STARTING ANEW
Chapter Thirty-Six

Jack looked up from his drawing hoping not to see what he feared. But there coming up to him, giggling, sniffing and laughing, with their hands over their mouths, sounding just like a gagged pigeon, were Etta Franklin, Clara Mueller, and Janetta Pierce. His heart sank. Of all the people he had not wanted to run into, it was this trio. Alone, each one was impossible, together, they were intolerable. They were obnoxious, ostentatious, rude, silly and every other unpleasant adjective that he could conjure up. And not only that, they had the pushiest mothers in town.

He had grown up with these girls, and just by glancing at them, he realized that while he had matured, they still had a long, long way to go. They were dripping and cooing and coming closer. They reminded him of an overflowing ice cream cone. Their clothing went right along with their personalities. They were covered in every feather, piece of lace and bow that could be found in Chippewa County.

"God," thought Jack. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Oh, yoo-hoo, Jack! Is that really you Jack? Jack Dawson, can that be you back in town?" they all called at once.

Jack, wishing he could suddenly disappear, forced a smile.

"Yes, it's me. Hello Etta, Clara, Janetta."

"Oh, Jack, what are you doing back here?" asked Etta, sitting down next to him, as close as decently possible.

Clara followed suit on his other side and Janetta stood in front on him, her toes, practically touching his.

Jack swallowed and trying hard to be civil said, "Well, girls, it's nice to see you too."

They nodded and sighed together.

"So, Jack, where have you been?" asked Clara sounding as smooth as melting chocolate on a ninety degree day.

"Everywhere and nowhere," answered Jack, noncommittally.

"Just where is that?" wondered Etta, daringly touching his sleeve.

"I've been to Paris."

They tittered and giggled in unison.

"Oh, Jack," said Janetta, "I'll bet you had all the girls at your feet. You always were the handsomest boy in school."

Jack raised his eyes upward.

"How do I get away from here?" he asked himself.

"Sure, I met lots of girls. I was using them as artists models."

He waited to see what their reaction would be to this.

They gasped and Etta and Clara moved slightly away from him, as though he were suddenly deliciously dangerous.

"Did you meet any other girls?" Janetta asked, as they continued to question him.

"Yeah," said Jack. "I met lots of girls," he told them again.

Sitting tall and preening herself, Etta said, "I'll bet they weren't like any of the girls back home."

"Ah, no," he answered, "they sure weren't."

"Oh," they all sighed at once, satisfied that perhaps they might be making an impression on Jack.

"Jack," asked Clara, "are you going out with anyone special now?"

Jack just looked at them. They were getting more tiresome and ridiculous by the minute. He wished that Rose would hurry. He couldn't wait to see their reaction to her.

"No," he said again. "I am not GOING OUT with anyone special."

"Well then," said a pleased Clara, "how would you like to come to the ice cream social at the Elks Hall tomorrow night?"

"Sorry, Clara, I am leaving in the morning."

Clara looked crestfallen.

So Etta tried. "How about tonight Jack. There is a group of us going to the new moving picture."

"Sorry, I have to turn that down too. I have other plans."

"Just what are you doing?" asked Janetta pointedly.

"It's of a personal nature," Jack told them, sounding mysterious.

The girls were puzzled by Jack's reticence. When they had been in school together, he had at least teased them. Now he seemed so serious, so much more mature and settled than the other boys they were used to. There was something very different about Jack now. Something they could not put their finger on. No matter how hard they tried, he remained unimpressed.

"Why are you here, anyway?" Etta wanted to know in desperation.

"I was on my way west and wanted to check up on a few things."

Etta was not to be put off. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Denver. I'll be working for the newspaper there."

"Oh, Jack, that sounds like a good job," cooed Clara, still hopeful.

"Yeah, well, I need to make some money now."

Suddenly, Jack sensed that their attention was elsewhere. He looked in the direction they were staring.

"Who is that?" demanded Janetta irritably.

"I don't know," said Clara.

"Maybe she is visiting someone here in town," declared Etta.

Jack was chuckling to himself. The person they were commenting on was of course Rose. She had come out of the store and stood looking in the window next to Bradley's. She was as yet unaware of her little audience. Rose in her simple pink summer dress with her long curly red hair and perfect posture, was in no way any fair competition for these three. In fact, she outshone everyone in town.

"Just look at the way she walks," said Janetta, trying to imitate Rose's regal bearing. "Who does she think she is. She walks like she owns the place."

Etta looked at the odd way Jack was watching this woman.

"Don't get any ideas about her," she warned. "She is not your type."

"Oh, I won't," said Jack seriously. "But why isn't she my type?"

"Well, just look at her," Etta explained. "She looks so stuck up and rich. What would she want with a common guy like you?"

"Thanks very much for the compliment, Etta," Jack said. "A common kind of guy. I'll remember that one."

"Look at her," urged Clara. "Who does she think she is, Mrs. Astor?"

Jack bit his lip and nodded knowingly. If they only knew how close they were.

"The sooner she gets out of here, the better," continued Clara. "With looks like that, she will ruin the whole weekend for us."

"Oh, I am sure she won't be here long," said Jack.

At that moment, Rose turned and started to cross the street. She looked ahead and saw Jack and the three overdressed young women. Jack caught her eye and winked at her. She smiled back at him.

"Who do you think you are, winking at her," said Clare, poking him in the ribs with her elbow. "Forget it, she is not your type."

"Look," said Etta. "She is smiling at Jack."

Jack was enjoying all of this immensely. For years, he had wanted to get even with these three for the embarrassing comments and behavior that they had inflicted on him. He could not wait to see their faces when he introduced Rose.

Rose approached Jack and the girls.

"Did you get everything you needed?" Jack asked, as her took her bag.

"Yes, everything," said Rose.

"Rose, these are some old friends of mine."

Etta, Clara and Janetta stood standing in disbelief when they saw that Jack and Rose knew each other. Etta was sizing Rose up from the top of her red hair to the bottom of her delicate shoes, when she suddenly grew very pale. Her eyes looked down on Rose's left hand. She knew what was coming now, but she was powerless to warn the others.

Jack introduced Clara, Etta and Janetta. Then he said, "Ladies, I would like you to meet Rose Dewitt Bukater..." and then he paused as Clara and Janetta started cooing again.

"Nice to meet you Rose," they said unsuspectingly.

And then Jack delivered the final blow... "Dawson, my wife."

Their mouths dropped to street level and they turned white.

"It's been a pleasure," said Rose, pleasantly.

"Definitely a pleasure," said Jack, trying hard not to laugh. "Ladies, have a wonderful day."

Jack took Rose's hand and led her into the hotel. He collapsed against the wall, laughing harder than Rose had ever seen him laugh.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Oh just getting back at some childhood friends," he told her, hardly able to talk through his laughter.

Rose smiled at him, "It's certainly looks like you succeeded."

He grabbed her hand and started up the stairs.

"Come on, let's get upstairs before they come in here."

Out on the sidewalk, Etta, Clara and Janetta, slowly recovered their composure.

"My God, he let us make such fools out of ourselves," said Etta angrily.

"We should get back at him," agreed Janetta.

"What's the point?" asked Clara dejectedly. "He is married, she is gorgeous and they are leaving in the morning. There is nothing to do."

"I guess not," said Etta. "Maybe he paid us back for all those years of us pestering him in school."

"You heard him talk about artists models," said Janetta. "You don't suppose that he and she, or rather she you know, posed?"

The other girls put their hands up to their mouths in horror. They had never before been so close to anything scandalous in their lives. Their hearts were fluttering as they headed off to find someone else to bother.

Chapter Thirty-Seven
Stories