THE SHIP OF DREAMS
Chapter Nine

Around dinner time, Coddie Anna came back to her mother’s cabin, and came in to see Rose getting ready. "I’m back, Mummy," she announced, causing Rose to look up and smile softly. As Coddie Anna came further into the room, she noticed the cracked photograph on the nightstand and gasped. "What happened?" She gently took the frame into her hands and examined it closely.

"Had a bit of an accident," Rose lied. "We can always get a new frame, sweetie." Rose took the frame back and placed it onto the nightstand again. "Now change into your dinner clothes, Coddie. Are you hungry?" Rose tried to make her voice sound as cheerful as possible when speaking to her daughter. Coddie Anna shrugged as she stepped out of her afternoon dress.

"Sort of. My stomach’s still a bit bubbly from earlier, but Nana gave me some ginger tea and I do feel better. I ought to be able to eat something." She found her midnight blue evening gown, which had diamond beads along the collar and on different patches of the fabric. She stepped into that, and turned around so her mother could zip it up and tie the sash properly around the back. Coddie Anna took her curly auburn hair out of its braid, and carefully brushed it. She always wore her hair down in the evenings, and had done so for as long as she could remember.

She watched as her mother put on a blood red and black evening gown, and clasp her own hair into a messy bun on top of her head. At last the horn blew, announcing that dinner was about to be served, and Rose spritzed a bit of light perfume on both of them before leading Coddie Anna out into the corridor.

Personally, this was Coddie Anna’s least favorite time of the day. Elegant dinners were always so very long, and she often found herself squirming and fidgeting by the time dessert arrived. Sometimes the entire meal took five whole hours to finish. It was rather ridiculous in a way.

Cal and Ruth met them a few minutes later, and together they made their way to the first class dining room. It was crowded as usual, and people were now taking their seats at the large round tables. A few ladies were standing, but within minutes sat down as well. As usual, Coddie Anna took her place between her mother and Cal, and set the napkin gently on her lap.

Rose glanced down at her daughter and smiled approvingly. Coddie Anna had been brought up in a rather strict household, where proper manners were always enforced. Coddie Anna also knew how to do needlepoint, play the piano--though when she did play she did not put a lot of heart into it--and she could read and speak French fluently. She was the perfect example of a young girl in that time, and Rose was very proud of her.

Coddie Anna saw her mother’s smile, and beamed, pleased, moving aside so a waiter could pour water into her crystal glass. "So," Cal began, glancing at Coddie Anna, "I am hoping you’re hungry." He smiled, but she refused to smile back at him, and just clutched at her napkin, her lips in a tight line. Cal raised his eyes and turned away to start a conversation with Ruth.

Rose sat very still in her chair, only half-listening to the conversation around her. It was going to be one of the longest nights yet, she could tell.

*****

Jack, Mac, and Anastasia, meanwhile, were eating dinner themselves in the third class dining saloon. Fabrizio and Tommy had joined them again, but this time there were new additions to their table. Another Irishman who went by the name of Bert Cartmell and his young daughter Cora. Bert was very large, but had a cheerful disposition. His cheeks were rosy and he was constantly smiling and laughing. Cora was two years younger than Mac, and had thick, curly brown hair, the same rosy cheeks and the same smile.

Cora and Anastasia hit it off immediately, and were constantly talking to one another. Mac remained quiet as she sat eating, worrying a bit about her father. After they had come in from the recreation area, his coughing bouts were becoming more frequent, and he had a bad headache. He sounded like he was coming down with a cold, but she knew he hated to be fussed over, and she was sure that if he truly felt sick he would go and lie down.

"You’re quiet, honey," Jack told her, pulling out his handkerchief to blow his nose, and wound up sneezing violently first. Everyone at the table jumped, including Cora.

"Bless you." Mac sighed.

"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "I think I am catching a cold."

Anastasia raised an eyebrow. "You should go and lie down," she suggested.

"I’ll be all right," he promised, giving her a soft smile. She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her conversation with Cora.

"So, Jack," Fabrizio spoke. "What are your plans when you get to America?"

Jack leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t really thought that through yet, but he figured it would be a good idea to start to plan ahead now. "In all honesty, I have no idea." He laughed. "I’ll probably take the girls back to my old house in Wisconsin. That is, if one of my other relatives hasn’t claimed it already by this point." Mac raised her eyes. The only relatives her father spoke of was her Aunt Olivia and Uncle Harris who had taken her in after her mother’s death for the first few months.

"Any idea of where you’re going to find work?" Bert wanted to know, taking a sip of his beer and leaning forward curiously. Mac sighed and crossed her legs under the table, putting her chin in her hands.

"Mac," Anastasia suddenly broke in, and she glanced over.

"Yeah?"

"What did your mother do?"

Mac cocked her head to one side. "Huh?"

"Did she have a job?" Cora asked in a quiet voice.

Mac turned to her father and tapped him on the arm.

"Yes, honey?" Jack looked down.

"What did Mama do before she met you, Papa?"

Jack smiled softly. "Who wants to know?" he asked, and Mac pointed to Cora. "Well, she was a dancer."

Mac gasped. "She was? What kind of a dancer? Ballet?" Mac asked. She never knew what her mother’s profession had been, as she tried not to talk about her around her father.

"She was a ballerina," Jack replied.

"A real ballerina?" Cora breathed. "Wow, that’s neat!"

Bert let out a hearty laugh at his daughter’s comment and ruffled her hair. "That it is. Now, I don’t mean to be personal, but I haven’t seen you with anyone here. Is your wife at home?"

Jack shook his head. "She died."

"Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry." Bert frowned. "I didn’t mean to ask, but I was just curious."

"It’s not your fault."

"How’d she die?"

"Cora!" Bert warned. "That’s not polite."

"But I wanna know!" Cora retorted in such a serious tone that it made Mac and Anastasia chuckle. She acted so much older than she really was.

Jack fingered his napkin and decided it couldn’t hurt to tell Cora. "She died from birth complications after having Mac." It had been a very painful death; Alyiah had lost quite a bit of blood and had contracted a fever, killing her within one night after Mac was born.

Mac knew this, and hated to hear it, for it always made her feel responsible for her mother’s death, even though she knew deep down that it was not true. She remembered when her father first told her exactly how her mother died. She had been heartbroken. He had actually told her while they were staying at the palace, and she remembered running out of the room in tears after hearing the story. She’d locked herself in a closet, refusing to come out until coaxed at last by Maria, who so lovingly offered to share Alexandra with her. Mac jumped a little when she felt her father place his arm around her and rub her shoulders.

"I hate to say this, Jack, but we’re both in the same boat." Bert sighed, setting his beer glass down. Cora glanced up.

"Of course we are."

Bert snickered. "No, honey, in the sense that your mother died right after you were born as well." He looked up at Jack. "I understand how you feel."

Jack nodded, accepting Mac’s hand as she put it in his. "It felt like a part of me died with her," Jack admitted. "I just haven’t been the same, really."

Bert frowned. "Yes, it does feel like that."

"Papa?"

Jack glanced down at Mac.

"Are you going to be all right?"

Jack pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "I’ll be fine, honey. But I think after I put you two to bed tonight I’m going to go outside and get some fresh air alone."

Mac smiled in understanding and nodded. When dinner ended, it was close to eight o‘clock, so Jack said good-bye to Fabrizio, Tommy, Bert, and Cora, before taking his two girls back to their cabin. "You two don’t have to go to sleep yet, but I want it to be quiet time for now. All right?" he told Mac and Anastasia firmly once inside.

"Yes," they both replied in unison.

"Will you be long, Daddy?" Mac asked curiously.

"Hopefully not too long, pumpkin." Jack ruffled her hair. "Now behave. I’ll expect both of you to be in bed by no later than 9:30. Is that understood?" He raised an eyebrow seriously at them, and they glanced at each other before nodding.

"Yes, sir," Mac replied.

"Good. Well, I’ll be back soon." He put on a heavier overcoat and made his way out of the cabin. The sky was very clear that night, filled with billions of stars, glittering like diamonds on a thick patch of black velvet. Jack found a bench to lay on so he could just gaze up at the sky and think. He had quite a few things to do when he, Mac, and Anastasia arrived in New York. He had to exchange the Russian money for American when he got back, and with that, he was pretty sure he’d have enough to at least get them to Wisconsin and settled into a real home. Then he’d have to go and look for a job, preferably something that had to do with art. His head was spinning when he thought of all the possibilities that could open up for him now.

Only ten minutes had gone by when he heard the sound of footsteps running along the deck, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw someone fly past him in a panic. He quickly sat up, blinking his slightly aching eyes, and realized that it was a woman running down the deck, and if he was not mistaken, the same one he had seen on the upper deck only the previous morning. She was wearing a blood red and black gown with a long train in the back, and her hair, very long, curly and auburn, hung loosely about her shoulders.

Wondering why on Earth she was running, Jack stood up and decided to go and investigate. Perhaps, he thought, he could help. When he caught up to her, his heart nearly stopped in mid-beat. She had climbed over the rail and was now clinging for dear life to the back of the ship, looking down at the water. Jack gave the woman the once over, and realized then that she was sobbing. He took a deep breath and walked a few steps closer, hoping not to startle her.

"Don’t do it!" he begged, reaching out his arm.

The woman whirled her head around, and he could see the faint hint of mascara running down her cheeks as a result of her tears.

"Stay back!" she ordered sharply, gripping the rail tighter. "Don’t come any closer!"

Jack didn’t know what to do. "Please, Miss, just--just give me your hand and I’ll pull you back over."

"No!" she cried. "Stay where you are! I mean it! I’ll--I’ll let go." She made the move to throw herself off of the ship. Jack had to do something and fast, or she probably was going to go through with her plan.

Silence passed between them for a few moments, with the exception of the strange woman’s shuddering breaths and shivers. She was probably freezing without anything on but that gown of hers. "No, you won’t." Jack finally spoke, raising his eyes hopefully. She gaped at him in astonishment.

"What do you mean, no I won’t?" she snapped. "Don’t presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don’t know me!"

Jack shrugged. "Well--you would’ve done it already." He folded his arms and shuddered a bit as a gust of cool wind blew past him. This was not helping his pending cold, he knew that much, though the fresh air did help to clear his mind.

"You’re distracting me!" she replied. "Go away!" She turned her head so she was facing the water again. He could tell she was too scared to actually follow through committing suicide, but she did not want to appear weak in front of a complete stranger, let alone a strange young man. Well, not necessarily young—Jack was twenty-nine. He had a sudden idea that would probably work, though he had to be careful. He began unbuttoning his jacket and tossed it on the ground.

"I can’t," he argued. "I’m involved now." He nodded towards the rail. "If you let go I’m gonna have to jump in there after you."

Slowly she turned around again. Her tears had stopped flowing by this point, but her cheeks were still fairly wet. "Don’t be absurd!" she cried in disbelief. "You’ll be killed!"

Jack smirked. "I’m a good swimmer."

"The fall alone would kill you."

Now he was untying his shoes and taking them off as well. "It would hurt," he agreed. "I’m not saying it wouldn’t." He paused. "To tell you the truth, I’m a lot more concerned about that water being so cold." He held his breath and hoped he’d done it.

The woman was quiet again, but only for a second. "How cold?"

Jack tried to hide his amusement. This woman strangely reminded Jack of the Grand Duchess Olga, who’d threatened to throw herself off of her mother’s balcony several times when she got into an argument with Alexandra.

"Freezing," Jack replied, rubbing his nose, which was starting to run a little. "Maybe a couple of degrees over." The expression on her face was priceless.

"Why are you doing this?" the woman asked, half curious, half confused.

"Suicide is not the answer to your problems," Jack told her softly. "Please, miss, reconsider. Come back over the rail and get me off the hook here. I’m not looking forward to jumping in there after you, trust me."

The woman raised her eyes. "You’re crazy. Do you know that?" she asked.

Jack smiled. "That’s what everybody says, but, with all due respect, miss, I’m not the one hanging off the back of a ship here." He held out his hand again, hoping to convince her to come back over. "Come on. Come on. Give me your hand," he urged. "You don’t want to do this."

Finally, he’d struck gold, and she grasped his hand tightly, and very slowly and carefully turned around so that she was facing him. "I’m Jack Dawson," he introduced himself.

The woman smiled weakly. "Rose DeWitt Bukater."

He chuckled. "I’m going to have to get you to write that one down."

She laughed too, and he held her tightly. "Now come back over." Rose carefully stepped onto the rail, but unfortunately her foot slipped on the train of her dress, and she screamed as she fell. Jack was thankful for his strength, because he held her tightly with all of his might. She was now in hysterics as she dangled from his grasp, and with every ounce of strength she could muster, she managed to pull herself back up over the rail, and landed right on top of Jack. Unfortunately, this was not the best of positions, because two officers had heard Rose screaming and had immediately taken off towards the direction of the noise, and were fast approaching. They stopped short of Jack, and saw that a bit of Rose’s dress was hitched up, revealing a bit of her bare leg.

"What’s all this?" one of the guards asked.

When Jack did not reply, the other shouted, "You stand back, and don’t move an inch!" He turned to the other guard. "Fetch the Master-at-Arms!"

Jack stood up, wishing he had never left his girls in the cabin now. He would certainly have a tale to tell his daughter when he returned, but he hoped at this point that they would be fast asleep. The Master-at-Arms eventually came and put Jack in cuffs, and the man Jack had seen on the deck with Rose earlier that day grasped his shirt and shook him. "What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancée?" he snarled. "Look at me, you filth!"

If only you knew, Jack thought angrily. Where I had come from. Then he’d think twice. He did not say this aloud.

"Cal," Rose interrupted.

"What do you think you were doing?" Cal continued, ignoring her. "What do you--"

"Cal, stop!" Rose begged. "It was an accident!"

Jack’s ears perked in surprise as Cal stopped shaking him and turned towards Rose, raising an eyebrow. "An—an accident?"

"It was!" Rose insisted. "Stupid really. I was leaning over, and I slipped." She glanced at Jack, who had cocked his head to one side and was waiting to hear the rest of her explanation. "I was leaning far over to see the…the um--the--" Rose made gestures with her hands, trying to decide what to say.

"The propellers?" Cal finished.

"The propellers," Rose agreed. "And I slipped. And Mr. Dawson here saved me and almost went over himself."

Jack smiled at her, pleased, as Cal told the others, "She wanted to see the propellers." He laughed quietly, and Colonel Gracie, who had been with them, spoke up.

"Like I said, women and machinery do not mix."

The Master-at-Arms turned Jack to face him and was giving him a warning look. "Was that the way of it?"

Jack turned to Rose, who was pleading with him to say yes silently, and he nodded. "Yeah. That was pretty much it."

"Well, the boy’s a hero then. Good for you, son. Well done," Colonel Gracie complimented. "All’s well and back to our brandy, eh?" He touched Cal’s arm and the two men began walking away, as the Master-at-Arms started to unlock the cuffs. "Er—perhaps a little something for the boy?" Colonel Gracie added before they went inside. Cal hesitated for a moment, and then turned around again to face the man who was his guard.

"Uh, Lovejoy--I think a twenty should do it."

At this point, Jack had taken his handkerchief from his pocket and was rubbing his nose. Rose gave a huff and stopped Cal in his tracks. "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?" she asked quietly.

Cal raised his eyes. "Rose is displeased." He smirked. "What to do?" He rubbed his chin. "I know." He turned to Jack. "You will join us for dinner tomorrow evening, to tell our group of your heroic tale."

Jack cleared his throat. "Would it be all right if I brought my children with me as well? I have two little girls."

Rose’s mouth hung open at this newfound information. "You have children?"

Jack nodded. "My daughter and my niece are with me."

"Why not? The more the merrier," Colonel Gracie agreed.

"Count us in then." Jack nodded.

"Settled then." Cal took Rose’s arm and brought her inside, and the others followed, leaving Jack outside alone again. He sighed, having a hard time believing exactly what had just happened himself. He put his jacket back on again, and decided it was time to go in for the night.

When he entered his cabin, he was glad to find it dark, and glad to see that Mac and Anastasia were sound asleep in their bunks. He knelt down beside Mac’s bed and gently caressed her forehead with his hand, and kissed it gently. Mac’s dark eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. "Hullo, Papa."

"Hi, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Did you have a nice think?" Mac asked, yawning.

Jack chuckled. "I did, yes. And I have a very interesting story to tell the both of you tomorrow at breakfast, all right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Okay. Good night." She turned over and buried her tiny body beneath the blankets, falling back to sleep again. Jack then checked up on Anastasia, who was sleeping on her stomach with her arms spread out, her mouth slightly open. He shook his head with a grin as he finally stepped into his pajamas and crawled into bed himself.

Chapter Ten
Stories