A FATHER'S RESCUE
Chapter Fifteen
Fortunately for Rose, thanks to the news
Michael had gotten from Mrs. Wallace, he came to visit the very next day. Rose
was surprised to see him, but also delighted that she'd been right about seeing
him the other day. They spent nearly two hours talking, catching up on things.
Most of all, Rose wanted to know why her father had left. He explained it
slowly and in great detail. It turned out he'd discovered he had a serious
heart condition, and hadn't wanted to burden his wife and child with any more
bills.
Rose, for her part, offered as few details
about why she'd come to New York alone as possible. Considering that they'd
just been reunited, Michael didn't want to press things and upset her.
"We can talk about it when you're
feeling better, Rose."
"All right, Daddy. What about you? Have
you seen the doctor?"
"Yes. That's why you saw me here the
other day. I'm doing very well right now. I'm more worried about you. You look
tired, sweetheart."
Rose smiled to hear him call her that again.
"I'm better today, but I am a little tired. I'll take a nap after you
leave."
"All right." Michael paused, taking
a deep breath. "Rose, I want you to know that I realize it was wrong of me
to leave you. You always loved me so much. You deserved more than to be
abandoned."
"Daddy...I think I can understand why
you did it. Mother wouldn't have had any sympathy for you. She's a
very...difficult person."
He sighed. "Yes, that's a nice way of
putting it. Was it too terrible for you, being alone with her?"
Rose looked away, not wanting to tell him all
the nasty little details. "I managed, Daddy. The maids kept me company,
mostly. I'd really rather not talk about it, yet. All right?"
He frowned. "All right, Rose. You take a
nap now. I'll go home for a while and come back later."
"All right, Daddy. I'm so glad you came.
I've missed you...so much." Only now, as he was ready to go, did Rose feel
like she was going to cry. Her father wrapped her in a long, gentle hug.
"Rosie, I missed you, too. I love you
very much, and I won't ever leave you like that again."
"Daddy, you can't promise that. Your
heart, you said..."
"I know what I said, but now that I'll
be earning money again, I can afford to have regular checkups with the doctor.
Don't you worry about me. Get yourself well, that's all."
"I will," she whispered, hugging
him tighter for a moment. Then, Michael kissed her, and left.
*****
When he returned later that day, Rose was
still sleeping, so Michael managed to locate some paper and a pencil to leave a
very long letter for his daughter. He knew he could tell her these things
himself, but he'd always expressed himself more clearly in writing. Besides, he
thought Rose would be glad to have something to do in the morning, to fill up
at least a few minutes of her day.
After leaving the note with a nurse, Michael
went directly back to the apartment house. He first had to answer questions from
those who were home about how Rose was doing. Then, he went quietly upstairs
and into his daughter’s room.
Michael felt guilty doing this. He had always
respected Rose's space as far as her room was concerned. But, he knew this was
necessary if he wanted answers.
His search was at first fruitless, but soon
enough, he found what he was looking for, in a bureau drawer. The money and
necklace he found took him greatly by surprise, but only presented more
questions, not answers. What he was looking for was there in the same drawer,
resting concealed under the other things. Michael extracted the pieces of
paper, and gasped. He had wanted answers, yes...but nothing like this.
Just because Rose had these things didn't
necessarily mean that she had been there...but deep down Michael could feel
that she had. Only a catastrophe like this would cause such nightmares,
especially for someone like Rose.
Just then there was a commotion on the
stairwell. Michael left the rather cumbersome piece of jewelry and cash exactly
as he found it, but folded the newspaper clipping and stuffed it into a pocket
of his trousers. He slipped outside into the hallway, closed the door behind
him and hurriedly relocked it just as Lincoln came down from the top level,
dragging a reluctant Roosevelt behind him on a leash. Michael hoped the man
would just continue on his way, but Lincoln was in a rare friendly mood.
"Well, good day to you, sir! And how is your daughter? Better, I
hope?"
Michael wondered if the man was trying to
make up for all the nasty comments he and some of the other tenants had made
about Rose. "She is much better. Thank you," he replied in a strained
tone of voice.
"Glad to hear it, glad to hear it. Well,
are you coming down for luncheon, then? We should have plenty. Frances ain't
here." He let out a little chuckle at his own joke. Then, it turned into a
cough. "Well, gotta walk this puppy. I'll see you at the table, eh?"
He nodded and was finally on his way. Roosevelt sniffed at Michael, decided he
had no food, and followed.
Michael had no time to waste. At least it was
Lincoln he'd run into—the one who'd have the least amount of questions—and that
Frances woman was apparently nowhere to be found. He had to talk to Rose again.
Michael was very glad the hospital was so
close, as David was not home to take him in the carriage. When he arrived, Rose
was awake, and she had obviously been waiting for him.
"I got the note, but I'm still relieved
you're back so soon. I can't help but worry, just a little."
"I know. It's all right. Are you feeling
better?"
"Yes, thank you. I had a nice nap."
"I'm glad. Now, there is something I'd
like to talk to you about. I apologize, but while I was at the apartment, I
went in your room. I found this."
He pulled the folded page from his pocket,
opened it up, and held it out. "Why do you have this, Rose? There is only
one reason I can think of why you would. I'm hoping I'm wrong. Will you explain
it to me, please?"
One glimpse of the headline and Rose went
white as a sheet. She turned away and refused to look at her father, or to take
the piece of paper—already heavily creased from all the handling—from his hand.
"Rose? Sweetheart, you're shaking."
Rose wrapped her arms tightly around her
body, as if sealing herself in a protective cocoon. She rocked back and forth
ever so slowly.
"This is why your mother believes you
are dead." It was a statement more than a question. "You were on the
Titanic, you somehow got separated from her during the sinking, and saw an
opportunity to escape, to start over."
She still said nothing.
"Oh, Rosie, I'm so sorry. How traumatic
for you!" Michael pulled a chair beside her bed and took her hands in his.
She was trembling something awful now, and her wide blue eyes stared at
something he couldn't see. "Rose, can you hear me?"
There was screaming all around her, screaming
and splashing and she was so, so cold.
"Rose?"
"It's so cold, Jack," she
whimpered. "I can't feel my body."
"Jack? Who is Jack?" That name
again, just another missing piece of the puzzle. There were so many layers to
this mystery. Michael shook his daughter gently. "Rosie? Can you hear me?
Please answer me!"