A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Eighteen
April 14, 1913
"You
nervous?"
His artist's fingers were intertwined with
hers, his beautiful blue eyes were searching hers for the answer.
"No."
She took his hand and pressed it to her
mouth, tasting each fingertip in turn. Then she looked him in the eyes again.
"Put your hands on me, Jack."
Still he hesitated--ever the gentleman--and
so she lowered his hand and placed it firmly on her breast.
All uncertainty, all adherence to society's
conventions vanished. He pulled her into his arms and their lips met eagerly.
She slid onto her back in the close confines of the Renault, and as he gently
shifted his body on top of hers she began to tear at his clothing, yanking off
his overcoat, unfastening his suspenders. Their breathing was ragged,
quickening in pace.
"Rose, slow down," he teased her,
amazement playing over his features.
Her only response was a carefree laugh as she
worked her way down the buttons on his shirt. He clumsily reached underneath
her to loosen the sash on her evening dress, and they both laughed as she had
to come to his aid. She raised her arms and in one swift motion he pulled the
dress over her head. He was the first man to see her in this state of undress,
but she wasn't modest or shy.
He rained kisses light as butterflies on her
neck, her breasts, her stomach. His tongue traced a path down her belly as his
hands parted her thighs.
"Oh, Jack."
He paused to remove his trousers, and she had
only seconds to admire his sinewy nakedness before it covered her. He moved
slowly, tenderly, and soon pain gave way to a pleasure so intense she couldn't
restrain herself. She arched her back and moaned.
All that mattered was him, and all she could
hear was his raspy voice, repeating her name over and over...
"Rose?"
"Oh, my God...Jack...the ice...we have
to warn..."
"Rose!" Someone was shaking her. A
woman. "Rose, wake up!"
It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to
the darkness, and another to fully comprehend where she was. And then it came back
to her. She was in her dormitory room at Vassar. This woman was her roommate.
Angelica Geisel. She was on dry land. Safe.
"Rosie, why are you crying?"
"What?" Rose sat up in bed, still
disoriented.
"Your face is so flushed! Are you
feeling all right?"
"I'm fine. Thank you." Rose's voice
was a strained whisper. "Excuse me." She swung her legs over the edge
of the bed and stepped into her slippers.
"Do you need help?" Angelica called
after her as Rose made her way to the bathroom across the hall. Rose shook her
head. It was bad enough that one of her nightmares had awakened her roommate.
She didn't need anyone to see her in the glare of a light bulb.
One quick glance in the mirror above the sink
confirmed her fears. Her eyes were puffy, her skin blotchy and stained with
dried tears. She quickly ran cold water in the basin and splashed it on her
face. And then she let out a startled cry. The water was freezing.
In her mind's eye, she could see them now,
all those terrified people in the water, screaming for help that would come too
late--
"Stop it!" Rose covered her ears to
shut out the sound of rushing water. "Please..."
The screams faded, the icy sensation receded.
Rose reached out with a shaky hand and shut off the faucet. Her breathing
gradually returned to normal and she stepped back into the hallway. There was
not a peep from her dorm mates; apparently none of them heard her. But a light
shone underneath her door. Angelica was waiting for her.
She couldn't face anyone now. An escape route
beckoned. Rose hurried to the end of the hallway and tiptoed down a flight of
steps. To the right of the stairway was a parlor filled with cozy furniture and
paintings of country landscapes. She curled herself into a tight ball on a
divan, slippers and all, and stared into the fireplace, attempting to draw some
warmth and comfort from an imaginary blaze.
Just before surrendering to sleep, Rose
lifted her eyes to the face of the clock on the mantle. It read 11:40. The time
the iceberg struck. Once again, a chill ran through her veins.
*****
"Wake up, Rosie, wake up!"
Not again. Rose groaned and rolled to one
side--and fell on the hardwood floor of the parlor.
Angelica burst into a fit of giggles.
"Get up, silly! Miss Henderson will have your hide if she finds you
sleeping in here." She pulled her grumpy and disheveled roommate to her
feet. "Come on, it's almost six."
Six in the morning? Sure enough, the first
traces of daylight were beginning to brighten the room. Morning prayers were
less than an hour away.
Rose padded upstairs behind Angelica.
Suddenly, her roommate came to a halt, and Rose stopped just short of crashing
into her back. A tall, scowling figure in a plain housedress was standing at
the bathroom doorway. The dorm warden.
"H-hello, Miss Henderson. How are you this
morning?"
"Well, you're up early, Miss Geisel. I
hope that means you'll be on time for Assembly this morning?"
Assembly. That was how she referred to
breakfast.
"Oh, yes, Miss Henderson, bright and
early." Angelica flashed her most engaging smile.
"Who's that hiding behind you?"
Rose gave a little wave. "Ah, Miss Dawson. Another student I can count on
to be an early riser." The warden's voice was laced with sarcasm.
"Don't tell me you've both decided to mend your ways at once."
Rose adopted a serious statement. "Well,
ma'am, actually, we were meditating."
Angelica turned and stared, dumbfounded. Rose
gave her a little wink.
"Meditating?"
"Uh, yes," Angelica spoke. "We
find it clears the mind."
"And we need our minds cleared,"
Rose added. "For a long day of studying."
"Well, this is a new one," Miss
Henderson remarked. "And I don't buy it for a minute. If silent time
hadn't been abolished you'd find a way out of it." She shook her head and
went into the bathroom, muttering "clears the mind" under her breath.
In their room, the girls collapsed onto their
beds, laughing hysterically.
"Meditating, my ass," Angelica
gasped. "You are full of malarkey, Rose."
She grew contemplative, studying her roommate
critically. "Well, now, we are feeling better. What is it? Are you going
to see him next weekend?"
Rose took a seat at her bureau and began to
brush her fiery curls with even strokes. "You mean Teddy? Probably not. I
don't get into the city much these days, and since he joined the police force
he works on weekends."
"No, not him! You don't call out Teddy's
name in your sleep."
"What are you talking about?"
"You've been keeping secrets from me.
Who is Jack?"