HEARTS WILL GO ON
Epilogue

January 12, 1934

I awoke sometime after midnight on what was my twenty-first birthday and nudged Jonathan awake. My eyes widened in pain.

"Johnny…Jonathan…" I whispered, wincing. He bolted upright, eyes bloodshot.

"Jo…are you all right?" he asked, checking me over tiredly. I shook my head.

"I think…I think I need to go to the hospital," I replied shakily, attempting to sit up. He nodded slowly, his face white as a sheet.

"I’m going to go call your parents," he said, getting out of bed. "Just try to relax!" he added from the hallway. I heard him trip and fall with a thud. "Ugh," he muttered, picking up the telephone. "Hi…Jack? Sorry it’s so late…it’s Johnny. Yes…it’s time, I think…I don’t really know…all right…we’ll see you there. Bye." He came back into the room and helped me to my feet, guiding my shoes onto my feet. I doubled over as another contraction came. It was time for me to give birth to my first child. After the trip to Europe, we’d come back to the States and had settled into our lives again.

Jonathan had managed to open a new steel mill under the Hockley name, which was proving to be a success. He also worked with my father in Dawson Soap. Dave had proven to be quite a businessman, helping to triple the profits of Dawson Soap. He now ran the company so that Jack was free to spend his time with my mother and on his architecture, which he still enjoyed. He had also gone back to doing freelance artwork.

I had conceived in May one month after returning from Europe and found out in July when I’d realized I had missed my monthly occurrences. The doctor had confirmed it, and we had been both scared and excited. Mom cried when we told her. My pregnancy had seemed nonexistent until I’d hit the six month mark, and then it was like overnight I had ballooned to epic proportions. I suspected I was carrying a boy, who we would name Jonathan Caledon for his father. I was so sure, in fact, that I insisted on buying a christening suit for him on impulse at a store. Jonathan was hilarious in his role as an expectant father. He was always nervous and worried about me, and when he was at the steel mill or at a meeting with my father, he’d call our house about twelve time a day. The first time I was able to feel the baby move from the outside was in early fall. We’d fallen asleep after dinner and the baby had kicked so hard, we both woke up. The remainder of that evening had been spent with both of our hands on my middle.

Now, as I was being led into the hospital by my jumpy young husband, the nurses eyed us knowingly and I was put into a room to wait for the doctor. My parents arrived shortly after, having left the boys with Liz and Randy, who had moved to Boston to be closer to their son and his family. Belinda had adjusted easily and was nearly a woman now. Ma walked in with a worried look on her face as she gave her coat to Dad. Brushing my hair away from my eyes, she smiled down at me.

"Your baby is going to be born on your birthday, Jo…" she said quietly. I nodded. "Has the water broken yet?"

"Yes…before we left the house," I replied, cringing with the pain of another contraction.

"They’re coming closer together, aren’t they?" Jonathan asked, rejoining my other side. I could barely nod my head.

"Hang in there, kid. It’ll be over soon," Dad said, leaning down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Your mother and I will be in the waiting room…"

"We will?" Mom asked incredulously. "You mean to tell me that we won’t be in here?" Dad looked at her with calm affection.

"Rose…only one person is allowed in, and I personally think it should be the baby’s father," he replied, reaching out to touch her pink cheek. "We’ll only be a few feet away, hon." She pouted, looking at me longingly. I tried to smile.

"Go on…I’ll be all right," I said breathlessly. I could see she loathed leaving me, but she nodded and walked out as Dad winked at us before shutting the door behind them.

Two hours later, after ten minutes of pushing, my first child came into the world, healthy if not a few weeks early. My daughter was placed into my arms directly after Jonathan had cut her cord and she’d been wiped clean. Her hair was as red as mine and my mother’s and her eyes were blue-gray. When I looked up to catch Johnny’s face, he was crying. Gingerly, he took her from me and held her for the first time. The only words he could utter were addressed to me.

"Thank you, Jo," he sobbed, clutching the baby carefully. She was a sweet, quiet infant, and in the end, we named her Clara Rose Hockley. My parents came into the room soon after the nurse had wrapped Clara in a blanket and handed her back to me. Mom was the first to walk in, and looked like she’d been sleeping. Dad walked in behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

"Well?" she asked me. I smiled tiredly.

"It’s a girl," I said, resting my head against the pillows. Ma came to the side of the bed and sat in the chair that was there.

"But you were so sure it was a boy," Ma replied, reaching out to touch Clara’s cheek. I shrugged.

"She’ll do," I quipped. Jonathan made a small laugh and sat on the bed beside me. "We named her Clara Rose." Mom had a funny expression for a moment, but turned her attention back to the baby.

"She looks like you…a lot. My goodness, it’s like seeing you for the first time again!" Ma exclaimed. I looked up at Dad, who had turned and was staring intently at the door.

"Dad? Are you all right?" I asked, and his only response was a nod followed by a sniff.

"Jack, are you crying?" Ma asked, standing to look him in the eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Yes, you are!" she said, touching his shoulder tenderly.

"I just…you know…wish I had been there for you…with Jo," he said quietly, still staring at the wall.

"Look, Jack, I understand. When I had moved to Santa Monica, you were still in the hospital. How could you have known? Look at her, Jack. She’s fine…she’s wonderful." Ma’s voice was gentle, the tone she used with Luke and James when comforting them. I had to bite my lip. Seeing this, Jonathan took Clara, allowing me to hold out my arms. My father hugged me with such ferocity, it felt like we’d always been that way.

"You know, you’ll always have a special place in my heart, Jo. I love all of my children, but you were there first." He patted the top of my head and stood beside Mom. Jonathan handed her the baby.

"Johnny…" I said, turning to him and touching his arm. "Could you go call Dave? They’re coming in this weekend and I want them to know Clara is not a boy." He nodded and kissed me before leaving the room.

"She’s so quiet," Ma said, looking down at the sleeping baby. Dad nodded.

"Jack was loud from the minute he emerged. He takes after his mother," he added, nudging Mom gently. She scowled.

"Shut up, Jack..." she said, but the hint of a smile remained.

"Well, you do talk a lot, Rosie," he quipped. A nurse walked into the room with a bouquet of flowers. I frowned.

"Who are those from?" I asked. The young woman bent to read the card.

"A Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Cohen," she replied, leaving the room. Mom looked at me in wonder.

"My mother," she said with a laugh.

"Gran said they would be coming in tomorrow evening," I said as Johnny came back into the room.

"Dave and Gloria are getting on the first train out. They didn’t want to wait," he said, kissing my forehead. Mom set the baby back in my arms, and for the first time since right after she’d been born, she opened her eyes, almost pondering me.

"Are you as tired as I am, kid?" I asked her, and almost as if she understood, she yawned. Everyone laughed. She had quite a head of hair for a baby born nearly a month early, and it was a bit darker than mine, almost the exact shade of my mother’s.

Clara would grow to be much like me, a creative-minded, quiet child. She most definitely took after me in looks, but I saw much of Jonathan in her character. Her kind heart and piercing, blue-gray eyes made them seem so alike sometimes. His temper had also come out on occasion. When Clara was three, her brother Jonathan was born, but Clara would always be the apple of her father’s eye.

Dave and Gloria had five children. Three boys and two girls. They had eventually moved back to Boston to be near his parents and us. My two children spent most of their time with them. In fact, Dave’s oldest girl, Mary, would be Clara’s closest friend. Every last one of Dave’s children were blonde-haired and blue-eyed. Their family was known as the Golden Family.

Jamie grew up to find he was very skilled in mechanics. He helped Jonathan build the steel mills back to what they had been when Caledon Hockley had first taken over his father’s business. He was married when he was twenty-five to a girl from Michigan. They had four children of their own. Luke proved to be quite a heartbreaker, always surrounded by girls from the moment he started school. He married his high school sweetheart and had three children, naming one of them for Liz, who had been such a wonderful friend to our mother.

My parents remained happily married for many years as they watched all of their children grow up and thrive. After all, they were young parents to begin with, so naturally, they were young grandparents. Somehow, all of us managed to survive, but even though I’ve said how things turned out, the future is always another story.

The End.

Stories