Good-byes

Rose and Jack went to his stateroom. They were holding hands. The third class area had changed little, except there were no more gates. In Jack’s room, they stopped and kissed once more. He stopped the kiss, and held Rose to him. "We come into port tomorrow. You should go up and tell James you are leaving him."

"You’ll come with me? Help me get my stuff?" Rose asked.

"You jump, I jump, right?" Jack couldn’t keep the happiness out of his voice. Those words hadn’t killed Rose.

Rose remembered those words, also. How could she forget them? She had last said them to Jack when she jumped back on the Titanic to be with him. She took his hand and squeezed it. "Let’s go."

They walked up to second class and to Rose’s room. James was waiting for her, as he had said he would be. When she came in with Jack, he knew he had lost her.

"James, I’m sorry. I tried to tell you that I had to be with Jack. You wouldn’t listen. I’m getting off with him."

"Did you ever really love me, Rose?"

"All I can say is that I thought I did. I should never have married you."

"That was my fault, Rose. I pushed you into it. I’ll go back home, and start the divorce papers. I’ll pack your things. Send me an address to mail them to you. I expect you not to oppose the divorce."

Rose nodded. Jack was silent. Rose had a hard grip on his hand.

"Well, then, I suppose you’d like to get your things? I’ll leave, if you don’t mind. I did love you, Rose. Even if I couldn’t make you happy." With that said, James left.

"Jack, help me. I don’t want to stay here any longer."

They packed up Rose’s things and brought them to Jack’s small room. After they had unpacked a few things for Rose, Jack asked her to sit down on the bed. "I want to show you something." He pulled out an artists’ sketch book and handed it to her.

Rose looked up at him, and opened the book. In it were pictures of all the places Jack had looked for her. Every picture was different, and after nine years there were a lot of them. Rose saw many familiar places. Places she knew she had been. They had spent nine years going to the same spots, but never at the same times. And then Rose was finally at the last page. It was a picture of the bow of the ship, of how she must have looked to Jack when he first saw her. The picture captured exactly how Rose had felt at that minute when he turned around. Rose looked up at Jack and smiled. "You’ll never have to look for me again, Mr. Big Artiste. You’ll always know where I am."

The End.