THE HEART GOES ON
Chapter Sixteen
December 31, 1912
Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin
Rose
The smell of cooking wafted
upstairs in the small Dawson farmhouse. I was having an early afternoon nap
before one of Aunty’s substantial lunches. Getting comfortable was difficult.
My stomach had expanded so much in the last few weeks and made sleeping not
easy. Jack spent a lot of time following me around, making sure I rested, and
acting just like an expectant father. It made me laugh!
Even Jack was looking not as slim
as he had been due to Aunty’s meals. On Christmas Day she had made a feast fit
for a king, but I could not eat much.
The events since April had been
crowding my head. I had been thinking of my mother, who was doing tireless
charity work and was helping people less fortunate than us. She was due to
visit in the new year with Molly Brown.
Sometimes, I felt like I was
living in a dream and was waiting for the bubble to burst. Cal had nearly done
that but for Jack and Gerard’s quick thinking.
Ironically, it was the necklace
that had distracted Cal. He had been so busy trying to grab it, Jack had had
time to punch his lights out.
The necklace and all our money
were now safely in a deposit box at the bank. I considered the necklace payment
for Cal’s behavior.
Jack and our love were everything
I could ever want or desire.
Jack, as if sensing my thoughts,
had raised a glass and proposed a toast to all the lost souls of the
Titanic–may they rest in peace. As we all echoed, "Rest in peace,"
Jack said in a small, strained voice, "We nearly lost our own souls. We
escaped by the skin of our teeth." Then to me, he said, "We are so
lucky, Rose. We have so much, when others lost everything. If someone had told
me when I won that hand of poker for the tickets that I would meet my future
wife and we would be having a child by the close of the year, I would have said
they were mad."
Aunty said, "You and Rose
are lucky to have found each other. You are well-suited and the baby will
complement our family. Jack’s parents would have been so proud of you both.
Rose is a lovely girl."
Tears formed in Jack’s eyes at
Aunty’s kind words. "Thank you," he whispered.
Now, lying with thoughts running
through my head, I tried not to think of the coming baby. I really had no idea
of what to expect of labor, and even when Aunty discreetly explained to me the
process, I was shocked. They did not teach you things like that in finishing
school.
Jack came quietly into the room
with a mug of broth for me.
"Rose," he said in a
caring tone. "I have brought you some broth, but I also need to speak to
you."
I opened my eyes and struggled to
a sitting position. Jack set the mug down and put a pillow behind me.
"You look really
uncomfortable. How’s the baby?" he asked, sitting down next to me, taking
my hand, and kissing it as he had on the Grand Staircase of the Titanic.
"I have always wanted to do that," he joked. "I saw it in a
movie once!"
I laughed and punched his arm
lightly. "You joker," I quipped, then spoke more seriously. "The
baby is very low now. I just want it out. I have a dull ache starting,
too."
Jack/s eyes clouded with worry. "I
am scared," he said in a small voice, his hand still in mine. "I’ll
send Aunty up in a minute."
"We’ll be fine, Jack. Aunty
will be around, and so will the midwife," I said reassuringly, but inside
I was apprehensive.
Jack squeezed my hand and then
released it. I picked up the broth and sipped it as he pulled a letter from his
pocket.
"What’s that?" I asked.
"It’s from Gerard," he
replied tersely, and frowned. "Not good news for Cal."
"Spill, Dawson. What
gives?" I demanded, ignoring the worsening aching feeling.
"He says that Cal has been
cleared of all charges and has been allowed to return to the family home. Now
he doesn’t have to stay with friends, according to his bail conditions."
We looked at each other. Jack
looked peeved. "He got off because Daddy bought the authorities off. Poor
Gerard was livid and has been arguing with their father about it."
"Amazing," I said.
"I’m not surprised about Cal wriggling out of it," I said in a
matter-of-fact way. "His daddy is a powerful man. I just want Cal to keep
away from us. Fancy Gerard standing up to Nathan. He’s not a man to
cross." I frowned as I recalled Nathan Hockley.
He was dark-haired and dark-eyed
like Cal, but he had such a presence and a loud, imposing voice. He had scared
Mother rigid, and people acquiesced to him and tiptoed around him. He was a man
born to be a leader, and ruthless, too. Having cheated my father of all we had
proved that, just because Cal had wanted me and to make certain of me becoming
Cal’s wife. What a twisted family the Hockleys were!
Jack grinned suddenly, his smile
lighting up his boyish face like a light bulb. "Well, Gerard had some good
news, too. Well, not for Cal, anyway. His father has forbidden him to contact
us, is planning on marrying him off as soon as possible, and will restore his
fortune then. Apparently, Cal is not impressed, but has agreed, as he wants to
get his money."
I returned Jack’s smile, then
grimaced as pain shot through my belly. Jack grabbed the cup from me.
"Rose?" he asked
anxiously.
"Just a twinge," I
faked. "What else did Gerard say?"
"He said that Emily is
playing it cool, has been indisposed, and he hasn’t seen her and is very
concerned. In fact, he said that her father has requested a family meeting.
Very strange," Jack told me.
I sighed aloud. The dull ache was
worsening.
"Poor Gerard, being a
Hockley. I’d rather be a Dawson any day. Ouch!" I said breathlessly.
"Ouch, Jack!"
"Rose?" he asked again
in confusion as I held my stomach and groaned.
"Speaking of Dawsons,"
I said through gritted teeth, "I think Baby Dawson is on the way. Get
Aunty to get the midwife."
Jack gasped and brought his hand
to his mouth. He looked startled. "I’m on my way. Oh, my God. Oh, my
God," he said, leapt to his feet, flustered, and was off, calling loudly
for Aunty to hurry. Our baby was coming.
Jack
Perspiration soaked my brow as I
knelt down beside Rose, who writhed on the bed. Aunty was on the other side,
murmuring words of encouragement. The midwife, Mrs. Brown, a stout, hearty
woman, stood at the foot of the bed, supervising.
She had tried to eject me from
the room to join William, waiting in the kitchen below, but the moment I had
tried to pull away from Rose’s tenacious grip, she howled like banshee and
would not let go.
"Come on, Mr. Dawson,"
Mrs. Brown said efficiently. "Go down and wait. A birthing chamber is no
place for a man."
Rose had sworn at her and clung
to me piteously. "Jack, do not go. No, I cannot let you go." Tears
fell down her cheeks. "He is staying! I need him!" she shouted.
"Is Mrs. Dawson always this
determined?" Mrs. Brown asked, shocked by Rose. Aunty and I smiled at each
other.
"Yes," we said in
unison.
Aunty said to the midwife,
"You’d better let Mr. Dawson stay. They’re inseparable. You can’t part
them."
"Well, if it helps Mrs.
Dawson…she is awfully stressed," she replied doubtfully, then said to me,
"if you stay, keep quiet, hold her hand, and mop her head. No man should
be here, really. Mrs. Morgan, please get hot water and towels."
I nodded, and so I stayed.
Rose had her eyes screwed shut
and was moaning as each contraction wracked her body. Her fingers dug into
mine.
"It hurts! It hurts!"
she cried. I wiped her hand with a cool cloth. I was terrified. I had never
known women went through such pain, and it seemed like hours since it had
begun. The morning light was starting to creep in through the window.
"Is it always like
this?" I whispered to my aunt in terror.
What had I done, to place Rose in
this situation and to have her go through all this pain? I felt so guilty.
Aunty laughed on seeing my
stricken face. Above Rose’s moans, she replied in a wry tone, "Yes, it’s
all normal, Jack. Not pleasant, but something that has to be endured. Your
mother, Hope, was the same when you were born. There I was, holding her hand. The
poor thing did not have a clue, either. I guess they don’t teach high class
ladies the basics." She gave a mirthless laugh. "And your father,
James. Pacing up and down outside like a demented thing. Mind you, he took one
step inside the birthing room and nearly fainted clean away. Good for you for
being here."
Rose wailed loudly, interrupting
Aunty. "I want to push."
"We’re getting close,"
Mrs. Brown said, and then came over to Rose and said in clear tones, "now,
Mrs. Dawson, on each contraction I want you to bear down and push. You are
fully dilated, so the baby will be here soon." Rose nodded, her hair
clinging damply to her red face.
"Jack," Rose said, her
nails hurting my hand.
"It’s okay, Rose. Just push
when you contract. Come on. You can do this," I said encouragingly, having
so much respect for her going through this ordeal to have our child. "I
love you. Do this for us," I whispered to her. Our eyes met briefly and
understanding flashed. "I’ll never let go," I added so only she could
hear.
She did not reply, but gave a
loud, anguished cry and threw her head back.
"Nearly there! Nearly there!
Push, Rose!" Aunty yelled. "That’s it, darling."
Rose screamed in agony and it
hurt my ears. I tried not to look down at the foot of the bed and instead
concentrated on Rose.
Then, with tiny, cross newborn
cries, our baby slid into the world.
Rose
I lay back, gasping, my whole
body aching. My eyes were heavy and tired. It felt just like treading water in
the cold sea and feeling my limbs become like lead. I heard Jack’s exclamation.
Then he was by my side, nudging me awake.
"Rose, the baby is here. The
baby is here!" he garbled excitedly. I was too tired to speak. I could
hear cooing and ahhing over the baby by Aunty.
"It’s a girl!" Aunty
called to me. "A healthy girl."
Jack hugged me. "We did
it!" he said triumphantly. "I am a dad!"
I struggled to stay awake. Aunty,
on seeing my state, handed the baby, now wrapped in blankets, to the midwife,
who said she would check her over.
"Jack," Aunty said.
"Come on, now. Let us sort Rose out. You can come back in a moment. Go and
tell William that all is well and you have a daughter."
Jack kissed me, then left, grinning
that he had a daughter.
Aunty and the midwife sorted me
out, put me in a clean nightshift, and tucked me into clean sheets.
"The first birth is always
rough, Mrs. Dawson," she told me. "The baby is healthy, a good
weight, and has a good set of lungs. A right feisty one!"
The midwife picked up the now
whimpering bundle out of the cradle and passed her to me, propped up in bed
with pillows, and then excused herself from the room.
I looked down tenderly at the
crinkled-up, tiny, mewling baby.
She had blonde fuzz on her head,
and then she opened her eyes, yawned, and revealed bright, big, sky blue eyes.
Jack’s eyes. My heart stirred. This baby was mine, ours, conceived in the last
terrible hours of the Titanic’s maiden voyage. She was here, safe and well. A
miracle.
Aunty peeped over and chuckled.
Her blue eyes, like Jack’s, twinkled. "Oh, my, the mite is a Dawson!"
she exclaimed, "but with your mouth, Rose."
Jack crept back into the room,
muttering that no one would keep him from us.
"It’s a girl," I said, and
passed her over to him. Jack’s beautiful eyes widened in shock and he held the
baby clumsily.
"Is she all right? Are you
all right?" he asked. "Oh, she is so cute," he whispered to the
baby. "My, you are a princess, my little princess." He was totally immersed
in her. The baby regarded him with solemn but intelligent blue eyes just like
his own.
"Hey, I am fine," I
said, amused. "Battered and bruised, but fine." Jack did not really
hear me.
Aunty winked at me and said,
"I think someone has been hooked."
Jack smiled dreamily at me,
happiness spilling out of his eyes.
Aunty said she would give us a
minute.
Jack sat on the edge of the bed,
looking adoringly at our new daughter, and then looked at me.
"Thank you, my Rose,"
he said softly and tenderly "For our little princess. You both are my
world."
"Anything for you," I
replied, feebly exhausted. "She is so sweet and little."
Together, we gazed in rapture at
the baby, two proud new parents.
"I don’t know what we would
have done without your Aunt Janette," I mused, grateful for all the love
and attention.
Jack suddenly burst out, "I
know! She can be Janna after Aunty and Josephine for the song!"
"Janna Josephine," I
said, thinking aloud. "A bit of a mouthful, Jack?"
"J.J.," Jack replied.
"It suits her. J.J. Dawson!"
Therefore, she became J.J., our
tiny baby daughter of whom we were so pleased and proud.