A FATHER'S RESCUE
Chapter Four

Rose lay there for a short while, trying to go back to sleep, but then decided she couldn't and got up. She went downstairs in search of David, the one person she knew she could explain her dream to without being laughed at. He was seated at the kitchen table, reading the day's paper.

"Oh, you're awake," he said, looking up at the sound of her footsteps. "Did you get any rest?"

"Why, yes," Rose answered, a bit too quickly, pushing her latest dream to the back of her mind. What could it possibly be saying about her mental health?

David's eyebrows arched in a questioning manner, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. "So, are you ready to hit the pavement?"

"What?"

"Look for a job," he explained. "Since you're up. The day is still young. No sense in waiting."

Rose couldn't admit to the man that she wasn't ready. She needed a way to pass her days, a way out of this hotel for society's castoffs. She had no one to support her; her only means would be to become a wage earner. She knew this was exactly what she needed to do...she just couldn't do it today.

"We can, David, tomorrow. I'd just like to sit here and talk right now, if that's all right with you."

"Yes, it is. Is there something on your mind?"

"No, I...I just feel like having a nice conversation, that's all."

David sighed, and Rose knew he had seen right through her. Between dealing with this man and Mrs. Wallace, Rose realized, she was going to have to become a much better liar.

"Rose, what is going on? Is there something important you aren't telling me about?" Rose looked down, and said nothing. "I promise I won't tell anyone else. Please, Rose, you seem so unhappy, maybe talking about it will help."

Rose's eyes watered and she squeezed them shut. In her mind's eye, all she could see were large black letters on a white background: HOSPITAL. Her eyes jerked open.

"Rose?" David asked. A twinge of concern seeped into his voice. "What's the matter?"

Before she could say a word, Mrs. Wallace swept into the room. She looked first surprised and then ispleased at their presence in her kitchen. "The next meal isn't until six PM," she said sharply.

"Well, Rose, let's continue our discussion in the parlor," David pronounced, and stood, folding the paper with exaggerated slow gestures. "I'd love to stretch out on that comfortable sofa."

"You will do no such thing!" the landlady cried. Her face had begun to redden; it was a most unpleasant sight. "I will not have idle tenants lounging the day away in my nice living room. Stay in here if you must."

David grinned and winked at Rose. The term living room was inappropriate. Mrs. Wallace never allowed anyone to set foot inside her sacred parlor, which she gave a thorough cleaning weekly. But no one came calling for her, either, and so the immaculate room went unnoticed.

Apparently satisfied that her precious showroom wasn't going to be invaded, Mrs. Wallace set about preparing herself a heavy luncheon, including a cold roast beef sandwich made from the previous night's supper. Rose was certain she was hovering around so that she could eavesdrop on their conversation, so she stood.

"I need to go upstairs for a moment. I'll be back down shortly," she told David. He followed her cue and excused himself as well. Rose awaited him at the foot of the stairs. She gestured towards the front door and they slipped outside.

"What a relief!" Rose sighed. "Is she always like that?"

"Yes," David groaned. "She always brags that nothing goes on under her roof without her knowledge."

"Well, she doesn't have to worry about me doing anything untoward," Rose said.

"I don't know if that's what she's concerned about."

"What do you mean?"

David instantly looked as though he regretted opening his mouth. "Well...Rose, you showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes you were wearing, and they're the clothes of a wealthy woman, not the usual derelicts who seek rooms here. And you seem quite young to be wandering around New York unchaperoned. It's as if you're running from someone."

Rose stood there silent a moment, her mind scrambling for something at least half-truthful to say. In the end, she couldn't, and decided she had to lie. She only hoped she was convincing.

"No, David, I'm not. I'm on my own because I want to be. It takes getting used to, I must admit. I've done all right though. I know by now I look dreadful. I'll just have to go shopping."

"Well, the shops are too far from here to walk. But I have my buggy. The boss lets me keep it here on my off days. I can take you, if you'd like."

Rose hesitated, then said yes. "I'd like to go in just a bit, if that's all right."

"Of course, I'll meet you back down here in just a little while." Rose agreed, and went upstairs to gather up some money, as well as to freshen up as much as possible. Then, she met David at the door, and they headed out. During the ride, Rose began to consider what she would buy. And she thought it would be so wonderful, not having her mother there to tell her what looked proper, forcing on Rose her own choices of what she thought looked nice. Rose smiled at this, and began to think this shopping trip would be more fun than she had imagined.

David had reverted to his usual quiet nature, and Rose was able to tune out just about all the background noise except the steady clop, clop of the horse's hooves. She was actually beginning to enjoy herself, her initial terror and sorrow fading as more pressing concerns, like how she would earn a living, came to the forefront.

She stared at all the scenery, the colorful people from so many different countries and walks of life going about their business. To them, probably, the Titanic was just another headline in the papers. It had nothing to do with them, and none of them would care about a missing and presumed dead society girl from Philadelphia. In a way, it was exhilarating. But it was also frightening.

In an effort to relax and make conversation, she asked David, "How long have you been driving this for a living?"

"Six years," he answered.

"It must be fun," Rose mused.

He shrugged. "It's not what I would prefer, but it pays the bills."

Rose was about to ask what he would prefer, but then he drew the buggy up to the curb in front of what appeared to be a large warehouse. On closer inspection, however, Rose could see that it was a department store.

Rose stepped down to the sidewalk slowly, trying to remember if she had ever been to this store before. Chamberlain's...she couldn't recall the name, even if she had been here previously. A store had never looked so large to her.

Still, she went directly to the door, prepared to go inside. She did so without giving a single thought to perhaps looking out of place. It was only after stepping inside that Rose was conscious of how shabby she looked. Even worse, a salesperson looked her way and smirked.

That same man would have been falling all over himself to wait on me a month ago, Rose thought with a trace of anger. That galvanized her. She marched right up to the young man and asked loudly, "Where are the ladies' dresses, please?"

He gave her a patronizing grin. "They're on the second floor, miss." Pause, then in a lower voice, "Ladies of the evening shop elsewhere."

Rose turned crimson. No one had ever had the audacity to speak to her in such a fashion. Without realizing it Rose DeWitt Bukater was rising to the surface, and she was the imperious society girl in his face, shouting for everyone around her to hear. "Why, you ignorant little no account--"

Suddenly, David was at her side, having followed her into the store. She just looked so timid and frail, he had the inexplicable feeling that she'd disappear in there and never come out. Right now she seemed anything but. He'd probably have to rescue the clerk.

"Rose, what is going on? Why are you shouting?"

"This...man took one look at me and decided I wasn't worthy of shopping in his store!"

Rose turned her attention back to the clerk. "You, sir," she said sharply, "have no idea why I look the way I do, and it is none of your business. I am here, with perfectly good money, prepared to buy everything I need. Now, is there someone here willing to wait on me, or not? I can always take my business elsewhere."

"N-no," the clerk sputtered. He glanced around; that part of the store was like an open-air market and everyone could see and hear the confrontation quite clearly. And they were all staring. "I'd be quite happy to assist you with all of your needs, madam." Rose smiled sweetly. "Thank you. Why don't you take me to the dress department first?"

"Certainly. Right this way, miss." Rose turned to follow the man, flashing a proud smile at David as she did so. He was amazed. In the short time that he'd known her, he thought he had Rose pegged. He saw her as a shrinking violet, someone who chose to run and hide from a tragedy in her past instead of confronting it directly. But she'd surprised him. She was a flower all right, but, true to her name, it was the rose she resembled more--a fascinating beauty, but one with thorns.

David excused himself to wait outside, and Rose went on her way with the clerk. Soon, they were on the upper floor, picking out dresses Rose thought seemed proper to her new lifestyle. Of course, they were simpler than what she had been used to, but she liked them. After the dresses came underclothes and shoes. By the time Rose was ready to leave, it took two clerks to carry all of her things to the car.

For a moment, Rose was feeling like her old self. Her arms were full of packages, like gifts to herself that she could take her time unwrapping. It was like when she used to come to the city at Christmastime with her parents, and her father would give her carte blanche to use his account at all the big department stores. They would all stroll along Fifth Avenue, their arms laden down with bags, admiring the cheery displays in the windows...

Rose sat on what felt like a piece of paper and looked down at the seat beside her. She gasped, and her face went deathly pale.

Chapter Five
Stories