AN OCEAN FULL OF MEMORIES
Chapter Three
The next three days went off without a hitch.
The suicide went well, with Jack’s invitation to dinner due mostly to his and
Rose’s convincingly good acting. The walk was as it had been all those years
ago, although the topics of discussion varied, and every detail down to the
spitting was fine. They longed for the sunset of the night of the sinking, yet
remained firm in their beliefs. They had to play this out to the end--for the
survival of hundreds of people was at stake. Breezing through the events of the
voyage, fate once again brought them to sunset on the day of the sinking, April
14, 1912. As Rose walked slowly up the stairs to the forecastle deck where she
knew Jack would be waiting at the bow, she felt an inner calm similar to none
that she had ever felt in her past one hundred one years of life. It was as
though the world revolved around this moment, a moment she felt blessed above
all to have received twice in a lifetime. Her soft blue velvet skirt made a
tiny whisper as it dragged slowly along the deck. Light filled the evening sky,
looking as though it were on fire and making her feel like she and Jack were
the only ones to be privileged enough to view it. There weren’t many people
around due to the icy winds, which gave them complete privacy, and as she
gracefully advanced upon him, she uttered the words, "They told me that
you would be up here," and walked to the bow where he stood, the man of
her dreams, holding out his outstretched hand. Feeling the rush of adrenaline
and the wind tousle her hair, she closed her eyes and stepped up onto the
railing. That moment symbolized more for her than just being close to him. It
meant that what they truly believed was true--Jack’s soul and hers were
intertwined, both existing as one part of a whole thing that would not be
complete if it did not consist of the two parts. And as Rose’s thoughts went
off into the distance, Jack stayed steady, firm and intent on not letting her
go.
*****
Stumbling aimlessly out the door of the cargo
hold onto the forward well deck, Rose and Jack were laughing hysterically.
Their time in the cargo hold, in the backseat of the Renault, and the time they
had spent together while Jack drew Rose’s portrait, had been timeless and
exactly the same. Rose knew, though, that Cal’s allies were looking for the two
of them, so she had insisted on an early exit, which she knew would also benefit
them in their plan. Walking quickly to Jack’s room, G-70, they got the
binoculars and waited at the base of the crow’s nest for the two men on watch
that night.
"Pardon me, but I would like to inquire
if you are Mr. Jones?" Rose asked the approaching crewman.
A vexed look came upon his face when he asked
who Rose was. Stating her name, but not needing to state her position, she
offered him the binoculars, saying that she had instructions from another
crewman to give them to him. Thanking her, and ascending the crow’s nest with
his partner, he brought them to his eyes quite lethargically, as if expecting
to see nothing at all. What he did see, however, paled his almost freezing
face, and without hesitation, he rang the bell in the crow’s nest three times
to signal object dead ahead, and informed the men on the bridge. What happened
now, Rose and Jack realized, was out of their hands. They just held onto each
other, staring into the distance, and braced themselves for impact.
*****
Still holding each other, their eyes closed,
they did not see or hear the iceberg sail gently by. Too wrapped up in the
painful memories of the past, they wanted to block out all images of that
fateful night, but they couldn’t. Moments later, Rose opened her eyes and
looked back over the side of the ship to see a small, white object far behind
them. At feeling Rose move, Jack, too, realized what had happened.
"Ah!" they cried, hugging each
other, then kissing each other passionately.
"I told you we’d do it, Rose, and we did
it!" Jack exclaimed, his jubilation overwhelming him.
"I love you, Jack. Don’t ever leave
me!" Rose cried, and he kissed her with such devouring passion that her
heart filled with joy.
*****
Walking along the A-Deck promenade at three
AM on the fifteenth of April, 1912, forty minutes after the Titanic was
supposed to have made contact with the night air for the last time, walked the
future Mr. and Mrs. Dawson without a care in the world. They held hands and
looked into each other’s eyes as they had done so long ago, under the watchful
eyes of the stars, but also the eyes of Mr. Spicer Lovejoy, following them
silently. They strolled all around the decks that night, feeling the icy wind
playfully toying with their hair and the warmth of each other that chased away
all other thoughts. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, when the sun
began to raise its weary head, they found themselves at the door of the
minister, asking him a great favor. Lovejoy, still following them, only left
watching them to tell Cal of Rose’s whereabouts.