A FATHER'S RESCUE
Chapter One

Rose woke sometime later to a knock at her door. The person did not enter, but spoke from the other side. Rose immediately recognized the voice as Sam's. "I dunno what's on your mind there, Miss, but you're makin' an awful lot of noise. Is somethin' wrong?"

"N-no, sir," she called out in a shaky voice. Oh, how she longed to tell him, yes, something is wrong, I want my nice warm room in Philadelphia, I want my mother and father, I want Jack!

"Oh, Jack, I need you," she whispered.

As Sam's footsteps echoed down the hallway, Rose curled into a tight little ball on the mattress. She felt something sharp in her side and gasped. Shaking, she reached underneath her and found the diamond. It had fallen out of a coat pocket. Once again, Rose stared at it in amazement.

Le Coeur de la Mer it was called, the Heart of the Ocean. It had been a gift from her despised fiancé, Caledon Hockley, just another worthless bauble in a series of mindless and mind-boggling expensive gifts he'd showered upon her. It was supposedly priceless, but it meant nothing to her until Jack had drawn her portrait, wearing nothing but the diamond necklace around her neck.

She choked back tears and clutched the necklace tightly to her chest. Soon, she was lost in the deepest sleep she'd had in years.

The next time Rose awoke, it was morning. She looked around her little room. It was the dirtiest thing she had ever seen, with the floor obviously long unswept, and the windows were downright grimy. She couldn't bring herself to examine the mattress she had slept on, knowing that if she did, she would not be able to sleep here again tonight. She did not like the idea, but she was going to have to stay here until she regained some of her strength.

Rose laid there, considering going back to sleep, until the smell of food drifted up to her. She realized it must be breakfast time, and if she wanted to get her share, she decided, she had better hurry down.

But she couldn't let them see her finery. It would be a dead giveaway that she didn't belong here, and the last thing she needed was raised eyebrows. She quickly removed her earrings and slid them into the coat pocket, along with the diamond. Then she felt the small wad of cash, also courtesy of her ex-fiancé.

"Why, thank you, Cal," she said to herself, and managed a wry smile.

But what to do with the coat? Surely, she couldn't show up at the breakfast table wearing a man's overcoat. There was, however, no way she could leave it here in this unlocked room, where someone could just enter and take what they wished. To make matters worse, Rose knew she didn't have the simple option of locking the door; she had yet to obtain the key from the landlady. But she simply could not be seen bringing the coat to the table, at all. So, the only option she saw was to leave it here, in a drawer of the bureau that stood against the wall. And to make the meal pass as quickly as possible...while managing to take possession of her room key quickly as well, without seeming hurried or suspicious.

That problem resolved, at least temporarily, Rose slowly left the room and descended the stairs, her heels sounding abnormally loud to her ears. But it appeared that no one in the kitchen below even heard her coming; the boisterous voices and clinking of silverware never slowed. Once she reached the ground floor, she stood absolutely still, uncertain what to do next. For a full minute she remained frozen in that spot. She was about to turn back the way she came, retrieve her coat, and run, run as fast as her weary legs could carry her from this godforsaken prison, but just then a door to her left opened...

Rose soon figured out that this person she was now face to face with must be the landlady. She already looked flushed, probably from preparing the breakfast. Rose could not manage to speak, though, and the landlady spoke to her first.

"Sam said he let you in last night. We can talk later, you'd best get your breakfast first."

Rose only nodded and at last entered the kitchen, taking the only remaining seat at the table. The four men and one woman already seated there were so involved in a heated argument that they didn't immediately notice Rose, who was doing her best to remain inconspicuous. But it wasn't long before one of the men spotted her, and did a double take.

"Well, 'alo!' he leered at her. "What 'ave we here? Why, it is a little princess, come to join us for breakfast."

He broke into hysterical laughter at that point, though no one else at the table found his joke funny at all. The others stared at Rose without saying a word. She took that as an invitation to introduce herself, and cleared her throat.

"Hello, my name is Rose." She offered no last name for now, and no one asked for one, which helped her relax a little. The gentlemen did not return the proper introduction as Rose had hoped they would, but the other woman seated at the table promptly spoke up.

"You must have gotten here mighty late last night. I'm a night owl, and I didn't hear you come in. My name is Frances. Don't let these fellows scare you, they just enjoy being loud. Go on, take your share before they eat it all."

Rose could have sworn this was the same woman who nearly missed spitting on her the night before, but forgot all about it as Frances indicated the spread on the table before her. And a healthy spread it was indeed! A platter of hotcakes, a tray of fat sausages all linked together, a bowl of grits and another of fried potatoes. Twin pitchers of orange juice sat at either end of the table.

"C'mon, don't be shy," urged Sam. "There's plenty here."

Rose's stomach growled, and she was unable to restrain herself any longer. She lifted her fork and delicately pierced a hotcake on the top of the stack. The others looked on, amused.

Rose wanted to say something, to make them stop staring at her. But she was so new here, she couldn't risk upsetting anything. Besides, if there was anything her mother had drilled into her, it was that someone of her standing--no matter where she was--should always act like a proper lady. She didn't know how long she would be able to continue doing that here, but she could now, and she intended to.

Ignoring their rudeness as much as possible, Rose at last got her plate filled and began to eat. She could still feel the men's eyes on her, but was determined to say nothing to them. She had been down here quite some time already, it seemed, and she hadn't even spoken properly to the landlady yet. Thoughts of the jacket resting in that drawer made Rose hurry though the meal faster than any she had ever had.

Finally, the drunkard who'd found it necessary to taunt her spoke up. "What's a nice lassie like you doing in a place like this?"

They all watched her expectantly. Rose could tolerate it no longer. She wiped her mouth gently with her napkin and raised her eyes to meet those of the man across from her. She was no longer Rose the frightened runaway girl, but Rose the upper-crust snob.

"I beg your pardon," she said coolly. "I do believe I'm eating breakfast, the same thing you're doing."

Frances laughed aloud, an annoying honking noise, and the men slowly followed suit, Sam and the other roaring, and the third man, who'd previously looked rather solemn, grinning broadly. At last the drunk, knowing he'd been bested, joined in good-naturedly.

After this, everyone quieted down and Rose was able to eat her meal in peace. Once she had finished, she cleared away her own dishes, then went in search of the landlady to talk things over with her. Not seeing her anywhere, Rose went and knocked softly on the door of the room she had seen her emerge from before.

"Come in," came the cheery voice.

Rose opened the door cautiously, instantly banging it against a piece of furniture. She tried in vain to push it open further, then gave up and squeezed through the narrow opening. She was in the most cluttered parlor she'd ever had occasion to visit. Bulky furniture took up every inch of space in what looked to have once been a spacious room. Photographs and glass figurines covered every surface, and in the center of an Oriental rug lay an enormous, contented cat of questionable breed. It refused to move when Rose approached, only glared at her as if to say, "Who are you and how dare you invade my home?"

The lady of the house, stretched lazily on the divan, eyed her with considerably less hostility.

"So what's your excuse?" she drawled, and took a sip from a teacup.

"Pardon?"

"What's your excuse, your reason for ending up in these grand surroundings," the woman replied, sweeping her arm about her. "Everyone's got one."

Rose hesitated in answering, knowing she could not tell the truth but not wanting to tell a total lie, either. At last she decided on something. "I just found myself all alone here, unexpectedly. It was so late, I had to sleep somewhere, and this was the first place..."

The older woman waved a hand in the air, dismissing the rest of Rose's sentence. "Yes, I know, this was the first place you came to. What's your name?"

"Rose." Again, her first name was all she would offer. She expected more questioning about it this time, but received none.

"Come, sit. You look very tired. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." Rose sat down only because it was polite. "I would like to talk more, but perhaps another day. I would really just like my key, so I can have a little privacy upstairs."

The woman eyed her as though she were a specimen under a microscope. Rose began to feel uncomfortable, but refused to look away. Finally, the landlady said, "I don't just go 'round giving out keys to my rooms. I run a respectable place, y'hear?"

Rose drew herself up to her full height, hoping that she appeared intimidating. Many people had told her in the past that she could look quite authoritative, even superior, when she wanted to. She addressed the woman in a calm, but firm tone. "I can assure you, that I am NOT just some floozy looking for a place to have a good time. I am a decent, respectable lady and, as I informed you, I am only seeking shelter during my stay in New York. But if you have no rooms available to me, I can leave now." She turned and made for the door, but the woman called to her hastily.

"Hey," she said, laughing. "You don't need to be in such a rush. You can have the room if ya want. I was just thinking, a woman the likes of you might want to stay someplace fancy, y'know."

"I...I can't. Not yet. I just need to stay here...and rest."

The landlady's gaze darkened. "You said you're not sick. You weren't lyin' to me before, were ya?"

"Oh, no ma'am. I'm just tired. Very tired. Now, may I please have the key?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Something she saw in Rose's face made the other woman soften her tone greatly. "You're in the third one, right side, aren't you?"

Rose only nodded. The landlady went to a drawer in one of the many pieces of furniture and withdrew a key, which she immediately handed to Rose. She turned to go, but the landlady spoke again. "Wait now, we aren't quite finished. I know your name, you don't know mine. My name is Mrs. Wallace. If you need anything, you just let me know."

"Thank you. You won't hear a peep from me, I promise." She turned to leave the room, but the landlady called to her again.

"Ahem? We do charge rent here." She paused, quickly estimating in her head how much this well-dressed woman might be worth. "Ten dollars a week," was her offer. "And I do take the first week's rent up front."

Rose accepted, and offered to go right upstairs and get some money. She almost tripped over the indignant cat in her haste to leave the apartment.

Mrs. Wallace sniffed. "Snooty girl. Won't make a peep, eh? Except screaming in the middle of the night."

Rose climbed the stairs carefully, eyes darting from side to side in search of little furry creatures with long tails. Though why there should be a rodent problem with that huge cat around was beyond her. When she got to her room, Rose stopped suddenly in her tracks. The door was standing slightly open, and she heard noises inside.

Chapter Two
Stories