LIVES COLLIDE
Chapter One
It took several moments before
Rose had the courage to leave the board. She heard the boat, but it seemed like
a dream. It had to be. She glanced up and tried to blink her tears away. Jack
was gone. Why should she bother to get the boat’s attention if it wasn’t even
real anyway? With sudden comprehension, she heard a shout.
"Is anybody alive out
there?"
I am, she thought weakly. I’m alive. I
promised Jack I would survive. The boat went by her and didn’t see her
trying to move weakly. "Come back!" Her voice was harsh and cold.
Finally, she pushed herself off the board in search of anyway to get the
attention of the passing boat. She saw the man with the whistle and hurried to
it. She blew it as hard as her cold, frozen lips would allow her to.
*****
Jack’s eyes flashed open with a
sense of confusion. "There you go, men; I told you he was alive." An
elderly-looking man stood over him. "Quite lucky you are, son. You’re the
only one that we picked up that still had a pulse." Jack sat up slowly.
"Where am I?" His voice
was raspy and he coughed up some water.
"You’re on our boat, the
Mackay-Bennett. We’re here to pick up the bodies, you see."
"How long has it...what’s
the date?" He looked around urgently.
"It’s April sixteenth,
although it’s pretty late. Getting to be suppertime."
Jack realized that the sun was
setting. "How did I survive?" He was asking himself more than the
crew looking at him in amazement.
"Who knows? I’ve heard
stories of people coming back to life because they had something to do on
earth. Maybe you’re one of those people."
"Maybe." He couldn’t
help but feel cold, with his soaked clothing caked and frozen. The handcuffs
were still on his wrists. He felt the weight. He swore he had been dead. He
couldn’t remember much. He remembered his last speech to Rose, and then he
remembered feeling so tired and waking up to the burly seamen bringing him
aboard. Where was Rose?
"You must want some dry
clothes, eh?" The man noticed the handcuffs. "You get into some kind
of trouble, son?"
"Yeah. The worst kind.
Love."
"That will get you into
loads of trouble." He picked up Jack’s wrists and looked at the locks.
"I got a guy downstairs that can pick anything. I’m pretty sure he can get
those off of you." His look got darker. "Do you want me to say we
found your body without the soul?"
"Yes. Unidentified, with my
features. There are two people out there. They both think I’m dead, and if one
of them knew I‘d lived, I would be. The other I might just decimate if I find
her, but having a powerful man on my back won’t help matters."
"Well, best of luck to you,
son. Come now. The cook’s making a good stew. It will certainly warm your
bones."
*****
Rose looked up when she saw Cal
walking along the deck; she quickly shuddered and pulled the blanket closer.
She thought about her options. Jack was dead. Cal had money. She remembered
more of her awful memories. I don’t want that kind of life. I’d rather be
dead. She decided that she was dead. She was no longer a desperate, angry
girl. She was a survivor. She wouldn’t look back. Not ever. She was strong, and
although Jack wasn’t there to see her, she was going to do everything that they
had planned.
*****
The rain was cold, but not as
cold as the ocean had been. She looked up at the Statue of Liberty. Finally,
she understood the meaning of freedom.
"Name, love?" A man
with a clipboard came up to her.
She looked at him.
"Rose." She thought a moment. Rose what? "Dawson. Rose
Dawson."
The man nodded and kept going to
other survivors. She stuck her hand in her pocket, and felt something cold and
heavy. She pulled it out and found she had a necklace in her hand. The awful,
gaudy engagement present. There was a small fortune sitting in her hands. She
checked the other pockets. There was a pocket watch, a kerchief, and a wad of
fifty dollar bills. She smiled and started to laugh. Another passenger, tired
and dirty, looked at her strangely.
"What’s your name?"
Rose asked the woman. She cuddled a small child.
"Jessie. This here is
Ruben." The woman had an Irish accent.
"Are you immigrants?"
Rose hated the way that it came from her mouth. She didn’t want to sound like
she was so stuck up.
"Yes. We were coming to
America for a better start." Tears welled in her eyes. "Jeffery and
I, that is. I’ve lost him. He’s not here at all."
Rose looked at the stack of
bills. She could get more than enough money from the necklace.
"Here." She thrust the bills at the woman. "You need this."
The woman was shocked. Her hands
trembled as she took the money. "I couldn’t..."
"It’s courtesy of Caledon
Hockley, Jr." She smiled to herself. Finally, Cal had actually done
something good, but it was too bad he didn’t do it himself. She left the woman
alone to thank God. She had her own praying to do. It was time to start over,
and she knew exactly where she was going--to ride horses in the surf and ride
the roller coaster.
*****
Jack stepped off the boat in a
new set of clothes and with a couple of dollar bills that the crew had given
him. They wished him luck and told him where he could find a man with the list
of survivors. He needed to know if Rose had made it. The crowd in front of the
docks was packed, and there was crying and shouting. He could hear someone
shouting at them to be quiet. There was a hush.
"Please take your inquires
to the White Star Line headquarters. Any complaints can be made there. I am
only here to help you find your families. Please, make way for them." The
crowd dispensed, and only a crowd of crying women stood in front of the man.
"You, sir?" the man
asked, looking at Jack.
"Uh…me?" Jack asked.
"Yeah. The name of your
loved one, please?"
"Rose. Rose DeWitt
Bukater."
"Class?"
"First," he said.
The man looked at him funny.
"You had a relative in first class."
"Yes. Please." The man
smirked and looked at the list.
"Sorry, sir, but there is no
one of that name. Next?"
"Please check in third
class, then."
"Now, listen here. I don’t
have time to be checking over the entire survivor list just because you had
some crush on a girl that you couldn’t have. Now off with you. The girl’s dead
anyhow." There were a few women that started to cry harder when the word
dead was mentioned.
She hadn’t made it. She was one
of the bodies on the Mackay-Bennett, or not even there. She might still be out
there in the ocean. He never cried, but he felt a tear run down his cheek. How
cruel fate was. He had made it and she hadn’t. God had brought him back instead
of her.