The Continuing Saga of Runaway Rose
Chapter 1 - Fame & Fortune Equals Loneliness
April 10, 1918 - Hollywood, California
"And, cut!", shouted the director. Then the man stood, turned towards his favorite actress in the whole world and said, " That's a wrap, ladies and gentlemen."
He moved over towards the slender woman, with the long, fiery red curls and said, " Rose.. my darling Rose.. superb as usual. Sweetheart, you're looking a bit peaked, and I want you to take a few days off."
Rose shook her head, and said, " No that's all right, Mr. Diamond...' He said, " Haven't I asked you a thousand times, please call me Phil."
A smile crossed her face, but it wasn't quite reaching her eyes, but she said, " Oh all right, Phil. But you must call me Rose.. oh wait, you already do." And they both laughed at Rose's comment.
He then said, " Rose, I must insist. You've been working hard for the last several years, with barely any time off at all." Finally after some persuasion, Rose agreed to take off for a week.
As she made her way home, which was a small cottage near the beach, she took the barrette out of her hair, letting her hair hang loosely, and the wind ruffle it gently over her shoulders. She was tired.. that much was true. She had risen, and fast, up the Hollywood list of top movie stars, and she was only 23 years old. Often times though, especially late in the evening, she would sit on her front porch, and wonder about her mother. How she was faring, and wished that she could contact her, but she had not had anything to do with Ruth, since leaving the Southwestern Hotel, in London, all those years ago, leading up to the tragedy of the Titanic.
Rose slowly climbed the front porch, and reached into the mailbox, picked up her mail, then unlocked the door and went inside. Absentmindedly, she closed the door with her foot, and moved inside.
Turning on the lamp, she sat down tiredly onto her comfortable sofa, then sorted through her mail. Most of the mail was ho hum everyday mail; bills, notices, etc, advertisements. But as she reached the bottom of the pile, her eyes widened at the letter with the address from France. She didn't know anyone that lived in France. But wait.. she wondered if it could possibly be Jack Dawson. My word.. he could have moved from Ireland to France, it was possible. Could it be?
Good heavens.. she hadn't thought of him in years. Oh, once in a while she would think of Mr. Jack Dawson, and wondered how he had fared. He had been so kind to her, when she was so young and frightened, and leaving Caledon Hockley and her mother. He had helped her out, and although she had been irate that he wouldn't go on the Titanic with her, she was now so grateful that he hadn't, for he would surely have perished, just as Caledon had.
That too, was something that Rose still, to this day found unbelievable. That the unbelievably arrogant, snobbish, powerful, and extremely wealthy Caledon Hockley didn't survive the Titanic's sinking. She would have thought that with his wealth, he would have found some way to make it off the boat, and if not for his wealth, then his cunning and deceit would have served him well.
With trembling hands, she opened the letter, and was surprised to find that it was dated well over three weeks earlier, back to March 10, 1918. But she read on:
Dear Miss Baker,
I'm sorry that I haven't kept in touch with you all these years. I think of you often, fondly, and hope that life has been treating you well. You were so frightened and young, when last we met. I was so sorry to hear about the Titanic, and couldn't get you out of my mind, hoping that you had survived that debacle, but not sure, until I received your letter, nearly a year later.
I was writing, because I have decided to return to America. I served in the war, which although is still going on and winding down, but only briefly before being injured. Fortunately it wasn't that serious of an injury, but enough to keep me from serving. I served for France, because I left Ireland in 1915, after the sinking of the Lusitania, and moved to France. I lived outside of Marseilles, in the countryside and did well with my paintings.
Anyway, to the point, Miss Baker, I am coming to California and would love to see you again, if that would at all be possible. I won't imposition myself on you, but I will be staying at the Hotel Royale when I arrive there, which should be around April 11th or 12th. Whether I will remain in America permanently or not, remains to be seen. I did have a wonderful house in the French countryside. Also, there is someone with me that I want you to meet. She is such a lovely person, and I know that you will just like her so much.
Well I had best finish this letter, so that I can get this off into the mail.
Until we meet again, I remain..Affectionately Yours,
Jack Dawson
'Good heavens..', Rose thought, that was only a couple of days away. And, she wondered, curiously, who the other person was that Jack was bringing. The only possible thought that occurred to Rose, was that Jack had married, and was bringing his wife.
Which brought Rose around to her own sad, and lonely status, as a single young female. Of course, she was the object of desire, as a passionate, on-screen actress, who was lovely, intelligent, vibrant, and with a fiery spirit that matched her fiery red locks. She still maintained the gorgeous, long, red curls that she had had since she was a young teenage girl, living and growing up in Philadelphia, for in time, they had grown back from being cut off, while trying to escape from Caledon and mother.
Setting the letter aside, Rose stood and stretched, yawning as she made her way to the kitchen, where she put herself together a light dinner, and then took a cup of tea and went out onto her back porch, where she could watch the ocean waves, and the tide as it came and went. As she thought about Jack, and his guest, she thought about how lonely she had become over the years, and how much she wanted to find someone to love, and to marry and raise a family with. After all, she had accomplished much, both in the movies, and on the theater stage.
As the sun set, Rose sat there sipping on her cold tea, and watching the stars, as they began twinkling in the sky, lighting it up, like diamonds against a black velvet backdrop. Rose finally grew weary, and went inside, and prepared for bed. Soon she was fast asleep.