TITANIC ROSE
Chapter Forty-Three

May 20, 1918

"Mrs. Calvert! Mrs. Calvert!"

Rose turned in surprise as one of the nurses called to her, stopping her just before she reached the receptionist’s desk.

"Yes, Nurse Peterson? Can I help you with something?"

"Mrs. Calvert, it’s about your husband."

Rose frowned, a little worried. It had been two days since she had learned that Thomas was alive, and this was the first time she had been back to the hospital to see him. She had intended to go the day before, but both of the twins had been sick with some sort of stomach bug, and she hadn’t wanted to either take them out of the house or leave them with anyone.

Today, after finishing filming early in the morning, she had driven to the hospital, hoping against hope that this time Thomas would show some sign of recognizing her. She had attempted to speak to him that first day, but he had given no response, in spite of the other men egging him on to acknowledge his wife.

She had managed to keep the children from realizing he was there—she didn’t want them to see their father and then be hurt if he didn’t recognize them. She didn’t know quite what had happened to her husband, but she did wonder if his failure to recognize her now was in any way related to his having been missing for so many months.

"What about my husband?" Rose asked, abruptly coming back to the present.

"Well, Mrs. Calvert, he…he refuses to speak to anyone. We know that he can speak—one of the night nurses heard him talking in his sleep the day he first came to the hospital—but he won’t speak to any of us while he’s awake, or to the doctors or other patients. He’s been here two days, and he has yet to consciously speak to any of us."

Rose nodded. "He didn’t acknowledge that he knew me that day, but…could he have suffered some sort of head trauma?"

Nurse Peterson nodded. "That’s what his records from the army indicate. He was in a hospital in Switzerland for months. He called himself Thomas Dawson there—he may have been thinking that your screen name was his last name—and even when it was discovered that he is actually Thomas Calvert, he refused to acknowledge his real name."

"I was on my way to see him, but I don’t know if I can convince him that Calvert is his real name, or convince him to speak."

Nurse Peterson shifted nervously. "We were hoping that you would try to talk to him. You’ve had some success at bringing traumatized men out of their shells before, and we hoped that you would be able to help him. And he is your husband, after all. You’ve been hoping to have him come back for months."

"Yes." Rose nodded. "Yes, I have. That was one of the reasons that I started volunteering here. I was hoping that he would be brought here, no matter what condition he was in. But now that he’s here—I don’t know why he doesn’t recognize me. I’m his wife. We’ve been together for almost six years. I didn’t even tell the children that he’s here, because I didn’t want them to be hurt if he didn’t remember them."

"Sometimes people who’ve had head injuries suffer from amnesia. There’s different depths of amnesia, and it may be that he would remember them, but not you. It may even be that he remembers some things about you, but not others—after all, he did call himself Dawson, which is your screen name. The doctors do all that they can, but sometimes it just takes time, and sometimes…sometimes things never do get better. But I do know that you’re very good at bringing the men out of their shells, and your are his wife…who knows? Maybe spending time with you is just what he needs."

Rose sighed, her hands tightening on her purse. She had tucked pictures of the family into it, hoping that they would spark something in his memory. Finally, she nodded.

"I came here to see him anyway, so I’ll do what I can. What room is he in?"

"He’s in the first room on the second floor. I’ll take you there and tell the doctor what you’re going to be doing."

"All right." Rose took a deep breath, hoping that this time he would know who she was, hoping that this time, he would acknowledge her presence.

*****

"Thomas?" Rose entered the room uncertainly, her hands clenched tightly around the handle of her purse.

Thomas turned from where he was sitting in his wheelchair, gazing out the window. He almost smiled at the sight of his wife, but stopped himself in time. He couldn’t let her know that he remembered her. Not until he knew how she felt about him.

Sighing, he turned back to the window, not acknowledging her. It hurt to see her there, so beautiful and hopeful. She didn’t know yet about his missing leg, and he didn’t want to think about how her expression would change when she found out.

"Thomas?" Rose took a chair from beside one of the beds and set it next to him, sitting beside him. "How are you feeling today?"

He almost answered, but instead shrugged and went back to looking out the window after a quick glance at her.

"Thomas…" Rose paused, not sure what to say. It had been easier to talk to men that she didn’t know, easier to know what to say. Thomas was her husband, and if she said the wrong thing…she might ruin things for both of them.

"Thomas, about the other day…I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I was so glad to see you—you’d been missing since January, and all that time I’d been hoping that you’d come back. And when I saw you—I couldn’t help but run to you. I’ve missed you so much…"

He didn’t answer. Frustrated, Rose turned to look directly at him. "Nurse Peterson told me that you’ve refused to speak to anyone. Why is that, Thomas? You always liked talking to people before, and we know that you can speak—she said you were talking in your sleep the other night. Why won’t you speak to anyone now?"

Thomas looked at her. He longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her, to ask her how the children and his sister were doing. But he couldn’t do that. It would be easier to let her love for him fade away from neglect than to have her reject him outright.

Instead, he shrugged, then casually reached to rub the healing stump of his leg. Rose’s eyes followed the motion, widening when she saw that his leg was missing.

"Oh, Thomas…I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me you’d lost a leg?"

He still didn’t answer. Sighing, Rose placed a hand on his knee. "Does it hurt very much?"

He just put his hands in his lap, not acknowledging the question.

Hurt and frustration surged up inside Rose. Why wouldn’t he speak to her?

"Thomas, please, talk to me. I’m your wife. You can tell me anything."

Thomas glanced at her, debating whether to speak to her. She hadn’t reacted as he had feared to his missing leg, but still…

He sighed, deciding at last to speak to her. "It doesn’t hurt much."

Rose looked at him in surprise, amazed that he had spoken to her. Thomas misunderstood her surprise, believing that she was surprised at his lack of pain.

"It’s been several months," he told her. "It’s nearly healed now."

"Thomas, that’s wonderful, but…why didn’t you tell me before? You saw me the other day."

"You don’t know me. You’re a pretty girl, and a moving picture actress, but why would you be interested in whether my leg hurt or not?"

Rose gritted her teeth in frustration. "Thomas, I do know you. Didn’t you hear me say that I’m your wife?"

"I don’t know you. How can you be my wife? What would a movie star be doing with me?"

There. The question was out. He had asked it.

"I was your wife long before I was an actress. We have three children."

That didn’t quite answer his question, but he couldn’t rephrase it without acknowledging that he remembered her.

Rose sighed, looking at him. She reached into her purse. "Look, Thomas. I brought pictures of our family. This is us on our wedding day. And this is a portrait taken just before you left of all of us. This is Andrew, and these youngsters are Jack and Lora. Lora is named for your sister."

"I have a sister?"

"Yes. She’s a nurse. She’s going to come to see you as soon as she can. She’s been working long hours, with wounded soldiers brought back from the war and everything."

"Do you have a picture of her?"

"Yes, I do." Rose shuffled through the photographs, finally finding one of Thomas and Lora two summers before.

Thomas stared at the picture for a few minutes, then took a photo of the three children and examined it.

"They look like wonderful children."

"They are, and they miss you very much. Thomas, please. They want you to come home, especially Andrew. The twins are very young and don’t quite understand, but Andrew does, and he misses you very much. How long do you think you’ll be here?"

He shrugged. "I don’t know."

"Then I’ll bring them here to see you."

"But I don’t remember them. You’ve shown me these pictures, but how do I know they’re real. How do I know you’re not just someone I met and had pictures taken with?"

Rose sighed. "Thomas, you are my husband and the children’s father. Trust me on that." She showed him the ring on her finger, which she took off only for filming. "You gave me this ring on our wedding day, and you have one that matches it…" She looked at his left hand. "Thomas, where’s your ring?"

"What ring?"

"Your wedding ring."

"I didn’t know I had one. I’m still not sure you’re my wife. Why don’t I remember you?"

"Nurse Peterson said that you had some kind of head trauma. That’s probably why you don’t remember me. As to your ring…you had one. Perhaps you lost it when you were in Europe, but it looked just like this one, but bigger."

Thomas looked at the ring on her finger, remembering their wedding day. He clearly remembered putting the ring on her finger, and her putting a ring on his, but he honestly had no idea what had happened to his ring. He might have lost it or had it stolen while he was in the war.

"If I ever had one. Forgive me, Miss Dawson—"

"Rose. Or Mrs. Calvert, if you don’t believe I’m your wife."

"All right. Mrs. Calvert. I don’t remember any of this. You’re a beautiful movie star, and I don’t know why you’d be with me, or what you’d want with me now, a man with no memory and missing a leg."

Rose stared at him, her heart sinking. He truly didn’t remember her, and he truly seemed to believe that she was playing a game with him, though for what reason, she couldn’t fathom. And why would his missing leg make any difference to her?

But somehow, he seemed to believe that it did.

Chapter Forty-Four
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