TITANIC ROSE
Chapter Eight
"It doesn't make any sense. That's
why I trust it." Rose dreamed of
that fateful night when she had promised Jack she would leave with him. The
consequences meant nothing to her; only Jack meant something. And now it was
nothing but a distant memory.
"I do believe that Thomas fellow has
taken a fancy to you." The nurse checked Rose's pulse as Rose dozed.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Oh, it does. There's no reason he
shouldn't. You're beautiful, and you clean up nicely. You may hardly recognize
yourself as a healthy woman."
"Healthy?" Rose asked, and laughed.
"I've never been healthy. I've always been unwell for the past seven
months. I was starting to get used to it."
"Well, you'll feel much better when you
leave." Miss Campen put the stethoscope away and sat on a chair. "Speaking
of which, where will you be staying? Here?"
"In the shelter?" Rose laughed
again. "I don't think so. I'd rather be on my own than stay here. But
thank you for helping me, anyway."
"Perhaps Mr. Calvert will help you
somewhat." Miss Campen smiled and winked at Rose. "You know, he used
to come here all the time. He was constantly ill, and made a weekly excursion
to the shelter. I hope you will, too. Not many of you talk to us nurses."
"They should," Rose told her.
"Sometimes it helps to talk, although I don't want to admit it. There are
certain things I'd rather not talk about."
"So about Mr. Calvert and you--"
"Some things like that. I feel
uncomfortable pouring out my soul on you poor creatures. Sometimes it just
happens, but I usually keep to myself. Now, once in a while, someone comes
along, and you feel as though they can see your soul, and they understand you,
and you can't help but pour your heart out."
"Like you do with Thomas."
"He is not my soulmate."
"Tell him that." Miss Campen
motioned toward the door, where Thomas had appeared with a bag over his
shoulder.
"Hello, Rose," he said, as he sat
next to the nurse.
"I'll be leaving." Miss Campen
smiled at Rose. "There are other patients that need tending to. Be good,
both of you."
"Nurses." Rose blushed as Thomas
looked into her eyes. She felt odd at this, and sat up straighter. "What's
in the bag, Thomas?"
"Well, I took the liberty of buying you
some clothes," he replied, putting the bag on the bed for Rose to
investigate. "You will be leaving soon, and you'll need something to
wear."
"But these are much too lovely to wear
on the street." Rose held up a pink dress, the latest in fashion.
"You won't be going back to those slums,
will you?" Thomas practically begged. "Please tell me you won't. You
don't deserve a life like that. You deserve far more."
"Thomas..."
"No, I have to say this, Rose."
Thomas placed delicate fingers on her soft lips. She looked deep into his green
eyes and placed a hand on his.
"Please, don't, Thomas...you don't know
what has happened to me to make me such a sour person."
"And do you want to be sour all your
life, Rose?" Thomas got closer and sat on the bed beside her. "Or, do
you want to be happy again? Titanic was a dent in your life. I admit that. But
you are alive, and you can't spend the rest of your life sulking."
"There are so many things you don't
know--"
"I don't want to know. If you don't want
to tell me, you don't have to. Just tell me one thing...will you be with
me?"
"What?"
"As in marriage?"
The silence was terrorizing. Rose's heart was
beating faster and faster. She liked Thomas, indeed. He was a kind and caring
friend. And a handsome one at that. But love?
"Oh, Thomas..."
"Say no more." Thomas grabbed his
coat from the chair. "I know what you'll say. I was expecting it. Just so
you know, I was prepared. I won't visit anymore. The pain would be too
much."
He walked toward the door, and turned around
to face Rose one more time. She had thrown herself into her pillows and was
sobbing. He wanted to hold her, and tell her everything would be all right. But
nothing would be ever be all right. He decided right there that something
dreadful must have happened on that ship to make her so dreadfully sorrowful.
And Thomas vowed to put it to an end.
"There, there, dear," Miss Campen
soothed Rose. "I'm sure he'll come around again. If you don't love him,
what were you expected to do?"
"I don't know if I love him," Rose
confided, wiping her nose with a fresh tissue. "I'm not sure if I only
like him, or if I'm forbidding myself to love him. It doesn't make sense."
"That's why I trust it."
That decided it. "If it doesn't make
sense, it must be right," Rose told her. "All my life, I was thinking
and thinking, and nothing turned out the way it was supposed to. I'm going to
stop thinking. I'll let myself be happy. Thomas was right."
"Rose?"
"I love him, Miss Campen," Rose's
eyes were ablaze with joy. "I thought I couldn't. I mean, I was sad when
he wasn't there. I'm happy when he come to visit. Is that love, or isn't
it?"
"I think you know."
"Oh, but there's a problem," Rose
stated. "He won't be here anymore for me to say--oh, Lord." Her
shoulders slumped, and she leaned against the wall.
"I can fix that. His work is right down
the street from the shelter. I'm sure I can contact him. He'll be happy, I'm
sure."
"Is that a wedding ring?" Rose
asked, looking at the nurse's hand. "Then, why aren't you a Mrs.?"
"My husband was killed a few years back.
His name was George Campen. Wonderful man he was. When he died, I just became a
miss again."
"And another thing," Rose began.
"How did you know all those things about Thomas?"
"He's my brother."