NIGHT TRAIN
Chapter Twelve

The Wedding Reception, 1948

Richard had to admit that he had never been to a wedding quite like this. It was somewhat unconventional with the informality and the location, but had so many of the traditional elements as well, like the bride’s old fashioned bouquet and the wedding cake. It certainly seemed to be making his mother happy and from what he could see it suited the wild side of Rose and the slightly bohemian personality of Jack. It was for them, perfect.

Now they were all seated at a long table that was set with white linen and beautiful tableware, enjoying a feast of a meal. There had been a crispy lettuce salad with some sort of tangy dressing and crusty rolls. Now they were working on tender slices of roast sirloin of beef. Also on the plates were Duchesse potatoes and stalks of baby asparagus. Still to come was that lovely little wedding cake that sat in the center of the table.

The waitresses had come around and filled the champagne glasses for the second time.

Jack waited until they had all been filled before he spoke.

“I was hoping that some of you would help me out here in toasting my lovely bride. Richard, why don’t you go first.”

Richard looked first at Jack and then at Louise for encouragement. Slowly he stood up, his eyes on his mom and Jack. He was certainly feeling different about all this than he had a week ago. But he decided not to mention that. What had transpired that morning at breakfast was best forgotten and was between Jack and himself.

“I really haven’t had the time to think about this too much. But there is a little something that Mom used to tell us when we were growing up and that was to make each day count. It was good advice. And last week, I found out that it was something she had learned from Jack. I’m not quite sure where that fits into their whole story,” he paused as he watched the two of them look into each other’s eyes, “but I think that it must have been an important element of their meeting. So I just want to say that I know that Mom and Jack will make each day of their new life together count in every way. And also to say how lucky we are now to be one new family. To Mom, to Jack and to all of us.”

Richard raised his glass as the other guests followed his gesture. “To Rose and Jack.”

Rose looked intently at her husband, mouthing the words, “To making it count.”

Jack winked, clinking glasses with hers and smiled broadly.

Joe got to his feet and cleared his throat. “I guess it’s my turn.” He looked down for a moment, as if trying to get his thoughts together.

“To two very special people, Mom and Jack. May your love for each other continue to grow each day. It’s a special day for both of you, one that neither of you expected, but one that you truly deserve. To Mom and Jack. Best of luck always.”

“Here, here.”

“Cheers.”

All the wedding guests touched their glasses and joined in the toast.

Jeannie smiled at her Dad and Jack wondered what was going on inside her head. For with Jeannie, like Rose, it was often unpredictable as to what was going to happen. But on this day, he should have had not worried.

Jeannie stood up, her hand still holding Doug’s. She looked around the table at the other guests, to her now two step-brothers and then across at her dad and Rose.

“To the best dad in the world,” she said smiling, her voice shaking, “and now to the best mom and friend. May you only know happiness and joy in the years to come. I love you both.”

Jeannie sat down very suddenly and turned her head into Doug’s white uniformed shoulder. Jack reached out and put her hand over his.

“Thanks, Jeannie.” He smiled tenderly at her.

These good wishes from their children had come so genuinely, so naturally. It had taken a little work, but it was one of the best gifts that he and Rose could have. The knowledge that they were truly one united family.

It was his turn now. Since the meal began, he had been going over and over in his mind, what to say, searching for the right words. He had given up on the idea of mentioning anything that had been important to them on Titanic. First of all, he wanted to avoid that topic, and secondly, those belonged in their private memories. What Richard had said about making it count, were really the words that had started it all, and words that Rose had apparently lived by all these years. That seemed a little different. He reached for Rose’s hand, felt her wedding ring and was suddenly inspired.

Jack pushed back his chair and stood, still grasping her hand, his glass in the other. He waited until he had everyone’s attention and then began.

“I want to thank all of you for coming today. It seems trite to say how much it means to both of us, but without your love and support, we could not possibly be as happy as we are right now.”

Jack glanced at everyone seated at the table, holding his glass out to Richard, Joe and Jeannie. They all understood the meaning of his words.

“I know that if asked several weeks ago, what either Rose or I would have been doing today, this would have been the furthest thing from our minds. We didn’t even know the other of us was still alive. But miracles happen and I would say that our enduring love is a miracle, that and the fact that we found each other after all this time.”

He felt Rose squeeze his hand and he smiled at her.

“But what I really want to say, has less to do with miracles, than it has with the beautiful woman whose hand I am holding. Rose, may our love go on forever, like the circle of the ring that I gave you, and may your eyes always sparkle with joy and happiness like the sea around us. To my bride, whose beauty is exceeded only by my love for her.”

Rose’s hand was shaking as she lifted it and placed it across her chest. Tears started rolling down her face as Jack lifted the hand he held and kissed it. There was love and laughter in his eyes. She knew what he was thinking. Of the first time he had done that at the foot of the stairs.

As he sat down, he slowly let go of her. She stole a glance at the lovely ring he had given her. It was a thin platinum band, set with tiny diamonds, all around the circle. An eternity band, she thought it was called. No matter which direction she turned her hand, the diamonds caught the light and twinkled.

“Rose, are you crying again?” he teased.

“I never knew there could be so much happiness, Jack,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes with a lace hanky borrowed from Jeannie. There was a voice at Jack’s shoulder.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, would you like to cut your cake now?”

One of the waitresses stood behind them. She was holding a long silver knife that had been decorated with white ribbon and flowers.

Jack stood up and pulled out Rose’s chair for her. They walked a few feet to where the cake sat on the table. All eyes were on them as they both gripped the knife together and firmly sliced down on the first piece of cake. There was a ripple of laughter and applause as they completed this first task together as husband and wife. One of the waitresses put that slice on a plate and handed it to Rose.

“I don’t like that devilish look I see in your eyes, Rose.”

Jack felt almost helpless, not knowing what Rose might be capable of now.

“Watch out, Jack,” called Richard. “This is when they get dangerous.”

He looked over at his step-son. “That’s just what I am afraid of,” he said laughing. “Alright, Rose, let’s get this over with.”

Rose smiled coyly, and lifted her eyebrows. But she broke off just a tiny piece of cake and put it gently in Jack’s mouth.

“You’ll have to wait until later for the icing,” she said winking at him.

“Rose, you are doing your best to try my patience today.”

“Today?” she asked innocently. “Wait until tonight!”

Just as Jack was about to have his turn at giving Rose her cake, Jeannie popped up from her seat. A flash went off from her little camera.

“This is the best part of the wedding. We don’t want to forget this,” she laughed.

Jack gave Rose her cake, being very careful not to let any crumbs fall inside her dress. He knew he would never hear the end of that.

“Excuse me, sir, I’m here to take some wedding pictures,” said a friendly looking middle aged man with glasses. “I’m Steve Ewing.”

“Yes, of course, Jack Dawson,” said Jack, turning and putting out his hand. “This is my wife Rose. Where would you like us?”

The photographer put down his heavy looking black case and looked around the pier and up at the sky.

“Don’t want to shoot into the sun. How about if we move a couple of those plants around and we have you folks stand over here.” He pointed to the edge of the pier that faced east.

Richard, Joe and Doug followed Mr. Ewing’s directions and rearranged the palms to make a fitting backdrop for the wedding picture.

“Alright folks, right here.”

Jack and Rose took their places in the spot designated by Mr. Ewing. Jack stood behind Rose, with his hands around her waist. Rose held her bouquet in front of her, resting herself against Jack’s chest. The photographer was occupied for a few minutes, assembling his tripod, checking and rechecking his light meter.

Jack took a deep breath and tightened his hold on Rose. For a second, another wedding picture flashed by him. Martha had been so excited and happy that day so long ago. She had considered him a good catch. She had told him so. Her family had not been in favor of the marriage, but her independent streak had defied them. And somehow she had talked them into allowing the wedding to take place. He just remembered her family’s glum looks out of the corner of his eyes and beyond the camera that day, he had seen Rose, her back to him, her head down. What a nightmare that had been.

Rose felt the pressure of Jack’s hand around her. That had quickly shaken away the thoughts that had been going through her mind. These nights with Jack had been so wonderful and romantic, like nothing she had done before except with him. For a brief instant, her brain flashed back to her wedding night in 1922. Sam had been sweet and thoughtful, truly he had. But in his concern for her, thinking that it was her first time, his explanations of what she should expect had turned the whole thing into an almost clinical experience. Yes, she had been content with him and he had given her much. Probably more than she gave in return. But in reality, she had wanted to live life to the fullest. And his life, his imagination, had stopped somewhere in a history book. Oh, there were a few times when he had tried to be romantic. And she admired him for that. But always in her mind there had been Jack.

Jack felt Rose’s shoulders droop for a second. He leaned towards her.

“Are you…"

“alright?’ she finished.

“Yes, but I felt like maybe something was bothering you,” he said.

“I felt the same thing about you. But I’m fine now,” Rose confessed.

Their conversation came to a halt when Mr. Ewing told them he was ready.

“All right, hold it just like that.”

Amidst the snapping and clicking of the camera, the guests got up and watched the picture taking project.

“Never, Josef, have I seen one of my customers look as beautiful in my dresses as Rose. She is really exceptional.”

Lily’s boyfriend Josef, tapped her lovingly on the nose and smiled at her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said diplomatically. “I think that the designer looks quite lovely herself today.”

She lifted her eyes to the sky. Maybe being at a wedding was just the thing to encourage her own romance along.

There were pictures taken of Rose and her boys, Jack and Jeannie, the new extended family, and at Peter’s insistence, a special one of him and Grandpa Jack. When Mr. Ewing was almost finished, Jack had one more request.

“There are so few of us here, how about a picture with everyone,” he asked.

Mr. Ewing lined everyone up, centering Rose, Jack and of course Peter, in the middle. Amidst much laughing, he was finally successful in getting the photo done.

“Jack, who are those men?”

Rose glanced over at the opening of the windbreak. Several men, dressed in vests, shirts and trousers, and carrying instrument cases, were approaching the wedding guests.

Jack smiled. “You’ll find out. Just a little something I planned,” he said mysteriously.

Rose pursed her lips and turned her head from side to side. What other surprises could he possibly have in store for her? The wedding so far had been much more than she could have ever expected. She watched curiously as they took out several violins, a small drum and an unusual set of pipes.

“So when are you going back to New York, Rose?” asked Mrs. Patterson, Doug’s mother.

“Oh, ah.” Rose was momentarily distracted as she looked at the musicians tuning up. “We’re going back tomorrow on the train. We’ll get to Chicago on Tuesday, around noon. Jack said we have a few hours in Chicago and then our train to New York leaves in the late afternoon.”

“Have you ever been to New York,” Mrs. Patterson wanted to know.

Rose hesitated. “Once, a long time ago. Jack said I would find it very much changed. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Rose, come here, please. Excuse me, Joan,” he said to Doug’s mother. “I need Rose for a minute.”

“Jack, what it is? What’s going on?”

“Sit down at the table. I have another surprise for you.”

He led her back to the table, to the seat she had occupied during lunch. Jack had a very strange look in his eyes.

“Jack, you’re not going to embarrass me are you?”

He laughed.

“Well, that depends. It’s up to you.”

“What?”

Without any announcement, two of the men who carried violins came up to Rose’s chair. They stopped on either side of her. She looked first at one and then at the other. Jack was standing close by. Sometime in the last few seconds when she had not been looking, he had removed his formal coat. He watched her expectantly.

The first violinist leaned close to Rose and played several measures of a tune, slowly. Then the other man moved in from the other side, playing the same music a little faster. Across the table and a few feet away, the pipes and the drum started sounding along with the violins.

Suddenly Rose’s eyes opened as wide as her mouth.

“Jack, you can’t do this to me. Jack!”

But he had already grabbed her hand and led her to an open area of their private part of the pier.

He faced her, slipping his hand to the small of her back. He looked right into her eyes.

“We need to be a close as possible, Rose. Don’t try any excuses this time,” he laughed. “We’re married now.”

And with that he began to dance with her the wild, exhilarating dance that once long ago, neither of them had known, and was now such an important part of their memories.

“Jack, Jack, I can’t do this,” she cried, happily.

“Ha, you wanted to then and you want to now,” he shouted above the sound of the music.

“Where did you find anyone who knew this?” she asked breathlessly.

“I sat on the phone all week, feeling like an idiot, humming this song to every musician in the yellow pages. Finally, I found Sean here. His dad came from Ireland about 20 years ago and taught all these guys the old songs. It has a name. “The Hills of Connemeara. Whew, Rose. Look at them. I think they’re expecting us to drop dead.”

“Jack, no, Jack,” she screamed as he took her hands in front of her and they both began to whirl in a circle.

“Look at them,” chuckled Jeannie. “Where did they learn to do that?”

“I know don’t,” replied Richard. “Sometimes, I think we didn’t get quite the whole story, don’t you agree?”

“That’s for sure,” agreed Joe. “That’s looks like the mom we saw that night at the barn dance, remember Richard.”

Richard nodded solemnly, seeing now for the first time, with adult eyes, the life loving, impulsive person his mother was. And how she and Jack really complimented each other.

The rest of the guests watched, in a state of shock, never expecting this middle aged bride and groom to dance with the wild abandon and frenzy that they now saw. Lily started to clap in time to the music and soon the rest of the group joined her.

“Should we show them Rose?” he said, letting one of her hands go.

“Jack, they’ll think we’ve gone mad,” but she reached down and kicked off her shoes.

“Wahoo,” yelled Jack, as he, for the first time in thirty six years, allowed himself to totally release his personality and cut loose with the fancy foot work he still remembered.

He stopped for a minute to watch Rose, still amazing, still energetic, do her little part of the dance. When she was done he took her in his arms and waltzed her right out to the end of the pier.

They could hear that the music had stopped and that their guests were applauding. Both of them were breathing heavily, laughing, collapsed against the railing.

“Whew.” Rose blew the hair off her face. “Not exactly the proper decorum for a bride,” she said smiling.

“For my bride, it is.” Jack held her in his arms and kissed her as if there were no tomorrow.

Chapter Thirteen
Stories