Rose and Cal's Titanic Romance, Ruin & Renewal

by jillmarie4780

Rose and Cal are happy and in love. For those who didn't want Cal to be a villain, read my story filled with romance, action, danger, laughter and heartache. Titanic Alternate Universe. These characters belong to James Cameron alone.

Rose and Cal's Titanic – Romance, Ruin and Renewal

(Rating: "M" for Mature, Age 16+ for sexual situations, violence and mild language)

By: Marie Martin (jillmarie4780)

March 7, 2011

Disclaimer: These characters belong to James Cameron alone. The alternate universe is of my own imagination. This story is fan fiction and is in no way intended to alter James Cameron's original story. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

Chapter 1 – Boarding at Southampton, England (April 11, 1912)

When we pulled up in the Renault to board Titanic, I was filled with awe and wonder. My fiancé, Cal had booked tickets for the two of us and mother to sail back to America in style for our wedding. When I stepped out of the motorcar my eyes traveled upwards to the enormous luxury liner and then back to Cal who admired, "Isn't it lovely, Rose?"

"It's overwhelming!" I said, touching my face in amazement. "You're right, Cal. It is bigger than the Mauretania."

"Yes, it's over 100 feet longer and far more luxurious. Only the best for my Rose," he insisted, kissing my cheek.

"Thank you, darling," I said.

"So this is the ship they say is unsinkable," doubted Mother.

"It is unsinkable," maintained Cal, "God himself could not sink this ship."

I gather he realized his own joke may have been misconstrued as blasphemy, so he looked at me and apologized, "Sweet pea, I just mean that it's a very-well constructed ship."

Cal didn't have to explain his comment to me, but did so for Mother's sake. Cal is, indeed a man of great faith in God. We both come from Episcopalian families and intend to raise our children in the faith. Unlike some men of his class and wealth, he knows that everything he has in this life is because of the grace of God. Some men I've been acquainted with believe they have everything because they are gods.

Cal took my arm and led me up the stairs to the Titanic. Trudy Bolt and Spicer Lovejoy, my maid and Cal's valet, saw to it that our luggage was attended to and transported to our staterooms.

We had just bought our new wardrobe during our shopping spree in Paris. I felt regal with my purple, wide-brimmed hat. And Cal looked debonair in his gray suit and matching hat, complete with walking stick.

I complimented him. "Caledon Hockley, you certainly are a fashion stallion."

"More like a fashion Clydesdale," Cal poked fun of his large, new Parisian shoes, tapping them with his walking stick.

I laughed at his self-deprecating joke. He wasn't enthusiastic about the shoes at first, but the clerk in the shoe boutique agreed with me that they were, indeed the latest style in footwear. Cal is typically a bit more conventional in his fashion choices, but this time he took a chance with the shoes. I do occasionally help break him out of his style shell.

Cal escorted me to our first-class state rooms. My mother, Ruth followed behind. My father, George DeWitt Bukater recently passed away, so Mother is now alone. But Cal is a gentleman, and he takes care of her. My father left us in debt after he died. I'm not privy to the details, but whatever happened Mother resents Father for it. It pains me because I loved my father dearly. I can still only see him as my Daddy, teaching me how to ride my pony or reading to me in his study. He passed away just months after Cal and I became engaged. I'm so happy that he and Cal had spent some time together, if only for a couple of months. Oh, how I wish he could have been here with us on this grand ship before walking me down the aisle next week at our wedding. I do get sad sometimes when I think about Father, but Cal comforts me and tells me everything will be okay in time. He lost his mother when he was a young boy, so he understands my heartache. As difficult as Mother can be sometimes, if it weren't for Cal's generosity she could have ended up penniless - working as a seamstress if she were lucky.

Cal works for his father, Nathan at Hockley Steel Company in Pittsburgh. Cal is an only child, and thus heir to the family business. Cal said he has more wealth than he could ever hope for. Therefore, he insisted that Mother be taken care of for the rest of her life. Most young men of Cal's stature would have resented such a prospect of inheriting their fiancé's family debt. But Cal is an extraordinary man - refined, handsome and athletic - yet generous, well liked, and easily approachable.

We met at a Society Christmas party in Philadelphia. I was so drawn to this intriguing gentleman across the room with dark hair and intensely deep brown eyes. I tried to avert my eyes from this fine-looking man, as a lady is trained to do. I seemed to have dismissed such formal decorum that night, because I would often steal a secretive glance only to find his eyes fixed on me as well. My heart skipped a beat when at last he approached me. His eyes were dark and enchanting.

"Caledon Hockley," he introduced himself.

"Rose DeWitt Bukater," I replied as he kissed my gloved hand.

"Shall we?" He extended his arm and invited me to ballroom floor.

We danced, enjoyed caviar and foie gras, sipped Champagne and talked for hours. He was the first man I had ever known – besides my father - who longed to hear what I had to say, who wanted to know my interests and dreams. As it turned out, our interests are very similar - traveling, shopping, photography, art, music, reading, entertaining, but most of all raising a family.

That remarkable night four months ago, before he retired to the smoking room with his friends and associates, he asked, "When can I see you again?"

I smiled and declared, "Just as soon as your heart desires."

He called on me the very next day at our Philadelphia home.

Chapter 2 - Luxury

Cal surprised all of us with the millionaire suite. I presumed the accommodations would be luxurious, but when Cal led me into the sitting room I cried out, "Oh, Cal it's magnificent!"

All five bedrooms were replete with four-poster beds, chaise lounges, and fireplaces adorned with the finest hand-crafted clocks. There were also breakfast rooms with elegant china, a wine grotto, and our own private promenade deck that overlooked the sea. The lodgings certainly outshone all of our expectations.

"I wanted to give you a taste of your new life with me. There's nothing I wouldn't give you, Rose," Cal promised, holding me from behind and kissing my neck. I held his hands as he embraced me.

Mother noticed Cal kissing my neck with a disapproving frown. Mother is very old fashioned and believes such affections should be saved for our bridal suite in Niagara Falls. But her scowl quickly turned into amazement when she came upon her own bedroom. "Fine job, Mr. Hockley," she managed to say as she entered her room.

I chose a couple of our new paintings that we bought in Paris to display in our suite. My favorite pieces were painted by a new artist named 'something Picasso.'

"Goodness, not those finger paintings," jested Cal as he leaned against the door frame, swigging a glass of Champagne. Cal walked over to me and handed me my own glass. I took a sip as I admired the so-called finger paintings.

"Oh, Cal," I conceded, "I know you prefer more traditional artwork. But look at these. I think they're fascinating. It's like being in a dream or something. There's truth, but no logic."

"The truth is I find you fascinating, dear. I feel as if I'm in my own dream. I never dreamed I'd have someone as lovely as you," Cal whispered into my ear, "Just think, when we slip between the sheets tonight, we'll be the first to ever sleep on those sheets." He wrapped his strong arms around me, looked in my eyes and hinted devilishly, "And just think, I'll be the first, the first and only, forever." He gently kissed my lips as we embraced.

Cal, of course was alluding to my virginity. I didn't hold up any pretenses that I would deny him until our wedding night next week. I was certain that Cal wanted to seduce me for the first time aboard the RMS Titanic. Along with the bubbly Champagne, just the thought of Cal making love to me made me tingle all over.

"We'll display some of your Monet paintings too, darling. In fact, I think I know the perfect place to display them," I said, coyly motioning my eyes toward the bedroom. Cal smiled a most dazzling smile. At that moment he knew that I was open and willing for him to claim my maidenhood on this maiden voyage.

After Cal and I made love, he held me in bed and stroked my tussled hair. He had such a strong body, and I felt safe and secure lying next to him naked. I lay there, modestly concealing my breasts with the sheet. Cal gently caressed me as I nestled up close to him. He turned his head toward me, adjusted his pillow and said, "Rose, you were an absolute dream."

"So were you, Cal. It was more amazing than I ever imagined," I admitted, blushing. Cal was a strong and confident lover, generous and sure of what he wanted – for both me and for himself.

"What do you think of having dinner in our stateroom tonight?" Cal suggested, propping himself up on his elbow, "We have nearly a week to enjoy the rest of the ship."

I agreed, "It would be the perfect way to complete our intimate evening. And I am quite exhausted…from traveling all day that is."

"And quite possibly a bit fatigued from something else?" Cal teased.

"Yes. I'm weak…very, very weak."

"Oh, Rose, I wish I could say 'I'm sorry,' but I'm not."

I giggled as Cal tugged the sheet off of me and pulled the covers up over our heads like a tent.

Chapter 3 - Brilliant Hands & Minds (April 12, 1912)

The next afternoon after we picked up more passengers at Queenstown, Ireland we were invited to the first-class reception to commence our crossing of the Atlantic. We ate lunch with Mr. Thomas Andrews, the humble, master shipbuilder and Mr. Bruce Ismay, not as brilliant in my opinion, but nevertheless the creative mind and managing director of the White Star Line. He saw to it that Titanic be known as the grandest ship imaginable. Seated with Cal and me were Mother and Margaret "Molly" Brown. Mother tolerated Molly, but never missed an opportunity to remind me that she was "new money." Molly often told bawdy jokes and had such a good heart. I actually found her quite charming.

The waiter asked for our order. Cal said, "We'll both have the lamb rare with very little mint sauce." Cal knows how much I love lamb. I allow him to order for me most the time because he simply knows me.

Molly finds this amusing and quips, "Are you gonna cut 'er meat for her too there, Cal?" Cal laughs, and shifts his eyes toward me - embarrassed at first, but then amused. I smiled and kissed his cheek. Mother didn't find Molly's comment amusing at all and just stared Molly down. Mother can be such a bore.

Molly broke the uncomfortable gaze of Mother by asking, "So, who thought of the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce?"

Bruce responded with a feigned humbleness, "Well, yes actually. I wanted to convey sheer size. Size means stability, luxury, and above all...strength."

"Size, huh?" asked Molly impishly, "I've been reading a book by Dr. Sigmund Freud. He has a whole chapter on men's preoccupation with size."

Mother gasped at Molly's innuendo. Mr. Andrews laughed so hard he nearly choked on his bread stick. Cal and I couldn't help but chuckle, but Cal graciously stopped, as he didn't want to offend Mr. Ismay.

"Freud?" asked Mr. Ismay, annoyed, "Who is he? A passenger?"

Our meals arrived just in time to save everyone from the awkward moment.

The lamb was delicious. Cal and I thanked Mr. Andrews and Mr. Ismay for their hospitality and politely excused ourselves. Mother and Molly stayed for dessert with the gentlemen.

Cal suggested we take a walk out on the deck so he could take some photographs with his new Model VIII Conley foldable camera. Cal is quite the photographer. He even has his own dark room in the basement of his mansion.

A most breathtaking, colorful sunset awaited us as we strolled along the deck. We stopped at the railing and looked over the vast ocean. Cal set up the camera on his tripod and took some serious pictures first – one of me straight on, then one of my profile against the horizon.

"Your red hair looks radiant against the orange sunset, Rose."

I thought I'd jazz things up by striking a ballerina pose. I stretched my arm out toward the ocean and raised my opposite leg behind me.

"You're precious, darling," Cal admired as he snapped another picture.

"Look there!" Cal exclaimed, "Look, dolphins."

We observed a pod of dolphins frolicking in the surf just below us. We stood there in awe looking out to sea, Cal holding me from behind keeping me warm - warm and comfortable. Cal – my captain, my anchor, my love, my life.

Chapter 4 – Society and Sorbet

That evening Cal and I had a lovely dinner in the formal dining saloon. We descended the grand staircase together and mingled with our friends and acquaintances. I turned around and noted that Mother was being escorted to dinner by Bruce Ismay. I turned to Cal and whispered, "Look there. I guess Mother made quite an impression on Mr. Ismay at lunch this afternoon."

Cal chuckled, "The old boy doesn't know what he's getting himself into, does he?"

"No," I concurred, shaking my head.

Molly Brown arrived at dinner unescorted. She didn't bother with such social graces. She was her own woman. But she conversed with the best of them. "Hey, Astor!" I heard her holler as she marched over to talk with John Jacob Astor and his very young and very pregnant wife, Madeleine.

At dinner Cal and I sat with Mother, Bruce, Molly, and the Countess of Rothes who was also traveling alone. The seven-course dinner was like none other. Along with the finest Champagne and French wines, we enjoyed beef consommé, Beluga caviar, escargot, foie gras, roast duck with cranberry aspic and truffles, sorbet, and white-chocolate crème Brule for dessert.

After dinner, Cal and I sipped Irish crèmes. I started thinking about Father again. Oh, how he would have loved this ship, I thought, marveling at the intricate décor.

Captain Archibald Gracie approached Cal and me. "Care to join us for a brandy, Hockley?" He smiled at me, "I don't want to pull you away from your fine lady, though. She certainly is splendid," said Gracie, addressing me as well. He took my gloved hand and kissed it.

"Thank you, Captain," I accepted.

"Congratulations to the both of you. I certainly look forward to your nuptials in Philadelphia. Well, I'll be in the smoking room if you wish to join me," offered Gracie.

Cal gently caressed my cheek. "You certainly are splendid, my dear." I touched his hand as it rested on my cheek and discretely kissed his fingers.

Mother peered over the table centerpiece at us, sensing a new fire between Cal and me. She knows, I supposed. She knows that Cal had, indeed, unlocked my proverbial chastity belt.

"Rose, would you mind terribly if I joined Old Captain Gracie and his comrades for a drink?"

"Not at all, darling. I'm ready to go back to the room. I'd like to read for a while."

"I'll walk with you," stated Cal.

"Goodnight, ladies and gentleman. It's been a pleasure. Mother, I'm going to escort Rose back to her stateroom for the night."

"Goodnight," I waved.

Chapter 5 – A Stranger From Steerage

I rested my Charlotte Bronte novel on my chest as I lay on the chaise lounge in my bedroom. I must confess I was curious about Dr. Freud's book, which Molly Brown had mentioned during lunch. My curiosity got the best of me.

"Trudy?" I called to my maidservant in the next room.

"Yes, Miss?"

"I'm going to go for a walk. I'd like to see about a book in the gift shop. I think I've read Jane Eyre one too many times."

"Okay, Miss. Be careful, Miss. Shall I fetch Mr. Lovejoy so he can escort you?"

"No, thank you, Trudy. I'll be fine. The gift shop is just one deck below us."

The Interpretation of Dreams, by Dr. Sigmund Freud was the only title by Freud available in the gift shop.

"Shall I charge it to your room, Miss?" asked the clerk.

"Yes, sir. Stateroom B54."

It was a bit stuffy in the hallway, so I decided to go out onto the deck. Then I'd make my way back to my accommodations via the outside starboard staircase.

"Oh!" The night chill hit my fair skin. I should have brought my coat. I was about to turn back inside, but my eye caught a shooting star. I walked over to the railing and gazed up. The stars were right above me. There was only a tiny sliver of a moon that night, so the stars stole the show! I reached my hand up as if to touch them. Then I hugged myself and rubbed my arms, shivering as I enjoyed the celestial view. I closed my eyes and made a wish. I wish for Cal and me to have a long and happy marriage. Then I wished it weren't so cold. I'd better go back inside before I freeze to death.

I skimmed through the first few pages of my new book as I slowly ascended the staircase. I was able to read by the soft glow of lanterns that adorned the stairwell. The purpose of dreams in our life…I turned another page, premonitions in dreams, my interest was certainly piqued, another page…arousal in dreams… Oh, my. I was either taken aback by the subject matter or perhaps the Irish crème was still coursing through my veins…or both…

The next thing I felt was my heel snagging on the beads of my long dress, and I went tumbling down several steps. My head hit the wooden deck.

"Ahh! Help!" I screamed as tears rolled down my cheeks and into my ears and hair. Oh, God! Oh God! It's freezing. I trembled in the night air. My head throbbed. "Somebody, please! Help!" Am I going to die out here alone? My ribs hurt with each sob.

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard footsteps running toward me. Cal, I hoped. Lovejoy, maybe? No. It was a boy, unkempt. A third-class passenger, no doubt.

"We need help!" the boy hollered into the night, "A lady's hurt!"

He leaned over me and asked, "Can I take your hand, Miss?"

I tried to reach up, but my arms ached. I couldn't move. He squatted closer to me. I shook my head and muttered, "No, no."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently with a Midwest American accent, "I'm just going to rest your head on my lap until help arrives." He laid his moth-eaten coat over me to help keep me warm. Then he removed his shoe and used it to bang on the stair rails. He beat the rails harder and louder as he yelled for help. At last a crewman ran around the corner.

"What's all thees?" asked the Cockney crewman, suspiciously, "Fetch the doctor AND the master at arms!" he roared toward the bow of the ship.

"No, wait!" petitioned the boy, "I'm just helping her. She fell, and…"

The crewman ignored his plea.

"Miss, wha' happened? Did ya bang yer head? 'Ave ya broken any limbs?" asked the crewman.

"My head hurts," I whimpered between breaths, "but I can't tell if anything's broken."

"And wha' exactly were ya doin' on the first-class deck, son?" the crewman questioned as he eyed the boy's rumpled clothing and greasy, blond hair.

The boy owned up to his misdemeanor, "I just climbed up here to see the stars, sir. There's not much a view from below deck."

I looked up at the boy. He was enjoying the stars too, I contemplated. We may be worlds apart, but in the eyes of the stars we are equals.

Soon the doctor and master at arms arrived, along with Cal, Lovejoy and Captain Gracie.

"Good heavens, Rose!" exclaimed Cal. He ran over to me and held me. "Oh, dear, oh dear. Are you badly hurt?"

The doctor politely asked Cal to step aside. He checked my vital signs and slowly lifted my head, which was throbbing. He checked over my arms, legs, back, and ribs to make sure nothing was broken. "Nothing's broken, love," the doctor informed me, "But let's put some ice on your head and give you some aspirin."

Cal, the doctor, and the mysterious boy gently helped me to my feet.

Cal took a look at the tow-headed boy and probed the crewman, "What's going on here?"

The master at arms pulled out his handcuffs and advanced on the boy.

"Wait," I managed to articulate, "He…he…was just helping me. He came…to my rescue…after my fall."

The officer looked the boy over and must have decided that he was of little threat to anyone. "Ya shouldn't be on this deck, lad. Ya know that's criminal."

The lad looked down and then up at me, ashamed.

"However," continued the officer, "I suppose if ya weren't up 'ere at the time of the lady's fall she could've been seriously 'urt."

"Or worse," Cal uttered, holding me tight and kissing my cold cheek.

"Well, the boy's a hero then!" declared Capt. Gracie, "All's well. The lady's is in good hands with Hockley and the doctor. So, I'll be heading back to my brandy."

"Would ya like to bring charges, sir?" the officer asked Cal.

Cal looked the boy over for a few moments and managed a slight grin. "No. No charges."

"We're grateful for your assistance," Cal thanked the boy.

"We'll escort ya back to the third-class deck so ya don't 'affta climb down the rail again. And consider yourself lucky. We better not see ya up 'ere again," warned the officer.

"Yes, sir," he complied.

The officer and crewman started to lead the lad away when Cal interrupted, "Officer, I believe I can handle it from here."

I'm confident that the master at arms was privy to Cal being the second wealthiest man on the ship. In fact, he was the wealthiest until John Jacob Astor boarded in Cherbourg, France. So, given Cal's prestige, the officer didn't argue with him. He and the crewman cautiously walked back toward their posts.

"Caledon Hockley," Cal began, extending his hand.

"Jack Dawson," replied the boy, cautiously shaking Cal's hand.

Cal pulled out a $20 dollar bill from his coat and handed it to Mr. Dawson.

"No. No, thanks. I can't accept that."

"I insist."

Cal tucked the bill into Dawson's shirt pocket.

"Thank you, Mr. Dawson," I said before Cal slowly turned me toward the fateful stairwell and helped me to walk.

We started up the first step when Cal spun his head and saw Mr. Dawson sitting down on the deck, putting his shoe back on.

"Mr. Dawson, do you have plans for dinner tomorrow evening?" invited Cal.

"Well, I hear corned beef and cabbage is on the menu for the third night in a row down in the pub," stated Mr. Dawson, dryly.

"Corned beef?" Cal asked, chuckling, "I imagine you can eat that anytime, anywhere. Join my fiancé and me for dinner tomorrow night."

"No, really…"

"Come on Dawson, you can regale our group with your heroic tale."

"Well, I'm already on the master at arms' short list. I better not rock the boat in first class again. Pardon the pun," he joked.

"I like your witticism, ol' boy. No worries. I'll make all the arrangements. I'll send my man down tomorrow afternoon to find you."

Cal was referring to Lovejoy, his valet, of course.

Dawson lit a cigarette mulled over Cal's invitation. "Sure. Thanks. Count me in."

Cal motioned toward his pitiful coat. "You'll need a tuxedo, of course… Hmm…"

Oh, no. Cal always outdid himself and usually succeeded, but this is hopeless. I felt a little nervous for the boy. Some people in our circle could be vipers, I worried, just as I heard Cal snap his fingers and say..."I have an idea."

We carefully hiked up the stairs together.

"What's your idea?" I asked.

"Who's the one first-class passenger on this ship who would actually empathize with Dawson's…uh…financial situation?"

I managed to smile when I realized of whom he was speaking. "Of course. You're brilliant, darling!"

Chapter 6 – A Diamond is Forever (April 13, 1912)

Early the next morning the doctor came to check on me. He gave me more aspirin and suggested I stay in bed for the better part of the day.

Trudy brought me tea and breakfast in bed, while Cal sat by my bedside.

I knew it wouldn't be long before Mother waltzed in and insisted on knowing what had happened.

"Rose, what were you doing…?" she demanded.

"Mother, please…" I begged, "I have a headache."

Cal saved me by saying, "Mother, Rose went downstairs to the bookstore last night. Trudy offered her an escort, but she declined."

I thought I'd satisfy Mother by explaining, "It only took five minutes to find the bookstore, but I thought the night sky looked so captivating through the door, so I walked outside to see the stars and then I…"

"Stargazing. It's for fools," chastised Mother.

I simply closed my eyes and hoped that she would leave. "Do feel better soon, Rose. I'm having tea with the Countess this afternoon and hope you can join us. I want to tell her all about your wedding preparations, the disaster with the invitations, and those hideous bridesmaids' gowns..."

"The doctor says I should stay in bed all day," I asserted, hoping to hush her.

Mother turned and exited without further ado.

Cal offered to read to me. That reminded me...

"Oh, my new book," I muttered, "I must have dropped it during my fall."

"Don't worry, Sweet Pea. We'll get you another one. But for now," Cal said, "Here's one of your old favorites."

I lay back into my pillow and listened to Cal's soothing voice.

"No, Miss Jane, not exactly:

You are genteel enough; you look like a lady,

And it is as much as ever I expected of you.

You were no beauty as a child…" Cal read.

Jane Eyre, Chapter 10, I recalled to myself before drifting off to sleep…

The late afternoon sunlight shone into my bedroom mirror, reflecting into my eyes, waking me. I did feel more refreshed. I rolled over to get out of bed and felt a piece of paper. Cal had left me a letter and a red rose. I inhaled the scent of the rose as I read his note:

Dear Rose,

You looked so beautiful and peaceful, so I didn't

Want to wake you. I spoke with Mother

And explained that you'd be unable

To attend high tea.

I went for a row and a swim in the gymnasium.

When I return I have a special surprise for you.

With love and affection, Cal

I placed the note and flower on the night stand and slowly pushed myself up and out of bed.

Trudy came in to assist me into my bath. The warm water felt so good on my aching body. I noticed a little bruising on my ribs and knees. I imagined my back didn't look much better.

I enveloped myself in my warm, fluffy robe and sat down at the vanity. Trudy combed through my hair. "Are you okay, Miss?"

"Yes, Trudy. I'm fine. I'll be fine. Thank you."

Cal knocked on the door before letting himself in.

"How are you feeling, darling?"

"I have a little bruising here and there, but I feel much better."

Trudy curtseyed and excused herself.

Cal approached me, placed his hands on my shoulders, looked at my reflection in the mirror and stated, "My God, you're beautiful - an exquisite rose."

He leaned against the side of the vanity and revealed a blue, velvet box. "I was going to save this for the engagement gala next week…but I wanted to cheer you up after your distress last night, so I thought…tonight!" he proudly proclaimed as he opened the box.

"Good gracious!" My breath was taken away. I reached out to touch it but couldn't bring myself to fingerprint the large, heart-shaped, crystal-blue gem that stared back at me.

"Is it a…a…?" I was rendered speechless.

"A diamond. Yes. Fifty-six carats to be exact," Cal beamed. "Here, allow me."

He gently removed the necklace from its box and fastened the diamond and white-gold chain behind my neck. The blue diamond heart was also outlined with white diamonds. The jewels glistened and twinkled, even in the dim lighting.

"It looks quite striking against your porcelain skin," Cal admired.

"Thank you. It's absolutely beautiful, Cal."

"You make it beautiful, Rose. I wanted to give it to you as a symbol of my never-ending love for you. It was worn by Louis XVI. It's called Le Coeur de l'ocean."

"The heart of the ocean," we said in unison.

"Yes, that's right," said Cal, impressed with my French language knowledge. "This stone was designed for royalty. So I thought it fitting for you, my Queen."

I blushed at the mention of such an honorary title.

I permitted myself to touch the stone. It felt smooth and cool. I rotated on my stool to face him. Cal knelt down before me.

"I love you, Cal. I love you more than I could have ever dreamed of loving anyone."

I kissed his full lips as he embraced me. "Will you wear it to dinner tonight?" Cal hoped.

"Most certainly! I don't ever want to take it off. I have the perfect dress in mind. Although I don't think anyone will even notice my dress," I remarked.

Chapter 7 – Part of the Club, Almost

Cal escorted me down to the formal dining room once more, followed by Mother and Bruce Ismay again. The man must be a sadist, I thought. Mother looked my dress over disapprovingly. I wore a black, satin gown with white gloves. Mother detests the color black. She thinks black clothing should be reserved for funerals or for one's own execution.

Cal excused himself for a moment to speak with Mr. Benjamin Guggenheim.

Mother approached me after Ismay went to socialize as well. "That's quite a sapphire, Rose," mother scoffed, "You must be making quite a display of yourself on this ship for Mr. Hockley to present you with such a lavish gift before your wedding."

"It's not a sapphire, Mother. It's a diamond – a very rare diamond," I corrected her. Her eyes widened. Then I whispered in her ear, "And I'll honor my fiancé in any way I choose. Cal is my husband in practice if not yet by law." That was the last time Mother uttered a word about my abandoned chastity.

"May I pull your lovely daughter away?" Cal requested.

Cal guided me toward the staircase and marveled, "Look up. It's Dawson."

I raised my eyes to the top of the landing. Mr. Dawson was escorting none other than Molly Brown to dinner. His blond hair was slicked back, and he wore a tuxedo that almost looked tailored for him.

"I can't believe it," I said.

"He can actually pass for a gentleman, I think," mused Cal.

"I think so," I agreed, amazed as his transformation.

Molly and Mr. Dawson descended the stairs toward Cal and me. Cal had explained the whole scenario to me earlier during our walk to the dining hall. Lovejoy was to go down to the third-class common area to find Mr. Dawson. He was to lend him a coat and hat so he could sneak up to the first-class deck. He was then to introduce him to a Margaret "Molly" Brown. Molly was the perfect decoy. Molly's husband struck gold out in Colorado recently, so she was a bit of an outcast herself because she was "nuveaux riche." Molly was to take over the show from there. When they arrived at dinner, we were not to speak of her guest being from steerage or any mention of him helping me last night. Cal wanted to protect Jack from any sneers or snide comments. We especially had to keep it hidden from Mother. I respected Cal for his discrete orchestration of events. He wanted to give Mr. Dawson an enjoyable and memorable experience – an occasion that he may never obtain again in his lifetime.

"Dawson, it was so good of you to come," expressed Cal, shaking his hand, "I don't think I formally introduced you to my fiancé last night. This is Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater."

"Soon to be Mrs. Hockley," I said gleefully, turning my eyes to Cal, "It's a pleasure meeting you again under…ah…warmer and less painful circumstances."

Mr. Dawson kissed my gloved hand. "How are you doing? You took quite a fall."

"I slept all day – doctor's orders. I feel amazingly better, thank you, Mr. Dawson."

"Jack," he gently insisted.

"Jack it is," obliged Cal.

Cal chatted with Jack about the history of the ship and pointed out some key individuals to him – Bruce Ismay, Thomas Andrews, Astor, Guggenheim, and others.

Molly leaned over to me and whispered, "Jack and my son are just about the same size. Ha! Wasn't that lucky?"

"Yes. I applaud your brilliant job, Molly," I commended.

"I told the kid on the way down here, 'just pretend you're one of 'em – heir to a railroad fortune – new money of course, but you'll still be part of the club.' Kinda like me. Ha!"

"That's great advice. Shall we join the men?"

Cal was presenting Jack to John Jacob Astor and his wife when we approached.

"Are you of the Boston Dawsons?" speculated Astor.

"No, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons actually," Jack enlightened him with a straight face.

"Ah, yes," accepted Astor, clearly perplexed.

We all made our way to the large, round dinner table. Seated at our table this evening were Mother and Bruce, Thomas Andrews, the Countess of Rothes, and Captain Gracie. Molly introduced Jack as a friend of her son's, right on cue.

Everyone else at our table was very gracious toward Jack, except for Mother. "Charmed, I'm sure," she disparaged when Molly introduced him. It's almost as if Mother could see right through him. She could sniff out a steerage passenger like a Beagle on a rabbit scent. I almost didn't want to admit that I was related to her. By the grace of God, the only open seats were at the opposite end of the table, a good distance from Mother.

Molly shielded Jack's right side while Cal and I guarded his left.

Molly and Jack whispered to each other a bit during dinner. I imagine she was coaching him in proper dining etiquette. He performed quite well in this formal setting, he really did.

After dinner the men stood up and excused themselves. Cal invited Jack to join the gentlemen for a brandy and cigar.

Jack shifted his eyes around the room and said covertly, "I don't know how much longer I can pull off this charade, Mr. Hockley."

"Call me Cal. And I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Cal asked if I would be alright staying here with Mother, the Countess, and Molly.

"I probably should catch up on all the gossip I missed at tea this afternoon," I whispered, jokingly. Cal knows I'm anything but a gossip. I prefer deeper, more meaningful conversations. When those types of conversations are scarce, that's when I turn to my reading.

Jack ultimately accepted Cal's invitation. Jack thanked Molly and went to kiss her hand. Molly stood up and bellowed, "Gimme a big hug, boy!" and squeezed him tight. I believe Jack reminded Molly of her son, who I imagine she's missing by now after her long trip.

"Thanks for everything, Molly. I'll be seeing you tomorrow morning," Jack said, pointing at his borrowed tuxedo.

"I look forward to it, Jack," grinned Molly.

Jack kissed my hand, and I expressed gratitude again for his help the night before.

"I was just at the right place at the right time," he said humbly, "Oh, I almost forgot. I found this under the stairs. I thought maybe you dropped it during your fall."

"My book!" I exclaimed as he recovered it from his inside pocket. "Thank you."

Cal raised his eyebrows and slapped Jack on the back. "Good work, Dawson. Rose was disappointed when she lost it. Lovejoy will be pleased too – saves him a trip to the bookstore."

"Goodnight, darling," Cal said as he kissed my forehead.

Before I let him go I whispered, "Cal, you really did a classy thing for Jack tonight. You are the richest man on this ship." Cal's eyes radiated gratitude. He knew I wasn't speaking monetarily.

Cal patted Jack on the back again and led him away. I heard him ask, "Have you ever tried a Louis XIII de Remy Martin cognac?" Of course he hadn't, but from the sound of Cal's question, I think he was planning to treat Jack to quite a night. I watched the two men disappear into the smoky cave of business and politics.

Molly and I moved over to sit with Mother and the Countess. I presented my new book to Molly, and she was delighted that I had pursued the author that she mentioned during lunch the other day. Molly and I discussed Freud while Mother and the Countess discussed fruitcakes.

Chapter 8 – Anything But Conventional

It was a lovely, bright Sunday morning, and Cal and I attended church services with Mother.

The pianist played as we sang "Eternal Father, Strong to Save."

O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard

And hushed their raging at Thy word,

Who walkedst on the foaming deep,

And calm amidst its rage didst sleep;

Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,

For those in peril on the sea!

After services, Mr. Andrews offered to take Cal, Mother and me on a private tour of the ship later that afternoon. During the tour as we walked along the deck past the lifeboats I reluctantly professed, "Mr. Andrews, forgive me, but I did the sum in my head. Given the number of people on board times the capacities of the lifeboats…forgive me, Sir but there don't seem to be enough lifeboats for everyone aboard."

"About half, actually. Rose, you miss nothing, do you?" observed Andrews. "I had petitioned the White Star Line for additional lifeboats, but it was thought by some that the deck would look too cluttered. So, I was overruled."

"Well, it shouldn't be an issue on an unsinkable ship…right, Mr. Andrews?" confirmed Cal, in an effort to reassure me.

"That's right, Mr. Hockley. Don't worry, Rose. I've built you a fine ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboat you'll need."

After the tour Cal and I had cocktails and danced as the Swiss string quintet played Songe d'Automne (Autumn Waltz), one of our favorite pieces. I wore my Heart of the Ocean necklace with a light-blue, lace dress. I looked into Cal's stunning eyes as we danced. Cal, with his dark eyelashes, dark hair, and tanned skin and me with my red hair, green eyes, and fair skin – we were quite the contrast, physically speaking. As Cal pressed me close to his body, I rested my head against his chest as we twirled about. I tried to guess who our children would look like. Maybe our son would have dark hair with green eyes. Maybe our daughter would have strawberry-blond hair with hazel eyes. What if I was already carrying Cal's child? I believed I might be… But my fall the other night, what if something happened…?

My concern was cut short when the music stopped.

"Shall we?" Cal asked, extending his arm. It was a nod to our first meeting at the Christmas party.

He accompanied me to dinner, whispering, "I have something special planned for tonight."

"Oh? Caledon Hockley, you are full of surprises on this ship," I declared, lightly caressing my heart necklace.

Dinner was delightful as always. The chefs prepared a Mediterranean-themed meal. We tried Italian Spumante sparkling wine and a varietal of red and white wines. The Spumante was quite a bit sweeter than French Champagne of course. But the taste of the sugary bubbles was tantalizing to me.

"What a refreshing change," I remarked to Cal.

I wasn't surprised at all; in fact I was almost anticipating Cal's sour grimace after he tasted the Spumante.

"Good heavens!" Cal critiqued, "Are the Sommeliers serving us syrup or wine?"

I rolled with laughter so heartily that I nearly swallowed my Spumante down my wind pipe.

"Are you alright, darling?" Cal expressed concern.

"I'm fine," I coughed, "Really." My laughter confirmed to him that I was, indeed okay.

"See? Look what the awful swill has done to Rose," Cal joked, pointing to the bottle of Spumante in the ice bucket.

Cal and the others at our table bantered back and forth about Champagne versus sparkling wine. Cal preferred his classic French Champagne, obviously. As I've learned, he's a purist when it comes to…anything…well anything but me, I suppose. When Cal and I are alone together, it's as if there was no such thing as conventional rules and traditions. I think we've broken all of the rules anyway, and we've only just begun our life together. That's what's so remarkable about my relationship with Cal. Underneath his starched tuxedo shirt and beneath my corset were two human beings absolutely and helplessly in love with one another.

I suspected that's why Mother had been treating me so coldly lately, almost in an envious way. I imagine she and my Father kept up the whole Philadelphia Society act in the marital bed as well. As early as I can recall, they never slept in the same bedroom. If I know my Mother as well as I think I do, I'm sure it was her idea. They had relations, certainly. But they didn't fall asleep in each other's arms at night. I found that so sad – tragic, really.

Our meal arrived, which thrust me back into the present. Cal held my hand under the table as he always does, and we prayed a few private words of thanksgiving.

For the main course we had sole, filleted table-side with a lemon-butter-caper sauce, and tiramisu for dessert. Cal and I finished the meal with a Limón cello after-dinner drink. We continued the time-honored tradition of Cal retreating to the smoking room with the men, and the ladies staying at the dinner table talking over tea.

Cal finished his cigar and brandy earlier than usual and came to take me back to our room.

Chapter 9 - A Shutter and a Shudder (April 14, 1912)

Cal poured two glasses of Champagne and approached me on the chaise lounge in his bedroom.

"I want to photograph you tonight wearing your necklace," he anticipated as he lifted the diamond off my chest, twirling it in his hand, admiring it.

"Alright," I agreed softly.

"Wearing only this," Cal pleaded, searching my eyes for any sign of hesitation.

My heart began to pound and my legs trembled slightly. Cal and I had made love of course, but only under the sheets. I had never displayed myself naked in front of him - nor in front of any man. The idea did appeal to me, and I trusted Cal to be discrete while developing the photos. I made up my mind to throw caution to the Atlantic Ocean wind.

"Okay," I consented. I kissed his lips and arose from the chaise. "Give me a moment."

I treaded softly into my dressing room, closed the door and disrobed. I chose my sheer, black kimono for tonight's festivities. I took a seat at my vanity, removed my hair clip, and gently finger-combed through my hair. I carefully applied a red lip color. Dark lips are always more striking in portraits. I didn't need rouge, as my cheeks were already on fire with anticipation. I studied my reflection for a moment and then painted on another coat of mascara for a more dramatic look. Another sip of Champagne…and I was ready to emerge from my dressing room.

Cal had already set up his camera and tripod in the bedroom. He had moved the chaise to the center of the room and rearranged the lamps for optimum lighting.

As I moved toward him I playfully spun my sash as a French cabaret dancer would. Cal glanced up at me and smiled, "You are so darling, Rose - and quite funny, frankly. Oh, that's one of the many things I love about you – your humor."

Cal drew near me and kissed my neck. "You can trust me, Rose. I've locked the door. The camera will go back into the safe immediately."

"I trust you," I confided, looking up into his eyes. With my eyes still fixed on his, I slowly untied my sash, peeled the kimono off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Cal took my hand and led me over to the chaise. He kissed my shoulder, pulled me close and fervently ran his hands across my back and bottom then up along the sides of my breasts. He took a step back, held my hands, and darted his eyes up and down my bare body.

"You are the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen."

"Thank you, Cal. Uh…where…uh…how…how…do you want me…?" I stammered.

"I want you forever," Cal teased, "But for now, I want you to lie down on the chaise." I obeyed him and positioned myself on the chaise.

He stood behind the camera and made a few adjustments. "Turn toward me a little more. Now put your arm over your head. Yes, just like that. Perfect."

I looked down and assessed my body self consciously. "Oh, dear," I sighed, "Will the bruises show up?" I still had a bit of bruising on my ribs from my stairway stumble the other night.

Cal rested his chin on his fist and pondered the predicament. "Well…I could adjust the lighting to create more of a shadow there…no, no, that will hide your lovely breasts too much."

I managed to smile.

"Ah ha," Cal stole a rose from the vase on the dresser. "Here, let me rest it like so."

He propped the rose up against me, subtly concealing my ribs while my left arm rested behind my head.

"Now, look into the lens. Try to hold your gaze as long as possible."

Cal took three or four photographs, decorated with just my Heart of the Ocean necklace and a rose. What began as slightly awkward unfolded into quite an erotic encounter as I lay there listening to the snap of the camera's shutter. I found myself getting more comfortable while staring at my handsome, talented, and playful fiancé. How sexy he was to think of such a naughty, yet artistic idea. I grinned at the thought of him planning all of this.

Cal remarked, "Beautiful. Hold that smile." The shutter snapped one last time.

"So how did I do, Mr. Stieglitz?"

Cal and I both admired Alfred Stieglitz's work. We had seen his photography exhibit during our recent trip to New York City.

Mimicking Stieglitz's German accent, Cal pronounced, "You vere dee most deleecious subject I've ever photographed – even more deleecious than those chocolate-covered strawverries they served us dees morning." I giggled at his impersonation.

Cal sat down on the edge of the chaise and started to unbutton his vest. I leaned forward and helped him remove his vest, anticipating being taken on this chaise by my fine lover. There was no time to move to the bed. We needed each other now. I lowered his suspenders and tore off his shirt, exposing his muscular shoulders and chest., Cal kissed me hard, French style. I tasted Champagne on his tongue as we passionately kissed. I kneeled before him on the chaise, my breasts inches from his mouth.

"Oh, Cal …" I cried out as he cupped my breasts in his hands and devoured them with his mouth. I started throbbing from the pleasure he was providing me when suddenly…the chaise trembled beneath us as well. The camera shook on top of the tripod.

"What the hell?" Cal cursed as he seized my shoulders to stabilize me.

"What was that?" I implored.

"I don't know. But I'd better go find out. Get dressed, darling. I think it would be prudent just in case," Cal directed as he walked over and unscrewed the camera from its tripod.

He placed his camera in the safe and locked it. Cal sighed with disappointment. I too was terribly disheartened.

"We'll continue this later," Cal promised, taking my hands, "Everything will be alright."

But there was something in those brown eyes that I didn't recognize…fear.

Chapter 9 – A Chaotic Waltz (a quarter past midnight, April 15, 19 12)

I slipped on my casual lavender dress, but still wore my necklace to remind me of our special night cut short. Cal summoned Lovejoy from his room, and we met Mother and Trudy in the sitting room who were both clearly rattled.

Lovejoy opened the door to the hallway and peered both directions to see if anyone else had felt or heard anything.

We heard the Countess of Rothes next door ask a steward, "Sir, why have the engines stopped? I thought I felt a shudder."

"Everything's fine, madam. We've likely thrown a propeller blade, that's all. We'll be underway shortly," assured the steward.

Mother, Trudy, and I sat on the couch while Cal paced the room. Lovejoy said, "I'll go find out for myself what's going on. Let's see if I can get a better answer than a thrown propeller blade."

Lovejoy usually was successful at getting straight answers. He always starts out very diplomatic and polite. But if he feels he's being taken for a fool he'll switch to more persuasive tactics. See, he is an ex-Pinkerton who helped quell union uprisings in the steel mills. It was no secret that Lovejoy carried a pistol on him at all times. He protected us and our interests. He wasn't a terribly fascinating man, and he didn't smile or joke much. The funniest thing I ever heard him say was during our ride to the pier when I expressed my concern about possible thievery on the ship. "Miss, not to worry. I always sleep with one eye open," Lovejoy embellished. That assured me, I suppose.

Lovejoy set off to uncover some answers.

Cal propped the door open in case we needed to hear any announcements or instructions.

I toyed with my engagement ring. I tended to play with my jewelry when I was nervous. Cal sensed my uneasiness, approached me, and stroked my hair. "It'll all be fine, Sweet Pea."

Mother asked Trudy to bring us all some tea.

"Yes, Ma'am," Trudy complied as she curtseyed and excused herself.

A man briskly walked down the hall past our room. It was Mr. Andrews.

"Mr. Andrews!" Cal hollered down the hall to no avail, "Thomas!" he repeated.

"The old boy just dashed down the hall," Cal conveyed to Mother and me, "It appeared that he was carrying a set of blueprints."

Lovejoy came back into the room with a glum countenance, more gloomy than usual if that were possible.

"Did you find out anything?" demanded Cal.

"I went out on deck…and…rumor has it that we hit…an iceberg," Lovejoy informed us.

"What?" asked Cal, incredulous.

"Oh no!" I cried out as I clutched my chest.

Mother asked, "Well is it true or just a rumor?"

"I did see some boys kicking and throwing blocks of ice at each other on deck," Lovejoy admitted.

Cal shouted into the hallway, "Does anyone know what the hell is going on?" No one responded.

"There's no need for language, Mr. Hockley," reprimanded Mother.

"Forgive me, ladies," apologized Cal.

Trudy entered with our tea. Taking tea was a warm and comforting routine in the midst of all this uncertainty. Although, I did find it a bit inappropriate for mother to put Trudy to work during a possible emergency.

Just as I took my first sip of chamomile there was a ruckus in the hallway. A steward continuously barked, "Putch yer life belts on…Putch yer life belts on…Putch yer life belts on." He handed us five life vests and ordered us to put them on. "And putch yer coats on too. It's quite cold tonight."

I rushed over to Cal. "Cal, I'm scared!"

He held me tight, assuring me, "It'll be okay, Rose. Let's put our coats and life vests on for good measure."

Cal helped put mine over my head and tied it for me. Trudy helped Mother with her vest and Lovejoy helped Trudy with hers. Cal hurried into his bedroom and unlocked the safe. He tucked a stack of bills into his coat and locked the safe. Cal then put his own coat and life vest on. Apparently Lovejoy thought himself to be invincible, as he opted not to wear a vest at all.

Another steward came into our room and ushered us downstairs to the main ballroom for "a meeting," he claimed. Molly and the Countess met us downstairs.

A waiter offered us Champagne and brandy. "I suppose I could use something to calm my nerves," I confessed. My hand quivered as I lifted the Champagne flute from its tray. Cal and Molly each helped themselves to a brandy.

The quintet continued playing their instruments as if nothing unusual had happened. All of us stood around the ballroom wearing our coats and life vests. We were all silly looking, really. It was very surreal to see folks normally dressed in their best looking like a bunch of overfed penguins.

Molly grabbed a steward, "Hey, sonny! Do ya know what's going on? They got us all trussed up here and now we're standin' around coolin' our heels. Is there some kinda meetin'?"

"Uh, I dunno, Ma'am. Lemme see if I can find out anything," he said.

"I don't think anyone knows what the hell's goin' on around here," Molly planted her hands on her hips and strutted across the dance floor to gather more information.

"Go back to the room and turn the heaters on, Trudy," I overheard Mother command, "And I'd like a cup of tea when I return from the meeting."

Trudy hesitated, but ultimately did as she was told, "Yes, Ma'am."

At this point I had observed one too many people on this ship fall victim to Mother's demands and degrading words, including myself.

I thought back to when I was about 12 years old. Father and I had deserted city life for the weekend to ride our horses in Bucks County. During our trip out in the country he advised me that there comes a time in one's life when their character is put to test. He illustrated a scenario for me. There could come a time in my life when a young lad is walking in front of me on the street, and I notice he accidentally drops a dime from his coat. Father quizzed me, "Do you hurry toward him and kindly give the coin back to the boy, or do you pocket it for yourself?" He said he didn't want me to answer him. He wanted me to make my own decision. I think he already knew my answer.

As I watched Trudy slowly walk away I decided that this very moment on the Titanic was one of those test in life for which Father had prepared me. It was unfortunate that the test reared itself in the form of a possible crisis. It was terribly unfortunate that the antagonist in the story came in the form of Father's widowed wife - my mother.

Trudy is my maidservant and I didn't want her to be alone in a potentially dangerous situation. I couldn't believe Mother could be so selfish at a time like this. I swigged the last bit of my Champagne and then dashed over to Trudy as she ambled toward the stairs. I grabbed her hand, intercepting Mother's instructions.

"Trudy, no. Stay here until we find out what's going on," I insisted.

"It'll be okay, Trudy if you stay here with Cal and me."

"Thank you, Miss," she said gratefully.

I looked toward Cal. He winked at me discretely, nodded his head approvingly, and smiled. He had obviously witnessed the discord and clearly agreed with my judgment.

Mother gave me a more critical reception when I returned to the group with Trudy. She just stared me down, shocked that I had overruled her.

Cal and Lovejoy spoke privately in a nearby corner. Cal drank his brandy while Lovejoy had only soda water, as I'm sure he felt compelled to be officially "on duty."

A familiar figure appeared and darted toward the grand staircase. "Mr. Andrews! Mr. Andrews!" I called out. I dashed over to him and touched his sleeve. Cal followed me. "Sir, Mr. Lovejoy over there saw the iceberg," I bluffed. He had only seen chunks of ice truly. I scanned Mr. Andrews' eyes back and forth, "Please, sir. Tell me the truth."

The shipbuilder hesitated, turned to continue up the stairs but must have had a change of heart. He looked warily around the room first and covertly informed Cal and me, "The ship will sink. In an hour or so all of this will be at the bottom of the Atlantic." Such sadness passed over his face.

"What?" asked Cal, shocked.

"Tell only who you must. I don't want to be responsible for a panic," Andrews continued sternly, "You need to get to a lifeboat right away. Don't wait. You…remember…what I told you about the boats, Rose?"

I thought back to our conversation about the lifeboats during the tour. "Yes. We understand."

"Good luck to you all and Godspeed," Mr. Andrews wished us before sprinting up the stairs.

Chapter 10 – Women and Children Only

We all walked out on deck as a crewman commanded, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? At this time I shall require only women and children." He motioned for Mother, Trudy, Molly, the Countess and me to come forward. Molly, the Countess, and Trudy didn't hesitate getting into the boat. Both Mother and I hesitated, but for different reasons I would soon learn.

"I'm not going without you, Cal," I insisted.

Cal held me close. "You must, darling. Lovejoy and I will get on another boat."

"No! Not without you," I protested.

Cal knew it was futile for him to insist that I get on a boat without him. I would never leave his side.

"Lovejoy," Cal conceded, "Find out if any of the crew are allowing men on the boats."

Lovejoy pivoted on his heels immediately to pursue Cal's request.

I figured out why Mother was hesitating getting into the lifeboat. There were several peasant women and their children climbing into the same boat.

"Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?" Mother yelled at the crewman. He ignored her question. "I hope they're not too crowded," she snickered to herself as she adjusted her gloves.

My stomach turned. I swiftly grabbed her arm and admonished her. "Don't you understand, Mother? The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats, not enough by half. Half the people on this ship are going to die!"

"Not the better half," Mother frostily concluded.

I released my grip on her arm and sadly backed away from Mother, releasing her from my heart as well. Cal took my hand. I clung to him as he casted a wary eye toward Mother. Cal had heard her ice-cold comment and was a bit displeased.

"Come on, Ruth!" Molly hollered at Mother, "First class seats are right up 'ere," she indicated as she patted the bench. Mother stepped in.

"Rose, you're next, darlin'. Come on," instructed Molly. But I didn't budge.

"Yes, Rose. Get into the boat," Mother implored, "Mr. Hockley, make her get…"

"I can't make Rose do anything," asserted Cal firmly, "We'll catch another boat together. I promise."

"Lower away!" ordered the crewman.

"No, wait!" shrieked Mother as the boat began to descend, "Wait! Rose!"

I watched the boat slowly slide down from its pulleys. I blew a kiss to Mother. She disappeared from my sight, inch by inch, her steel-blue eyes staring back at me. I quite possibly detected a hint of regret in those eyes. She then vanished out of sight as her boat was lowered into the cold, black ocean.

Lovejoy returned. "Any news?" inquired Cal.

"It's hopeless on this side of the ship. But there's a captain on the other side of the ship letting men on. His name's Murdoch. He seems quite…practical," hinted Lovejoy.

"Okay. He's our wild card," proclaimed Cal, taking my hand. "Come on!"

Lovejoy led Cal and me through the dining room to avoid the crowded deck. We came out on the other side of the ship to an even more chaotic scene.

"Oh, God!" I gasped, as we saw a lifeboat being lowered unevenly. All the women in the boat screamed as it jerked down fiercely on one side.

I overheard Mr. Andrews reprimanding a crewman for lowering a boat that was only half full and another boat with apparently only 12 people on board.

"These boats were tested in Belfast with the weight of 70 men. For God's sake, man, fill these boats!" Mr. Andrews begged.

Lovejoy led the way to Captain Murdoch's boat. When Cal approached him he negotiated, "I understand you are a businessman, Captain. I have a business proposition for you." Cal pulled out several bills from his coat and placed them in Murdoch's pocket. "Can you see to it that my fiancé, as well as my man and me get onto your boat?"

"There's plenty of room for the lady," countered Murdoch.

"I'm not going without him," I said, unyielding.

Murdoch looked down at the money in his pocket and looked back up at Cal.

"So, we have an understanding?" trusted Cal.

Murdoch nodded a curt "yes."

A peasant woman and her daughters cried as they were climbing into a nearby boat. The one girl practically had to be torn out of her father's arms by the crewman. They waved good-bye to their husband and father. "No, daddy, no! Come with us!" the girls pleaded through their tears.

"I'll see you in a little while. It's good-bye only for a little while," encouraged the father with a quiver in his voice, "There will be another boat for the daddies. This boat is for the mommies and the children." The man tried to convince his family that he'd meet them later, but I think he was unconvinced himself. From the looks of things, a third-class, male passenger stood a very slim chance of getting onto a lifeboat.

I felt a little guilty as I stood there holding Cal's hand waiting for Murdoch to give us "the signal." Cal and I and the other first-class passengers had the means to attain whatever we wanted. We could purchase motorcars, expensive jewelry, stylish clothing, the finest Champagne, and excursions around the world. Apparently we could also buy our safety, our lives.

"Poor Jack Dawson," I remembered out loud to Cal, "I hope he can get to a boat."

"Oh, I think the ol' boy will survive. He seemed to have wisdom about him, I think. But, let's pray for him," Cal reasoned. We closed our eyes and silently lifted a prayer up for our friend.

"Aaaa!….Aaaa!" a little peasant girl screamed. She was hiding in a corner several feet behind us. She was maybe two years old at the most, and she was alone. I looked around. No parent was near. No adult at all.

Cal heard her crying and assessed the situation. The toddler certainly appeared to be abandoned. Perhaps not on purpose, but abandoned nonetheless.

"We can't leave her," I pleaded.

"Stay here with Lovejoy," he said. Cal weaved through the crowd as fast as possible over to the little girl.

"Anyone else?" barked Murdoch, looking around for Cal. "Anyone else?" he repeated, impatiently.

"Wait, Mr. Murdoch. He's coming. He had to get his…his…uh…niece," I fibbed. Oh, no. Where are they? Lovejoy and I looked for them desperately.

"We can't wait all night, Miss," chided Murdoch. I held my breath. My heart pounded as my eyes darted through the crowd looking for Cal and the girl. Finally they emerged from the chaotic scene. I let out a deep breath. I removed my silk scarf from my pocket and wrapped it around the little girl's head so she'd look more like one of us.

"Anyone else?" Murdoch hollered for the last time as he motioned for me, Cal, the girl, and Lovejoy to board.

We all climbed into the boat. "Here, you can give her to me," I offered to Cal. I placed the toddler on my lap.

"There, there," Cal soothed her as he rubbed her back, "We'll keep you safe."

"What's your name, love?" I asked the girl, "Do you know your name?"

"Muh, muh, muh," is all she managed to say. Perhaps she doesn't speak English, I gathered. Perhaps she doesn't speak at all yet. I gently rocked her on my lap, reassuring her that we were here to help her, not hurt her. Who knows what kind of conditions she had been subjected to in her short life? Hopefully her parents had been good people, but how could they lose their beautiful daughter, I wondered. Well, we'll try to locate them after we're rescued. I prayed, we will be rescued, God, won't we?

Chapter 11 – It Starts to Falls Apart

Just before our lifeboat was lowered we heard two gunshots. We all screamed and covered our ears. Cal covered the little girl's ears. A crewman pointed his gun at a group of poor-looking men who apparently tried to "storm the boat."

"Keep back! Keep order I say, or I'll shoot you all like dogs!" threatened the crewman.

As our boat was let down farther, I scooted closer to Cal, crying.

"It's starting to fall apart," Cal expressed concern to Lovejoy.

The front of the ship sank into the ocean. Cal encircled his arms around me, trying to keep me as safe and warm as he possibly could on this frigid night.

I spotted Jack Dawson with a couple of friends trying to maneuver their way to a boat.

"Jack!" I shouted, "Jack!"

"Dawson, old boy!" exclaimed Cal.

He obviously couldn't hear us. We witnessed a man shove Jack from behind, and the crewman in charge of the boat fired his pistol upon the crowd. Jack fell to the deck, and blood soaked through his shirt.

"He shot Jack!" I cried, "No! Oh, God! Oh, God!" I pleaded hysterically as Cal tried to comfort me.

"You bastard!" Cal helplessly cursed the crewman. It immediately turned into a pub-like brawl. All the men in the group roared and shouted and punched the crewman.

Even Lovejoy, who had undoubtedly seen injuries and fatalities in his former line of work, looked troubled as he watched the crewman being pummeled.

Our boat was almost touching the water by now. We continued to gawk as the turmoil on the upper deck slowly disappeared from our view. But what we could still discern was horrific. The crewman who had shot Jack stepped backward to the edge of the deck, gave a quick salute, pressed the pistol to his temple and took his own life!

Everyone screamed when they heard the gunshot. The little girl buried her face into my life vest. The dead crewman splashed into the sea upside down, mere feet away from us. I buried my face into Cal's chest and sobbed. I sobbed for Jack. I sobbed for the little girl I was holding. I sobbed for Cal, who wanted to make this trip so wonderful for me. I even sobbed for Mother, who was most likely shivering in another boat far away from us. I glanced up at Cal whose eyes were shimmering. He grasped me close to his body and vowed, "We're going to make it, Rose. Stay strong, darling."

As I clung to him I heard a most welcoming, soothing hymn playing in the distance. Could it be? Cal and I looked at each other, disbelieving our ears. The Swiss quintet beautifully played Nearer My God to Thee. The band members weren't even making an attempt at survival - how selfless, how exceptional, how honorable. For just a moment I felt warmth envelop me as I listened to that familiar hymn.

The ship submerged ever deeper into the sea. Titanic was tilting quite severely by now. As the one remaining boat on our side was lowered we caught sight of so many unfortunate individuals sliding down the deck into the ocean. Men and women fell from the railings that they so desperately clung to.

I closed my eyes and wept as I wrapped my arms tighter around the little girl in our care. I couldn't bear to see the midnight massacre any longer. But I still heeded the deafening, dreadful reverberations of those poor people tumbling into benches, railings, and spools of rope.

Frantic splashing and screaming caused me to open my eyes. Those that did manage to survive their falls started swimming toward that last remaining boat that appeared already too full.

"Oh, dear," I uttered.

Men and women clamored to get aboard that lifeboat. Several men in the boat beat the weary swimmers with oars and roared, "You'll swamp us! You'll swamp the boat!"

That's precisely what happened. Their lifeboat rocked, listed, filled with water and ultimately capsized, sending all of its passengers into the cold sea. Our crewman at last rowed our boat away from the pandemonium.

We reached calmer water we stared at the once-grand ocean liner. More screams. More people plummeting to their deaths. I felt ashamed watching such an abysmal atrocity. But all I could do was stare. Cal stared. Lovejoy stared. The little girl stared. I hoped she was young enough to forget this tragedy.

The lights of Titanic flickered several times before dying completely. The darkness was overwhelming. Save for our crewmen's spotlights and what little bit of starlight we had that night, the scene was completely black. It was dark, but not silent. We still listened to the horrid thuds of passengers banging into heavy objects and plunging into the icy waters.

An ear-splitting sound resonated through the night. Our crewman shined his spotlight toward the ship. Through the spotlights we could discern what appeared to be the ship splitting in two. The front half sunk immediately, but the back half seemed to bob in place for a few moments. There was a glimmer of hope. It was floating! But it was a fleeting hope because the Atlantic Ocean soon became ravenous for more carnage and gulped the entire vessel into its deep, dark, gluttonous belly.

The sinking caused an immense, cold spray of ocean water to mist over everyone in our boat. The salt burned my eyes and stung my chapped lips.

Hundreds of poor souls screamed desperately, splashed frantically, and begged for help. I shuddered in the hostile night air. My toes felt numb after becoming wet. I can't imagine the pain those poor people must be feeling right now. I can't imagine.

I rested my head on Cal's shoulder. After a few minutes I remarked to Cal, "It's getting quiet." We both understood what that implied. The sea had claimed those last remaining passengers. Those of us in the lifeboats could do nothing but wait and pray - pray to be rescued, pray that we wouldn't die out here, pray for the dead, maybe even pray for forgiveness.

Chapter 12 – Forever Changed

Morning had finally broken over the horizon, and I was able to see again. I read the name, Carpathia high above us. Her name resonated through my heart as if she were an angel or a saint. She was an angel in the guise of a ship – our rescue, our refuge. It was either from shock or numbness or out of respect for the dead, but Cal and I remained silent. Nobody aboard our life boat spoke a word as we were escorted out of the boat up to the savior ship. Cal relieved me of the little girl so I could climb the ladder to safety. He followed me, lifting the girl up to the crewman who handed her over to me. Lovejoy followed behind Cal.

The stewards immediately offered us hot tea and blankets, which we accepted. Lovejoy pointed yonder to an empty bench in the corner of the deck. The four of us mindlessly ambled over to the bench and dropped our weary bodies upon it.

We huddled close with blankets wrapped around us. The little girl fell asleep on our laps.

Cal managed to speak with a raspy voice, "We made it, darling. I promised you we'd make it," he affirmed and kissed my frozen forehead, "I love you, Rose."

"Cal," I sobbed, "I love you so, so much. You're my captain…my anchor, my love, my life." I've held those descriptions of Cal in my mind many times, but this was the first time I had expressed it to him.

"Oh, Rose. That means so much to me."

All heads turned toward the ladder as more passengers boarded the Carpathia. Bruce Ismay drew glares and muted jeers as he ascended the ladder, unscathed.

Lovejoy chimed in with the masses, "Cowardly bastard. He should've drowned with the ship."

I knew it wasn't Christian of me to think this way, but I silently agreed with Lovejoy's opinion. I especially held onto that judgment when I learned that Mr. Andrews, who I had considered a friend, perished in the sinking.

I noticed Trudy and Molly emerging from the ladder onto the deck. Mother was not with them. "Cal, where's Mother?" I beseeched, concerned about her fate.

"Stay here with Lovejoy, darling. I'll go inquire of Trudy and Molly," Cal answered.

He squeezed my hand before slowly walking over to greet Molly and Trudy. I observed the exchange from my bench. Molly and Trudy's lips seemed to move in slow motion. Then they each embraced Cal. Cal reluctantly turned around and faced me. I already knew from his somber expression what he was going to tell me. Cal, Trudy, and Molly approached me at a snail's pace. I shed tears before they even uttered a word, dreading the inevitable news.

Cal knelt down before me, and softly looked into my eyes, "Sweetheart…Mother…didn't…she didn't make it…I'm so sorry, Rose…I'm so, so sorry."

I slid over onto my side on the bench, tucked my legs up into the fetal position and cried. The little girl woke up to my sobs. Cal sat on the deck with her as he rubbed my arms and patted my salt-and-ice-encrusted hair..

Lovejoy asked Molly about the whereabouts of the Countess.

"She hadda be transferred to another boat. We played musical boats so we could fit more folks in. It was my idea, if I don't say so myself. I reckon the Countess is 'round 'ere somewhere."

"What happened to Mother?" I asked Trudy and Molly.

"She slipped away peacefully, Miss," comforted Trudy, "She was very cold. I think they called it hyper…"

"Hypothermia," Cal concluded.

"Where did they take her?" I inquired.

"They set up some kinda makeshift morgue, I hear," informed Molly, "At some point, Sweetheart you're gonna haff to I.D. her…uh…her…"

"Rose doesn't need to be subjected to such an atrocity," insisted Cal, "I'll take care of the official identification."

I honestly couldn't bear to see her. My final memory of her was anything but fond, but setting eyes on Mother's lifeless body would be too much for me.

Cal helped me to sit up and gently reminded me that we had another item of business to take care of – finding the little girl's family.

"We need to at least make an attempt to find them," proposed Cal.

My shoulders slumped.

"What if we don't?" I appealed.

"Then you and I have a decision to make," Cal ventured to say.

I did find myself smiling at the prospect of raising a little girl.

"Stay here with the ladies and Lovejoy, dear. I'll bring the girl to help find her parents," advised Cal.

My heart fell into the pit of my stomach as I kissed her good-bye. I feared it would be the last time I'd see her precious face.

"I'll be back just as soon as I can, darling," Cal pledged, kissing my head.

"There's the Countess!" hollered Molly, pointing at a new group of refugees boarding the ship.

The Countess was walking with her arm around a young, Spanish-looking girl who was crying. She led her around the deck, obviously searching for one of her family members.

Hundreds of family members - fiancés, husbands, friends, children, mothers, and fathers - had perished. I looked around and observed that most of the survivors who were crying were third-class women and children.

A first-class female had a 90-percent chance of surviving Titanic; I would later read in the newspapers. A third-class passenger had a 10-percent chance. Mother had failed her odds. The toddler we saved had beaten hers.

I looked up from my thoughts and set my eyes on the toddler - our toddler I decided - as Cal drew nearer to me with the child in his arms.

Cal stood in front of me and announced, "Congratulations, Mommy. We have a little girl."

My heart leaped as I jumped from my bench. I hugged both Cal and our new daughter with every shred of strength I had left in me.

Chapter 13 – A Funeral and a Wedding

Cal had, indeed, identified Mother among the dead. He also inquired about a Jack Dawson. But there was no record of him, living or dead. He wasn't even listed on the passenger manifest. I almost wondered if he had been real. Was he a guardian angel who saved me the night of my fall? Was that really Jack who was killed by that crewman? He would forever remain both a dear friend and mystery in our minds.

Mother was entombed beside my father in our family's mausoleum at Laurel Hill Cemetery in East Falls, Philadelphia.

Cal and I decided to postpone our wedding until the following Saturday at the beautiful, historic St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Society Hill. Clara Belle Hockley, our new adopted daughter was my flower girl. We never learned her original name. My gracious cousin, Andrew walked me down the aisle and gave me away to Cal. When Cal lifted my veil and kissed me sweetly I felt full of life again.

Our reception followed at the Society Hill Hotel. Nearly all of our guests, even most of Philadelphia Society, rearranged their date books so they could participate in our special day. We fielded many questions about the Titanic disaster, which was now under official investigation by the United States Congress. But mostly we received best wishes and congratulations on our marriage, as well as condolences from those who were unable to attend Mother's funeral. Did a few pompous people whisper behind our backs about our adoption of the so-called peasant girl? Yes. Did Cal and I care about what they thought? Not in the least. Clara Belle was ours. Ours to love. Ours to share our life with. Sadly enough, I knew in my heart that Mother wouldn't have fully accepted her either.

The next morning Cal and I checked out of the hotel, boarded the train at 30th Street Station and made our way across to Pittsburgh. Trudy took care of Clara, and Lovejoy oversaw the mansion while we spent our honeymoon in Niagara Falls.

We stood at a railing overlooking the immense Horseshoe Falls. A few crazy souls decided to try their luck and go over the falls in a barrel. Even a woman tested her fate in a barrel and survived the feat! It brought Cal and me back to our recent memories of Titanic. These people saw surviving treacherous waters as a game, where the victims of Titanic were anything but amused. Cal and I looked at each other, both of us a bit disturbed. We decided to walk away from the barrel stunt spectacular and go for a stroll through the formal gardens.

During dinner at our hotel I thought back to that fateful night, the night of our sizzling photography session. My photographs now belonged to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

Cal and I made love for the first time since Titanic pilfered our passion from underneath us. I materialized from the dressing room in my white, satin, and lace negligee, and Heart of the Ocean necklace. Thank goodness I wore it the night of the sinking, or else it too would have perished into the deep abyss.

Cal was waiting for me under the sheets. He gazed into my eyes and extended his hand toward me as I gently climbed into the tall bed and slipped beneath the sheets. Neither one of us spoke a word. Our lips, hands, and bodies communicated the hunger that we needed to express to each other. I cried out and collapsed beside Cal after we both hit our pinnacles. After we had satisfied each other's yearnings, I had a good cry.

He held me all through the night. When the morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, I decided it was time to start anew.

Chapter 14 – Life in Pittsburgh

I spent my days with Clara Belle at our mansion, reading books to her as we lay on a blanket in the sun in our backyard. Then we'd walk through the gardens as I pointed out each flower to her as she reached out and touched and smelled the roses, violets, and orchids.

Our doctor had deduced that Clara was most likely of Irish descent and was probably just under two years old when we brought her home. Cal and I decided to celebrate her birthday each April 15th, the day we rescued her.

After Cal came home from the steel mills each day, Clara and I would greet him with hugs and kisses. In the warm weather we would sit on our patio in the backyard before supper and sip Champagne. Clara Belle would enjoy a glass of juice with us until Trudy came to bring her upstairs to get dressed for dinner. After dinner, Cal and Clara would retreat to the study for "daddy and daughter" time. He'd let her pick out a book from his shelf so she could page through it. She also liked to spin his globe of the earth, close her eyes and point to a location. Then she'd peek through one eye and ask her daddy, "We go there?" So far Clara had decided that she wanted to go to the North Pole, Spain, somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and to that "country that looks like an elephant." She, of course was referring to the continent of South America.

I'd usually take advantage of Cal and Clara's time together so I could enjoy my bath and bedtime beauty rituals. One July night, about three months after our honeymoon, I was soaking in my bathtub. I noticed my belly was bloated a bit and I hadn't remembered menstruating for quite some time. I had an idea that I was expecting and decided to tell Cal that night.

Cal brought Clara upstairs so Trudy could get her ready for bed. Cal and I went into Clara's bedroom to kiss her good-night and say bedtime prayers.

When Cal and I slipped into bed together that night, I took his hand and placed it on my belly. He softly caressed my abdomen and then beamed.

"Oh, Rose!" Cal said as he kissed my forehead, lips, neck, and belly. "Darling, it's so marvelous. When do you think it happened?"

"Well, I have it narrowed down to two occasions – either our first night on Titanic or in Niagara Falls," I speculated, "I have a feeling we conceived on Titanic, though. I suppose I want to believe that something enchanting could have happened on that doomed ship, despite the ultimate outcome. Does that make any sense?"

"Rose, after Titanic, I don't know what makes sense anymore. All I know is that wherever and whenever our child was created it was, indeed magical."

We held onto that fantasy as we held each other, laughed and cried all at once.

Chapter 15 – January 15, 19 13

"When I look at you, I look at you with amazement," Cal would praise me throughout my pregnancy. I was getting very close to my time, though. I was uncomfortable, heavy, and sore, and I had been on bed rest for the past two weeks. My midwife had been living with us for a month now. My water broke one snowy January morning. Cal knew that was his cue to entertain Clara Belle for the day. No doubt they heard my whimpering and wailing from downstairs as the baby's head crowned. After several pushes the midwife pronounced, "It's a boy!" Trudy cut the cord. Then the midwife smacked the baby's bottom so he could wail. And wail he did. "Good lungs!" Trudy observed, laughing.

They wiped the baby down and placed him on my chest. I started nursing him when I heard footsteps running toward the bedroom. Cal and Clara had heard the baby cry, surely.

Trudy opened the door just an inch and said, "Forgive me, but not yet, sir. I'll call you soon."

It was a relief when the baby's suckling triggered my afterbirth. I was finally finished. My work was done.

Of course we couldn't let Cal and Clara see the scene just yet. My hair and skin were soaked with sweat.

"Can you freshen us up a bit?" I asked the midwife, "I want to see Cal and Clara now." Trudy and the midwife wiped the baby and me clean. They also gave me a fresh, clean sheet.

"She's ready, sir," Trudy signaled to Cal in the hallway.

Cal held Clara by the hand as they tip-toed into the room. "It's a boy," Trudy whispered to Cal and Clara.

"A boy…" mused Cal, "Oh, darling. He's…he's…perfect…how are you doing, dear?"

"Tired…tired and happy," I weakly murmured.

"Momma Hockley needs to sleep," insisted the midwife and politely escorted Cal and Clara out of the bedroom.

By the time I woke up night had already fallen. Trudy brought me some juice and a biscuit. "Would you like anything else, Ma'am?"

"Yes, Trudy. I'd like to see my family again."

She brought our baby boy to me, followed by Cal and Clara.

They sat beside me and gazed at the sleeping baby. "Have you thought of any names, Cal?"

"I had been thinking of a few choices…I thought perhaps…John Caledon Nathan Hockley," Cal said proudly.

Obviously Caledon and Nathan were family names, but I didn't know of any John in Cal's family. Then it dawned on me. Of course.

I proclaimed, smiling, "We'll call him…,"

"Jack," Cal and I agreed in unison.

Cal was so pleased with his handsome son. As he grew, he did inherit emerald eyes with dark eyelashes and dark hair.

I never did conceive again. Most of our friends had four or five children. I had hoped for a larger family, but Cal was very happy with just two children. I grew to be quite content and thankful. After all, we believed in our hearts that both of our children were gifts from the Titanic.

Chapter 16 – My Anchor Drifts Away

I lost my Cal to a stroke one cold, rainy, November night in 1972. I awoke in the middle of the night, startled from an unpleasant dream. I discovered that Cal hadn't come to bed yet when I reached over to embrace him. I imagined for a moment that he might be in his study reading, but no, not this late. I started to sweat as the adrenaline pulsed through my body. My heart pounded against my nightgown as I warily made my way downstairs to locate Cal. I hesitantly opened the door to his study. I dropped to my knees and cried out to the heavens when I realized Cal was lying on the floor. I sobbed hysterically as I crawled over to rouse my motionless husband. I shook him desperately, attempting to rewrite this tragic ending to our love story, but my hope began to fade.

"Cal! Cal!" I cried as I buried my face into his chest, "Oh, Cal!"

I wept and choked between sobs as I pressed my ear to his silent heart. "No! Don't leave me, darling…No, no!" I gazed into his dark, coffee-brown eyes one last time. In his eyes I saw a familiar reflection. We were back in time, standing on the deck of Titanic. Cal had his arms wrapped around me as we drank in the beauty of the stunning sunset. Cal – my captain, my anchor, my love, my life…was gone. I gently caressed his face, closed his eyes, and whispered a prayer, "Sail into that heavenly sunset, Caledon Hockley. I know you'll be waiting for me."

Cal's funeral was attended by nearly the entire population of Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and every town in between. Cal had come into contact with nearly every family in Pennsylvania by way of social engagements, political events, church functions, dinners with investors, and of course all of his steel mill employees and their wives. He touched our community in countless ways, which was evident by the funeral turnout.

Clara Belle and Jack both held my hands at the burial ground as I shivered in the chilling November rain. With my deluge of tears and the harsh, driving rain streaming down my face and onto my lips I tasted a bitter memory. The salty essence reminded me of the night the Titanic sank when Cal, Clara, and I were blasted with caustic ocean water in our lifeboat. My heart sank into the well of my being as I witnessed Cal's casket sinking deeper into the damp earth. I couldn't help but recall the once-valiant vessel sinking into the sea many decades ago. Both deaths – Cal's and Titanic's – were sobering events soaked with somber splendor.

Clara, Jack, and I chose the following epitaph for Cal's headstone:

Caledon Nathan Hockley

Born of this Earth: January 9, 1882

Entered Eternity: November 18, 1972

Courageous survivor of Titanic

Loving, loyal husband and father

"Our Captain, Our Anchor, Our Love, Our Life"

Chapter 17 - Back to Titanic (October 17, 1986)

I sat outback on my patio one Saturday afternoon sipping Champagne. The gardeners tended to the sunflowers and chrysanthemums in the backyard and decorated the grounds with pumpkins, gourds, and bales of hay for Halloween. I still found the mansion dark and lonely without Cal, so I spend most of my time outdoors whenever possible. It was an unusually warm October - "Indian Summer" we call it in Pennsylvania.

Quigley, my chef, brought me my favorite goose liver pate and Roquefort cheese. I had an entirely new staff here at home. Trudy Bolt and Spencer Lovejoy both passed away several years ago. In fact, I didn't know any Titanic survivors anymore. Titanic, I was afraid had been forgotten forever…until the telephone rang that afternoon.

Clara Belle and Jack each married their sweethearts years ago. They visit me several times a month, and they were coming over for dinner this particular night. Clara, her husband and their two daughters arrived with Jack, his wife, and their son. We were all enjoying wine and cheese on the patio when Cherie, my maid, brought me the cordless telephone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mrs. Caledon Hockley, formerly Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater?" a young man inquired.

"Why yes, it is. With whom am I speaking?"

"My name is Brock Lovett, Ma'am. I'm an oceanographer currently exploring the wreckage of Titanic. I understand you are one of the last remaining survivors," he presumed.

"If not the last. Why am I of interest to you, Mr. Lovett?"

"My men and I were diving the wreck and came across a large safe belonging to Mr. Caledon Hockley."

"Oh, my!" I gasped. I imagine there were a few valuables in the safe. Why would this man call me at all? He had every right to claim that safe and everything in it under maritime law. The camera is obviously an antique by now. The camera…my photographs, I thought, smiling and nearly crying. Memories of Cal flooded back to me. The night of our photography session was a lifetime ago, but I can still envision him standing behind his tripod, coaching me on how to pose and how to gaze into the lens. I clutched my Heart of the Ocean necklace and closed my eyes.

"Are you still there, Mrs. Hockley?" asked Mr. Lovett.

I collected myself and cleared my throat. "Yes, I'm still here." By now, my children and grandchildren were eavesdropping, no doubt wondering about this mysterious phone call.

"Well, we hired some experts who specialize in antique photographic development and restoration," he said.

I grinned. I couldn't believe it. "What? How extraordinary! How could the photographs possibly have survived?" I marveled.

"The heavy-duty safe your husband had was a quite a wise purchase. The camera showed signs of damage, but as long as the photographic paper remained wet between the panes of glass, they can, indeed survive," Lovett explained. He hesitated before he quipped, "As you can imagine, the photographic paper didn't have much trouble staying wet."

I chuckled at his joke. "No, I should think not."

"I'd like to mail you copies of your pictures, Mrs. Hockley. They're quite lovely – you know, the ship, the sunset, your ballet pose, and the uh…umm…," stammered Lovett.

"You mean my…artistic portraits, Mr. Lovett?" I teased. I could almost sense him blushing on the other end of the line.

"Yes, Ma'am," he laughed, "If I could just have your address."

"Why don't you send them to my post office box?" I suggested as I proceeded to give him the mailing address. "Thank you, Mr. Lovett. Thank you for keeping Titanic alive. I wish you much luck in the rest of your discoveries, and I hope to read about you soon in National Geographic, perhaps."

"From your mouth to God's ears, Mrs. Hockley," he declared before saying good-bye.

I hung up the cordless phone and pressed down the collapsible antenna.

"Who was that, Mother?" asked Clara.

"Yes, Mom. That seemed quite important," said Jack.

My children and grandchildren had all known that Cal and I had survived the Titanic disaster. We had told them bits and pieces and little anecdotes, but not the entire ordeal. We never exposed our entire experience, and the children didn't pry. But I was 91 years old, and I didn't pretend that my remaining years wouldn't be few. I decided that I didn't want my Titanic memories to perish with me.

"It was an ocean explorer who dove down to the Titanic wreck," I said with tears welling up in my eyes.

I took a deep breath and asked my family, "Do you want to go back to Titanic with me?"

"Yes, Mother. Tell us your story," pleaded Clara.

"Yeah, Grandma, tell us," insisted Jack Junior.

I closed my eyes and remembered my Cal at Southampton pier. He was so handsome and dashing in his new Parisian day suit.

The sun began to set in my backyard as I began my story:

"When we pulled up in the Renault to board Titanic, I was filled with awe and wonder. My fiancé, Cal had booked tickets for the two of us and mother to sail back to America in style…

The End

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