TITANIC ROSE
Chapter Thirty-One
December, 1914
"Mother?" Rose stood in the doorway
of the cluttered costume room, watching Ruth leaf through a book of costumes,
marking some pages for future reference.
She looked up at the sound of Rose’s voice.
"Yes? What is it, dear?"
"What time do you usually have lunch? I
thought we might take it together."
"In about five minutes," Ruth told
her. "But I can leave a little early."
"There’s a nice little restaurant near
here that I thought you might enjoy. Do you want to come with me? My
treat."
Ruth gave Rose a surprised look. In spite of
the fact that they had been getting along better, and Ruth had made no attempt
to control Rose’s life, Rose had remained rather standoffish toward her much of
the time, especially at their workplace. Ruth wondered if it was because of the
work her daughter now did—she had met more than one actress who thought they
were above everyone else—or because she still didn’t fully trust her. Or,
perhaps, Rose was giving her mother a taste of the treatment Ruth had once
dished out in spades.
Realizing that Rose was looking at her
expectantly, she nodded. "Of course, Rose. I’d be glad to join you."
Hesitating, she added, "What’s the occasion?"
Rose shrugged. "No real occasion. I
just…wanted to see you. I thought, since you’ll be costuming me for my next
role, we should…I don’t know. You are my mother, and…"
Ruth nodded, beckoning to Rose to come
closer. "Let me get my purse, and I’ll be with you." She unlocked a
drawer in her desk and retrieved her bag, a simple brown canvas purse that was
far less elaborate than anything she had carried as a member of high society.
Rose stepped into the hall, then fell in step
beside her mother. "It’s only two blocks away, so I thought we would walk.
The exercise will do us good."
"Are you sure you should be walking so
much? You are in the family way…"
"The nurse-midwife says that walking is
good for me, and that doctors who say otherwise don’t really understand women’s
bodies. Anyway, I walked plenty when I was carrying Andrew, and he turned out
just fine."
"And your first baby, Rose?"
Rose’s face clouded. "I had nothing but
rest with Jacquelyn—and she died anyway." Forcing a cheerful note into her
voice, she told Ruth, "The restaurant is this way, and we’re late enough
that most of the lunch crowd will be gone. I think you’ll like it—the food is
excellent, the prices are low, and they cook things to your
specifications."
Ruth looked ready to argue with her, but instead
she only nodded. "Let’s go, then."
*****
"Mother," Rose said, after they
were seated and a waitress had taken their orders. "I want to apologize
for being so cool with you the past few weeks. I know that you’ve been trying
hard to make up for the past."
Ruth was silent for a moment before
answering. "I don’t blame you, Rose. I wouldn’t trust myself, either, if I
had been in your position. But I hope that you’ll continue to let me try. I
truly am sorry for the way I treated you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to win
back your trust."
"Mother…" Rose hesitated. "I
believe you this time. I think you truly have changed for the better. There was
a time when I thought that people couldn’t really change, that a person was a
particular way and always stayed that way, but I was wrong. People can learn,
and people can change. I changed so much in the few days I was on the
Titanic…I’m living proof of how much a person can change. And you…you’ve
changed, too, for the better, I think. You’re so much more…warm and loving…than
you were before. You still try to tell me what to do sometimes, but…"
"Rose, I’m your mother. Motherhood, once
you enter into it, is something that you never quite let go of. Andrew is
young, so you haven’t yet learned this, but even when your children are grown,
you’re still their mother, still concerned for their welfare. My own mother,
though she died when you were very young, still tried to advise me and tell me
what to do, even though I was a grown woman, married and with a child of my
own. It’s a mother’s instinct to protect her child, even when that child is
grown."
Rose smiled. "I understand, Mother. And
I may not always listen, or follow your advice, but I am glad that you care. I
often thought that you didn’t care when I was younger, that all you cared about
were appearances and money, but…"
"Those things were far too important to
me, Rose. I’ve learned my lesson. It is possible to care too much about what
other people think, especially people who aren’t really your friends and will
turn their backs on you if you are in any way outside of what they consider to
be proper. But I do care about what you think, and about whether you’re doing
well and have all that you need. I want you to have a good life, Rose. And I
care about Andrew…my darling little grandson…and about my grandbabies to be.
I’m glad that you’re happy and healthy, and that you’re doing what you always
dreamed of doing—being an actress. And I think well of Thomas, too…he’s a good
man, and he makes you happy. I’m proud to have him for a son-in-law."
"Thank you, Mother. I…I’m glad that you
moved out here, and that you’re doing so well. We’ve had a chance to start
over." She paused, thinking. "Mother…thank you for telling me about
Myrtle. I’d often wondered what had happened, how our friendship had turned
sour so quickly…but after what you told me, it makes more sense. She uses
people. And to think that we once discussed matchmaking between her daughter
and my son…I didn’t intend to contact her after all that happened, but now I
don’t want her to know where I am."
Ruth smiled. "I wouldn’t worry too much
about her daughter, Rose. Often enough, when a parent is too strongly one way,
the child will go the opposite way. Look at us. I was so straight-laced, and
you were always so open. It was hard to believe sometimes that we were mother
and daughter, except that you resembled me so much, especially when you were
younger. And from what I saw of Emily Elaine, she was very sweet and open—she
liked everyone—but she was only a baby, so it’s too soon to tell."
Rose shook her head. "Nevertheless, I
hope that Myrtle never finds me. Thomas and I have so much more at stake here
than we had in Cedar Rapids—Thomas has his law career, and I my acting career.
Andrew is getting older, and soon he’ll be old enough to understand what a
rumor is and can do, whether there’s any truth to it or not. And then there’ll
be the twins in a few months…no, I’d just as soon not ever see her again."
"Rose," Ruth said, changing the
subject, as the waitress brought their food. "I’m supposed to start
costuming you next week for Sense and Sensibility. You’ve been in
rehearsals long enough to know what you’re doing and how you should do it, so I
want to know more about what you expect of your costumes. The director has the
final say, of course, but there are some issues with your costumes, due to the
fact that you’re six months pregnant."
"I know. The producer suggested that we
delay filming until after I had the babies, but the director wants to go ahead.
He says that he believes that you’re skilled enough to make costumes that hide
my pregnancy—after all, Marianne Dashwood is a young girl, and shouldn’t be
walking around with a big belly. She may be foolish, but she’s not that
foolish!"
Ruth laughed. "I know. The question
is—do you want me to design gowns that are loose and flowing enough to hide
your pregnancy—Regency style clothing can be made that way, you know—or do you
want to wear a corset? You may wind up wearing one anyway, if filming takes
longer than a month or so and they don’t delay the rest of it until after the
babies are born—just tight enough to hide your swollen middle, of course."
Rose shook her head. "I don’t want to
wear a corset. I always hated those things. I’d rather wear the loose,
encompassing gowns. You’re right—Regency style gowns can be cut in such a way
that my pregnancy is hidden. I already talked to the director about the
problem, and he says that we will film as much of my part as we can in the next
month, and film the other parts while I’m away having the babies—at least the
parts that show more of me than my head and neck. He has it all planned
out."
"Given the role, I’m surprised he didn’t
get another actress for it."
Rose shrugged. "He wanted me in the
part. He said that I was perfect for it, and no other actress would do—at
least, not any that are under contract, and he couldn’t get another studio to
lend him his second choice. That’s the problem with being under contract—you’re
stuck with one studio, whether you like it or not, so if another studio offers
you a role, you have to get permission from your studio to take it. On the
other hand, contract work means that you have a pretty good chance of having
lots of parts, even if they’re not always the ones you want."
"Well, at least this studio seems to be
reasonable—they do most of their filming on the set or around here, instead of
making you go off somewhere far away for your pictures. That could be hard when
you have a husband and child at home."
"That’s the nice thing about Hollywood
and Southern California. It doesn’t rain too much, so filming can usually go on
schedule, and Southern California has so many different climates, towns, and
types of scenery that are just a part of it that films can be made without
taking the actors too far away from home. I mean, we have the ocean, the
mountains, the valleys and hills—even the desert isn’t too far away, and we
have so many different people and cultures here that what we need is almost
always available."
"You have been fortunate. You’ve even
got a home close to both the studio and Thomas’ work—even if it was expensive
enough that some members of high society would appreciate it."
"We can afford it, between his law
practice and my acting. Save the Last Dance was so successful that I got
a good bonus from it, and I even have some fans now. Who would have thought
it?"
"You were much admired as a member of
high society, too, Rose. You’ve always had a spark and a beauty that made
people admire you. Even when you were a baby, and I took you out in your
carriage, people always stopped to coo over you. And you loved every minute of
it."
"I loved being the center of attention
even then, did I?" Rose smiled at the thought.
"You were such a pretty baby, first with
your tiny, perfect face and rosebud lips—that’s where you got your name, by the
way—and later with your headful of bouncy red curls." She stopped,
noticing that Rose’s face had grown sad. "Rose? What’s wrong?"
"Jacquelyn had those same rosebud
lips—even though she was born when I was only five months along with her, and
lived for only a couple of minutes, I could still see her tiny, perfect
features. She just wiggled a little, and tried to take a breath, and that was
all. She was too little to live—my poor baby girl."
"Rose, I wish I could have seen her, and
that I could have been there for you."
"I buried her in New York—she was tiny,
but big enough to be buried. It wasn’t quite a miscarriage."
"It must have been very hard."
"It was, yes. After she died, I didn’t
want to live. She…she was my last link to Jack—and she was gone." Rose’s
voice broke on the last word.
"But you did live."
Rose struggled to compose herself, reminding
herself that she was in public, and that Jacquelyn wasn’t gone from her
forever—that her spirit was, in fact, inside one of the babies she was now
carrying. Placing one hand on her middle, she replied, her voice calmer now,
"Yes, I did. Maybe it was John’s encouragement—he was the man I was living
with, who had offered me a place to stay after the Carpathia docked—maybe it
was the fact that Jack had made me promise to go on, no matter what happened,
or maybe it was something inside me that wanted to live, or maybe it was all of
that and more, but I survived. I lived on the streets for a while after I left
John—and met Thomas there. He would stop and put money in the cup I used for
begging—and then I got sick, and wound up in the shelter, where I met Lora.
Thomas kept coming to see me—and eventually I got better, and realized that I
loved him, and finally, I married him."
"And now you’ve got a beautiful little
boy, and twins on the way," Ruth told her. "Life can be hard
sometimes, Rose, but we have to go on with it, and try to make the best of
whatever happens to us. I’ve lost people, too—my mother when I was barely
twenty-three, and still needed her advice, my father about ten years later—and
then your father, Rose, the love of my life. I like Harry, yes, but your father
will always be in a corner of my heart—as Jack will be in yours, I
suspect."
Rose nodded, surprised at her mother’s
understanding, and at how much she had really changed. "You’re right. He
will be. I love Thomas, but Jack will always be there, too, buried deep inside
my heart."
"Rose, I hope that you won’t object too
much to my fussing over you and my grandchildren. If I had been listening to my
heart earlier, I would have tried to spare you pain, instead of causing it.
That’s why I worry so much over you now—you are my daughter, and I want the
best for you. That was why I arranged for you to marry Cal in the first place—I
thought that he was the best for you. He had so much to give you…"
"But it wasn’t what I needed. I needed
love and respect, and the freedom to be myself, not money. Money is useful, but
it isn’t everything. He wasn’t right for me—nor I for him. I never really liked
him, but I’m glad that he’s found happiness—even if I do laugh over the irony
of him marrying someone named Dawson."
Ruth laughed. "I never really thought
about it that way, but you’re right. It is ironic. He lost you to a Dawson, and
then married one—even if the two were in no way related." She sobered
then, going on. "But Rose, I want you to know that when I fuss over you,
when I worry about the babies you’re carrying, I’m not trying to run your life.
You lost your first baby—my first grandchild—and I want to spare you the pain
of that happening again. I’m your mother, and it’s natural for me to fuss over
you. Just tell me if I’ve gone too far. All right?"
Rose nodded. "All right. But on the same
note, you’ll have to forgive me for being curious about your life. You say that
you like Harry. Do you think it will go any farther? He mentioned you this
morning."
"I don’t know, Rose. It’s much too soon
to tell. Sometimes, you fall in love and it just seems right, and you know
right away that what you have is something special. Other times—it takes a
while, and it may or may not work out. I enjoy being with him, but it’s too soon
to know anything else."
"Whatever happens, Mother…I hope that
you’ll be happy."
"And I hope the same for you, Rose. I
really do."