THE HEART NEVER LIES
Chapter Fifteen

Jack

I could not believe time was passing so fast. It was nearly July of 1912. I had been in Santa Monica for two weeks and had found lodgings with my new job. I worked for a bachelor gentleman called Hamish McFarland who owned a seafront art gallery called Inspired. I was employed as a general errand boy, but had the use of a dingy flat over the gallery. It was grotty but convenient. Hamish was a Scotsman who had immigrated to America twenty years before and he was a grouch, but was a fantastic artist.

I met him one day when I first arrived in Santa Monica. I had nowhere to stay and had wandered down to the beach one evening, drawn there just as the sun was setting and it cast a golden glow across the still waters of the dead calm sea. I whipped out my sketchpad and let my hands work. I sketched the beach, the surf lapping on the golden sands, the arc of the roller coaster at the end of the beach, the globe of the sun setting. It was a stunning picture and I could not keep my eyes off it. It spoke to me. It was familiar. Oh, if I could only remember...I was no nearer to recalling the beautiful Rose. I still dreamt of her, her face, her eyes.

"Hey, sonny, that’s really good. You’ve got a good eye and perspective," a male voice behind me commented.

I turned around "Oh," I said. I saw a gruff-looking guy in his forties. "I’m sorry. I have to go," I replied. "I’m got to look for lodgings tonight."

The guy smiled. "Hey, kid, come and have a beer with me. I may be able to help you."

The love of art united us. He liked my work and I gave him a potted history of me. He offered me a job as his assistant on the spot. What else could I do but accept? He said that if I continued to improve, he might feature some of my work. I was happy, but my lost memories bothered me. I felt incomplete.

One afternoon, I finished early and went to the telegraph office to send Molly Brown a message to say I was settled. She would be relieved. I asked the guy to send this.

Molly. Stop. Found job. Stop. Lodgings, too, in Santa Monica. Stop. Still can’t recall much. Stop. All’s well. Stop. Jack Dawson.

The guy casually scanned the message I had written down. Then he looked at me.

"Jack Dawson?" he inquired.

"Yep," I said. The telegrapher reached into a pigeon hole and pulled out a telegram.

"Look, kid, some mad broad has been trying to get hold of you. Here ya are."

I paid him to send my message, left, and went outside. In the bright midday sunshine, leaning against the wall, I opened it.

Jack. Stop. Coming to Santa Monica. Stop. Urgent. Will be at Bayside Hotel. Stop. July 23. Stop. Be there. Molly.

I frowned. How strange. Molly was being cryptic. Why was she coming to Santa Monica? The twenty-third was two days away. I was very puzzled.

Rose

I leant over the basin and threw up again. I was running late for work. The nausea was really getting to me. I was now three months pregnant and my middle was thickening.

Mrs. Jackson had already guessed and was very surprised, but as I had explained I was a young widow and that my husband had drowned in a shipwreck, she was fine.

My employer, however, Damon Bradley, was another story. He had only employed me because he fancied me and was forever asking me out. Once he found out I was pregnant, the job would be over.

I had paid a visit to the doctor under the guise of Mrs. Dawson and he said I should rest and that the baby was due in January. Rest. Fat chance.

The job was rubbish anyway. It was processing black and white photos in a darkroom and it was dark, smelly work. The acting promise in the ad was a ruse. He photographed nude models and sold the pictures for a profit. I didn’t want to be in anything like that.

The chemicals gave me a headache and Damon had tried to kiss me twice in the last week. I was trying to save hard for the baby, and Mrs. Jackson would not be as nice if I skipped on rent.

I went to the drawer and pulled out, wrapped up in a pair of bloomers, the heavy dark box. Opening it, I saw the Heart of the Ocean, the blue of the diamond deep and rich like Jack’s eyes. Ocean blue, so loving, so kind.

I hastily wrapped it up and hid it away. It hurt to look at it. Jack was always on my mind through the long days of dreary work, I replayed all our conversations. Our kisses, our time together. It was all I had left. Tears stung my eyes. I wiped them away. I had to survive. I shoved my hair into a bun, pulled on the cloth hat I wore to hide my hair, and put on the brown overalls. I wanted to look as drab as possible.

I was so lonely. Jack, I miss you. The baby was the only thing keeping me going.

Jack

On the afternoon of July twenty-third, I strolled up to the front desk of the Bayside Hotel on the seafront. It was a well-to-do place and I had put on my best clothes. I was looking forward to seeing Molly again and had brought some new pictures to show her. Hamish had said I could hold an exhibition in September if I got enough work together. I had drawn seascapes, but my favorites were drawing real life, just people in general.

"Good afternoon," I said, keeping my voice posh. "I have an appointment to see Mrs. Brown."

"Sign the book," the bored desk clerk groaned, and tossed a leather-bound book at me.

I signed J. Dawson, Esq., and handed the book back.

"Suite 205. You are expected," he droned. "Take the lift to the second floor and then left."

I knocked on the white door of the suite.

"Come in!" Molly’s voice called.

I turned the handle and walked in. Molly was sitting down and rose up when I entered. She took my hands and kissed my cheeks. She was very pale. "Jack, my dear, you look so well."

I glanced past her. A tall woman, well-dressed, was standing with her back to me, looking out the window. The way she held herself was familiar. She was middle-aged and her red hair was drawn up into a tight bun. Her dress was very formal.

"Jack," Molly said quietly, "this is someone you need to talk to."

The lady tuned. She was a lady from the upper class. Her stance told me that, and her elegant white hands and the imperious tilt of the head.

"Jack?" she exclaimed in a modulated voice. "Are you really Jack Dawson?" Her blue-green eyes held my gaze steadily. She knew me.

I felt the blood pump through my head. My knees went wobbly and I caught at a nearby chair for support. Visions swept across my mind like a kaleidoscope. I had seen her before. Then, like a vise, my mind snapped and my mouth dropped open.

"Ruth?" I shouted. "Ruth DeWitt Bukater?"

Molly grabbed my arm and sat me down. I stared at Rose’s mother’s face.

"Well," said Molly ironically. "I think that Jack Dawson’s memory is back! So, you see, Jack, you now remember," Molly said after a few moments. I have told her about you not being able to remember and about St. Jude’s. She turned up in New York in a right state after finding out some home truths. I had to help her."

Ruth DeWitt Bukater was staring at me in fascination, as I suppose I was staring at her. I remembered everything about Mrs. DeWitt Bukater’s sarcasm to me on the ship, and also I recalled my sweet Rose.

Oh, my God. My Rose. How I loved her. Where was she? What had happened? I saw myself kissing her, her soft lips, our lovemaking. Oh, she was my heart’s desire. I remembered the Titanic sinking and the terrifying moments in the water.

"Jack," Ruth was saying, "I owe you a great apology. I have slighted you, but we owe you everything. Rose thinks you are dead and that you gave your life for hers." Then she carried on to tell me what had happened when Rose had left the Carpathia, that Cal had gotten his grubby hands on Rose and that Rose had played him at his own game and had escaped the night before their engagement party.

"I don’t know where she may be," Ruth said, tears falling down her cheeks. "Cal kicked me out and blamed me for Rose going. It’s all my fault. I could not see how was complicit I was in Rose’s unhappiness." I reached forward and took her hand. She had suffered and changed. I could see that, and it touched me.

"Please, Ruth, don’t blame yourself . We need to find her. You know I love her."

Ruth smiled through her tears. "Oh, yes, we know. Rose was head over heels with you. It drove Cal insane." Her smile dropped. "We need to find Rose, and quickly. Rose is in danger. Caledon is beside himself and won’t stop until he finds her and marries her. I am afraid he has crossed the line."

Molly interjected, "What Ruth is saying is that Cal is angry and envious and is hovering on obsession when it comes to Rose. He showed his true colors to Ruth here. He’s capable of anything. I think he’s tipping over into madness!"

Ruth told me about Cal’s viciousness and the awful truth of how Rose’s family had come to be tied to the Hockleys. Betrayed and used.

The three of us sat in silence. As we sat, as we took in all that had transpired, "Ruth, Molly," I said. "I think I may know where Rose may be. My instinct is pulling me in one direction."

"Please find her!" Ruth cried. "We have to protect her." Molly nodded.

"I will," I said. "Stay here."

I had to find her. I just hoped my faith in where I’d find her was true.

Rose

It was my afternoon off, and it was a lovely, sunny day. I wanted to feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my pale skin. I arrived at the Santa Monica beach and was just sitting still, letting my memories wash over me.

Jack and I with all our plans--riding, throwing up, going on the coaster. A bit hard when I was pregnant! I sat down on the beach, put my head in my hands, and sobbed. Damon had tried it again and I had had to fight him off. He said he wanted to get rid of me.

It wasn’t fair. Here I was in our dream place. Jack was dead. Cal was alive. Why had God cheated me? I could walk into the sea and drift away, let the sea take me the way it had taken Jack. I closed my eyes, tears still flowing.

"Hush, my beautiful Rose. Don’t cry," a soft voice whispered, a voice I had heard a million times in my dreams. Was I dreaming?

I opened my eyes. A tall, slim, blond-haired man stood before me. He had beautiful, deep blue eyes and a sweet, smiling mouth. He offered his hand to me and pulled me up to my feet. I was feeling faint.

"Jack! Oh, Jack!" I screamed, hurtled into his arms, and stayed there.

Jack

Our tears mingled. Her body heaved with heavy sobs.

"Jack, I have found you. Oh, my God. I have found you. Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me again," she whispered incoherently. "I love you! I love you!"

I kissed her hair, her lips, her face. She was here! Real. The last nightmare months faded away.

"God brought me back to you. He wants us to be together," I said. "I knew you’d be here. I have to tell you so much. I will never leave you again. I promise. I love you, Rose."

I breathed in her scent and knew I belonged. We belonged!

We clung together as the seagulls circled overhead, calling mournfully. The waves crashed on the beach and two lost souls were reunited.

The sun set slowly on the horizon and I was with my love. Now and forever.

The End.

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