THE HEART GOES ON
Chapter One
September, 1912
Jack
"Please raise your glasses
to the happy couple, Jack and Rose." Ruth DeWitt Bukater’s voice echoed
through the parlor of our small house, a smile on her normally severe face. She
turned to me, her eyes mellow.
"To Jack and Rose!" our
friends shouted in response to Ruth’s toast.
"I’d like to say a few
words, too," she said warmly. "Jack is the best thing that ever
happened to Rose and myself. We owe him everything. I wish them and my new
grandchild every happiness in their coming marriage and their future."
People applauded her and Ruth
turned away, quite pink.
I saw Molly Brown laughing. My
boss, Hamish, from the art gallery, was even cracking a smile as he listened to
Molly’s anecdotes.
People were laughing, joking, and
happy. It was lovely to mix with our new friends. Even Mrs. Jackson, Rose’s
former landlady, was making conversation with Ruth quite amicably.
Finally, I turned my eyes from
the sight of our happy family and friends to rest on the vision that was my
Rose.
Our eyes met, and the
unexplainable connection between us lifted my heart as our gazes met. I only
had to look at her. She came towards me and took my hand, our baby making her
beauty bloom even more. Her red curls were bouncing off her shoulders, her skin
white and flawless.
"You look radiant," I
murmured in her ear. I kissed her cheek and placed my hand on her bump.
Our child, kicking furiously
inside her, was lucky to be here at all after our near drowning when the
Titanic went down. So much anxiety had occurred afterwards as we had gone our
separate ways, me in the hospital, half-dead and suffering from amnesia, and
her picked up by the omnipresent, brooding Caledon Hockley, who was always in
our minds,, hovering like a malevolent black spider ready to cast his web of
evil and control.
His snooty family had already
cast its tentacles into the lives of the Bukater family, causing death, pain,
and heartache. Word had it that he wasn’t through with us yet. We had just
managed to evade him for now.
"How’s Baby Dawson?" I
whispered. She giggled, her green eyes shining, still holding my hand.
"Kicking hard." She
laughed. "I can’t wait until the new year when it arrives!"
Molly Brown came over to my side.
"Is the house okay for you, Jack and Rose?" she asked. She was a
trooper. She was an inspiration. She had been nicknamed the Unsinkable Molly
Brown by the press after her actions and selflessness in helping others less
fortunate in the Titanic disaster, and she certainly was. We owed her so much.
She had rented us a house in
Santa Monica. It was modest, with three bedrooms, a parlor, a dining room, two
bathrooms, and a kitchen. She also paid for hired help to come in daily. As
lovely as Ruth DeWitt Bukater was, she definitely did not have domestic skills,
as she was still a lady, through and through. I found it funny that Ruth had
become a totally different person from the snob that she had been on the
Titanic. I suppose finding out that your husband had sold his soul to the
devil, i.e. the Hockleys, and that that had caused your downfall, his death,
and the loss of your fortune was sobering enough to alter anyone.
She and Rose were slowly
rebuilding their fractured relationship. She lived with us, but kept herself
busy. She sometimes helped Molly with her charity work. After all, Molly had
rescued her after Cal had kicked her out of the Hockley house. Mrs. Amoy, the
housekeeper, was teaching her new skills in her spare time. Funny, the great
Ruth DeWitt Bukater peeling potatoes. I chuckled to myself at the picture.
I turned to Molly. "The
house is fantastic. We can never thank you enough," I said. Rose agreed.
"Oh, poppycock. It’s reward
enough to see how happy the two of you are together. My, how things change. So
much to look forward to. A baby due in the new year, the wedding next week. I
couldn’t be happier for y’all. I’ve got money. I’m quite relieved to see it go
to people who deserve it."
Rose added, "Don’t forget
that Hamish is hosting Jack’s exhibition in Inspired, his art gallery. Starting
in October, everyone will know who Jack Dawson is. The famous artiste."
She laughed.
Molly frowned and said in a low
voice, "A word to the wise, Jack. Maybe you should exhibit under another
name, a pen name. We don’t want Cal spotting you in the press if you go national."
Rose and I looked at each other
in horror. Cal had nearly cost Rose and me our lives. We had been hounded into
the bowels of the sinking ship when he had chased us with a gun, narrowly
missing Rose with a bullet. We didn’t want to attract his attention. He was
crazy enough.
"I know," I suddenly
announced. "That is a brilliant idea, and because Molly suggested it, I
will borrow her friend’s name in her honor, if you like. Calvert! I shall be
Jacques Calvert!"
Molly laughed heartily.
"Jack, you are crazy, but that is so sweet. That sounds swell."
Rose whispered to me. "I
love you, Jacques Dawson Calvert." Then she raised her glass of water.
"To our future success!" she called. "And to our baby."
Then, in a soft voice to me, she said, "We are so lucky, Jack, to have had
this second chance. Let’s not waste another minute, ever."