ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Forty-Two

Over the next several months, Jack continued working for the squid trade. He got used to the long hours stuck in the middle of the bay, and the constant smell of fish that took hours to disappear. By Christmas, he actually felt quite happy in California, though he continued to search for a job that would provide him with a better salary.

He continued to write to Olivia, giving her updates on his current situation, and she wrote to him about little Macena.

She is showing clear signs of exceptional intelligence for a child her age and size, Olivia wrote. I am not merely saying that because she is my niece, either. Esther and I are almost certain she will start talking soon. Won't that be something!

Jack felt his heart sink; he would miss his daughter's first words, her first steps. The more he thought about her, the more determined he became about getting his life in order. It wasn't easy, though, but by the following spring of 1905, he had a run-in with his old boss from the motion picture industry. The two men stood gaping at each other, wondering if this were some sort of dream.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Gleeson demanded, his mustache twitching a little, and once Jack managed to find his voice, he tried to think of a good explanation.

"I decided the California air agreed with me a little more than New York," he admitted, not wanting to get into detail about Alyiah's death.

"I don’t doubt that!" Mr. Gleeson guffawed. "Dawson, if you're looking for work, feel free to stop by the studio in the morning. I will be paying you double the salary you made before, as we have complete faith in your artistic abilities."

Jack stuttered his response, unable to believe this. Here he was barely making a dollar fifty a day at the docks, and the labor involved was completely ridiculous for the money.

"Sir, I'd be honored to come back," he said, "but I'll be honest with you...my hope is to work for maybe a year or two, and then return home."

"What for?" Mr. Gleeson asked, confused, and Jack realized he contradicted himself before.

"I have a daughter," he replied simply, and the elder man stared at him. "She was born last May, but my wife died shortly afterwards. I came to California because it was as far away from the situation as I could get at the time."

Mr. Gleeson's expression changed from confusion to sympathy, and he placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, and Jack shrugged.

"I'm getting a little better every day," he admitted, "but I haven't been able to find work that paid enough."

"Who is your daughter staying with now?" Mr. Gleeson asked as they continued to stroll down the sidewalk, feeling strange just standing there.

"My sister and guardian," Jack replied.

"Well, Jack," Mr. Gleeson continued, smiling a little, "I'll make sure you get back home to see your child. There is nothing more pressing than that. Now, will you report to the studio at 7:30 two mornings from now?"

Jack promised he would, and was more than happy to turn in his resignation for the squid industry. Danny and Robbie were sorry to see him go, for they'd become fairly good friends over the past year.

"How about we take you to dinner as a celebration?" Robbie suggested, and Jack had a feeling that they were determined to have him try squid.

"All right," Jack agreed; after all, he was the adventurous type.

Following his last day of work at the docks, Jack joined the two other men at one of the local pubs. Sure enough, they encouraged him to try squid, which in actuality wasn't terrible. Jack allowed himself one beer, knowing his history with drinking too much in the past.

"Good luck to you, Jack," Robbie announced after they clanked glasses and took a large sip each. "If you're ever in Monterey again, come and see us."

"We'll still be in the same place," Danny grumbled, and Jack felt a wave of pity for them.

"Hopefully not," he said, and Robbie smirked.

After saying good night to his friends, Jack took his time walking back to his home. He found a letter waiting for him at the door, and once he got inside and settled in with a candle lit, he tore it open.

We had quite a scare. Macena came down with influenza last week, and the doctor was not sure if she would pull through. The poor thing had a terrible fever and a wretched cough for nearly a week, and the crying was enough to weaken the strongest of men. Thankfully, she is feeling better now, though Esther and I are watching her like a hawk. And I thought you should know...her first word was daddy.

Jack felt his throat choking up with tears and placed his forehead in his hands. He'd nearly lost her! Jack lay awake in bed for quite a while that night, hoping he would be able to get back to Wisconsin within the next year or two. Hopefully sooner than that, he thought, and blew out the candle.

*****

Mr. Gleeson, true to his word, provided Jack with decent pay. He had his old job back, though he had to admit that it wasn't the same without Harry and Bridget. They were thrilled to find out he'd gone back to the industry, and updated him with news of their son.

He is just darling, Bridget wrote in her most recent letter. Harry is so proud. You should see how he glows! I do believe Thomas is going to be a professor one day, for he never seems to stop talking! Tell Mr. Gleeson we miss him terribly, and are getting along well in our new circumstances. Do come and see us when you have the time!

Jack continued to receive letters from Olivia regarding Macena, which he treasured each week.

Now that she's learnt to walk, she's a bit of a terror! Honestly, that child gets into everything...you can't turn your back for more than a couple of seconds! By the way, when are you coming home?

*****

The letters that crept into mid-1906 amused him, because Olivia hinted that Macena was becoming a bit of a handful.

"That's normal," Bridget promised when Jack took them up on the offer for a visit later that summer. Thomas had grown quite a bit since Jack saw him last, and sure enough, wandered all over the house and outside on his chubby little legs.

"So, why did you choose Macena for the name?" Harry asked as they sat on a picnic blanket in the backyard under the big oak tree.

"Honestly?" Jack replied. "It was something Alyiah wanted more than myself. I would have been happy with a traditional American name, but she's Russian at heart." He bounced Tom on his knee, and the toddler looked up at him with a watery smile.

"It's different," Bridget said. "But I'm sure she's beautiful."

"When are you going home?" Harry asked, and Jack gazed up at the sky, its clear sapphire blue quickly turning to twilight.

"Hopefully next spring," Jack admitted.

"Maybe sooner," Bridget encouraged, and Jack smiled at her. "Jack, you're much better now than you were when we first saw you after Alyiah's death. It was awful before, honestly!"

"You were pretty much an empty shell back then," Harry said, and Jack made a face.

"It wasn't that long ago," he pointed out, and Harry gave a shrug.

"You have to move on, Jack," he said, and silence passed between them for a few moments. "What matters most is that your daughter actually have one real parent who loves her. And I can tell you do, so the sooner the better, I say."

Jack paused for a moment, knowing how true Harry's statement was. "Alyiah wanted me to take her to Russia," he began, and Bridget's eyes widened. "That's what worries me. I can afford to have her in America, but traveling to Europe again is going to be a bit on the expensive side."

"So, wait a while," Harry insisted. "Wait until she's old enough to understand what's going on."

"I don't want to wait too long," Jack pointed out, and the former actress and her husband shared an amused look.

*****

Jack made it a point to send little Macena a small gift every Christmas, which normally included a drawing he'd recently done. Olivia sent responses to each of these gifts, describing how the little girl's face would light up.

She's starting to ask when you're coming to take her away, Olivia wrote around mid-February of 1907, and Jack sat by the water, allowing the cool breeze to ruffle his hair. In this part of California it never snowed, which was something he had to get used to after years in Chippewa Falls or in Europe. It would be nice to have a time frame in mind, Jack.

This time frame became more apparent in the spring of 1907, when Olivia broke sudden news. I am engaged to Henry Woodruff! We met last spring at a local picnic, and it was love at first sight. I do hope you will be home for the wedding, Jack, because we would love for you to attend. Esther is quite insistent about this fact.

Jack took this as a sign that he should return to Chippewa Falls, and put in his resignation with Mr. Gleeson.

"Congratulations, Jack," Mr. Gleeson complimented. "I hope the man your sister's marrying is good to her."

"She sounds happy," Jack replied, glancing around the studio where he'd spent so much time on his art. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Gleeson...you've been a huge help over the past two years."

"Anytime, lad. And if you find yourself in California again, feel free to look me up. And I want to see that girl of yours, too."

Jack laughed and made the final walk back to his flat.

Over the next couple of days he made sure everything was in order and purchased tickets for the local train. It was odd...the last time he sat in those departments, he thought he would never be whole again.

But things change, he thought, gazing out the window as the scenery flew by in a blur. I don't think I'll ever feel completely whole without Alyiah, but I have my daughter to think of now.

He opened his sketchpad to flip through the drawings, dating as far back as 1900, and swallowed past a lump in his throat.

A few days later, the train pulled up to the Wisconsin station, and his heart pounded hard in his chest. He had not given Olivia an exact date and time of his arrival, so there would be no one to meet him.

"Probably best," he muttered to himself as he grabbed his old rucksack, shoving the sketchpad inside.

"Good day, sir," the conductor announced as he stepped onto the platform...he was home.

Chapter Forty-Three
Stories