THE GREAT WAR
Chapter Three

A loud knock sounded on the front door and Rose Dawson hurried as best she could to answer it. She was eight months pregnant with her first child.

Life was hard for her without Jack. He had been away now for almost a year. She had to pay the bills and work as best she could.

She would also have to give birth to the baby alone. Jack was in a hospital in France. At first, Rose had thought of traveling to be with him, but then she realized she needed to be logical and also think of her own health for the sake of the baby.

"Letter for Mrs. Dawson!" a young man called before Rose could answer the door.

"I’m coming! I’m coming!" she called back, opening the door to reveal a small boy around eleven.

"Good morning, ma’am. I have a telegram for Mrs. Dawson." In his small hand, he held a small yellow envelope.

"I am she."

The young boy held out the telegram before tipping his hat and wishing her a good day. She smiled in return and watched the boy disappear. He seemed like a very nice young man.

Closing the door, Rose settled herself onto the couch and tried to relax as best she could. The baby was moving around inside her vigorously and she always smiled as it did.

She felt like she knew this baby already.

Rose flicked her finger underneath the paper and opened the envelope.

Dear Mrs. Dawson,

Your husband, Mr. Jack Dawson, will be returning to the United States on July the twenty-seventh. He will arrive via ship in New York.

A small smile crept across Rose’s face and she touched her stomach very lightly. She settled back on the couch and slept soundly for the first time in almost a year.

Jack was coming home. He would be home to see the baby born. He would hold his newborn child.

*****

Dr. Long placed the stethoscope against Jack’s chest and listened intently to his breathing. In and out, in and out.

"All is well, Jack. You have a little wheezing, but that is expected."

"When will I be able to go home, Doc?"

Dr. Long smiled. There it was, the question he had been asking every day for the past two months. All he wanted, the poor fellow, was to see his wife.

"Soon," he replied, the same reply.

"Come on, Doc. Rose is to give birth soon. I don’t want to miss it. I feel all right. I swear."

"I know, young man. But just to be safe--you have been through such a lot, Jack--don’t rush these things. You have done mighty well so far. Mighty well."

Dr. Long smiled. He had.

When Jack Dawson had been brought there on May second, he had vomited every day. He had lost a lot of blood from his war wounds and blisters and burns had covered his legs.

Jack had slight memory loss and had to be reminded where he was every day. He couldn’t remember the time, the date, the year, but he could always remember his Rose.

Walking had been difficult for Jack. Even now, he had to use a stick or crutches on his bad days.

The scars from the burns would remain forever. Jack had lost a lot of his hair from the stress and the strain of what had happened. He wasn’t bald. He just had very little hair. His face had been somewhat skinny when he had been transferred there from France.

He had been in England since May. He hadn’t been to England since he had boarded the Titanic.

"Thanks, Doc. Did I ever show you the picture of my wife?"

"You sure did, Jack. She’s a real treasure. You hang onto her, son."

Jack smiled, took the picture from his bedside table, and gazed at it. "I don’t intend to let her go. I married her and now we will have a baby."

"You’ll be a wonderful father, Jack." The doctor picked up his clipboard and wandered to the door.

"I would if I could get home." Jack sighed to himself. Miserably, he threw the picture onto the bed and closed his eyes. He knew he would get home somehow. He just didn’t know how. He had just enough money for a ship ride home, something he knew he would dread.

Dr. Long left the room and smiled a little. He knew how miserable Jack had been since he was brought there, but he knew he would get Jack home in time to see his little one born. He had been making plans for weeks now and had even informed Jack’s wife.

All he had to do now was tell Jack.

In the two months he had been in the hospital and rehabilitation unit there, Dr. Long had taken a surprising shine to the wounded young fellow.

He was just a kid at twenty-five years old, but the love he had for his wife was more than what most married couples ever had.

July 1, 1918

Breakfast was served at eight. Jack ate hungrily before Dr. Long paid him a visit.

As if on cue, he arrived.

"Good morning, Jack. Nice day? British summers are lovely."

"Hmm…" Jack mumbled.

"Don’t look so glum, son."

"How can I not? My wife could be giving birth right now. I could be missing my child’s birth."

Jack’s eyes filled with tears. He would give anything to be in the States now, holding his wife’s hand. He turned his head slightly and felt the ache in his neck from the funny position he had slept in last night. He saw Rose’s picture. He tried to picture what she would be doing right now.

"Come on, Jack. Let’s check your breathing."

Jack knew the routine. He’d been doing it for months. He removed his shirt and allowed Dr. Long to examine his chest. When he had first arrived there, he’d had breathing problems and panic attacks, but now they had seemed to cease.

He breathed in and out heavily and then sighed as the doctor finished up.

"Very good. You’re just fine today."

Jack found his shirt and put it back on. He picked at the remainder of his breakfast. He didn’t want it. There was just nothing else to do around there. He had a lovely view of the English countryside from his window, but he wanted to be at home.

Dr. Long sensed Jack’s sadness. He knew what would come next--the same old question.

"Hey, Doc, when can I go home?" Jack didn’t even raise his head from picking at the fruit. He expected the same old answer to follow--but it didn’t.

"Today." Dr. Long smiled.

Jack raised his head quickly and his face met the doctor’s smiling face. He wasn’t being serious. Was he?

"What? Today?"

"Yes, today. You’ve done well, Jack. In fact, everything should be arranged for you."

Sliding from the side of the bed, he eyed the doctor suspiciously.

"Jack, for a few weeks, I’ve been rallying around, trying to arrange your return home. You leave here this afternoon and take a long train ride to Southampton--"

"Southampton?" Jack echoed. Not Southampton. Anywhere but there.

"Yes. Then you board the Olympic--"

"Olympic?" Jack interrupted again. The Titanic’s sister ship.

"Yes. Why? Is that a problem? It takes you home, doesn’t it?"

Lowering his head, he nodded. He knew he shouldn’t be so picky because of something that had happened a long time ago. He would see his Rose again. That was all he should worry about--seeing her beautiful face.

"Then you will reach New York and there your wife will meet you at the docks."

"You informed her?"

"Yes, I did. You can telephone her, if you like. Let her know you’re coming home yourself."

*****

Arranging the white lilies in the glass vase, Rose hummed a familiar tune to herself.

"You and that song, Rose." Abigail smiled as she entered the room. Abby was Rose’s closest friend. She had lived there since the beginning of the year, when she had found out she was pregnant.

The pair had met at the theater where they both worked, sharing a passion for drama and dance. They had struck up a friendship.

Abby was one of the most talented actresses at the theater and had a reputation for liking her men, but Rose didn’t mind.

"I’m glad you have a good voice--if not you’d slaughter it."

Rose laughed a little and pushed her curls from her face.

"I feel so tired." Rose yawned. It was just after eleven AM and she felt as though she hadn’t slept in years.

"You’re pregnant, Rose. Look how big you are. This baby is going to have very chubby cheeks." Abby giggled.

"I think so, Abby. I just hope Jack is here in time to see it born."

The telephone rang, startling the two young women. "I’ll answer it!" Abby called. "Hello?" she said into the mouthpiece.

"Hello, gorgeous," an unknown voice replied.

Abby smirked a little. "Hello, handsome," she replied back, having no idea who it was.

"How are you?"

"I’m good, honey. How are you?" Abby giggled to herself, enjoying the prank.

"Who is it?" Rose whispered from the sofa. She saw Abby giggling and wondered what she was up to now. The baby moved within her and Rose stroked her stomach, as if to soothe her restless unborn child.

"I don’t know. A man," Abby replied, covering the mouthpiece. She held the phone back to her ear.

"Rose?" the man’s voice asked, slightly uncertain. "Is that you?"

Abby’s face fell and she laughed to herself. Oh, Lord. It was Jack. She had been flirting with Jack.

"No. It’s Abigail. Sorry. Rose is here."

Abby giggled and held the earpiece up for Rose. Rose went to the phone.

"Hello?" she asked. She thought Abby was up to something, as usual, and she wasn’t really in the mood for her games.

"Hey," a familiar voice said.

"Jack?"

"Yeah. It’s me, Rosie. It’s me."

Rose could feel her heart thumping. She looked at Abby, who put her thumb up and left the room. To hear his voice again after so long was like heaven.

"I’m coming home, Rosie."

"I got the telegram. God, Jack, I cannot wait to see you."

"Is the baby all right?"

"We’re fine. I haven’t had the baby yet, Jack."

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He would see his baby born.

"I will travel to Southampton later on today. I will travel on the Olympic and reach New York on the twenty-seventh."

The Olympic? That was the Titanic’s sister ship.

"Oh, God. The Titanic’s sister ship? Southampton? God, Jack, be careful. I wish I was with you. I hate the thought of you traveling alone. It would all be too much to bear alone."

"Rose, I’m coming home to see you. I would sail home on driftwood just to see you. If I knew that I would be coming home to you and the baby, I would do anything. Just the thought of you carries me through, Rose."

Rose could feel silent tears escaping her eyes. She almost wanted to drop the earpiece. She had forgotten just how romantic her husband was.

"I have to go, Rose. Will you meet me?"

"I’ll be there. I swear. Wild horses won’t stop me."

Jack smiled. His Rose was back.

"I love you, Rosie, with all of my very soppy heart."

Rose giggled a little and wiped away her tears.

"And I love you."

With that, they both hung up.

*****

The train to Southampton and then boarding the ship. Memories seemed to haunt Jack night after night. The thought of he and Fabrizio here just over six years ago. The thought of Rose trapped in her society life, boarding a ship which she thought was a prison. Instead, it had freed her.

The Olympic was almost identical to her sister ship, although she was a great deal smaller. Memories rushed to Jack as he lay in his third class berth night after night. He’d had a dream in which Fabrizio had been smiling, laughing, and telling Jack he would be all right and to stop being so scared. He would be seeing Rose soon.

Jack awakened in a cold sweat and could almost feel his best friend’s presence in the dark room. Tears flooded from his eyes. Maybe Fabrizio had come to him in his dreams. Maybe he should put everything behind him and concentrate on seeing Rose. Maybe Fabri was right.

After two days at sea, at dusk, an announcement was made that the ship would be coming close to where the Titanic had sank.

Wanting to know more, Jack grabbed his crutches and hobbled up on deck to see for himself. A bunch of people hunched in the drizzle, one holding a wreath.

"God bless those souls who lost their lives on that very tragic night. May they rest forever," a chaplain spoke.

"Amen," the crowd uttered. Some were upset. Others just stood somberly. Jack forced himself to find the strength to join them. This would be his way to say good-bye to Fabrizio properly.

"Who would like to throw the wreath?" the chaplain asked.

Jack thought for a few moments and did something he had thought he never would.

"I would like to." Jack raised his hand and hobbled forward the best he could. The crowd was startled by the sudden appearance of this man, who looked barely old enough to remember the disaster.

Jack noticed the frowns on the faces of the gathered people.

"I was…um…I lost a friend on the Titanic. I would like to say good-bye properly," Jack uttered. Tears formed in his eyes. The chaplain offered Jack the wreath. He took it somewhat hesitantly. His hands shook violently as he made his way to the deck and looked overboard at the sea. He closed his eyes and could see himself and Rose lying on the driftwood. Tears escaped his eyes and he dropped his crutches to the wet deck. "Fabri, Tommy, and the other souls who lost their lives that dreadful, horrible night, this is for you--" Jack dropped the wreath into the water and closed his eyes. He no longer wanted to see the ocean. He felt sick to the bottom of his stomach and was glad Rose was not there to witness it. "May they rest in peace," he whispered heart-wrenchingly. The others gathered there seemed to disappear. It was obvious he had lost someone special and wanted to be alone.

Chapter Four
Stories