TITANIC ROSE
Chapter Twelve
"The sunset looks nice over the
snow," Rose told Thomas as she stood against the window. "So pink.
It's been a long time since I've enjoyed a sunset like that."
"Me, too. And as long as I'm with you,
I'll forever enjoy every sunset."
"I hope that's for a while." Rose
looked down into the lake, which had quite frozen over. It was Christmas Eve,
and families were ice skating and enjoying themselves. "I hope our family
will be like those down there."
"And I hope all our children look as
beautiful as you do."
"You flatter me." Rose smiled as
Thomas wrapped his arms around her. She drank her hot chocolate and continued
watching through the glass. "There's a whole world down there, and for
some reason I don't yet feel as though I'm a part of it."
"You will. As soon as we have little
kids, we'll be part of that. But right now, it's Christmas Eve. Let's enjoy
it."
Rose walked over to a box of Thomas' family
ornaments, a box he found in the basement of his last house and thought might
come in handy. Their first tree was only about five feet tall and barely
reached the ceiling. But it was perfectly wonderful to Rose, whose past
Christmases revolved around her mother and gigantic parties, never being able
to sit and relax for a moment, and making mindless chatter with eligible men.
She was happy those days were gone.
"Baby's first Christmas?" Rose
looked at the small silver ornament containing the precious words.
"Oh, my parents," Thomas replied,
kneeling next to her at the box. "They got that the year I was born."
"How sweet. My parents never did that
for me. Our tree's ornaments were more--oh, I don't know--nothing really of
value. Always bedecked with candles and things made of glass. Never anything so
sweet as these ornaments."
"We had a memory tree," Thomas
recalled, helping Rose put some ornaments on the tree. "Every year we
bought one or two new ornaments and collected them until I left. I haven't seen
them since, although Lora has put in a few good words for me and says they're
fine."
"Let's make our own memories, starting
from this Christmas," Rose said excitedly. "I want a memory tree like
you had. I've never had one before. What a fun idea!"
"I always thought so."
Rose reached under a blanket in the box to
uncover a golden angel. "Oh, isn't this exquisite?"
"That belonged to my grandmother."
"And it will go on top." Rose stood
and placed the angel on the tree. Thomas stood next to her, the task at hand
complete.
"Here's to Christmas." Thomas
cheered, clinking their cups of hot chocolate together.
"To Christmas."
*****
The day after Christmas was a whirlwind of
activity. Taking the tree down, cleaning up from the day before. Thomas had
gotten Rose a pretty gold necklace. Nothing like Cal would have probably gotten
her, but it was beautiful. Rose had gotten Thomas a chain for his watch, for he
was always complaining he didn't have one. And they were happy.
Carolers had come to the door, bringing tides
of great joy and music. And Rose had met a neighbor whom she was sure to become
great friends with, for it got lonely when their husbands went off to work.
Myrtle Sinclair was a pretty little thing of
only twenty. She had neat blonde hair and large blue eyes with fair skin. Her
name was homilized by her beauty. She looked as though she should be named
Jezebel or Celeste.
Myrtle lived just across the lake, and with
the ice she could just walk across for visits and enjoy a cup of tea or coffee
in the afternoon. Mr. Sinclair was a rotund man who guffawed at any joke, his
round belly bouncing. Indeed, complete opposites in looks, but so alike in
personality and love that they were meant for each other.
"Rose," Thomas said as he fastened
his tie. "Is that girl coming over for you today?"
"Myrtle?" Rose asked. "Yes, I
believe so. I'm usually bored with you gone to work for the day. They should've
given you the whole week off."
"But they didn't, and I'm glad you've
found someone to talk to while I'm away."
"I'll still miss you." Rose looked
at his tie and straightened it. "You can't go to work looking like your
wifey-dear didn't care about your tie."
"Thank you."
He kissed Rose's forehead as he pulled his
coat on. "Bye, dear!" Rose called, as he walked to the car. The
draught made her slam the door before she froze to death.
Rose made herself a pot of coffee before
sitting down in the cozy chair she loved. How lonely it was without Thomas. How
lonely it was without Jack.
"Stop fussing about me."
Rose looked up to see Jack staring down at
her in the chair. "Oh, Jack. It's so hard. My love for you is different
than my love for Thomas. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"If it helps, I miss you, too. And
Jacquelyn."
"You know about our daughter?"
Rose asked, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I am so sorry I let her slip
away. Isn't she with you?"
"No. She was too young."
"Oh," Rose calmly said as she
adjusted herself into the chair better. "Jack, I'm sorry. I really wanted
her to live. I truly did."
"I know, Rose. You don't have to
explain anything to me." Jack sat on the arm of the chair. Rose was
hanging on Jack's every word. She missed him so much.
"Jack, Thomas will never replace you.
You will always be my first love. I will honor your memory forever."
"And someday, we'll be together
again." Jack kissed her. "I promise."
"Jack, what's going to happen?"
He looked into her eyes as he opened his
mouth to speak.
Knock knock!
Rose awoke from her slumber in the chair,
startled. "Who is it?" she called, noticing she had been asleep for
an hour already.
"Myrtle Sinclair," came the reply.
"Oh, dear." Rose ran from the chair
to the door and opened it to let poor, cold Myrtle in from the chilly weather.
"I'm sorry. I fell asleep and didn't hear you knocking."
"That's all right. I just got here a few
seconds ago, anyhow. I crossed the lake and almost got run over by a little boy
skating."
"Wasn't that nice of the poor
dear?" Rose asked sarcastically. "Please, come in and sit down. The
weather's awful, isn't it?"
"Very. I miss David already. When you're
in love, every minute apart hurts. If he were to die, I don't know what I'd
do."
Rose shifted in her seat, uncomfortable by
Myrtle's words. It was difficult losing one whom you loved, especially when
they haunted your dreams.
"So, how was the rest of your
Christmas?" Rose asked.
"Well, we spent most of the day visiting
friends around the lake and writing letters to family and friends across the
country...and the world. Some of our friends live in England, you know. As a
matter of fact, Louisa sailed on Titanic. But she and her husband died. So
tragic, really."
"Titanic was an unneeded tragedy,
Myrtle," Rose stated. "It was because we thought we were mightier
than God himself. I remember Cal--er--my friend saying that God himself could
not sink the ship. He was deadly wrong."
"I'd say he was." Myrtle crossed
her legs and leaned back. "Why do people always think that? That we can
outsmart Him? That's what gets us in trouble every time."
"Every time," Rose said. "You
aren't alone in your loss of someone dear to you on Titanic."
"Oh, yes," Myrtle answered.
"Thomas mentioned something about a brother of yours. Jack, was it?"
"Yes, it was Jack," Rose replied,
angry at where this discussion was going. "Would you like some tea or
coffee? Please say yes, or I'll feel like a terrible hostess."
"All right, dear. I can see you don't
like this Titanic talk. I'll have tea, please."
Rose excused herself into the kitchen, where
she shed a few tears for Jack.