December 15, 1920
New York City

Jake Calvert sighed as Rose Dawson refused his proposal once again. "Marry me," he pleaded once more.

"No, Jake. It's all too sudden." Rose paused. "You don't want an old widow." She looked away from his scalding glare. "Besides, we've only known each other for five months."

"But, pray tell, do you love me?" His voice had a desperate tone to it.

Rose looked out the window of her tiny apartment; weighing her words carefully. She hated being smothered, and that was what he was doing to her.

"Yes...but not in the way you supposedly feel for me. You're my manager. My friend."

"You can grow to love me," he suggested.

She sighed. "No, Jake, no. My answer is no...my love is still with Jack Dawson. I will not marry again."

Jake sighed. "Think about it," he demanded softly, and she reluctantly nodded. "Where are you going for Christmas?"

"I have yet to figure that out," Rose replied, sounding miserable.

"Spend Christmas with me in my family's house in Cedar Rapids."

"I honestly want to spend this year with Josephine. Just she and I."

He put his hat on. "Fine then. Good day," he said and took his leave.

Rose sighed irritably as the door slammed shut. She sat down on her comfortable couch, thinking of Jack, her supposed husband. This will be the eighth Christmas without him, she thought, tears stinging her eyes.

Interrupting her wistful reverie, her eight-year-old daughter ran into the apartment, crying.

"Mama!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, my darling Josephine!" Rose cried and embraced her daughter. "Whatever has made you cry?"

"It was horrible, mama! My classmates were teasing me because I have no father. They called me a bastard!" Josephine wailed. "Why don't I have a father, mama? Why?"

Tears unexpectedly came to Rose's eyes and she wept for a short while. She hugged her daughter tightly, not wanting to let go of the child that looked so much like her beloved.

"Oh, angel, I'm sorry! I'm so terribly sorry!"

"Why, mama? What happened?"

Not wanting to go into too much detail, Rose finally said, "Your father's name is Jack Dawson. And he and I met on the Titanic. You know, the ship that hit the iceberg and sank?" She stroked her daughter's red curls.

Josephine nodded. Her eyes, so much like her father's, were round with shock.

Rose went on. "Well, we met and fell in love. Before we could be married, the ship sank and he perished with it. A month later I found out that you were in my tummy."

"My daddy is in heaven, then?" Josephine wondered, whispering as she cried.

A sob escaped from Rose's throat. "Yes, Darling, and when you say your prayers at night, you can talk to him, also. He shall listen to you. I know he loves you."

"Mommy?" Josephine asked. "Do you think Daddy is taking care of Mittens?"

Rose smiled, despite her tears, thinking of Jack holding their daughter's white cat. "Yes, I'm sure he is."

Rose gasped at a sudden idea that popped into her head. "I have a wonderful idea, angel! Why don't we go to your father's house in Wisconsin?"

"Oh, mama! That would be splendid! Maybe I have grandparents there! Or cousins to play with!" Josephine exclaimed.

"Oh, darling, I do hope so! Let's go tomorrow. We can spend two weeks there."

"I will pack right away!" Josephine said, hugging her mother and running to her room.

*****

The next morning, mother and daughter boarded a train headed for Chippewa Falls. Josephine was excited. Rose was nervous.

The train ride took two days to get to Chippewa Falls. It was the first time in eight years that Rose had been on a train. She hadn't summoned up the courage to do what she and Jack had planned. Travel the world...become totally carefree...

"Darling, if we do have relatives down here, I want you to be on your best behavior," Rose instructed, as they walked down the main street of Chippewa Falls.

"I will, mama," the girl promised. "Do you know where daddy lived?"

"No, darling. We have to ask someone," Rose answered.

"Oh..." Josephine heaved a tiny sigh as they walked into a hotel.

Rose guided her daughter to the front desk and asked the man if he knew where the Dawson house was. She awaited the answer as butterflies filled her stomach and she held her breath.

"Yes, ma'am, it's down 'yonder 'bout a mile. Then ya turn left on Willow Lane. Big white house at the end of the street. Ya can't miss it," the older man said with a cheerful smile.

Rose smiled back. "Do you happen to know what time it is?"

He looked at his fancy pocket watch. "Hmm...fifteen 'til ten."

"Thank you, sir," Rose said and left with her daughter.

Rose looked at the dark sky that loomed above her, breathing a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the hotel that smelled like whiskey and cigarette smoke. She was almost violently jerked out of her reverie when she heard Josephine squeal with delight.

"Mama! Look at all the ponies!" The girl pointed to the passing carriages.

Rose frowned, thinking of that April evening when Jack promised he'd take her to Santa Monica and "...ride horses on the beach, right in the surf..."

The innocent words echoed in her mind. "Yes, angel. They're grand, aren't they?" she asked belatedly.

"Oh, yes, mama! Can we ride one?" Josephine asked excitedly.

"Maybe later, sweetheart," Rose replied. "Come along, we have to find your father's house."

They walked through the snow, which made the journey a little bit longer than usual, and they were exhausted when they arrived at the big white house at the end of Willow Lane. Rose saw a fire burning in the fireplace as she looked through the window.

She hadn't expected such a large house. Jack had only mentioned that he had ten dollars. So, naturally she assumed he'd had a small house. Certainly not this grand one that stood before her.

She climbed the porch steps, Josephine right behind her, and knocked on the door.

A man in his mid-thirties answered the door. He had chestnut colored hair, but his face was very much like Jack and Josephine's. "May I help you?"

Rose hesitated, clearing her throat. "Um, yes. I'm Rose Dawson. Are the Dawsons still residing here?"

The man looked at her, clearly baffled. "Rose Dawson? As in Jack's wife, Rose Dawson?" he asked.

"Yes...how do you know that?"

"I'm Adam Dawson and this is my wife Ana," he introduced as his wife walked up to the door.

"Oh, my...Jack never said he had a brother," Rose told them, smiling. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you. This is my daughter Josephine."

Josephine peeked from behind her mother's skirts, giving the familiar strangers a small smile. Ana shook the small girl's hand. "It's a pleasure. You're quite lovely. You look just like your papa," Ana said, her accent a Spanish one.

"You're pretty..." Josephine mumbled.

"Darling, don't mumble, it isn't polite," Rose scolded, not unkindly. Then, she felt like her own mother and quickly dismissed her late mother's memory.

"Do come in," Adam suggested.

"Thank you," Rose said as she walked in, leaving her luggage outside.

After everyone was seated, Adam began to speak. "Jack has mentioned you many times. Oddly, he said you had perished eight years ago from a fever, if I remember correctly."

"What? What do you mean he has mentioned me? He died..."

"No, he's at his friend's house. He should be here any moment."

"My daddy is alive?" Josephine asked, happily.

"No, dear, this must be a misunderstanding. I must have the wrong Dawson--"

"No mistake," came the reply from the doorway. "We're the only Dawsons in Wisconsin."

Rose turned and looked. Jack. "Jack," she whispered, breathless.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Jack said, face expressionless.

"I think I have," she sobbed, then ran to him and hugged him, falling in love all over again. "Tell me this isn't a dream," she begged quietly in his ear.

"Good night," Ana said as she and Adam took their leave. But neither Jack nor Rose heard them. They forgot all about them.

"It isn't a dream. But we do have to talk later. I hear I have a daughter."

They released each other and turned to look at her daughter...their daughter.

"Josephine, come here," Rose demanded softly.

Josephine did as her mother bid, looking at Jack all the while. "You're my daddy?" the small child asked innocently.

Jack nodded with tears in his eyes and for the first time in a long time he actually smiled. "Yes, Josephine, I am." Then he picked her up and held her tightly, tears falling down all of their faces. "I am," he repeated.

"Jack, I had no idea--" Rose began after Jack set Josephine back on the floor.

"Shh, let's talk later. It's late," he said. "You can have my room."

Rose nodded reluctantly and followed him as he carried their luggage to his room. He had insisted on putting Josephine to bed, telling her they'd talk in the morning. Then, he'd made sure Rose was in bed with his daughter. He retired on the bedside chair, falling into a fitful slumber.

When Rose was sure he'd fallen asleep, she sat up in his bed and wept silently. She was clearly upset that he hadn't even smiled at her. He didn't even look happy to see her. Maybe it was a mistake to come here, she thought.

"Rose, what's wrong?" His voice was gruff, making her jump. He lit a candle, which was on the nightstand.

"Nothing," she lied miserably.

"Don't tell me that. You're crying. I'm not completely ignorant," Jack said.

She remained silent. "Rose," he prompted.

"All right, dammit. It's you. You haven't missed me at all, have you?"

He sighed irritably. "Of course I have," he answered belatedly.

"I don't believe you," she said, and looked away from him.

"Rose--"

"Did you ever love me?" she interrupted.

"Of course...I always have," he answered.

"Then why aren't you happy about seeing me?" she asked, tears still falling down her face. "I made love to you, I carried your child for nine months. I gave birth to your daughter alone. I thought I was doing it for someone who loved me."

He was silent. "You know I loved you," he said. "I was just angry that you had died."

"Do I look dead to you? Does Josephine? That's not the real reason and you know it!" She remembered her daughter's sleeping body next to her and lowered her voice. "I thought you were dead, too. I was never angry. I was upset."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what to say."

"Is this good-bye, Jack?" Rose asked, frightened.

"No--"

"Then what the hell is it?"

"I don't know...it's really strange to see you after these past eight years thinking you were dead. And finding out I have a daughter...it's a lot to take on all at once," he explained.

Rose hesitated. "I understand. I'm sorry for getting so angry."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Let's go downstairs and talk, okay? I'll make some coffee."

She nodded and followed him down to the kitchen and sat in a chair as he told her to. It was strange, she thought, seeing him again after eight years of separation. She stared at him in awe as he prepared the water for the coffee and sat in the chair across from hers while waiting for the water to boil.

"Hasn't it seemed longer?" she muttered. "Our separation, that is."

"It has," he agreed. "I really have missed you. And I am truly sorry that you gave birth alone. There was a doctor, right?"

"Well, he came right when I was at my last push. He was in the same apartment building as me and he'd heard me screaming. So, he ran to my room to see me lying on the floor in labor," she explained with a slight laugh.

Jack's respect for her grew even more, if that was possible. "Wasn't it painful?" Jack asked, amazed.

She nodded. "Definitely. But once I saw her, I fell in love and the pain was worth it. Just...just knowing that she was a part of you, it surely helped me deal with the pain better," she answered in a soft tone.

He reached and touched her hand. "I'm terribly sorry I wasn't there."

"You didn't know. Don't worry," she whispered, squeezing his hand lightly. "Jack, why were you being so rude to me? I still cannot comprehend that."

Jack took a deep breath, let it out. "I became angry with you when I couldn't find your name. I tried to convince myself it was my fault for not staying awake to make sure you were okay. But I was so mad that I wouldn't listen to myself."

"I changed it to Dawson," she said after a short while. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"Of course not. Not at all," Jack told her. "I've tried not to think about you or any other woman for the past eight years."

Rose felt a stab of jealousy slice through her heart. "What other women?"

He actually had the audacity to grin! The nerve, she thought. "Don't worry. I haven't done anything with any other woman. I'm just saying in general," he answered.

"Oh..." she said, clearly relieved. "What do you think of Josephine?"

"She's beautiful. I've already fallen in love with her," he smiled.

You love her, but not me, Rose thought miserably. Just as well, he'll never love me. "You did a wonderful job," he continued. "Raising our daughter, that is."

His voice brought her back to reality. "Oh, ah...thank you," she replied, belatedly.

"I couldn't stop myself from thinking of you. All these years, even during the war, I've thought about you. And if I had looked harder on the Carpathia, we'd probably be married with a few more kids."

Rose smiled, then it faded away. "Jack, it wasn't your fault," she told him firmly. "You were in the war? For how long?"

"A year and a half. I was sent home with a broken arm and a gunshot wound in my leg," he responded.

"Oh, that's horrible, Jack. Do not tell me more. I'll be sick."

He laughed. "Sorry...every shot I made was for you, Rose. I felt like it was my revenge to God for taking you away."

She smiled wistfully. She remembered how hard the war was. So little money, so little food. "I'm so glad you lived," said Rose, whispering.

The water began to boil and Jack walked to the stove and prepared the coffee.

"What's her middle name?" he wanted to know.

"Paulette."

He gasped and looked over his shoulder at her. "That's my mother's name--"

"I know. You mentioned it on the Titanic...I decided it was only right."

"It's gorgeous, thank you."

She smiled at him as he walked to her and handed her the hot cup of coffee.

She set it on the table and he kissed her forehead and kneeled before her.

"A-Adam told me that you said I died of a fever eight years ago. Tell me, Jack, why you didn't tell them the truth about Titanic?" Rose demanded, her smile far away.

"It's a hard subject to talk about--"

"Yes, dammit, it is," Rose interrupted. "It's very hard to explain to an eight-year-old that her father died on the Titanic. It's very hard to see her cry when she thinks of her father. You don't know how hard it is! So don't tell me it's hard for you!" She began crying. He wrapped his arms around her, quickly before she could jump up and leave. She sobbed against his chest.

"Shh...it's okay. I'm sorry," he whispered gently.

"I love you so much. You don't understand how it felt when you didn't say it back."

"Is that what this is all about?" he asked.

"It's everything. My whole world--" she stopped, thinking of the last time she'd said that.

He held her with his palms on her shoulders. "Your whole what?"

She hesitated. "World," she answered as though it was a secret that could never be told.

He wrapped his arms around her once more, feeling choked up himself. "Shit, Rose. I'm so sorry."

"Do you love me?" she wanted to know, voice muffled.

"More than anything," he promised.

"Kiss me."

He did as she had asked, melting against her. Emotions and wishes that had been buried over the past eight years had pushed themselves into that kiss, tearing down the emotional walls as they went. When the long kiss broke, Rose rested her head on his chest and sobbed. "Don't let me wake up...please. Just hold me."

"You won't wake up. I promise...trust me."

"I trust you," she sobbed. "I trust you."

*****

Two months later, Jack and Rose were married. The day after that, they found out that Rose was pregnant.

On August 6, 1921 Jack Dawson, Jr. was brought into the world and not alone.

He was greeted by an excited sister and a proud father and mother.

Jack, Rose, and Josephine would never forget the wonderful gift they'd received that Christmas when they were reunited. They were finally complete.

Finally a family...

The End.

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