Delicate
''Everybody expects me to be this delicate little flower, which I'm not. I'm sturdy and as strong as a horse. You see these hands, they were made for work. I am here to do something, not just sit around and be decorative.''
-Rose.
The sloped, cracked ceiling of the garret almost hit Jack as he stood up straight, quickly tilting his neck.
''Almost!''
''Yes, not quite the bump I had yesterday.''
Rose wiped her dirty hands down her thin, plain black dress. Her auburn curls fell into her face and she tucked away a curl and then another as it fell into her eyes, narrowed as they inspected the canvas before her.
''I'm sure each night this ceiling sneaks down to the floor, just a little bit more.''
When her face broke into an amused smile, Jack couldn't help but feel his stomach pull. That sound. His left hand snaked up around her waist, pulling at her until she weakened and fell against him. Her giggle turned into girlish screams.
''Jack, no! The paints all over my hands.''
It was too late, a bright yellow paint already smudged across his own hands, chin and his open shirt.
''We'll just have to get our clothes off and get in the tub, huh?'' He smiled, suggestively and his hair fell into his eyes in that same boyish way it always had.
''Is that right?''
Without even warning, he crushed his mouth onto hers. Immediately, she melted against him. Pale yellow smears crossed his shirt as she tore at it as she ragged it from his shoulders. His lips came to her neck, trailing kisses down causing every nerve ending to stand up. Her breathing became ragged and she felt the sudden urge to giggle again.
''What could possibly be funny?'' He whispered slowly in her ear, she pulled away from him, her hands still on his parted shirt, running across his bare chest.
''This.'' She ran a hand up his chest, up to his neck, trailing splatters of paint. ''With all this paint, we're almost part of the walls and the furnishings.''
''Well, let's clean up in that tub, you always told me you never wanted to be a decorative piece.''
His head came to her again, bowing down so that his lips touched her nose, rubbing it against his own and then he pressed his lips to hers again. She closed her eyes, feeling his hands move down her dress to the back and to her waist. He clasped her either side of her waist and lightly pulled at the seams of the dress, it teared open with one gushing rip sound and her bare back was exposed, her hair tickling at it as his hands worked up to her shoulders and he pulled the material down from her shoulders and she shuffled out of the garment, from her waist it simply dropped to the floor in a pool.
''Mr. Dawson! I only purchased that dress last week.''
Jack removed his own shirt, his eyes not leaving hers. She saw the flames of passion in them and suddenly his lips were on hers again.
''With the money we get from this painting, I will buy you three more.'' He whispered in between kisses down her cheek. ''But, they may also be ripped by this time next week.''
His words were so full of mischief and yet, she couldn't help but remain serious. That was the thing she loved about him; just how he made her feel. The passion he had for her, their life and everything which they had created together. Her hands were in his hair, on his chest, across his face and neither cared just how sticky the paint had become. It would wash away and then, they could start again. That was the best thing, they could always create more art together.
The garret was small, cramped and with every step closer to the pile of blankets which they called their bed, the wooden floor boards squeaked and threatened to break so that they fell into the apartment beneath. He pushed her down onto the pile of blankets and pulled at her stockings before discarding of them on the floor. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and he wiped them away, feeling just how stuffy the air had become.
He went to the creaky window, pushed at the handle with such force that it cracked open with a pop, allowing in the warm spring air. Returning to Rose, he lay himself near her, burying his face in her hair, kissing her neck and upwards to her face.
''Jack-'' She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled at it gently. ''We were supposed to finish that painting this morning.''
She heard him laugh.
''We have time later.''
''What if I want to do this again?''
He propped himself up his elbows, seeing the fire in her own eyes. The fire which he had fallen in love with. His eyes couldn't leave hers at all. Her innocence and spirit made him only fall for her more.
''We both know that once is never enough.''
There, hidden away in a partially yellow paint splattered garret in the middle of New York City, Jack loved his Rose.
''That is quite a piece.'' Rose folded her arms across her chest. Her new cream day dress brushed along grass as she stepped back to admire it once more. There, sat on a portrait stand, Rose admired Jack's work. It was his finest yet. He stepped down from the stool and wiped a bead of sweat away from his face with a folded handkerchief.
''You think?'' He squinted in the late morning sun, joining Rose to look at the work he had just created.
''Yes!''
A greying fifty something man handed Jack a couple of coins from his suit jacket pocket. ''It just wonderful! All I could ask for.'' His beagle came to his owner's feet, loyal as he sniffed at the ground before squatting to sit.
''Are you sure?''
''Young man, this kind of work is what I would pay good money for. Where did you study?''
Jack wiped his hands down his trousers once more. The dusty charcoal seemed to stick to his clammy hands. Both nerves and excitement had pattered about in his stomach. Whilst paper was still good to work with, he had collected little money together and started to paint also, the odd landscape but before him, he had done a hand drawing of the man before him, with his trusted dog upon his knee on a canvas. Not a large one, just big enough to be almost life size. Jack saw the flaws in the drawing; he always did. The dogs paws could be a little better, he pondered.
''I didn't study at all.''
''Ridiculous!'' The man scoffed. ''A God given talent, boy?''
''I guess you could say that.'' He replied, modestly, even though faith wasn't something which he had much of these days. The inspiration did simply come at his fingertips.
''Jack, you are wonderful!'' Rose came to his side, pressing her hand against his lower back and shaking her copper curls which were illuminous beneath the lovely sun.
He smiled, almost shyly. In his hands, he shook the coins as he played with them. ''Thanks.''
''Well, thank you. Have a wonderful day.''
Jack carefully removed the picture from the stand and handed it to the man. ''I appreciate it.'' Jack nodded as a goodbye.
Rose swished her skirts about on the floor, careful to not dirty the bottom of her dress but it looked to be too late.
''Third happy customer,'' she beamed, happily, ''the sun must bring them out this way.''
Jack rattled the coins in his hands, he opened up his palm to count them. ''I think so, too.''
He counted the silver half dollars which he had been given. 1...2...3...''Ten!''
''What?''
''Five dollars!''
''What? A whole five dollars?''
Jack handed the coins to Rose, and she counted them aloud in her palms. There was five dollars...ten silver pieces. ''Jack! This is the most you have made!''
His eyes darted about the park, the man carried the portrait off to its new home, with the beagle barking and playing about his feet. ''What if he made a mistake?''
''He didn't.'' Rose placed her hands on Jack's shoulders. ''Please, have more faith in yourself and in your work. You have a talent.''
He exhaled slowly. Just what would his father have to say about that? He pictured the proud as punch look upon his face. His parents would have danced about happily, clapping and singing old songs from their childhood.
''Oh, Rose.''
He placed his hands upon her waist and pulled her closer to him, their bodies pressed together in a warm embrace.
''Let's go get some beers.''
Rose's foot pressed against the level beneath the mechanical pottery wheel. She kept pressing, pressing and it spun whilst she shaped a pot atop the wheel. She paid particular attention to the lip, ensuring the shape was just right. Round and round it went, shaping and moulding until she finally felt it was just right and then...
Bang.
She jumped. ''Shit!'' She cursed. The lip had gone wonky again. ''Jack?!''
From the door, Jack emerged, pulling out several new pots of paint which he had purchased that morning.
''Yes, darling.'' His eyes fell on Rose. Her apron was completely covered in clay, her hair was falling into the wetness and her chin and hands were grey. He laughed, shaking his head. She had been working on that damn thing all morning.
''You scared me, now it's gone again.'' She sighed, frustrated.
''My fault, huh?''
She met his gaze and her frustration melted as soon as she caught sight of his cocky grin.
''Yes, it is.''
''I'm sure I can make it up to you.''
He stepped closer, the floor boards creaking beneath his thick boots.
''Don't come near me.'' She held up a clay covered hand.
''Why not?''
''Because I will lose it. I have already.''
His hands came around her waist, around to her middle. She shivered, almost feeling his effect on her. He moved a couple of strands of her hair to one side before gently blowing on the back of her neck. Her foot stopped turned the wheel.
''You're distracting me!''
''I've heard that before.'' He smirked, kissing her cheek.
Rose removed her hands from the clay pot which she had shaped and turned in his arms. ''That's because, it is true.'' Her sticky hands touched his outer jacket, pulling it down his shoulders.
''Hey!'' He flinched, seeing how grey his black coat was, littered with Rose's hand print.
''You painted my dress, remember?''
''Oh, that's the game, is it?'' He raised his eyebrows, leaning in to kiss her. Her hand came up to stop him and he flinched back.
''You owe me two vases.''
Through his grin, he kissed her. ''Deal.''
''The squid boat?'' Rose squinted in the early evening sun. A small straw hat shielded her face.
''Sure, his name is Randy. He moved here from Monterey just last year.'' Jack's freckles were highlighted in the sun and Rose couldn't help but notice how handsome he truly was.
''He gave you a job?''
''Course!''
Rose clamped her arms around Jack's neck, causing them both to fall backwards into the sand. Just feet away, the Pacific Ocean lapped up onto the beach, causing a swishing noise. Rose's hat tumbled from her head, freeing her curls around her shoulders. Jack brushed them away lightly, pressing his lips to her forehead as she scrambled so that she was straddling him. She allowed her fingers to run through the sand, the roughness of it was something which she had never felt before. Just off in the far horizon, the sky met the sea and soon it would set, disappear and it would be morning elsewhere.
"He was more shocked by the fact that I was married." Jack crinkled his nose. "He said to me, "Jack Dawson, a married man! I have to meet the woman who took his heart just to believe he isn't full of shit!" So I told him I would bring you by."
Rose joined her arms around his neck, joining them and resting her face on his shoulder. "Oh, Jack!" She breathed in his ear. "We really are married!" She stretched out her left hand and saw the thin gold band which sat on her finger. Down in her stomach, she felt it clench.
''Darling, please sit down, just for a little while.''
Rose pressed on, through the heavy pulling in her back, stomach and hips.
''No, I have to get this just right.''
''But, that is what I am here for.'' He sighed, watching as his heavily pregnant wife painted the cracked walls of their new home. ''I can do all of the work, here, please sit.''
''No!'' She pushed his hand away forcefully and placed a tender hand across her swollen stomach. She had felt the pulling and tightening for days and it was only a matter of time. The bedroom had to be done and dry for when their child arrived. As best she could, she grasped a small wooden stool, she placed it before her and lifted the bottom of her skirts revealing bare feet. She put one foot on the rickety thing before Jack grasped both of her hands and gently pulled her back.
''Oh, no, Mrs. Dawson! I don't think so!''
''Jack! Let me paint!'' She batted his hand away but he restrained her with a forceful but gentle grip and led her backwards towards an armchair. As soon as the weight was taken from her feet, she felt the ease straight away. Jack counted the seconds that she sat down...1...2...3...4...
''Right, I am all right now, where is that brush?'' She struggled to her feet, pressing both hands to her stomach, it tightened again.
Jack exhaled, frustrated. In that moment, he knew just how much he loved his wife for all that she was; stubborn, feisty and always in the right! But, he wouldn't back down on this one. He needed her to rest as he knew that she would be delivering their child soon, and he needed them both healthy. He placed his hand to her face, brushing across her lips and up to her sticky hair.
''Rose, listen to me, please.'' His eyes softened. ''I know how determined you are and that you are as strong as a horse but please, just rest. Think of our baby.''
''I am, Jack. That is why I want this finished!'' She wiped her face as she glanced about and then down to her feet. They poked out just beneath her skirt. For weeks she hadn't seen her own toes but then, her stomach had dropped very low and suddenly, her ankles had swollen and her toes, too. Hideous, yes. A hindrance, yes. Would it stop her from been on her feet most of the day? No. Jack sighed, once more.
''All right, then, for one hour, please would you sit. I will paint. If I finish this room within the hour then you must sit for the rest of the pregnancy.''
Rose opened her mouth to speak but her stomach tightened, pulling downward towards her hips, this time it was longer and tighter than usual. She clasped her stomach. It wasn't painful, yet. She told herself, more of just a wave.
''Are you all right?'' Jack's eyes flashed with concern.
''Yes,'' she nodded, as the tightening eased, ''just a little tighter.''
Jack placed his hand upon her stomach and it was met by a frustrated kick. A limb wriggled about within its mother's womb, one side and then the other. Rose winced, settling herself back into the chair.
''Oh, what long legs you must have.'' She smiled, placing her hands atop of Jack's. ''Daddy is the one to blame for that.''
Jack's lopsided smile faded into something different, it was serious and yet, with traces of nerves. ''We're going to have a baby.'' He whispered, ''I will be a father.''
It may have taken nine long months, but right there in that moment whilst he was on his knees, by his wife's swollen feet in their half-decorated Santa Monica home, Jack Dawson realised just how much their lives would change.
''Woo, woo!''
The train spewed out steam and then it came again, loudly. A whistle and choo choo.
''Woo, woo!''
Rose took her two-year-old son by the hand. ''Daddy, train!''
''Yes, darling. Daddy is going on that train.''
His luggage had been loaded. Her son pulled at her hand. ''Mommy, woo, woo!''
''Yes, Teddy.''
Her son's excitement was the only thing which was keeping Rose Dawson together. For today, her husband was going to War. Of course, it had been raging in Europe for some time but after US Congress had announced they would be joining also, Rose had feared for their safety, mostly Jack's and then, the dreaded letter had arrived.
He was going overseas.
To Europe.
To the front line.
In his uniform, she couldn't help but admire just how handsome he was. The same boy she had fallen in love with five years before he become a father, and now a man. He stood before her, those beautiful blue eyes that she had come to know so well, those same eyes she saw when she looked at their son, they were lined with unshed tears.
''No!'' She told him, firmly. ''We mustn't cry or be upset. We have to stay strong.''
''I am sorry.'' He sighed, breathing through the pain in his stomach and the lump in his throat. By his side, his son stood, more excited about seeing a train proper for the first time. He bent down to his son's level.
''Isn't it brilliant?''
His son's eyes didn't stop watching the steam, the people and taking in just how magnificent and new it was.
''Yes! Woo!''
''That's right, Teddy. The train does make that sound.'' He stroked his son's fair hair, cupping his small face in his hands and remembering every single inch of it. He had pictures in his pack of both his wife and their child, but he couldn't begin to think of when he would next be seeing their face with his own eyes, holding them in his arms...he blinked back more tears.
As he stood, he shook his head.
''I can't believe I have to go.''
Rose glanced about at the other families around them; fathers, mothers, siblings and even grandparents. Tears flowed, cries erupted and then there was her; fighting them back so hard but she knew in her stomach that she couldn't let Teddy see how heart-breaking this was. She just couldn't break down. She had to keep going. For them both.
''You will be home soon.'' She cheerily told him, believing it herself almost. ''Didn't they say Christmas?''
Jack heard the convincing tone of her voice, but it didn't wash with him.
''Rose-''
''No, it's all right, Jack. We can write. We can telephone when we can.''
His hands came to her face, her hair and then he kissed her, with as much passion and love he could in that last kiss. He wanted to become lost in her, to cherish her and remember that the kiss would be the last time he would be close to her in an unknown length of time. In the back of his mind, he knew that he may not even return.
''I'll write as soon as I can.'' He whispered against her lips. ''I love you, so much. Remember that.''
Teddy nestled in between their knees. ''Come here, little man.''
Teddy held up his arms to his father and Jack cradled him to his body, just as he had done when he was a new born. He didn't care just how crinkled his uniform got. His son was his world. From the day he had been born and placed upon his bare chest, he had felt the strong instinct to protect and love him. Teddy grasped Jack strongly around his neck, burying his face into his shoulders.
''I love you, Teddy. When you see that sky at night, remember those stars?''
He felt Teddy nod.
''Well, when you see those stars, just know I am not too far away. I will see them, too.''
Teddy nodded. ''Stars.'' He repeated, pointing to the sky.
''Yes! Well done.''
He held out his arms to Rose, and she fell against her husband and son; her family. Inside, she was breaking apart but the tears stayed at bay until late that evening when she cried, just a little after sending her husband to war.
December 9th 1917,
My dearest Jack,
I am beyond happy to announce that we have another son, he was born late last Friday night, as Teddy slept. I delivered well, not too much pain and the doctor tells me our son is as strong as an ox. 7lb and 4 ounces. He looks just like Teddy did, just as beautiful. I named him Samuel, just as we discussed. He doesn't cry much and is happy to lay in his brother's arms whilst I read to them both. Two days after he was born, I cried for the second time since you left, for my darling, you should be here with us, your family.
Christmas will be lonely without you. But I have already planned a dinner for me and Teddy. The presents were wrapped just before I delivered and the tree will be more beautiful than last year. This will be the first Christmas which Teddy will remember and I want that to be special.
I will pray for you and think of you each day just as I always do, my love. My dreams are filled with the life we have left to live when you return. I have taken to your side of the bed again, especially when I am awake to nurse Samuel, I remember just how you would sit with me when Teddy was born, watching him nurse, playing with my hair and tell me just how much you loved me. I still hear those words.
Just know that we love you so much, my darling. Teddy talks about you all of the time. He asks about the stars and we watch them every night.
Come home, soon.
All of our love,
Rose, Teddy and Samuel.
I have written more covering most of their lives together. I didn't want to do a huge continuing story about their lives after Titanic so though snapshots where you can see it went along would be easier. I loved thinking this whole story up so let me know what you think.
Thank you :)