried the suitcase and Rose followed. She took in everything around her. When Jack had finally opened the door, she stepped inside.
The downstairs had a kitchen, dining room, and another small room, which Jack had turned into a darkroom. The stairs were located straight in front of the door and the second floor had two small bedrooms and a bathroom.
Taking in everything around her, Rose wandered into the kitchen. It was very spacious for such a small house. Almost everything was made of wood. She heard Jack’s shoes on the wooden floor and turned to see him smiling.
Rose smiled, removing her hat and allowing some of her hair to fall freely around her face. She felt slightly strange in New York. Maybe it was due to the fact that she was here with Jack, and it was a new place for her. She took in the dining room, the high ceiling and dark oak. A large dining table sat on the right side of the room, while a cream couch sat on the left side of the room.
Jack went down to the cellar and found some logs to start the fire with. He also came across a few bottles of wine. He smiled to himself. After he had gotten the fire started, he poured both himself and Rose glasses of wine.
It would be cold tonight. After grabbing some blankets, Jack and Rose sat in front of the fire, glasses of wine in hand. It was almost dark out, and the room was still and silent except for the flickers of the fire. The flames from the fire illuminated Rose’s face in the most angelic way, and Jack could still not believe she was here with him. Her attention seemed to be elsewhere.
She thought of the time that she and Jack had spent apart. She had missed him so much; her heart still ached for his arms to be around her. She was close to him, and she thought that somewhere, deep down, she should have known he was still alive. A single tear slipped down her face.
"What’s wrong, Rose?" Jack pulled Rose closer to him. She felt the warmth of his body and immediately rested against him. She shivered, and he pulled the blanket further around her body. "Don’t cry, darling. What’s the matter?"
"I just…well…was thinking about us,” she sobbed.
"I don’t want you to cry over that anymore, Rose. I want you to think of the good times together." Jack smiled. He stroked her hair gently.
"What happened to your parents, Jack?" Rose asked. She realized she didn’t know. Despite everything they had spoken about aboard the ship, she had never wanted to ask that question. She remembered the pained expression on his face when he had spoken about it.
Resting against the back of the couch, Jack took a deep breath. "Ma died of heart failure when I was fourteen, and Pa died when he took me ice fishing on Lake Wissota three months later."
Rose’s hand went to her face. "Oh, my. I’m so sorry."
"It’s all right now. I never blamed God for taking my parents away so young; I know they were meant to be together. When I left home, I didn’t know what money was. When I was growing up in Chippewa Falls, we didn’t have much, but we got by.” He lowered his head for a moment, memories coming back to him.
Gently, Rose touched his face. It seemed to bring him back to the present. "You have me now, Jack." Rose smiled.
Taking Rose’s hand and gently grazing it with his lips, Jack moved closer. For a brief second, their lips touched. "I know, darling. We’re so lucky to have found each other."
Suddenly, a loud chime came from the church clock down the street. Rose jumped, her heart beating hard until she realized it was only the chimes. “Looks like it’s midnight.” She cuddled closer to Jack.
“Merry Christmas, Rose.” Jack touched her face and kissed her lips just once before pulling her back into his arms and savoring the moment, knowing it would be something he would always remember.
“We don’t have any presents, Jack.” Rose giggled beneath the blanket covering them.
“We don’t have any dinner, either.”
“Just being with you is enough for me, Jack. We’ve been far away for far too long.”