IMAGES OF ONESELF
Chapter Four

A few hardy crickets chirped noisily on this crisp October night. The gravel crunched under the feet of Jack and his son as they walked along the country road. Now and again, there was rustling in the tall grass as Pepper investigated the possibility of a rabbit hole. Jack blew into his hands trying to get them warm. The breath of both father and son could be seen in the frosty air. Overhead the clear black sky displayed a myriad of sparkling stars.

Jack looked up into the heavens, the cold jarring his senses back into another night so many years ago. “You know, I haven’t seen a sky like this since the last time I saw your mother. It was chilly like this too. The water…”

Young Jack gave his father a puzzled look. Sky, cold, water? Not exactly the romantic things to remember about the last time a person saw their loved one. His father had stopped abruptly, as if in shock. In fact, his father suddenly seemed like his mind was elsewhere.

“Dad?” the boy asked, still feeling shy about using that word. “Dad? Are you alright?”

Jack shook his head as he was called back to reality. He pulled his jacket closer around his shivering body. His teeth were chattering, not so much for tonight’s temperature, but from his memories.

“You were saying something about the water,” the boy said. He prompted his father hoping to find out what he had been about to say.

With a quick glance at his son and a nod of his head, Jack made the decision to tell his son now, the story he so deserved to hear.

“I’ll be alright. I was going to tell you about how cold the water was when I lost your mother. How we, well….Let me start at the beginning” Jack continued walking and motioned with his head that his son should follow. “Pepper, come. We’re moving on.” Pepper lifted his head and with a wag of his tale started speedily up the road. Jack and his son looked at each other and smiled over the dog’s antics.

Young Jack listened carefully to the tale that his father began to tell. It was the story of a beautiful, unhappy society girl on a glamorous ship, ignored and misunderstood by the people closest to her. Like in fairytale, a penniless young artist, his father, rescued her. With his father’s descriptive words he could almost picture them on the stern of the ship, the wind blowing his mother’s wild hair, his father’s lanky stance and gentle smile.

“The ship was called the Titanic,” said Jack. “Have you ever hear of it?”

The boy’s eyes popped out in amazement. He recalled his mother’s strange reaction one time when he had mentioned that ship. “I have,” he told his father. “We were studying the time between the Spanish American War and World War One and the teacher mentioned the sinking of the Titanic. Not enough lifeboats or something. You were on that ship?” he asked incredulously. He was stunned by the knowledge that they had met on Titanic, that his mother had come from a wealthy family and that they had been separated in the sinking.

Jack pulled his lips together and let out a sigh. “Yes, the Titanic.” There seemed to be so much finality when he said that name. For its sinking had ended the wonderful dreams he’d had for those few short days.

“The Titanic,” the boy echoed. “No wonder…” All he could remember was the look of pain on his mother’s face when he had started explaining about the ship. “I came home from school and told Mom what we had been learning about. She always wanted a full report of the day.” His face took on a wistful expression as he thought of how his mother had always been around for him, despite her busy schedule.

Jack noticed that look and felt a moment of emptiness and regret, not for the fact that he had a son, but rather for Rose herself. From their love had come this child, but since they had lost each other, it had also placed on her shoulders the great burden of bearing and raising a baby alone. Perhaps though it had given her a reason to go on when she thought he was dead. But he had missed too much. He had lost his son’s entire childhood.

“I told Mom that we had learned about this huge ship called the Titanic. I repeated to her all the gory scenes about how many people had died and told her about how the ship broke in two when it went under the water. You see, I was so fascinated that I had found a book in the library, “The Truth about Titanic.” It was by someone, Grace, Gracie?”

Jack folded his arms around his chest, still trying to keep warm. Even with his warm coat, he still felt chilled. The brain could do strange things to the body. “Yes, I knew him. Colonel Gracie. I met him at dinner with your mother,” said Jack. “I never knew he wrote about it though.” Jack had never wanted to read anything related to the ship. For him, it was a closed, dead chapter in his life.

“Wow, you knew him?” His son was clearly impressed with this fact. “I just went on and on, while I was eating my sandwich, not paying any attention to Mom. When I looked up, her face was white and her hands were shaking. She couldn’t even speak. There was an awful look on her face. She just grabbed up her sweater and ran out the door. I got up to see where she was going. I should have known she was heading for her favorite place. The pier.”

Jack turned his head quickly and stared at his son, a question on the tip of his tongue. “The pier? Not the Santa Monica Pier?”

Young Jack nodded his head affirmatively. “Yeah, why? That is where we live. Santa Monica.” With those words, he saw his father’s shocked expression.

Jack looked up at the sky, whispering, “She did everything we talked about.” She must have remembered the words of every conversation they’d had together. “Yes, I can see how that would upset her.” He paused for a moment as he envisioned Rose weeping out at the end of the pier. It was unfortunate that her son had been the one to so innocently remind her of the terrifying night. “But to get back to our story…I fell in love with her the very first time I set eyes on her, even before I spoke to her.”

“Did she feel the same about you?” the boy asked eagerly. He noticed the thoughtful expression on his father’s face. It would be interesting to finally see his parents together. For while he had now had an understanding of their story, he was having a hard time picturing what had attracted them to each other, aside from his mother’s beauty. His father seemed a contemplative, subdued person and his mother alternated between forced happiness and melancholy.

Jack went on to explain that he really was not sure how Rose had felt the first time they saw each other. “By the night of the sinking though, things were very different. We knew we were in love. And……” Jack cleared his throat, “here you are.” It was hard to explain the details of the passion he felt for Rose to his seventeen-year-old son.

“It’s okay Dad,” said the boy, sensing his father’s embarrassment. “I have lots of friends who are older than me, that have girls. I know what it’s all about.” They walked along in silence for a few minutes. Then he had another question for his father. “Just exactly how long did you know Mother?”

“Well,” Jack hesitated. What would his son think of him now? “We really only were together for thirty six hours.” Jack was thankful for the darkness, so that his son could not see the redness that surely must be on his face.

Young Jack glanced over at his dad in amazement. Thirty-six hours and they were that much in love, that they did it? They had found a place and made love. He could just not see that in them now. His father must really have been something else when he had been younger.

“Do you want me to finish the story?”

“Sure Dad. Go ahead. I’m learning a lot.”

Jack wondered about that tongue in cheek remark as he told the end of their saga. He described the death throes of Titanic, the chaos and cacophony of human voices screaming for help. They had been holding hands one minute and the next, a wave came and tore them from one another.

Jack covered his eyes, trying to blot out those pictures from hell. He felt the reassuring hand of his son on his arm.

“That was the last I saw of Rose. I was dragged half-alive into a boat. I never found her on Carpathia or saw her name on a list. For me, a part of my life ended that night. The better part. Until now. Until you came.” He stared into the eyes of the young man who had brought life and love back into his heart.

“What do you think happened to Mom?” young Jack asked. “She must have tried to find you. Don’t you think? I mean surely she would have tried to find you.”

“I don’t know,” Jack mumbled. He was exhausted. He had not allowed himself to think of that night for years and now it had taken its toll. “I just don’t know. We’ll have to ask her.” He turned to his son tiredly. “Come to think of it, I never even checked to see if my name was on a list. God, what irony that would be.”

“Dad,” the boy said shyly. He felt Jack’s hand his shoulder. It was a wonderful feeling to know that he had two parents. “What’s going to happen now? You haven’t said anything about seeing Mom.”

Jack touched his forehead trying to think. Since an hour ago when he found out that he was a father, he had been coping with getting things properly settled between him and his son. That was a delicate situation and one that had required his undivided attention. He had wanted the boy to know that he loved him, accepted him and that there was plenty of room for him in his life. Now that things seemed to be going well, he had to turn his mind to the next thing. Getting to California to see Rose and planning on what he would do when he saw her. Of course, some of that would depend on what she wanted.

They talked a little about the remarkable woman that they both loved in different ways. Jack had been amazed to discover that Rose had been an actress. The life she had provided for her son had been idyllic. They had lived in a white frame cottage a block from the ocean. There had always been a reliable person to take care of her child until he started school. She had invited friends and neighbors for dinner, so that her son would have contact with father-like figures and other children. Apparently her adventuresome spirit came to life now and then. She had taken Jack camping and hiking in the canyons near their home and every year on his birthday, she had made arrangements for some outing. They had taken the train to San Francisco, the boat to Catalina, (her son now realized just how much courage that had taken), or she had invited her fellow actors from the studio to come and put on a performance in honor of her son’s special day. Jack could see that Rose had provided well for their child. She had been a good parent.

One comment kept coming to the forefront of Jack’s mind. “You said she was starving. Were you exaggerating or is it really true?”

“Well, it’s close to the truth. Her life is bad now. She lost her job with the movie studio and now she is working as a maid,” the boy explained. In his mind he could see her in that miserable boarding house and the meals of bread and macaroni they had eaten. Once in awhile, she had bought some canned fruit. If his memory served him well, they’d had meat about every two weeks. It was no wonder he’d left, even if it broke his mother’s heart. He’d had enough.

“A maid?” Jack let an expletive escape from his mouth. “She’s not cut out for work like that.”

“I know,” his son agreed. “But that was all she could find. We had to give up our house, everything. That is why I left. I thought that with just her alone, the money would go further. She was kind of mad about me going,” he confessed. He turned to his father and explained that was how he’d ended up in Wisconsin. “I was just traveling all around and when I got close to here, I was determined to come and find your old place. Never dreaming of course what I would really find.”

The two men faced each other and Jack put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “You know I am so thrilled, ecstatic inside, to know that she is alive. I know I should be dancing around, but in a way all of this is so sobering. I want to do everything right for her, for you. You know, this all seems a bit awkward. I don’t know the first thing about being a father,” Jack admitted.

The young man laughed softly. “I don’t know the first thing about having a dad, so I guess we’ll learn from each other.”

They walked along in silence savoring their new found companionship. The stars twinkled and the moon rose in the east, like a huge suspended ball of orange.

“Mom is seeing that now too, isn’t she?”

Jack nodded affirmatively. Rose. She was so close in his mind, he could almost smell her hair and perfume. Never did he think that he would be so near to seeing her again. Not in this life anyway. It was almost unbelievable that in a matter of days she could be in his arms again. His thoughts were startled by his son’s next words.

“Mom always told me that I had to try and be like you. Now that I know you, I realize the great impression you made on her in just that short time. The way she talked, I thought you must have been some sort of god that I could never measure up to.” Young Jack thought about the times that he’d been told that his father had been a kind, gentle and brave man. “I thought you sounded like some knight out of a history book. The way mom described you, it seemed almost an impossible and hopeless task to even try and measure up to you.”

Jack clenched his cold hands and then shoved them into the pocket of his coat. It was time to go back. The chill of the night was starting to bother him. “I’m just a regular guy son. Don’t put me on any pedestal. I might fall off. I am far from perfect.” While he was moved by Rose’s high regard for him, he didn’t want to give his son any false illusions that he was a paragon of virtue. It was enough that she had given their son his name.

The road came to a dead end. Here and there across the fields could be seen the lights of another farmhouse. A horse whinnied in the distance. The peaceful Wisconsin night surrounded them. The two of them stood inches apart, neither knowing what to say next.

“Seems like we both found out that we’re not perfect, back there in the kitchen. You pack a pretty mean punch.” Jack put his hand up to the sore spot on his jaw. But there was no malice in his voice.

Jack’s son hung his head. “I am sorry about that Dad. I lost my head. Did I hurt you badly?”

“No. I kind of roughed you up a little too much too. I apologize for that. Both of us are going to have to get a little more dignified if we are going to see your mother the week after next.”

The young man’s eyes widened. He had hoped that they would go to California together. But in two weeks? That was happening all so fast. “That soon? What about your farm work and the animals? And shouldn’t we tell Mother?”

A plan was slowly starting to form in Jack’s mind. They’d soon be done with the harvesting at Miller’s. With enough warning, he could ask Peter Strand to come and stay and look after the animals. They leave a week from this coming Monday. That would give him plenty of time to spruce up the house a little, get some proper clothes for Jack and himself and purchase the railway tickets. “Should I be optimistic and get a wedding ring too?” He was getting so carried away and filled with excitement, that the possibility existed that Rose might not even be interested in coming back here with him. That was something he forced himself not to even consider.

“Come on, son. Let’s head back. I’ll tell you what I have in mind.”

Jack scanned the nearby field for Pepper. He called the dog and when Pepper came running, he motioned him back in the direction of the house. Slowly he explained to his son that he wanted him to write a letter to Rose. In it he should say that only he was coming back home.

“You mean you don’t want me to say that you are coming too?” asked young Jack, rather confused.

“No, I really need to see her in person. It would be too much of a shock in a letter. You can understand that,” said Jack softly. And what kind of shock would it be for Rose, even in person. At least then, he could put his arms around her and comfort her. He felt an unaccustomed rush of desire as he thought of Rose’s warm body next to his.

“Alright, Dad. I’ll write it like you say,” agreed his son. “But couldn’t I at least add that I am bringing her a surprise? That would prepare her for something out of the ordinary.”

Jack nodded solemnly. His son was right. “Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ll mail it tomorrow and she probably will get it about three or four days before we arrive.”

Both men hurried their pace as the wind picked up and the temperature started to drop. Pepper was already sitting on the porch steps when they returned. Jack glanced at the barn and then back to his son. “Why don’t you bring your things in the house. We’ll make a place for you to sleep in the extra room. I have a big sleeping bag and a nice rug. It’ll do until we can pick up a bed later in the week. Your mother will kill me if she ever found out that I let her….our son sleep in the barn,” said Jack with a smile on his face.

The boy beamed from ear to ear. His mother had been right. This man was everything she had said. Only in his adolescent misunderstanding of what he thought had happened between his parents could he have been so stupid as to think Jack Dawson anything but a good and kind person.

He took a deep breath and looked around this farm he was coming to love. For the first time in his life, he was really felling a part of something. He only hoped that his mother would come and give it a chance. “You know, Dad, I hope mom likes it here too. Because I sure love it. She thinks California is the greatest place.”

Jack listened carefully to his son’s words. Deep in his heart, he knew that getting Rose to come here might not be easy. He just didn’t want to admit it.

“At night when she comes home, she heads out for the pier. I went with a couple of times, but usually she goes alone. She just stands there and she moves her lips silently. Like she is talking to someone. And sometimes, when she comes home, it looks like she has been crying. I understand now, Dad. I believe she has been speaking to you.”

Jack felt an ache in his heart, hearing about Rose’s nightly pilgrimage to the pier. So she loved the ocean and the pier where they had talked of going. She had made that part of his life, her own. That must have been one of the things that gave her the strength to go on.

“Go on, get your things,” he said to his son, not trusting himself to talk about Rose right now. “We’ll eat in a few minutes.”

Later

Jack pulled his work shoes off and threw them in the corner of the room. He listened to the sounds coming from the spare bedroom. It was the first time anyone else had ever slept in this house besides himself. He was comforted by the soft thumping as his son made up his bed and unpacked his clothes. This truly had been a night of miracle. He laid back on the bed, sharply aware of the bumpy chenille bedspread. It certainly was not fancy. Nothing here was. And he wondered what Rose would think when she saw this place. From his son’s description, the cottage they had lived in, had been tiny, but almost like a story book house, with flowers growing in perfusion everywhere. This typical Wisconsin farm was not fantasy land. There were the harsh realities of crops failing, animals dying, frigid winter and scorching summers. Even though he had a little nest egg put away, there was always the chance that something could go wrong and wipe it all out.

“Is it even fair to bring Rose here and expect her to love this like I do?” Just as he had on Titanic, when he enticed her to embrace the life below decks, he felt like he was doing the same thing now. Taking her away from a place where everything was familiar. A place that had been her home for eighteen years.

He stretched out and rested his hands behind his head. Now that he knew that she was alive, this bed seemed emptier than ever. Jack turned his head to the side and studied the space next to him. He closed his eyes and imagined her there. The red cascade of her hair would be spread out on the pillow. Her perfume would permeate the sheets and her presence would be felt all over the house. He guessed that maybe that little cottage in Santa Monica was a magical place because of her. If he could only get her here, maybe she could work the same kind of magic in this house.

Jack sat up, startled by the knock on his door. “Yes?” He watched as the door slowly opened.

“Oh, Dad. I just want to know if it would bother you if I went downstairs and listened to the radio for awhile. Sometimes you can catch some long distance stations at night. Maybe WGN in Chicago.” In the dim light, he could see that his son had changed for bed. He stood in the doorway with his long underwear and his tousled hair, looking younger than his seventeen years.

His house guest had turned suddenly into his child. He had never imagined such an unusual turn of events. Jack was torn between wanting to join him and staying in bed thinking of Rose. “No, go ahead. That’s fine. Just be sure you turn off the lights and give Pepper some water. Oh, and check the doors too. Be sure they are locked.” He paused as he watched his son head towards the stairs. “And don’t stay up too late,” Jack added. He thought he heard an exasperated sigh from his son, but he smiled to himself. Parenthood was just beginning for him. Might as well get his feet wet.

“Well, night, Dad,” the boy called from the stairway.

“Good night…son.”

Chapter Five
Stories