ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Fourteen

Jack worked on his sketches until late afternoon, when Mrs. Logger brought him a bowl of soup.

"You didn’t have to do that," he insisted as she set the tray down on the desk.

"Don’t worry about it, dear." She smiled and left the room. Unfortunately, Jack had to admit that he hadn’t been feeling that hungry. But since he’d skipped breakfast, he figured he’d attempt to take something down.

The steam from the broth soothed his still-stuffy nose, and it felt wonderful sliding down his throat. He managed to finish the chicken soup, and afterwards, felt content and rather sleepy. He gazed at his drawings, deciding to put a finishing touch on a few of them before going up to his room to take a nap.

*****

He didn’t wake up until Harry returned from the studio, which was around eight o’clock. "Jack?" Harry knocked twice before letting himself in. "You haven’t been sleeping all day, have you?" he asked.

Jack muttered under his breath, rubbing his eyes. "No," he croaked. "Did some work until about 5:30. Then I fell asleep." He reached under his pillow for a handkerchief and blew his nose. "How did the rest of your day go?" he asked once he cleared his throat.

Harry sat down on the desk chair, which Mrs. Logger had fixed as best as she could. "Well, we read through the script—Bridget and I, that is, and then we practiced memorizing lines. Great girl, she is. Hard to believe she’s single!"

Jack snorted. "I thought it was a silent movie, though," he pointed out, and Harry shrugged.

"It is," he agreed, and Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Then why are you two memorizing lines?"

Harry smiled. "Well, it’s more a lip-reading thing. It’s not going to be very long, but Mr. Gleeson said it might be even more of a hit if the audience could imagine what Bridget and I were saying to each other. You should have seen some of her facial expressions, Jack. She’s absolutely…"

"Why don’t you ask her out, Harry?" Jack laughed. "You seem to really like her."

Harry looked shocked. "I couldn’t," he said. "She’s at least three years older than I am. Besides, it’s almost scandalous to date someone you work with. It’s a shame you didn’t feel well enough to stay with us, though. We did have a good time…it was hard to believe the twelve hours went by so fast."

Jack lowered his head. "I still feel pretty bad about leaving early," he admitted, and Harry patted his shoulder.

"I’m sorry I blabbed about your asthma attack, Jack. It really wasn’t fair of me," he apologized, "at least, to mention it in front of Bridget. But I thought Mr. Gleeson should know, especially since he thought you looked…"

Jack folded his arms. "Peaky, yeah. Well, no harm done, I guess. I just don’t want to be pitied, you know? I may not be the healthiest person alive, but I’m not helpless."

Harry nodded in understanding and pulled out his pocket watch. "Have you had dinner yet?" he asked. "I’m starving, and I was thinking of grabbing something to eat for dinner. Want to come?"

Jack yawned, glancing out the window. The sky was clear that night, filled with sparkling stars. A half-moon glittered above their building.

"I don’t know," he replied. "I’m trying to catch up on my sleep from last night so I can actually perform to Mr. Gleeson’s standards. But thanks anyway," he said, and Harry cocked his head to the side.

"Did you eat, though? You said you went to sleep around 5:30. You probably didn’t even have lunch today."

Jack frowned. "Well, Mrs. Logger gave me a bowl of soup and some toast for lunch, and I had that."

"Come on, Jack. Some fresh air’ll do you good," Harry encouraged, hopping up from the chair. "We won’t go too far, either, since I know you’re still a little woozy."

Jack sighed, defeated. "Okay." He finally gave in. "Let me just get my shoes on." He slid off the edge of the bed and slipped on his shoes, quickly fixing his slightly sleep-ruffled hair. Grabbing his sketchbook, he finally followed Harry out of the room, and they made their way down the dimly lit staircase.

"So," Harry began, but Mrs. Logger reached them before he could continue.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, and Jack smiled.

"A lot better, thanks," he insisted.

"We’re just going out to get some dinner," Harry explained, and Mrs. Logger quickly felt Jack’s forehead. He blushed, hating the fact that she felt the need to act like his mother.

"Are you sure you’re all right?" she asked, still not sounding convinced. "I could cook you something here in the apartment."

Harry wet his lips, trying not to laugh, and Jack cleared his throat.

"Really," he replied. "I’ll be fine."

Harry patted his friend’s shoulder. "I’ll take good care of him, Mrs. Logger," he insisted, and the older woman finally nodded.

"I’m sure you will. Just come straight home if you start to feel the least bit dizzy," she added, and Jack fought not to roll his eyes.

"Yes, Mrs. Logger," he replied, and he quickly pulled Harry out the main door and onto the sidewalk. "You see why I hate people knowing about this?" he asked, raising his arms in exasperation. "I hate being coddled!"

"Well, I wasn’t about to leave you to die last night, you know!" Harry snapped, and Jack’s expression fell. For a moment, they stood in awkward silence, and Jack finally lowered his head. "Jack, I just don’t want something to happen to you again, okay? I was never more scared in my life than I was when you had that asthma attack."

Jack sighed. "You’re right," he agreed. "I’m sorry."

They continued walking, and Jack kept his free hand in his trouser pocket. "What…er…" He finally spoke. "…were you going to say before Mrs. Logger cornered us?" he asked, and Harry looked at him.

"Well, I was gonna ask if I could see what you’ve done so far for Mr. Gleeson. If he told you that you couldn’t show anybody, that’s fine," Harry added quickly when Jack started to respond, and Jack laughed.

"No, he didn’t say anything like that. I don’t mind showing you, though, but I’m not sure if it’s my best work."

Harry smirked. "Please, Dawson. All your work’s your best work. You’re brilliant."

Jack blew out his breath, and then realized with a start that he had to sneeze again. Harry noticed this, and stepped back, smirking.

"Dammit! I hate it when that happens!" Jack cursed when the feeling disappeared seconds later.

"Staring at a light helps," Harry suggested, and pointed to one of the streetlamps. "Maybe stare into one of them?"

Jack looked at him. "Well, I know sunlight definitely helps." He chuckled, and that seemed to be the cue he needed.

"Bless you." Harry laughed heartily as Jack sneezed loudly. After he straightened up, Jack rubbed his chest, cringing.

"Ow," he croaked. "That hurt."

"Sorry." Harry snickered. "Come on…please let’s find a place to eat. My stomach’s really growling."

Jack grinned as, sure enough, Harry’s stomach let out a rather loud rumble. "My parents used to tell my sister that it was a monster who made that noise in her stomach," he said as they found a sidewalk café to walk into.

"Oh, yeah." Harry laughed. "Best thing to tease the siblings with. I tortured my brother with that all the time. Hey, he has asthma, too. Did I tell you?" he asked, and Jack shook his head as the two of them found seats by the window.

"Glad I’m not the only one," Jack told him, and a waitress came over to their table.

"What can I do for you two?" she asked, holding a little pad in her hands.

Jack and Harry glanced through the menus, and, after ordering drinks, they ordered a hot dog each. "I haven’t had a hot dog in ages," Jack admitted as he peered around the café with interest.

"Really?" Harry asked once the waitress put two freshly brewed iced teas on the table, and Jack nodded his head.

"I spent most of my life in Wisconsin, so I was never really exposed to that kind of thing. At least, not until I came to Los Angeles. I had my first one there."

"They don’t have hot dogs in Wisconsin?" Harry asked, surprised, as he finished most of his iced tea in three gulps. Jack shrugged.

"Not really. My town was really tiny and very old fashioned. Very well, it didn’t have any huge desire to move with the times. The only way you’d find that we were mobilizing at all, was the sawmills and such. Besides, the woman I was staying with, Esther Williams, was very picky about what she let us eat."

Harry looked up. "The woman you lived with? What about your parents?"

Jack sipped his iced tea, clearing his throat again. "They died in a fire two years ago," he replied, and Harry shook his head.

"Wow," he breathed. "I’m sorry."

Jack shrugged. "Well, I’ve…I’ve gotten used to it now, I guess. I left town when I turned sixteen after I saved enough money working as a bellboy at the one hotel. I went to Santa Monica first, where I met up with a friend of mine from grade school, and stayed with him for a week or so…I sketched portraits on the beach for five cents apiece."

Harry took another sip of iced tea. "And you survived on that?" he asked just as the waitress brought their hot dogs to the table.

"Well, I still had money left over from my other job," Jack explained. "But anyway…you wanted to see what I’ve done so far?"

Harry had just taken a bite of his hot dog, and, because his mouth was full at the moment, he nodded and motioned with his hand for Jack to hand over the portfolio. Once he swallowed, he put the hot dog down and flipped open the cover of the portfolio. "You carry this thing everywhere, don’t you?" he asked, and Jack smiled, taking a bite of his own hot dog.

"Pretty much. It’s just a habit I got into."

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed, peering closely at the first couple of drawings. "So this is what Mr. Gleeson was trying to get us to imagine."

"He said he had a few models of places he wanted to use for the mansion, but he couldn’t decide exactly what he wanted it to look like. I decided to go with a castle-like mansion, and then a more modest cottage."

"This one’s kind of like a mixture of the two," Harry said, pointing at the third drawing. "I like that one the best, I think. Imagine all this work building a set for just a five-minute picture." He shook his head, shutting the portfolio, and handed it back to Jack.

"Yeah. Well, he said he could borrow a mansion from someone, but it’s always a little awkward filming inside of a private home."

Harry agreed. "Yeah. How long did he say it would take to build the set when he chose the one he wanted?"

Jack shook his head. "He didn’t say. I’d imagine at least a couple of weeks."

Harry finished the last of his hot dog and nodded. "That’s an idea, I guess. Would take less time, definitely."

After Jack finished his dinner, they both paid the waitress and headed back to the apartment. Jack had to admit to himself that he did feel considerably better out in the open air; something about the hint of the salt breeze coming from the ocean was exceptionally comforting.

"Well," Harry grunted once they walked inside. "I’m off to bed. See you in the morning, then?"

Jack nodded, yawning himself. "Yeah, see you. Thanks, Harry."

Harry saluted him, and Jack made his way back to the fifth floor. As he walked towards his bedroom, he could have sworn he heard what sounded like someone singing a verse of John Reilly again. He paused outside of his door and timidly pressed his ear against it.

He took her up in all his arms, and kisses gave her one, two, three
Sayin’ weep no more my own true love,
I am your long lost John Reilly…

Jack slowly opened the door and peered into the darkness. "You don’t have to go away," he insisted when the voice ceased. He looked around, hoping to see the ghostly figure from the night before, but he saw nothing.

"I don’t wish to bother you anymore," a quiet female voice spoke, and Jack sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Where are you?" he asked, looking around, and he saw her. She was standing by the window, wearing a white silk gown. She had long golden hair and her eyes were wispy and hollow. Jack felt his breath catch in his throat.

"I do not reveal myself to many people," the ghost of the woman spoke, and Jack continued to stare at her.

"You saved my life," he told her after a few moments of awkward silence. "I wanted to thank you, actually."

She smiled softly. "You’re a sweet boy," she told him quietly. "I did like you from the minute you set foot in my room."

"I’m sorry about what happened to you," he said. "I’m really sorry."

She smiled sadly again. "I do believe it is time for me to cross over," she said, and Jack nodded, and then suddenly thought of something. "I wanted to see you before they called me again."

"What’s your name?" he asked, and she lowered her wispy head.

"Kathleen."

"Oh." He wet his lips. "When you…do go, I…wanted to ask you something."

The ghost of Kathleen stared at him.

"My parents," Jack began softly, "they died in a fire, and I never got to say good-bye to them. Will you tell them, if you see them, that I love them? And that Olivia is all right?"

Kathleen smiled. "I will, Jack." A golden light began to engulf her. "Never change," she whispered. "Good-bye, Jack Dawson."

Jack barely blinked before the room was empty again. He stood facing the spot where the ghost had been standing and shook his head. "I didn’t just see that," he whispered, touching his forehead to make sure he didn’t have a fever. But it was too real to brush off as a hallucination. He turned on the light, swearing he could hear faintly, once more, a very quiet voice singing sweetly.

Sayin’ weep no more, my own true love,
I am your long lost John Reilly…

Jack smiled, peering up into the starry sky. "Good-bye, Kathleen," he whispered. "Good-bye." And at that moment, a shooting star suddenly flashed before his eyes.

Chapter Fifteen
Stories