JACK'S ROSE
Chapter Eighteen
The mare shot out of the stall at a full
gallop and didn't slow her pace as she raced through the snow and ice. The cold
air bit at William's cheeks, nose, arms, and chest, took his hair and sent it
blowing back, while the horse that Henry was on was not so yielding to his
desperate hollers, nudges, and slaps with the reins. William's mare finally
turned left and tore down what little road was left, coming to a sliding halt
as they reached the Dawsons’ house. William leapt off the mare and took the
porch stairs two at a time, then the parlor's stairs as quickly as he could,
but he did not burst into the room, for he heard Julia's soft whispers coming
from within. He eased open the door, and breathing heavily, he entered.
What lay before him, he knew, was not normal.
He had been with his mother when she'd given birth to his sister, Kathleen.
There had been a little blood...but not this much. His face twisted with worry
as he slowly neared Julia, who had not yet noticed his entrance.
"Rose, wake up. Rose? Rose, come on.
Rose, come back," Julia whispered, gently dabbing Rose's forehead with a
wet rag. As William lowered himself to his knees on the side of the bed
opposite her, Julia raised her eyes to look at him. "I'm glad you're here,
William."
"What's wrong? What's happening?"
Below them, they heard the door open once
more and the sound of Henry's hushing the girls, then his footsteps coming up
the stairs.
"I don't know," Julia said
desperately, looking up to Henry, then back at William. "I don't
know."
*****
How familiar this all was...the warm
sunlight spilling over the deck, the cool breeze, the smell of salt, the sound
of the water below as the giant ship glided over the ocean, but it all had a
surrealistic feel—the feel that nightmares have.
Rose's arms rested gently on the curvature
of her waist. She was aware of the click, click, clicking sound her heels made
upon the wooden deck as she made her way towards the bow. She felt as if a
million pair of eyes were all resting on her as she walked. Her heart thudded
in her chest from dread, rather than excitement and anticipation as she
normally felt when she had dreams of her Jack.
"Jack..."
He swung around to face her. "Rose?
Rose, what are you doing here?" he asked frantically, gently touching her
face. "You have to go back...now!"
"But, Jack, I've only been here a few
minutes. Why can't I stay? What's wrong?"
"Oh, Rose, this isn't a dream. This—Rose,
you have to go back now." He gazed at her with those intense blue eyes,
his hands moving to her shoulders.
And she suddenly understood.
"Can't I stay just a while? Not too
much longer—"
"Rose, you made me a promise. And
when you made that promise, you made a promise to our child. You have the keep
that promise now, Rose! Go now!"
*****
The girls were huddled at the door, tears
streaming down their faces. Julia still whispered to Rose, dabbing her forehead
with the rag. Henry had once more left the house, this time taking the dun mare
William had ridden over on, to fetch the doctor of the small town. William was still
on his knees, holding Rose's hand, talking to her, trying to coax her to
"wake up."
He had never cried before that day.
"Rose, please, please, don't leave. You
can't leave now, Rose. After all you've been through? After all you've lived
through, Rose, how can you give up now?" Julia asked softly.
She did not stir.
Her lips were growing cold, her skin growing
clammy and pale; the life was draining out of her.
William leaned over her, his tears falling on
her cheeks, and bent his head to her ear. "You can't leave me, Rose,
because I love you," he whispered. "I love you."
*****
“I love you.”
Jack's eyes filled with both joy and
extreme sadness as the words seemed to float through the air. "He loves
you, Rose. William will take care of you and our son. Go back, Rose. You were
meant to live." He gazed into her eyes one last time, then leaned forward
and kissed her cheek. "Good-bye, my sweet Rose. 'Til we meet again."
"Good-bye, Jack?"
"Go, Rose. Go now before it's too
late."
"Jack..."
But suddenly she was once again laying on the
bed. She felt someone's warm cheek against her own cold one. Julia was still
dabbing her forehead. She could hear the girls crying from the doorway. And all
this came to her in a giant flood, overwhelming her senses. Rose cried out in
physical anguish, squeezing whoever's hand it was that was holding hers, and
suddenly, the sound of a crying baby reached her ears. She opened her eyes to
find William gazing at her.
"Rose, it's a boy!" Julia announced
excitedly. Rose smiled weakly as Julia gingerly lay the swaddled child into her
arms. The young boy gazed back at his mother with dazzling blue eyes—those of
his father. Her smile widened he began to make the gurgling, cooing sounds that
babies do.
"Let's leave her alone, William, girls.
We can all see the child later," Julia said, standing and wiping her hands
on the front of her dress. "Leave her alone with her child." William
stood, looked at Rose one more moment, then turned and went to stand beside
Julia to the side of the doorway.
It was then that Henry burst in the room, his
face red from the cold and his jacket still covered in snow. A look of complete
joy replaced the one of pure anger as his eyes fell upon the bundled boy in
Rose's arms. He smiled, approached the bed, and gently kissed Rose's cheek.
"You had us worried, Rose." She flashed him a soft smile, then turned
back to her child.
"Let's leave her, Henry."
He turned to his wife and nodded.
"Welcome to the world," he whispered, gently laying his hand upon the
babe's head. "I'll leave you with your mother now." With that, he
straightened and turned to leave, but Rose's meager voice sounded.
"Henry..."
He turned to look at her.
"What was Jack's middle name?"
"Nathan."
They exchanged knowing smiles. Then he turned
once more and left the room.
Rose caught sight of Cora's and Lilly's
now-beaming faces from the doorway. Then Julia hurried them off, and they
trotted down the stairs with her and Henry behind them, leaving only William to
remain upstairs.
He peered into the room for one last glance
at the angel laying on her bed, cradling her newborn child, then reached
forward, took hold of the doorknob and began to pull the door closed.
"William—"
"Yes, Rose?" he asked, opening the
door.
"Stay. Please."
He smiled. "Of course, Rose."
William strode across the room and sat on the
edge of the bed. Rose took his hand and smiled at him. "William, meet
Nathan Thomas Dawson."
William laughed softly and gingerly took
Nathan's tiny, delicate hand between his thumb and forefinger and shook his it
ever-so-gently. "And what a pleasure it is."
Rose laughed, her eyes dancing with joy.
William turned his eyes from the child to her, gazing at her lovingly. She
smiled again. He returned that smile, then gently leaned forward and brushed
her lips with his.
"I'll leave you with him now, so you can
feed him." William stood, Rose still holding his hand. "Good-bye for
now, my angel." He bent his head and kissed her hand.
"Thank you, William."
A smile was his response. Then he turned,
closed the door, and joined the others downstairs.
Rose gently stroked the child—Nathan's—cheek,
then raised him to her breast.
And all she could think of was how happy she
suddenly was.