HEARTS WILL GO ON
Chapter Sixteen

Jo Dawson
Three Days Before New Year’s Eve
1932

Life isn’t fair. I had come to realize that more than ever the past few weeks. Ever since Gloria went back to her parents, the mood at Olivia’s had been grim. Dave hardly ever spoke, and when he did, it was usually in one word answers. I spent my time staring out the window, praying for something good to happen. The sun barely showed through the heavy winter clouds. The boys kept me busy, and I spent more time with Mom, but I found myself helplessly missing my lessons with Tom. I think Ma knew, because she tried to keep me as busy as possible. Finally, three days before New Year’s Eve, I could take the silence no more. I threw on my coat and gloves and decided to go for a walk.

I wasn’t sure where I would go, and I found myself aimlessly wandering the streets where Tom’s studio was. To my surprise, there was a sign in the window that said For Lease. Peering in the window at the darkened room, I found it quite empty. A nauseous feeling crept into my stomach and seemed to seep all the way to my throat as I realized Tom no longer lived there and wouldn’t be coming back. Bitter tears stung my eyes as I realized he was gone for good. Talking with Tom had been talking with someone who understood me, but then I realized I knew virtually nothing about Tom. Oh, sure, he had revealed tiny details about his life, but nothing of significance.

Dejected, I found a bench near the skating pond we’d gone to before and sat with my head in my hands, allowing myself to sob.

"Now, who made you cry like that? I’ll have to have words with him." My head shot up. I hadn’t realized that someone had sat down beside me, and I found myself looking straight into the slate gray eyes of Jonathan. Wordlessly, he handed me his handkerchief. Sniffling, I found my shaking voice.

"Why do you presume it is a man?" He shrugged.

"Women don’t make each other cry like that," he replied, rubbing his hands together, his breath visible in the biting cold.

"Don’t you have gloves?" I asked him, and he shook his head.

"I wasn’t planning on being out for long. I noticed you over here. I was actually in a meeting with Mr. Edwards." I nodded in response, not knowing what to say and feeling worlds beyond uncomfortable with the situation.

"How did you know it was me? My face was in my hands," I said. He laughed at this.

"Josephine…I don’t know many people with that particular shade of hair…and on such a gray day like this, you can imagine how it shows so clearly. Surely someone has told you that your hair is a cross between the color of rust and a sunset." I knew I was blushing, but I managed a small smile.

"Is that a compliment? Because I have always been under the impression that rust is not a good thing." It felt good to joke.

"Oh, definitely a compliment. In fact, I have been unable to rid my mind of the color since I first met you…was it two years ago?"

I suddenly felt very nervous about the direction this conversation was going in. It was another complication that I did not want or need, and could only end badly as it had for Dave.

"Yes…it was…I am surprised you remembered me." I heard a slight intake of breath followed by a nervous chuckle.

"Well, I had hoped you would turn up again, so I went to that train station every week and waited for an hour or so…and you were never there." I swallowed at his words, my hands shaking.

"I was in Iowa," I said quietly.

"I know that now." He laughed. "I was so surprised to see you that day outside that studio. It was your hair. You had grown up since the train station, but I recognized your hair right away." Again, I blushed.

"It’s getting late…" I said, looking up at him.

"Not for me…do you have somewhere to be?" he asked, and I thought ahead. We had no dinner plans, Dave was busy hiding in his room, and Ma was working on one of her vases.

"Actually, no." It felt wonderful to be absolutely free of obligations for once.

"What a coincidence. Neither do I…would you like to come over to my home for dinner?" My mouth dropped open, but I composed myself.

"I wouldn’t want to impose," I said, and he grinned.

"No imposition at all. Deirdre is out with the girls in New York for the next two days." My eyes widened.

"I don’t know if it would be right for us to be alone in your house." Again, he chuckled.

"I won’t bite…but if you are that worried, we still have a maid and a cook. They’ll be there."

"Oh…" I said, and found myself replying, "Yes, I’d love to come. I really must call Olivia’s first, though."

I called the house as soon as we walked into the Hockleys. Grant answered.

"Hi, Uncle Grant, it’s Jo…could you tell my mother that I am having dinner…" I trailed off, thinking it unwise to tell her I was at the Hockleys’. "In the city." He replied that he would let her know. "Thanks…okay…bye." When I hung up, Jonathan was grinning.

"Nice one, then," he said, and I glared at him for a moment before smiling.

"Thanks. I just…given the history between my mother and your father…I don’t want her to worry. Not to mention that she would have kittens if she knew we were virtually alone in the house."

"I’d hate to see that…" he quipped, and I couldn’t help myself. I began to laugh.

Half an hour later, we were eating soup and sandwiches in his dining room.

"So…how did you meet Gloria?" I asked, and I could see the surprise in his eyes.

"Well, I’ve known her for years, but we became engaged about a year ago. I’d long since given up on…on ever seeing you again. In fact, I often wondered if I had just imagined our meeting in Boston."

"Well, I’m here…and I’m real…and we’re both…"

"Engaged. To other people," he finished for me. Our eyes caught for a few moments.

"Maybe I should go…" I said, making absolutely no attempt to leave.

"Stay," he pleaded, and I found myself nodding.

"All right."

"Would you like to see the orangery?" he asked. I frowned.

"What is an orangery?" I asked stupidly. A grin broke on his face as he grabbed my hand, which I am sure was clammy from all of the emotions running through me.

"I’ll show you," he said, and we grabbed our coats to run out to the large building behind the house. When we entered, it was very warm and humid.

"This," he said proudly, "is my orangery. This is where the flowers I sent you came from. It’s my passion." I was awed by the beauty of all the tropical and exotic flowers and the sweet smells.

"This is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been," I breathed. "It’s like being in heaven."

"It is, isn’t it?" he asked, and when I looked at him, I realized he was staring straight at me.

"I want to kiss you," he said suddenly. My breathing quickened as my heart began to beat against my ribs with fury.

"No…" I said, my resistance fading.

"It was supposed to be you, Jo…you were the girl I was supposed to marry…and now…I can’t." He sighed, looking away. "I waited for you…I went to that train station every week for a year."

"I know," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I’m sorry."

"Me, too," he said.

"Why do you have to marry her? My family has money, too. You would lack for nothing." I was horrified to find myself saying it.

"It’s not that, Jo…" he said, and I realized he was still holding my hand.

"What is it?" I asked, my stomach in knots. He sighed, squeezing my hand.

"He’s…blackmailing me."

"What?" I asked, pulling my hand out of his in horror. Jonathan nodded.

"My father got pretty desperate about our finances right after the stock market crashed, so he made some shady deals to try to save us, and Edwards found out somehow before Father…before he…died." I touched his arm.

"Jonathan…" I said. "I know what happened with your father. It was in the news." He had turned away, but I saw him nod.

"Yes, well…these men told him that they could double his fortune, put it back to what it was before the crash…and…they…well, they basically ran off with what was left."

"Oh, my God…" I said, my hand covering my mouth.

"I walked in on Father…in his office. He was talking to himself. He was…crying…" I could tell he was having difficulty saying it.

"Jonathan, you don’t have to…"

"I know, but I need to," he replied. "He said, ‘Forgive me, Bella…Deirdre…’ and finally he said, ‘Rose.’ Then he shot himself. I screamed for him not to, but it was too late…he…fell…to the floor…" Two tears were making their way down his cheeks, and as I stood there, watching him suffer as he relived his father’s suicide, I suddenly threw my arms around him and held him as my mother held me when she was upset.

"I’m sorry," he choked, and I sighed.

"Why are you apologizing to me, Jonathan?"

"I don’t know…" he replied, pulling back to look at me. "You are beautiful," he said, and I looked down at my hands, embarrassed.

"You don’t need to say things like that to me. I like you already," I said. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and chuckled.

"Just say thank you and take your compliment, Josephine," he said. I found the courage to look back up at him.

"Call me Jo."

"Only if you call me Johnny," he replied. "I still want to kiss you."

"No," I said, turning away again, focusing on a bright pink flower.

"They’re called birds of paradise," he said, and I sighed. "Why won’t you let me kiss you?"

"We just can’t, Johnny." My heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears.

"Why not?"

"Because I don’t want to fall in love with you!" I cried before slapping my hand over my mouth.

"What?" he asked, and I looked at him desperately.

"I…don’t want to fall in love with you. Especially not after what you just told me! You’re being blackmailed to marry Gloria Edwards, Johnny! And I…"

"Need to get married to inherit the company," he said dryly. "A company which doesn’t suit your talents, that you will hate running. You’re throwing your life away for nothing!" he said, running a hand through his black hair so that it stuck up in all directions.

"And what about you? You don’t think you are? Maybe you should just tell the world the truth about your father so Edwards can go screw himself! Have you thought about that?" I asked, angry now, so angry, in fact, that I felt myself shaking with rage. His eyes turned dark.

"Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Every Goddamned day since I saw you again? My father died because he couldn’t bear the public failure. Do you think I am going to let his name be smeared further? Do you think I want my sisters and stepmother to have to walk the streets and hear whispers in their wake? I won’t have it! I owe that much to him, since I couldn’t save him!" I stood there looking at him with my mouth hanging open.

"It wasn’t up to you to save him, Jonathan! He made his own choice, and you should make your own decisions. It’s what he would have wanted. Why can’t you see that?" I couldn’t look at him anymore, and I ran from the orangery and got halfway to the house when he caught up with me and grabbed my arm. I was whirled around, and before I could say anything to him, he was kissing me as I had never been kissed before. I couldn’t bear the pain and pulled away, slapping him across his cheek and leaving him standing there in the softly falling snow.

When I walked into Aunt Olivia’s, I tried to walk straight past the parlor where she and my mother were, but they caught me.

"Jo!" Ma called.

"Leave me alone!" I sobbed back, and fled into my room, locking the door behind me. Inevitably, there was a knock at my door moments later, and Mom’s voice came through.

"Jo, are you all right? What happened? Where were you?" I tried to ignore her, but she was relentless. Finally, I opened the door and she came into the room. "What happened, Jo?" she asked. I only looked out the window at the now heavy snowfall. "Jo?" I shook my head and heard her sigh angrily. "Josephine Margaret Dawson, you had better start talking."

"Jesus, Mother! Can’t you let me be? I am not a child, damn it!"

Chapter Seventeen
Stories