WE’LL MEET TOMORROW
Chapter Six

Over the next couple of days, Rose’s morning sickness worsened. She could barely keep anything down, and moving out of bed seemed an almost impossible task. Mac and Anastasia kept as quiet as possible while in the house, though they tried to stay outside as long as daylight filled the sky.

"I’m scared," Mac told Anastasia as they sat on the lawn, making a crown out of daisies. "Did your mother have symptoms like this when she had Alexei?" She couldn’t believe she’d resorted to making flower crowns, but she needed a distraction.

"I don’t think so," Anastasia replied, "but it was a while ago, so I don’t remember."

Mac watched as Anastasia finished the last inch and offered the crown to her.

"No way!" Mac snorted. "I am not putting that on."

Anastasia attempted to put it on her anyway, but Mac leaned backwards. "Oh, don’t be silly." Anastasia giggled. "You’ll look pretty."

Mac made a face, and Anastasia knew when to stop pestering. She put the crown on her own head and gazed up at the clouds. Even though it was hot, the breeze was gentle and cool; it was cooler outdoors than inside.

"What do you think the baby will be?" Anastasia asked, and Mac frowned. She’d been so worried about Rose that she hadn’t thought about the basics.

"I don’t know…a boy, maybe?" She shrugged, blowing on a blade of grass between her fingers. They listened as Michael clipped the hedges nearby, and smiled at each other.

"Really?" Anastasia blinked. "I think so, too."

Mac lay down on her stomach, leaning her chin in her palm. She was so bored…it was difficult getting used to a normal life after living in a palace for three years. With the Romanovs, there was always an event planned, so rarely did the imperial family have time to spare.

"I’m thirsty," Anastasia announced after a few moments of awkward silence, and Mac glanced at her friend. "Let’s go and get some lemonade." She hopped to her feet, and Mac decided to follow her. When they got in, they saw Jack sitting in the parlor, gazing out the window. Ever since they found out the news of Rose’s pregnancy, he’d been doing that a lot. Mac knew her father was terrified of the prospect of losing Rose, even though she’d tried to convince him otherwise.

"Dad?" Mac asked, coming in, and he looked at her. She noticed dark circles under his eyes, as though he hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few nights. "Why are you just sitting here?" She took his hand, rough from years of work, and crawled onto his lap as she used to when she was younger. He kissed her forehead, smiling faintly.

"I need to think," he replied. "That’s pretty," he complimented, pointing to the crown on Anastasia’s head, and she grinned.

"I made it myself," she said proudly. "Well, Mac helped…but she wouldn’t wear it."

Jack chuckled, and Mac rolled her eyes. "It’s…" He blew out his breath. "It’s so hard to see Rose this way. Your mother…" He choked on his words, and Mac hugged him tightly.

"Rose is going to be okay," she promised, just as Anastasia went into the kitchen to get the lemonade she’d initially come inside for. Jack kissed the top of his daughter’s head, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I was hoping not to be put through this horrible nightmare again," he replied, rubbing a hand over his face. "I was hoping to have a fresh start with Rose…to have everything go right this time."

Anastasia eventually came back juggling two glasses, and asked Jack if he wanted some. "No, thank you, dear," he said, and Mac sipped slowly from her glass once she took it.

"Rose is strong, though," Mac insisted. "She already had Coddie Anna, right?"

Anastasia grinned. "Yep…and as you’ve told us, Mac’s mother was a dancer. She didn’t have good…how does Grandmama say it…" She paused. "Ah…birthing hips. She always tells Olga about this when she visits, and it annoys her greatly."

Jack burst into laughter, and Mac cocked her head to one side.

"Maria is the one with good birthing hips," she insisted. "After all, isn’t she always dreaming of marrying a soldier and having ten children?"

Anastasia giggled, and Jack smiled as he remembered taking walks in the garden with the oldest of the little pair. Maria was always being chided for her chubbiness, but it was also said she would turn out to be the most beautiful of the four sisters.

"I’m just worried, girls," he continued. "I’m sorry. You two are both being very good, and I appreciate it."

Mac nodded. "At least Rose hasn’t been ill for the past few hours…that’s a good sign." They all turned towards the staircase, as though expecting noise to fill their ears. Thankfully, they heard nothing.

"Well…" Jack grunted as he eased Mac off of his lap. "I think it is time to begin preparing dinner." He kissed his daughter and gave Anastasia a gentle pat on the head.

"Can we help?" Mac asked eagerly. "There’s not much to do." Jack was in agreement with this, and led them into the kitchen. Mac noticed her father was starting to grow a bit of a thin beard…he used to shave every day at the palace to make himself as presentable as possible. It wasn’t as critical now, and he explained that he wanted to try something a little different.

Mac smiled softly as he began flipping through Rose’s recipe book, one she had begun shortly after coming to Wisconsin.

Anastasia fetched the cooking bowls and trays, while Mac gathered the ingredients. "I’m thinking soup," Jack told them. "It’s nice and light for a hot day like this."

Mac nodded--she loved her father’s soups, and giggled when she remembered having attempted one of her own at four years old. Her father had come home after a very long day, and he found her with a bowl of cold water and vegetables. When Mac told her father this story, it sent he and Anastasia into fits of laughter.

"I did appreciate the effort, honey," Jack told Mac, who grinned sheepishly. "You got into everything at that age."

Anastasia smirked. "And us," she added, winking. "If she hadn’t been so curious…"

Jack sneezed at that point, causing both girls to jump out of their skins. "I’m sorry," he apologized, and Anastasia shook her head. Coddie Anna came into the kitchen at that point and stood in the doorway for a full two minutes before anyone noticed.

"You could help, you know," Anastasia said coolly. "Have you been moping in your room all this time?"

Jack cleared his throat, and Anastasia turned to give him a sheepish look. "Sorry," she told him, though Mac could tell her friend didn’t mean it at all.

"Coddie Anna…would you like something?" Jack asked. "Dinner won’t be ready for a few hours yet."

Mac plucked the feathers off of a recently slaughtered chicken, wishing it were Coddie Anna’s hair she was pulling.

"No, thank you," Coddie Anna replied, and Jack smiled.

"Any sound from your mother’s room?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"What are you making?" she asked, and Mac raised an eyebrow--it was a shock that her stepsister even cared to inquire.

"Chicken soup," he replied.

"My dad makes the best," Mac boasted, and he chuckled, blushing a little.

"Honey, I wouldn’t…" He sneezed again, and Mac smirked.

"Bless you," she said, and he nodded.

"Thanks, sweetheart. But I wouldn’t brag too much--I haven’t made a meal in almost four years."

Coddie Anna wrinkled her nose and left the kitchen shortly afterwards. Anastasia made a face at the girl’s back, stomping her foot with frustration.

"What is wrong with her?" she asked, and Jack sighed.

"I don’t know," he admitted. "I wish I could do something to make it easier for her to adjust." Mac rolled her eyes…she began cutting the chicken into small pieces.

"You’re doing fine," she insisted, and Jack kissed the top of her head. When dinner was ready, Michael was called in, and Mac offered to go and check on Rose. When she reached the bedroom her father and stepmother shared, she saw Rose out of bed, wrapping her body in a thin kimono.

"Rose?" she asked, and when she turned, Mac stared. Her stepmother’s cheeks were sunken and practically transparent; mostly from the lack of proper food over a period of time.

"Mac…" Rose breathed. "I’m so sorry, love…" Mac ran inside and hugged her fiercely, feeling a tear or two roll down her cheeks. Rose smoothed Mac’s hair, taking a deep breath.

"It’ll be all right," she insisted, and brushed the tears from her stepdaughter’s cheeks. "I do smell something delicious, though. Is your father experimenting again?" They heard Jack sneeze downstairs, and Mac cringed a little.

"Yes," she replied, smiling. "He’s making soup. Would you like me to bring a bowl for you up here?"

Rose smiled back. "No, dear…I think I’ll join you tonight. I am tired of laying in this bed day in and day out. Besides, I do not believe I will be sick anytime soon."

Mac was thrilled; she took her stepmother’s hand and led her down the steps carefully, where Jack was pleasantly surprised by her arrival. He wrapped his arms around her thin waist and kissed her lips, allowing her to touch his cheeks.

"You need to shave." She laughed quietly, and he winked at Mac, who was now helping Michael set the table. Anastasia leaned on the windowsill, peering out over the enormous yard; the flower crown had been discarded.

"I might try having a bit of a beard," he told her. "Do you think it could work?"

Anastasia giggled as Rose made a strange face, and he laughed.

"I suppose," she replied, allowing him to help her sit down at the table. "Coddie Anna? How are you holding up?" she asked, and her daughter looked up, frowning slightly.

"I don’t know," she replied. "It’s hot."

"It’s going to be hotter tomorrow," Mac explained, and Anastasia nudged her arm.

"Well, let’s eat, then," Jack announced, and silence filled the air as everyone began taking spoonfuls of soup from their bowls. Michael was the first to compliment, and Mac beamed at him. He was still a little uncomfortable around her father, and she had a feeling it would be a while before they learned to live around each other. Now it was a mutual silence, and Jack was civil to Michael when the younger boy spoke to him.

"It’s very good," Anastasia added, and Mac nodded, her mouth too full to add anything.

"I’m glad," Jack replied, glancing at Coddie Anna, who was eating her soup steadily. She hadn’t said one way or the other how she felt about it, though Mac was sure she would refuse to continue eating it if it wasn’t delicious. God forbid she would think to compliment her stepfather.

"How are your allergies faring?" Rose asked, and Jack looked up after sipping from his water glass.

"A bit better," he admitted. "It seems to depend on how the wind is blowing."

Mac frowned. "Good, good."

"Hey…" Anastasia broke in. "Jack, when will you hear about the teaching position? My father should have sent a response by now to the telegraph."

Jack cleared his throat, and Mac finished her soup at that moment, going to her bread next.

"Mrs. Hemmit didn’t say," he replied. "I should take a ride into town and follow up this week. I’ve been a bit distracted these days."

Rose gave him a sheepish look, and Jack took her hand, squeezing it.

"Jack, I can easily care for myself," she promised, and he kissed her again. "I do not need you hovering all day and night. You need to keep going as you did before we found out about the baby. That will help."

Jack wet his lips, and Mac glanced at Michael, who was clearly exhausted from working all day.

"I’m trying, Rose," he promised. "I just love you so much, and I couldn’t bear it if I lost you."

She ran her fingers through his hair, and smiled. "You won’t lose me," she promised, and at that moment, the clean-up began. Once the dishes were washed and put away, Mac and Anastasia joined the family in the parlor.

Rose told Michael to go on up to bed, because the poor boy looked ready to fall asleep standing up.

"He deserves a bit of a rest," Rose told Jack as they sat together on the couch. The girls sat on the floor or the rocking chair, and Jack glanced at her. "Michael will work himself to death if we don’t warn him to take it easy."

Jack glanced down as Mac leaned against his knees, playing a hand game with Anastasia. "Patty cake, patty cake, baker’s man…"

"He hasn’t done anything wrong," Mac added. "He only took me to a dance on the Titanic. We only danced and ate dinner, and then he took me back to our cabin."

Jack placed a hand on her head, and gazed at Rose.

"I suppose it’s just the thought of my little girl growing up so fast," he said quietly. "I hate to think she’s old enough for boys already."

Mac snorted. "I’m not," she admitted. "He’s fifteen, and too old for me. But he’s my friend, that’s all."

Coddie Anna raised an eyebrow from where she sat in the rocking chair working on needlepoint, and couldn’t help wondering what Cal was doing now. She thought about writing him a letter, but was afraid he still hated her. He wasn’t angry at you directly, a voice spoke inside her head. He was angry with your mother, and he had good reason to be.

"Have you come up with any baby names, Rose?" Mac asked as she paused in the book she was reading, an old copy of Treasure Island.

"I’m afraid not, dear," Rose replied, just as Jack took a deep breath. "Did you have any ideas?"

Jack excused himself to sneeze again, and Rose blessed him, patting his back gently.

"I was thinking you could name him Alexei," Mac suggested, "after her brother. He’s my other best friend."

Anastasia blushed with pride, and Rose looked a little stunned.

"That’s a weird name," Coddie Anna pointed out, and Mac glared at her.

"It is not," she retorted. "Alexei’s going to be Tsar some day." And take me back to live with him in the palace, possibly, she thought, though she dared not speak of this out loud. Their bond had been so strong, it went deeper than any friendship. However, they were both too young to court at the time, but it was clear Mac and Alexei shared something very special. In fact, he’d proposed to her one day on the Standart, and she’d been so shocked, she’d told him, "Don‘t be ridiculous!" and stomped off. The subject was never brought up again, but now that she looked back on it, she wished she hadn’t been so harsh.

We were five, she thought with a smirk. What did he expect?

"So?" Coddie Anna asked. "His name is still strange. Just because he’s a prince doesn’t change anything."

"Coddie Anna," Rose warned, and her daughter sighed heavily. "Mac, I will definitely keep that in mind."

Mac smiled, relieved, and went to sit on her father’s lap. "Dad, did you ever wish I were a boy?" she asked, and he stared at her.

"Honey, I had no preference," he replied. "When I first saw you, you were worth a hundred boys."

Mac embraced him, and leaned against his chest. "But if I were a boy," she continued, "I would have been able to keep up easier when we were walking lots." When her father had taken her from her Aunt Olivia and Uncle Henry’s, they had walked often. She’d been four years old, and her legs were quite short.

Jack chuckled warmly, kissing her cheek. "You did fine," he promised. "I believe you only cried once when you were tired."

Mac grinned proudly. When the clock struck eight, Rose decided she would head upstairs to bed again, and Jack offered to help her.

"I’ll be all right," she insisted. "Good night, dear. I will see you quite soon?" She kissed him, and he nodded.

"Yes, of course," he replied, and she squeezed his hand before kissing each of the girls good night as well. Mac waved, and then crawled onto the couch beside her father, sighing contentedly when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was hard to imagine he’d been so ill at the palace and on the Titanic. He was much stronger these days, and the only sign that he had been sick was the occasional coughing fit.

"Soon it will be time for you all to attend school," Jack announced, and Anastasia wet her lips anxiously.

"I can’t wait," Mac replied. "I miss lessons with Monsieur Gilliard and Gibbs especially. We had a good time at each."

Anastasia made a face. "Except for mathematics and grammar," she grumbled. "I hated it…such pig and filth!"

Mac giggled. "I liked history and languages," she admitted. "My French was getting quite good."

Jack laughed. "And your Russian," he added. "You had to teach me a few phrases."

Mac watched as Coddie Anna got up from her seat, having tired from her needlepoint.

"Good night, dear," Jack announced, and she nodded stiffly, making her way out of the parlor. Anastasia rolled her eyes and went to sit in the chair, now that it was vacant.

"Hey," Mac breathed a few minutes later, after her father had told them good night and headed up the stairs. "Remember when we used to sing Come Josephine in My Flying Machine when it came out last year? The one my dad and Rose sang to each other on the Titanic? Tatiana was the one who found it, I think, because she always had the magazines."

Anastasia nodded. "Let’s sing it, then, shall we?" she suggested, and the two girls began in unison.

Come Josephine in my flying machine
Going up she goes, up she goes
Up, up, a little bit higher
Oh, my! The moon is on fire…
Come Josephine in my flying machine
Going up, all on, good-bye…

Mac sighed happily when they finished, and they giggled again. "We should go up to bed, too," she groaned. "I mean, there’s nothing to do once everyone else is asleep."

They made their way up the stairs, and Jack lay listening to their footsteps, gazing with amusement at Rose.

"She is your daughter, Jack," Rose teased. "No doubt about it."

"I don’t know what I’d do without her," he replied before closing his eyes.

Chapter Seven
Stories