I HAVE NOTHING
Chapter Six
The Blue Heart
Private Frazier’s last words were
for Rose.
"Don’t let go of my hand. Don’t
let go of it…"
Rose stayed near him all night,
until she felt the fingers cold as ice, and she knew everything was over now.
She stayed for a few minutes longer before leaving his side, and while she was
doing so, she saw Jack’s face sinking in the cold water again. Pale. Sweet.
Calm. More beautiful than ever. More loved than ever.
She had had to separate one by
one her fingers from his, just like she was doing with Private Frazier right
now. He was one of many wounded of the war, like the others who arrived every
day at the hospital, their chests stabbed deeply or their bodies mutilated.
Reminders of a war that was plaguing Rose’s life with frozen hands and memories
of Jack.
Every time she lost one of them,
she lost Jack again. And there were moments where she couldn’t control it
anymore.
She covered Frazier’s face with a
sheet and called the doctor. Her work there had ended. She changed patients.
She was walking towards the emergency unit when she heard a familiar voice
behind her. It was Captain DeRouche. The funny and nice Vincent DeRouche. Since
his arrival at the hospital, he had won the sympathy and care of everyone in
there, and Rose wasn’t an exception.
"You shouldn’t be up,
Vincent."
"I know…I just do it so
you’ll scold me, Rose. You’re so beautiful when you’re mad."
Rose smiled. How good those
smiles were that Vincent could make her smile sometimes! She was going to miss
him when he would went away, and it would be in a short time. Vincent’s wounds
were almost healed, and in a week, the doctors would let him go home.
A beautiful home, she was told.
The captain was a member of a rich family in Paris, but his behavior was that
of an ordinary person’s. She liked him, yes…she would miss him…
Vincent DeRouche left the
hospital on a Saturday morning. And on Monday he was in the door of the
hospital again with an enormous bouquet of roses and a formal invitation to
take Rose to the theater on her only free day. She thought a bit before
accepting, but then she was glad to do it. For the first time in a long time,
she forgot about the death and pain that was all around her.
Vincent was a gentleman, and he
could make her to have fun all afternoon, not showing any other intentions.
Their trips occurred more and more often with time. Rose knew Vincent was
falling in love with her, but she wasn’t in love with him. His friendship made
her happy, and she hoped that the captain would never confess to her his true
feelings.
But she was wrong. A letter
brought by Vincent’s driver himself demonstrated her mistake—Vincent confessed
his love for her, and after reading it, Rose didn’t knew whether to hate him or
thank destiny. She was alone. The only thing she had was Jack’s memory and a
life without him.
And now, Vincent appeared to her
by surprise, like a sunray in the middle of the clouds, ready to love her and
to rescue her from the cold waters of the Atlantic forever. The only problem
was that she didn’t love him. And she was sincere when she told him so.
"I love you as a friend,
Vincent. Nothing more."
The captain smiled. He didn’t
care. He already knew. But even so, he wanted to marry her and make her happy.
Give her a life outside of the hospital and the war. His words entered Rose’s
ears like a lullaby, soft and kind. She wasn’t listening to him. She was
thinking about Jack. She closed her eyes and saw those blue eyes looking at
her, asking her to accept him and to be happy. A tear ran down her cheek and
her lips smiled at the same time.
Vincent understood that mixture
of joy and sadness as a yes and kissed her hand lightly. He was convinced that
his love would be enough for the both of them.
They decided to announce their
engagement at the Pride Ball, a charitable event organized by the most
important families in the city in honor of the wounded in the war.
Rose would have to be brave that
night. She was going to say, in front of everybody, that she was getting
married to Captain DeRouche, a good man that she didn’t love, but who she felt
happy with and loved by.
And the blue diamond. It was the
first time she had looked at it in a long time. That was the only reminder she
had of the Titanic and the wonderful love story she had lived there. Jack had
drawn her just wearing it, and that was the reason that the jewel was like
proof of a love that had existed. She put Le Coeur de la Mer around her neck.
It was a unique diamond—exquisite. But for her, it was a symbol that she was
still in love of with Jack, and that even that night, as she was going to
announce her engagement to another man, he was still by her side. Forever.
A little while before going out,
she looked at herself in the mirror. She was sure that the diamond was like a
bomb—everybody was going to recognize it. It was Louis XVI’s famous diamond,
the one that, according to legend, he wore in his crown. It was very expensive.
Wearing it that night, she was risking someone learning her real identity—Rose
DeWitt Bukater, Cal Hockley’s fiancée, and, the one who, according to the
newspapers, had died on the Titanic. She sighed and put the diamond to her
throat. She had to wear it for Jack. She needed to scream in silence that her
love was as unique as that jewel. And the consequences didn’t mean anything to
her.