HEARTS WILL GO ON
Chapter Seven
Oh! Say! Let us fly, dear
Where, kid? In the sky, dear
Oh, you flying machine
Jump in, Miss Josephine
Ship ahoy!
"Josephine, is that
you?" Ma called as I walked in the door of our hotel room. I stopped dead.
She only called me by my full name when something was wrong.
"Yes, Ma. Is everything all
right?" I asked, setting my makeshift portfolio on the table and walking
into the bedroom of the suite. Ma was frantically looking for something and was
half-dressed for dinner, her hair half pinned up. I had to admit, I’d never
seen her this flustered, and I laughed. She glared at me.
"Not funny…help!" she
begged, pointing to the buttons on the back of her new dress. "I haven’t
worn a new dress in God knows how long…you’re late, Jo. How was your
session?" she asked quickly, beginning to pin the rest of her hair up.
"Sorry I’m late, Ma…it was
wonderful! Tom…Professor Rose is really a nice man. He’s young, too, Ma…"
I teased her. I could see her roll her eyes at me in the mirror.
"I’ll pass…" she
responded dryly.
"Where are the boys?" I
asked, and Ma suddenly grinned.
"Actually, we kind of have
guests," she said, and motioned toward the sitting room of the suite. I
gave her a look of confusion and gently opened the door to find Dave, Liz, and
Randy sitting there with the boys.
"Jo!" Dave said,
looking up. Instantly, I forgot the dinner party.
"Oh, my God! What are you
doing here?" I asked, and he nodded toward his parents.
"My mother just had to come
here when your mother called her, and she offered to watch the boys tonight. I,
on the other hand, am coming to the party with you, as you can tell…" He
turned proudly in his new tuxedo.
"Yeah, you look like a
regular high society Joe," I commented, shaking my head and turning to go
back in the room and dress. Ma was waiting for me with the dress in her hand. I
gasped at the sight of it.
"Look at that thing! I could
light the whole damned city of Philadelphia with it," I said, pulling off
the day dress and stepping into the beaded creation with Ma’s help. Luckily, it
was a zipper dress. Thank heavens for zippers.
"Here. Let me show you how
to pin your hair…" Ma said, stepping behind me and seating me at the
vanity. Expertly, she pinned up my vast amount of thick red hair, and I had to
admit, I was impressed.
"Where did you learn
that?" I asked, and she smiled strangely.
"Experience, Jo…it’s time
for me to face my demons," she replied, scaring me.
"What are you talking about,
Mom?" I asked, facing her, using the more formal name. She looked almost
through me for a moment before taking my hands.
"Jo, I…I have to tell you
something, but you have to promise not to judge me." Now she was downright
terrifying me.
"Oh, my God…did you murder
someone?" I asked, half-jokingly. Her expression didn’t change.
"I haven’t been fully
truthful with you about myself, Josephine…" she said, folding her hands
elegantly in her lap. I didn’t say anything to this. I just watched her
expression.
"You see…I was born in
Manhattan to Ruth and George Bukater. We were…wealthy…to say the least. My
father died when I was fifteen, and we were broke. My mother had no idea how to
support herself. Needless to say, soon after that, I became engaged to Caledon
Hockley." I think my mouth must have fallen to the floor, because she gave
me a strange look then. "Anyway…" she continued. "I didn’t love
him. Not ever. I didn’t hate him, either…I tolerated him for Mother. It so
happened we traveled to Europe before we were to be married, and the passage
back happened to be on the RMS Titanic, which, as you’ve heard and read, was a
disaster. And, as you know, that is where I met Jack Dawson. Your father."
I nodded, curiously.
"Go on…" I said. She
nodded, trying to take a breath.
"Well…I made a decision the
day it sank…the day…well, after I realized Jack was gone…I wasn’t going back…I
mean, I wasn’t going to be me anymore…so I changed my name to Jack’s last name
and let my family and the people I had known in society think I had
perished."
Suddenly, I understood.
"All this time, these people
didn’t know…and you’re just going to walk through those doors tonight at the
Hockley home and pretend like nothing ever happened," I said, but she
shook her head.
"Of course not, Jo! I mean,
I admit, things will be quite…interesting…but I will not pretend nothing ever
happened…but these people…I am so afraid to face them again. I mean…and it’s in
Cal’s home…" She was stuttering like a sixteen-year-old. I put a
supportive arm around her and thought a moment.
"But Mom…Caledon Hockley
died three years ago…you won’t have to see him and your mother…well, I don’t
know about her…but you chose a life you wanted…those people never did a
Goddamned thing for you...and you met Jim…and had Luke and Jamie…and I mean, do
you honestly think your mother would have liked you having me when you were
supposed to marry Hockley? You did the right thing, Mom. I think Jack would
have been really proud of you."
It was always awkward to talk
about Jack with her, since I’d obviously never met the man, nor had a clue what
he looked like, and she became melancholy whenever he was mentioned. She didn’t
this time; she simply smiled and said, "Thank you, Jo…" Taking my
hand, we walked into the other room and said our good-byes to Liz, Randy, and
the boys. Dave offered me his arm jokingly, which my mother took. I laughed and
took the other arm. As we were walking out of the hotel room, I caught our
reflections in the hall mirror and I honestly couldn’t recognize myself.
Strangely, I reminded myself of my mother. Dave was talking about all of the
girls he was going to woo when we got there.
The cab ride was pretty short,
considering that the Hockleys lived about four blocks from the hotel. Olivia
was meeting us there. She’d arrived this afternoon while I was at Tom’s studio.
A doorman opened the cab door for us and actually helped us out of the car.
Dave and I gave each other a look of surprise as Mom tipped the man. He winked
at her and showed us inside, where another butler type took our coats and hats.
"You could lose a lot of
money like this…" Dave joked as we tipped the butler. As we were walking
out of the coatroom, I was suddenly very aware that people were whispering
about me, so I sort of tried to hide behind Mom and Dave, who was unaffected.
Mom, if she was nervous, did a damned good job of hiding it.
I heard an older couple whisper
to each other as we walked by them.
"Is that who I think it
is?"
"Mind your own business,
Edna…" her husband retorted.
"But I could swear that girl
was…" He hushed her before she said anything else. I frowned, gripping
Dave’s sleeve. We nearly fell over when he stopped dead in his tracks and I ran
right into the back of him.
"What are you doing?" I
hissed at him, and all he could do was point at the object of his attention.
I followed his finger to see a
tiny blonde with a pretty but sad smile. She had big blue eyes and was wearing
a white gown, making her look almost angelic. I liked her instantly. She looked
over at us and Dave jumped, pushing me backwards, and I nearly fell over an
older man.
"Oh, I am so sorry,
sir…" I stammered, hitting Dave in the back.
"Relax, you two…" Mom
said, and I could hear the nerves in her voice. I grabbed her hand like a child
of three.
"I don’t like these people,
Ma…" I said softly. "They stare too much and whisper."
"Get used to it,
sweetheart," Olivia’s voice came from beside us. "It’s society."
Grant nodded politely at us and
said, "Livy, the table is ready and they’re going to be seating
shortly." She kissed him on the cheek and nodded as he walked away.
"Thank goodness for assigned
seating," she said with a wave of her hand. Mom laughed, and we began to
follow Olivia into the dining room. Literally everyone in the room stopped
talking when they saw Mom. Everyone. I heard her sigh as one woman stood up.
"I must be seeing things…I
could swear you were Rose DeWitt Bukater…but that’s impossible…Rose has been
dead for twenty years…"
My mother’s composure was
admirable. Dryly, she said, "Rose DeWitt Bukater is dead." With that,
she pulled me to our seats and I noticed that the nametag across from mine said
Jonathan Hockley. I rolled my eyes. Just what I needed. The same woman
who recognized my mother walked around the table to see her.
"I can’t believe it’s you,
Rose…I haven’t seen you since…since…the night you got engaged." The woman
shot a glance at another well-dressed society woman, who was eyeing Mom, as
well.
"Meribeth, would you give
the lady some room and let her eat in peace?" Olivia asked, annoyed. I
looked over at Dave, who had been seated next to the blonde who was directly
diagonal to me. The well-dressed society woman suddenly asked her maid aloud.
"Where is Jonathan? He knows
better than to keep guests waiting." As if on cue, the door to the dining
room opened and a dark-haired boy strode in.
"I apologize, Mother…"
he said, and though I hadn’t really been paying attention, I noticed the room
had gone quiet again. He was still standing. I looked up at him and recognized
him.
"Johnny?" I asked in
shock.
"Jo!" he said, sitting
down happily. "Fancy meeting you here!" he said warmly, and I glared
at him. My mother leaned over to me.
"You know him?" I took
a breath, still trying to catch up with everything, and nodded.
"Remember? In Boston? He’s
the boy who helped me pick up my things." My mother lost some of the color
in her face, but smiled politely.
"Oh, yes…" she said,
sipping her wine.
Johnny, or Jonathan, as he was
formally known, turned to the blonde that Dave had been enamored with and said,
"Evening, Gloria…how are you tonight?" She smiled uncomfortably.
"Fine, dear…thanks…"
she replied, and I frowned. It was the most awkward thing I had ever seen. I
read her name card. Gloria Edwards.
I soon found out that the woman
at the head of the table was Deirdre Hockley, the wife of the deceased Caledon
Hockley. One of her servants came in and announced everyone at the dinner.
First was Lady Rothes, Noël Leslie, and then Helen Benziger, the daughter of
the late Margaret Brown. Finally, it was my turn.
"Miss Josephine Dawson,
heiress to the Dawson soap fortune and daughter of…" The servant stopped
to clear his throat uncomfortably. "Rose DeWitt Bukater, now Rose Calvert,
and Jackson Dawson, Jr. of the Boston Dawsons." Mumbles erupted from the
table, and I would have been tempted to bang my head on the table were it not
for the abundance of silverware meant for only me.
I looked up at Jonathan, who was
grinning like a damned idiot, and glared at him.
"I never would have
guessed," he said lightly, and I tilted my head.
"Neither would I…" I
said coldly, turning my attention to the now impatient waiter who was trying to
spoon some black mush onto my plate.
"What is this?" I asked
him, embarrassed. He chuckled.
"Why, caviar, Miss Dawson.
Of course." I swallowed and nodded for him to proceed spooning some onto
my plate.
Taking a small bit, I spooned a
little onto a cracker and thoughtfully chewed. It was an odd taste, unlike
anything I’d ever had. I turned to Mom.
"What exactly is
caviar?" I asked, and Jonathan smiled across the table.
"Fish eggs," she
explained gently. I had the sudden urge to vomit, and sensing this, my mother
swiftly handed me her napkin.
"Pretend you are wiping your
mouth and spit the caviar into it discreetly," she said, and I did as
such. No one noticed the difference.
"Now that we took care of
that, Mom, could you please tell me what fork to use?"