TITANIC ROSE
Chapter Sixteen
"What is there to do today?" Rose
asked excitedly as Thomas came down the stairs. It was the weekend again, and
he had just woken up; it was almost noon.
"I don't know." Thomas pondered,
hugging Rose like he did every morning. "What do you say we should do?"
"That's what I asked you, silly."
Rose laughed. "I'm serious now. There's not much to do today, so let's do
something fun. Something we haven't done yet. Adventurous."
"Well…" Thomas rubbed his chin,
just the way Rose liked. It made him look handsome and sophisticated.
"Let's go to the lake. Skating, perhaps. We haven't done that."
"Thomas, I can't skate," Rose
stated. "I'd fall right down. The last time I skated was when I was a
child."
"It will come right back to you, the
balance, the speed," Thomas promised as he took her hand. "Let's go
right now. Grab your coat."
"I--oh." Rose looked at how happy
he was and knew he was right. "Oh, all right."
They quickly took what they needed and ran
down the path to the lake. Rose slipped in the snow once, but quickly dismissed
the incident with a laugh as Thomas pulled her back on her feet.
"Is there a place where we can rent ice
skates?" Rose asked. "We don't own a pair."
"Right there." Thomas pointed at a
small wooden booth by the lake. "They're only the kind you attach to your
shoes, but they'll work."
Thomas got the skates and they sat on a
bench. Rose had a dreadful time of attaching them to her boots, and in the end,
Thomas had to help her.
"Come on." Thomas reached his hand
out and took hers. She tiptoed her way to the edge of the reflective ice,
seeing her mirrored image below her. As soon as she touched the shiny surface,
she slid into Thomas' arms. He caught her, and they laughed.
"I told you I wasn't a good
skater," Rose said up to his face as he looked down to her in his arms.
"No kidding," Thomas said.
"Come on, you can skate. Just remember to keep your back straight and not
to rush yourself. Bend your knees. There you go."
Rose was skating along clumsily, and Thomas
was applauding her. "Oh, stop, Thomas. I look utterly ridiculous. Stop
clapping, Thomas. It isn't funny!"
Thomas was still laughing when she fell into
a pile of snow near the edge. "That's the second time today," he
tsk-tsked. "I'm afraid you can't even walk."
"I can too walk!" Rose smiled as he
helped her back up onto the slippery, wet surface. "I do not like this
activity you have chosen for us."
"That's odd, because I'm enjoying it
immensely." He kissed her and noticed flurries floating onto her
strawberry hair. "It's snowing again, Rose."
Rose looked up at the sky and felt like a
child when they play in the snow, trying to catch the flakes on their tongue.
"The snow is so beautiful here, Thomas. I'm glad this is where we live.
Aren't you?"
"I'm with you. That's all that
matters."
They remained at the lake until the sun began
to set, casting a pink and orange glow on the fresh snow. Thomas returned the
skates and they began the journey home. Rose, as it turned out, became quite a
good skater and wanted to go back some other time.
The couple neared the house when it was dark.
The sky was perfectly clear, and all the stars could be seen. "Look,
Rose." Thomas pointed into the dark mass. "A shooting star. Make a
wish."
Rose knew exactly why the star was there, and
made a private wish. I hope all is well, Jack. I hope you are happy.
*****
Rose sewed the button on with great care. For
some reason, Thomas' buttons could never stay on a shirt, and Rose always ended
up sewing them back on every other day. Thomas sat on the couch, stretched out
and reading his paper.
"Isn't this interesting?" he
commented. Rose glanced up and then directed her eyes once again to the task at
hand.
"What is, dear?"
"That John Wilkes fellow who fought me
the other day," Thomas said. "There's an article about him in the
paper."
"What for?"
"He hanged himself in his hotel
room."
Rose dropped her sewing basket and rushed to
Thomas, tearing the paper from his hands. "I don't believe this!" she
cried, reading the article.
Man Kills Himself
Today in the Eastern Hotel, a man's body was
found hanging from the ceiling. From his identification, it was apparently John
Wilkes from New York. No one in the town knows him well, and it is still
unclear about why he was here. A note was found on his desk, apparently a note
about his unrequited love whose name is not revealed to sources. More in the
later edition.
"What is it, Rose?"
"Oh, nothing. I don't know why I got so
upset. Just my nerves."
"Are you sure you're all right?"
Thomas asked. "You seem a little jumpy."
"I'm fine. Although, could you give me
the later edition tonight? I'd like to see what they have to say."
"All right." Thomas scratched his
head, not really knowing what was going on. How could he?
Rose told herself that it wasn't her fault.
Then she would switch over to it was completely her fault. Wrestling with her
different thoughts, she set her mind to discovering what the note exactly said.
She didn't want her name floating around town.
At least my past is now at rest, she thought. Now Thomas will certainly never know.
*****
The nightly edition of the paper had arrived,
and Thomas had left Rose alone in the bedroom to read it. Indeed, the note John
had left had been published, although Rose's name had been omitted.
My sweet--,
I loved you the first moment I saw you
after that tragic night. We both lost someone, and we were connected. We were
supposed to be soulmates and lovers, not just shipmates and friends. Please, I
can't live without you anymore, to see you running around happily with that
man. If this note ever reaches you, remember my love for you was pure. Is pure.
Rose couldn't help the tears that welled in
the corners of her eyes. In the days when they were friends, he was a kind and
caring man, not as conniving as he had been in the past few months.
In the end, Rose couldn't help but feel sorry
for him.
She tore the note from the newspaper and
scrunched it into the littlest ball she could form. Then, with perfect
accuracy, she threw it into the fire.
*****
"Mail, mail, mail," Rose said to
herself as she threw some onto the table. She sat beside it in the kitchen
chair and began to sort through the letters and taxes. She did come across one
letter of importance, however.
Dear Rose,
It is I, your mother. Indeed, I have found
you at last, and wish I could apologize for my rude behavior so very long ago.
I only know where you live, not much of the other things. Cal has left me. He
has no use for me and I am broke. Your fiancé found another woman and
apparently I am nothing anymore. Please let me come visit you. I miss you so
much, and I have something I need to say.
Your Mother
Rose sat in stunned silence. How had her
mother tracked her down? Lora promised not to tell. Should she reply?
"It could be a trick," Rose said.
"She just wants to find me and drag me back. Or maybe Mother just wants me
for money and necessities, not love. What should I do?"
The rest of the afternoon, Rose sat in the
same spot, contemplating whether or not to reply.