HEARTS WILL GO ON
Chapter One
The water is wide
I cannot get o'er it
Neither have I
The wings to fly
Give me a boat
That can carry two
And both shall row
My love and I...
Have you ever looked at something
so perfect it broke your heart and completed you all at once? I have. On
January 12, 1913, my daughter was placed in my arms with a head of reddish
blonde hair and light blue eyes wide open. She wasn’t crying, she wasn’t flailing,
she was perfectly serene, and she looked at me with such a soul already in her
that I knew it was meant to be. It was as if she was trying to tell me
everything was going to be all right. It would only be the two of us, but
somehow we would get by. I would pull us through any obstacle to give her the
life she deserved. I was so overwhelmed by the emotion of it all, I broke down
as soon as they brought her to me, cleaned and wrapped. Yet through it all, I
felt alone. Horribly alone. I had no family. My mother was surely still in
Philadelphia, and my former fiancé was already married to his childhood
sweetheart, who had ironically turned up with the child they had conceived
together during our year-long engagement.
The father of my child had been
dead since the night she was conceived, and we had never gotten the chance to
really be together. It was strange, but here I was, nine months after the fact,
and the details of that night still ran through my mind. I had always been a
realist, and had never believed in love at first sight or any of that fluffy
nonsense. My parents had had an arranged marriage and barely spoke to each
other, much less loved each other. My mother had never been truly happy, but
being raised as the daughter of a well-known businessman, she’d been trained to
be a proper society wife and knew how to do nothing else. I had always pitied
her, for my father and I were terribly close, and he’d made sure I had skills
should something ever happen to him. For a short time, I even served as a sort
of secretary to him at the offices of our wine business. Of course, I’d gone to
finishing school, but I always pulled my weight around the house, helping with
dishes and things. I had an endless love for books and art, and read
constantly. I was always being scolded because I worried more about the ending
of Les Miserables than what I was going to wear to dinner that night.
The only material things I had
ever valued were a butterfly comb and a silver brush and mirror set that Daddy
had given me before he died. When I was thirteen, he’d gone into business with
his friend and combined the wine business with their restaurant chain. He’d
left his friend completely in charge of the finances, never believing people
could be bad at heart, but it turned out that the man had slowly transferred
all of my father’s funds into his account and disappeared when I was fifteen.
Shortly after we’d learned we were literally penniless, my father had an
aneurysm and died. Desperate, my mother had moved us from New York to Philadelphia
after learning that the steel mogul Nathan Hockley’s son, Caledon, was looking
for a wife. I don’t fault her for it. She was frightened. I had been introduced
to him at a party a few years before, but at the time I’d still been in an
awkward stage and he’d never given me the time of day.
It was easy to see that he was
instantly taken with me, and he began to court me. I’ll admit, it was a bit
dizzying, the gifts he showered on my mother and I. She began to become quite
comfortable, and even though the thought of marriage made me want to jump on
the next train to upstate New York, I couldn’t bear to throw her into a life of
poverty. She’d wilt like a rose. Ironically, my name was Rose, and I’d never
been one to wilt. So, just after my sixteenth birthday, I’d become engaged to
Caledon Hockley without a protest. I soon learned that Cal did not want a wife
who challenged him, and every time I did so, he proceeded to tell me about his
former love, Isabella. I knew Isabella. She was a tiny blonde girl who was
soft-spoken and obedient. I’d never had a problem with her, but being compared
to her on a near daily basis really drove me insane.
Still, problems and all, I found
myself growing awkwardly fond of Cal, and even at times could see myself loving
him, in time. Just before Christmas of 1911, six months after my seventeenth
birthday, he whisked Mother and myself to Europe to tour the continent. I was
most fond of Paris. I spoke fluent French and felt truly at ease in the
presence of the French. By the time we’d gone back to England, it was the
middle of March and our engagement party was set for April twenty-first. Cal
had booked us tickets on a brand new liner, said to be bigger and better even
than the one that had brought us there. I couldn’t have cared less if we’d come
on a cargo ship, but he insisted on having the best. I remember first hearing
the name of our ship home and laughing a little.
"It’s called the
Titanic," he’d said proudly, flashing the first class tickets. I smirked,
and he’d raised an eyebrow, both he and my mother looking at me like a
disruptive child.
"Well, isn’t it a bit over
the top?" I’d asked.
He’d looked at my mother as if I
were the most irritating thing ever and had said, "Darling, nothing is
over the top when you are rich." They’d laughed together haughtily then,
with me sitting there hating them both for looking down on me. The only thing
that had got me through those last weeks in England was the company of Mrs.
Margaret Brown. She was the only real person in our group. She’d lived a real
life and her husband had gotten rich well after they were married. They called
her new money. I called her an escape, someone I could actually speak to. I
missed my father something horrible, and since his death, I had felt isolated
in my own misery, so being able to speak to someone was heaven. I hadn’t even
been able to grieve for him properly before I was tossed into the arms of Cal.
I woke up on April tenth with a
bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The night before, Cal had come into my
room and tried to pressure me into making love with him for the umpteenth time
that month, and became angry when I told him to stop. He’d never hit me. He
just left the room. I was greeted by Trudy, our maid, as she laid my clothes on
the bed, a pinstriped suit and a purple hat, which I thought were hideous.
"Really, Trudy, it’s
fine...I’ll just wear the dress..." I’d began, but Mother’s voice came
from the door.
"Nonsense. It is improper
for a lady to go out in public without a hat. You know better," she said
coldly, and I smiled at her bitterly.
"Of course, Mother. How
could I forget?" I asked sarcastically as Trudy began to pin up my hair.
I looked at the diamond gracing
my seventeen-year-old finger.
"It’s really a beautiful
ring, Miss," Trudy said admiringly. I sighed.
"It’s...something," I
agreed, and stared at my reflection. Who was that girl with the tightly pulled
back hair and the porcelain face? Not me. I hadn’t seen my own reflection since
Daddy died. Maybe I never would again. In Cal’s homes, there was room enough
for four families and endless possessions, but would there ever be room for me?
"The car is waiting
downstairs," Cal said, coming into the room and kissing my cheek. I smiled
vaguely at him, remembering the night before. "Forget last night, dearest.
I forgive you," he said affectionately, and I could only stare at him in
shock as he left the room.
"Well, thank you so much,
gracious king!" I shot at the empty doorway.
I nearly fell out of the car at
the sight of the Titanic. It was bigger than anything I had seen in my life up
close. I was truly impressed, but I didn’t want Cal or my mother to know I was
about as excited as a six-year-old at the circus for the first time.
"It doesn’t look any bigger
than the Mauritania." Cal had chuckled, getting out of the car.
"You can be blasé about some
things, Rose, but not about Titanic. It's over a hundred feet longer than the
Mauritania, and far more luxurious." I’d felt the sudden need to heave,
but held it back as Mother stepped down, with Cal’s help, of course.
"Really, now, couldn’t they
hold back until they were in the privacy of their own cabin?" Mother asked
disdainfully as I followed her gaze. A young couple, probably about my age,
were giggling between kisses as the young man spun the girl around in a circle.
I almost sighed. The playfulness of their relationship astounded me. It was
like they were excited to be in each other’s presence. I looked at Cal almost
hopefully. He barely nodded at me. I watched sadly as the couple flounced away hand-in-hand,
the girl’s dark locks flying in the wind. Free. God, how I envied her. They
looked to be upper middle class.
The first night came and went
uneventfully, with dinner and gossip. Cal talked about our wedding plans as I
plotted the next time I could sneak away for a cigarette, since Mother was
watching me like a hawk. I’d picked the habit up when Cal left his lying around
and forgot them, leaving me to go to bed at night. I looked over at Mrs. Brown,
who made a slight hand gesture that he was talking too much. I swallowed a
giggle and nodded at her, but the sharp grip of my mother’s hand on my arm
stopped me, and I excused myself for bed. I lay that night looking at the
ceiling, with my worn copy of Pride and Prejudice lying on my chest. I
was bored out of my mind. Looking at the clock, I padded out of the bedroom and
checked on Mother, who was fast asleep thanks to the wine. Pulling my robe on,
I decided to take a walk on deck and leaned against the rail of the first class
deck. The faint sound of drums and music came from below the deck, and I almost
wanted to go toward it, but I dared not.
The faint outline of a boy around
my age sitting with his knees up and a pad of paper on his lap was visible
below me. He must have noticed me standing there, because I saw him wave at me.
I nearly smiled, but waved back. I couldn’t help thinking that the people I saw
never took time to notice me, but a boy I had never even met and could hardly
see took time out of his night to wave at me. As the moon came out from behind
the clouds, I could see his face and hair. He had a brassy golden head of hair
and a sincere smile. He shrugged and made a motion to tell me he was glad for
some light. I smiled slightly and nodded. That was the first time I saw him.
The next day, I was sitting at
another trivial lunch as Mother snatched my cigarette out of my mouth. I’d been
so out of it, I hadn’t even realized I pulled it out. Irked, I looked around
the room and noticed a young girl being scolded by her mother, and it reminded
me so much of myself at that age that I felt the sudden need to get out. I
pushed my way onto the first class deck and leaned on the rail, wanting nothing
more than to throw the pins from my hair. Daddy...I need you. I’m all
alone...I need you...I had the feeling someone was watching me, and I
looked down for a second, seeing the boy looking up at me. I didn’t realize it
at first, but looked back, seeing it was the boy from the night before. I was
going to wave and call something out to him, but Cal’s hand touched my shoulder
as he leaned in to whisper that Mother was very upset with me for leaving lunch
so abruptly. I rolled my eyes and stormed back toward the stateroom.
"And don’t roll your eyes at
me, Rose!" he called after me as I scowled.
I thought all afternoon about
running away. Where could I go, though? Cal would only find me and bring me
back, and I’d have to live with he and my mother keeping me under watch, or
even worse, sending me to some sort of institution while Cal had mistress after
mistress. I looked in the mirror before going to dinner. I could just hear my
father say, Who are you anymore, Rose? Where are you? How can you let her do
this to you? I taught you to stand up for yourself. If he was here, things
would have been different. He would have pulled them out of debt, or we would
have been poor, but happy together. I would have rather we had nothing but each
other than everything and being alone. At dinner, someone’s comment had
triggered a debate.
"So, do you two plan on
children soon?" someone asked us.
Horrified, I cried,
"No!"
Cal simultaneously said,
"Yes, as soon as possible." I looked at my mother, who nodded at Cal
and shot daggers at me with her eyes. Cal also looked at me in horror,
squeezing my hand a bit tightly.
"She was confused," he
explained to everyone. "She knows we have an obligation to produce
heirs," he said, and I stood up suddenly.
"Is that all they are to
you?" I asked, and he looked up, calm as the night, his eyes blazing.
"Sit, Rose..." he said
icily. I sighed.
"I’m sorry...I don’t know
what came over me...I think I should go lie down," I lied, and he seemed to
accept this, kissing my cheek.
As soon as I was in my room, I
ripped the pins from my hair and pulled my jewelry off, looking in the mirror
at my tear-streaked face. This was all I had to look forward to. Being told
what to do and doing it. There was no escape. None. No. I was going to escape.
Tonight. Running from the room, I ran outside to the deck and took the stairs
all the way down to the public deck. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going,
but when I saw the rear of the ship, it all became clear. Gently, I climbed
over the rails and looked down at my escape.
I must have stayed there for a
few minutes before someone’s gentle voice said, "Don’t do it."
Damn. I hadn’t known anyone was
out there.
"Stay back!" I cried in
my most desperate voice. "Don’t come any closer!" This was all
beginning to feel like a big mistake, and I wanted to climb back over, but I
was terrified to let go.
"Come on. Just give me your
hand. I’ll pull you back over." He came closer, and I could faintly feel
his breath on my shoulders.
"No! Stay where you are! I
mean it! I’ll let go!"
He hesitated when I said this,
but suddenly said, "No, you won’t."
Suddenly, I was mad, tired of
everyone telling me what I was and wasn’t going to do, and I snapped.
"What do you mean, no, I
won’t? Don’t presume to tell me what I will and will not do! You don’t know
me!"
Casually, he shrugged and said,
"Well, you would’ve done it already..."
I rolled my eyes, embarrassed.
"You’re distracting me! Go
away," I said, and from there he proceeded to use reverse psychology on
me...even threatening to jump in after me. He said he was too involved. The
only thought that went through my mind was, Get out while you still can, you
crazy bastard! He told me about a time he’d fallen through the ice in his
hometown and wished I would get him off the hook. I finally said it.
"You’re crazy." He
laughed.
"That’s what everybody says.
But with all due respect, Miss, I’m not the one hanging off the back of a ship
here..." He had a point. "Give me your hand. You don’t want to do
this." I felt the warmth of his hand touch my arm, and I found the courage
to let go and clutched it.
Slowly, I turned to face him and
almost died in shock. It was the same boy I’d seen the past two days. He smiled
kindly.
"I’m Jack Dawson," he
said, and quite honestly, for a moment, I couldn’t remember my own name, but
somehow I blurted it out.
"Rose DeWitt Bukater."
He stared for a moment before laughing.
"I’m gonna have to get you
to write that one down." For the first time in a while, I really laughed,
too.
*****
I stared down at the baby in my
arms, coming out of my memory and looked at her intently, trying to pick
something to call her. I’d been certain she was a boy, and had been set on
calling him Jack. But here she was, a girl. As I looked at her, a tune went through
my mind. Come Josephine in my flying machine, and it’s up she goes...up she
goes...
"Josephine?" I said
tentatively. She looked up at me then, and I suddenly knew it was her name.
"Have you chosen her name,
Mrs. Dawson?" the nurse asked me, inquiring for the birth certificate.
"Yes," I said,
adjusting her easily. "Josephine Margaret Dawson."
*****
Josephine and I went home the
very next day from the Santa Monica Hospital and back to the small apartment
I’d been able to rent with the money I’d made waitressing. My friend Liz and I
had set up the bedroom for her, and she was waiting for us when we walked in.
We’d met just after I’d come to California, and she’d helped me get a job and
find an apartment. A month later, I’d found out I was pregnant. As we sat on my
couch, I laid my head against the back of it and cradled Josephine.
"Welcome home, Jo."