June, 1918
Waiting in Chicago's Union Depot and nursing her oversteeped tea, Rose reflected, not for the first time, if it was her or the rest of the world that had changed so much in the nearly six years since she had last been at this train station. She guessed the war continuing to rage on in Europe must have been one of the biggest reasons why the air felt bleaker here, but when she thought of the bright-eyed girl she had been that first trip to Chicago, she wondered if she had finally outgrown that youthful optimism.
Back then, she had thought she and Jack had seen enough pain for one lifetime. It had seemed as if the future was a blank canvas, ready to be filled with beauty and color. But as images of the blood and the fighting infiltrated her mind, she wondered if tragedies would ever stop.
She had already been traveling for two weeks, which didn't make the long wait between trains in Chicago any easier. Between the cramped seats her third class ticket offered and her only remaining clothes, that were starting to become too tight, the journey had not been a comfortable one. It would only be another day and a half of travel, but she had no idea what to expect once she arrived.
Finishing her tea, she stood up to take a walk and stretch her legs. If she remained sitting here much longer, she knew her thoughts would drift, and anything was better than focusing on the thick, sealed envelope in her luggage. It had been the last letter she wrote to Jack, explaining where she was going and why. She had posted it only hours before leaving on her journey. The postmaster in France had been unable to deliver it, and the letter had returned to her, in the train station in Buffalo, without any explanation of why it had never made it to Jack. Having spent the last couple of days alone on a very slow train, she conjured thoughts of his transfer to a new location, some horrific injury, or, worst of all, his death. But even if he was unharmed, she realized, he was now a continent away, without any way of reaching her.
In many ways, this was worse than surviving the Titanic. There, he was at least by her side through it. They helped each other survive it, and their love helped them recover. Now, though she wasn't, technically speaking, alone, there wasn't anyone alive who knew where she was right now, or where she was going. That, perhaps, was really what was causing the desolation in the mood of the lonely train station.
April, 1912
Rose was in the water when the lifeboat came to pick them up. She couldn't say how long it had actually been, but she and Jack had been taking turns on the floating board for what felt like hours. They were both disoriented, but she was lucky that he was still alert enough to see the boat and nudge her in the direction of a whistle a few feet away.
There were two officers in the boat — they pulled Jack and Rose into the boat from opposite sides to ensure it didn't tip, and then immediately wrapped them each in one of the handful of blankets before refocusing their attention on finding more people.
Once the officers were sufficiently distracted, Jack reached over to the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and felt the material, and allowed his fingers to linger, gently stroking her upper arm through the layers of fabric.
"It's wool. It'll keep us warm even though we're wet." She wasn't sure if he was trying to whisper, or if that was all the voice he could muster, but his words were a relief.
"We're safe, Jack."
"Yes, we are. We should stay as close together as possible, and we'll need to get out of these wet clothes soon, but for right now we are safe."
Despite the cold, she couldn't resist quietly teasing him. "And just what are you suggesting, Jack?"
His fingers, still touching her shoulder, immediately stopped moving. "Rose — I didn't mean — Only that — There are things you learn about staying warm when you're from —"
"Shh, Jack. I know." She laced her fingers with his, regretting her words. "I never would have made it off the ship without all those things you learned in a cold climate. I trust you, Jack."
With still-frozen lips, he placed a kiss on her temple. "You saved me with the ax. It's hard to think of what could have happened — we were lucky."
Rose paused for a moment, letting the shock of the night and the temporary safety of the lifeboat consume her for the first time. She felt her chapped lips and the ruined dress hanging limply on her frame. But she also felt Jack's embrace, and, suddenly, she was overwhelmed.
"All those people," she said, finally. "And we could have died alongside them if—" Images of the past hours suddenly swarmed her mind. Images of everything that had gone right or wrong and led them to this moment. "—If we had picked a different staircase. If I had never found the ax. If you hadn't helped us both to the back of the ship. People are gone — people we knew. And we'll never be the same again."
"We are here, though, and you're right that we'll never be exactly the same again. But we have each other, and that's how we'll get through it. Time will slowly heal us. But, for now, try to sleep. I'll wake you if I learn anything."
She nodded — her mind was racing with each new thought of a friend who she may never see again. She knew sleep would do her well, but she wasn't sure it would come.
Instead of sleep, she used the strength she had left to pull the blanket more tightly around herself and lean into Jack's chest. Silently, she let the night's events absorb her — she thought of the fear-stricken faces she'd seen, of the people she had helped and the people she'd ignored. She thought of the cold that still stung her skin, and of the lifeboat she had been on for only a moment, before jumping back on the ship. She thought of the escape from her fiancé, and how she slid the ring off her finger and posed for Jack's portrait without a second thought. Finally, she thought of Jack — of his hands gently holding hers, of his hands on her, and how those hands still held her tightly, even after all he had been through tonight. Relaxing for the first time in hours, she saw the sun beginning to rise and what looked like a tiny ship on the horizon.
—
Once they boarded the Carpathia, it was madness. There were piles of discarded blankets and life belts, survivors solemnly looking for a place to rest, and volunteers leading them to the infirmary or shoving a bowl of hot oatmeal in their faces. In the confusion, Jack grabbed a small pile of the dry blankets and shuffled them both below decks. Walking down a dimly lit, carpeted hallway, he tried doorknobs until one opened into a tiny room. She couldn't hazard a guess at what it was used for, it was bigger than a closet, but not by much, and was empty except for a three-legged armchair and what looked like some used log books stuffed in the corner. A small porthole let in daylight.
"We should have some privacy here," Jack said, fumbling with the doorknob. There was a lock on the door, but it seemed to be sticking a little bit.
"Are we allowed to stay here?" Rose asked.
"Probably not," he said, finally managing to turn the lock, "but with everything going on up on deck, I doubt anyone will bother us. Now, Rose, I meant it when I said we'll need to get out of these wet clothes."
He handed her the pile of blankets still tucked under his arm and paused indecisively for a moment. "I'll—uh—I saw there was a clothes donation pile next to where I got the blankets. I'm going to go see if there's anything that might fit us."
Rose smiled back up at him. She knew he was giving her an option, in case she wasn't comfortable undressing with him in the room. While she thought some of their activities the night before should have put those concerns to bed, she did give him credit for caring so much.
"Jack," she said, as he was turning around to leave. "You can stay if you want. You know I trust you."
He stopped for a moment and then stepped over to kiss her hairline deeply. "I know, Rose. But I do want to get us something to wear and hopefully something to eat before it all runs out. I'll be right back, and then we can start the rest of our life."
He peeked out the door to make sure no one was coming in the hallway, and then slid out. "Lock the door Rose. I'll be right back — you'll know it's me 'cause I'll knock four times quick and then two times slow."
Once the door was shut and locked, Rose started on the buttons on the back of her dress. It was already hard to get in and out of it without help from a maid, and the damp fabric didn't make it any easier. But she finally got it after a few minutes, and when she peeled the dress off her skin, the relief was almost instantaneous. Using one of the blankets, she toweled off her waterlogged skin and hair, and felt, for the first time in hours, as if she may one day be dry again. She thought about discarding the wet clothes, wondering if it would banish any painful memories, but in the end, unsurety whether she would one day need them won out, and she folded them neatly.
After a few minutes, as the blanket against her skin started to work, her thoughts turned to what Jack had said as he was leaving. He had mentioned the "rest of our life," as if he did see an inevitable future for them. After only three days, they already knew so much about each other, and she couldn't deny that she wanted to stay with Jack. But what did his words mean—was he suggesting marriage? But if so, why was he so cautious to leave, even after she assured him he could stay? While they had been on the Titanic, the only thing she needed to focus on was being with Jack. But now that they were off, it wasn't that simple anymore. Women, even third class women, didn't travel around the globe with a man. And while they were already way past initial courtship, she didn't think either of them were ready to make the leap to marriage. Before she could wrap her mind around what other options they my have, her thoughts were interrupted by Jack's secret knock. She pushed those concerns to the back of her mind, and wrapped the blanket tightly around her shoulders to let him in.
"I don't quite know what to do with all this stuff, but I didn't fall in love with a swell for nothing." Jack teased, as he entered the room with a large bowl of oatmeal and an armful of clothes that looked like cast-offs from the first class section. Rose rolled her eyes at the joke and grabbed the fabric to begin sorting through it.
"Jack, these are yours," she said, handing him a few items. "They don't all match, but who are you trying to impress?"
Jack glared at her good-naturedly as he accepted the pile and began removing his still-damp clothes from the night before. When he was finally dry, they helped each other dress into the dry clothes. As Jack's fingers closed the hooks on the back of her dress, she felt a familiar stirring of desire near the pit of her stomach, but it was quelled somewhat by Jack's next words.
"Perfect. Now we're dry and safe here, at least until the ship docks."
She kissed his lips, thanking him one again for ensuring her safety, and was suddenly reminded of her earlier train of thoughts.
"And what will we do after the ship docks?"
He looked at her with a glint of question in his eye, and his grip on her hand tightened suddenly.
"Rose, do you want to get married?"
After the words came out, he looked as if he had even surprised himself by saying them out loud. She looked up at him, at her confident and poised Jack, and saw a worried look on his face. She wanted to kiss it away and get lost in the kiss, but she knew the response she owed him was too important.
"Jack," she began. "Are you asking because you want to get married or because you think I do?"
At her words, he released a breath neither realized he had been holding. "Both, I think. All I know is that I want to stay by your side. And I love you and respect you too much to not offer you marriage."
"I love you too, Jack. And there's nothing I want more than to be with you forever. But I want you to know that I don't want to get married just because society says we have to in order to love each other. I want to get married when we're both ready."
He grinned and hugged her tightly. "Rose, thank you. I do want to marry you one day, but I didn't want you to think I wasn't serious."
"I know you are, Jack. And the next time you ask, I will say yes. But, for now, I love you and you love me. I'd say we have a pretty good arrangement, so why should it change just because we'll get off the ship?"
"You're right. Nothing should change when we get back to America, so let's make sure nothing will. But I promise I'll ask you again one day."
"I'm looking forward to it."
At that, they kissed once again and slowly deepened it. She spread her fingers into his hair as his tongue grazed her lips and his own hand reached for her backside. Casually, she wrapped one of her legs around his, forcing them even closer as the kiss continued.
And that's how they spent the remaining days at sea, lost so deeply in their own little world that neither noticed the passing waves, the Statue of Liberty, or the ship finally coming to a stop.
June, 1918
As Rose remembered the hope they both had had that day, arriving in New York, she opened her eyes to the juxtaposition of the train station in Chicago. It was mostly empty, and starkly different from the only other time she had been to this station, but as she thought of that trip, she fixated on a number. 16. It had come out of nowhere, but suddenly the associated memory was clear in her mind.
Back then, she had arrived in Chicago on a whim, with Jack's hand in hers, and no destination in particular except the Art Institute of Chicago's new building and the acquisition of Monet's Houses of Parliament paintings to go along with it. They had been happy and free, and for the first time, the wide world was open to her. Six years ago, with little care for anyone who may have been watching, she and Jack had spent three memorable days in Chicago.
Her feet carried her downstairs and towards track 16. The hallway looked no different than she remembered it. Standing here, she could almost picture Jack, as he looked six years ago with his hair in his eyes, standing in front of her. She could almost feel his hand in hers. And she indulged herself in the thoughts, knowing the memory that would come next.
Summer, 1912
The passing summer had been good for them. The heat warmed their bones, and the routine the pair settled into returned a sense of normalcy.
After docking, Jack and Rose stayed at a community shelter. She had introduced herself as Rose McLean, an immigrant who had lost her family in the Titanic tragedy. He played the role of a friend she had met on the ship, who was helping introduce her to the new country. The pair were given separate rooms at the shelter, but had plenty of time during the day to explore New York and court each other as if they were a normal couple. The fire that had been in the relationship since the beginning was still as strong as ever, but with each new day, they came to know each other a little better and trust each other a little more.
Many of the others who were staying in the shelter left within a few weeks of the disaster, but a bout of pneumonia struck Rose in May, and Jack insisted he belonged at her bedside, until they were the final two remaining. The matron understood the situation, and let them stay as long as they needed, in exchange for chores around the house. Soon, as Rose started feeling better, they fell into a routine of helping out around the house during the day, and taking the evenings for just themselves, to watch a film, or wander through the park, or find somewhere private to make love.
As July rolled around, though, they knew it was time to move on, and they began the adventures they had been planning since that afternoon on the deck of Titanic. They headed South towards New Orleans, before turning and slowly heading West towards the Pacific. In Kentucky, Jack gave her her first sip of bourbon. In Texas, they found themselves in the midst of a summer barn-raising party, and danced the night away to a different style of music than either had ever heard before. In Wyoming, she saw bison bigger than she could have ever imagined. And in San Francisco, they snuck into the Fairmont hotel, drank the champagne from room service in bed, and snuck out before anyone knew what they were up to. Jack translated the whole experience onto the page, and was even teaching Rose how to draw by holding her hand in his as he moved the charcoal.
It was late September when they heard about some new Monet paintings in Chicago. They knew it would be a long trip, and probably a costly ticket, but the chance to see both Water Lilies and other new paintings from their favorite Impressionist was too big a chance to turn down. They were making a decent living from odd jobs they had picked up, and while they knew the cash flow wouldn't last forever, they were young and madly in love and free for adventures, so they booked the tickets.
The trip to Chicago was a short one, but they managed to pack everything in. After spending a few hours in the Art Institute, absorbing the art and each picking out favorites, Jack dragged her to a street cart and bought them each a Chicago style hot dog. As they walked back to the hotel, Jack reminisced about the one time he had been here before, as a young boy.
"It was really the only trip I went on with my parents before they died. It had been a successful year for the harvest, so by the time winter rolled around, there wasn't too much catch-up work, and my folks decided to take me here to see the Christmas decorations. At the time, I was more interested in playing hockey with my dad on Lake Michigan, but all in all, I have nothing but fond memories of that trip."
"It sounds like your parents really loved you. I'm sorry I didn't get to meet them."
"They would have loved you, Rose. My dad especially. He would have seen how much I love you in one look, and he'd treat you like family almost immediately. My ma usually took a bit longer to warm up to people, but I know she would have talked to you and seen some of her own intellect and dauntlessness in you."
"They sound like amazing people, Jack. But of course I'm not surprised since their son is the most amazing person I know."
"Wherever they are, I just hope they know I've found you," he said, tears welling in his eyes. "But anyways, there is one more place my parents took me when I was here the first time. Back then, I enjoyed it because I had never seen anything so big. But my parents recognized what I'm only realizing now that I'm here with you. It'll be pretty romantic."
It was dark by the time they got to Lincoln Park and boarded the famous Ferris wheel. For the first few minutes, they looked out over Chicago's landscape and felt their clothes and hair flapping in the wind. But once Jack leaned over to kiss her, the ride and the skyline disappeared, and all they knew was each other.
The rest of the trip passed quickly, and before either of them knew it, the weekend had ended and they were back in the train station, headed back to California, However, as they were waiting for their train to be called, the news that Westbound trains were running with massive delays permeated the room. Jack had left a while ago to see if he could figure out what the issue was, and just as Rose was beginning to wonder what had become of him, he reappeared, looking angry.
"These goddamn trains. Nothing's going West until at least tomorrow."
As he spoke, he sunk into a chair and leaned his head on his fist.
"Jack — it's OK. We'll just go tomorrow then."
He looked up at her with doubtful eyes. "We probably won't get to leave for a week. If they've canceled all the trips for today, there'll be a huge backlog, and since our tickets were the cheapest, we'll be last priority."
"Oh," said Rose, quietly. She had adjusted to most of the changes to her life very quickly — many of them she had even welcomed, but every now and then there were little things that took her off guard. For seventeen years, she had received preferential treatment without ever thinking twice about it, so it was a slight shock to her system to realize it was gone.
"And the train station is only going to get more full of people waiting to leave," Jack continued. "This is bullshit."
Rose knew Jack well enough to know he would feel better after a minute of letting it simmer, so she left him alone and turned her thoughts to what they could do. If trains really weren't leaving at all, it didn't seem like they had any options other than waiting. And, even that wouldn't be the hardest thing they had been through. It wouldn't even be the hardest this year. She began to picture what another week in Chicago would be like. They probably didn't have the money for a hotel, but she and signed up for a life of adventure, and there had to be some adventure in curling up with Jack on the floor of the train station.
But, as she began to think of the week, she realized another issue she hadn't thought of. There were only two weeks remaining in the room they had rented in California. Their plan was to stay out the term, and then move on to wherever the wind took them. If it did take a week to get on a train like Jack predicted, they would no sooner arrive back at their room before having to turn around and get on another train to their next destination.
"Jack," she said, touching his shoulder, "what do you think about forgetting California and just getting on the first train that leaves?"
He opened his mouth to speak in protest, but before he could say anything, she saw his face change suddenly. "You, mean, just head off wherever?"
"That is exactly what I mean."
"Rose, I love you. Let's do it."
There was a small crowd huddling around the departure schedule, but Jack and Rose easily fought their way to the front to see where they could go.
"It looks like the next one goes to Duluth in," she glanced at the old clock, "10 minutes."
"Is it really Duluth, Rose?"
"Yes, it's—"
"Is the the local or express?"
"It's the local. Jack — where's Duluth?"
"Duluth's a railroad town in Minnesota — up by Lake Superior. But the local train on the Chicago-Duluth line is the one that stops in Chippewa Falls."
"Really? Jack, I think it's a sign!"
He paused for a moment, his face looked contemplative enough that she was sure he was planning something. "You know what, I think it may be a sign. Does it say the track number?"
"16."
He grabbed her hand and they ran through the train station. Neither of them had any idea how to find track 16, but the numbers were getting higher, which seemed like a good sign. Quickly, they were out of breath and flushed, but a sign pointed to track 16 just around the corner, and they still had a minute to spare. They slowed their pace to look more presentable when boarding the train, and headed around the corner to another hallway.
"I saw that look in your face, Jack Dawson. You're planning something."
"You caught me. There's something in Chippewa Falls — to be frank I don't know exactly where it is, but there's only a couple of places to look—that I want to give you."
"What is it?"
But just as he was about to answer, the train bell from track 16 began to ring, indicating it had started to pull away. Just as Jack and Rose arrived, a steward closed the door.
"Can we get on that train?"
"Sorry sir. It's all aboard."
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, but instead nodded at the steward and stepped back to regroup with Rose in semi-privacy behind a pillar.
"I'm sorry Rose. So much for a sign."
"Jack—we decided to go on an adventure. Not much of an adventure if the first place we try to go works out perfectly. But I am sorry to miss your hometown."
"To answer your question, it was my mother's ring."
"What?"
"You asked me what I was going to get in Chippewa Falls to give to you. It was my mother's engagement ring."
"Jack, you remember what I said—"
"Yes. And this time I really mean it. I love you, and I want to marry you. Not because anyone else says we have to, but because we can do shit like getting on a train without knowing the destination, and it really does feel like an adventure. And that's how I want to spend every day of the rest of our life. Is that what you want too?"
"Yes Jack. More than anything."
They kissed deeply, then. Her hands traced his hairline as his tongue massaged hers. He pulled her torso closer in and held her tightly as his lips began working down her throat.
"Mrs. Dawson," he whispered, for the first time. "I've been thinking of you like that in my head for a while now."
"Well, Mr. Dawson, let's take the next train to wherever it's going and make it official."
—
June, 1918
Back in the present, Rose started at the pillar behind track 16 — the exact place she and Jack had stood on the day they thought nothing bad would ever happen again. Of course they had been married within days of his proposal. The next train had taken them to Montreal, where they each stifled laughs as the other gave wedding vows in French. And their adventure continued across North America for the next several years.
And while the train station hadn't changed in the time since then, the world had. She knew in many ways, she was the same woman, but the war had already taken so much from her. Traveling, which used to be one of her greatest joys, was now only a hassle. Her optimism, that she knew was one of her qualities that Jack admired, had almost abandoned her. But, she had one last card to play. Even though she had no idea where Jack was in the world, and he had no idea where she was, she would do the only thing she could think of to stop the war from taking Jack from her too.
Using the pocket knife Jack had given her, she scratched two tiny letters into the pillar, in a place that meant so much to them. It was just in time, as commotion at the other end of the hallway signaled a train was about to leave from this station. The last time, she and Jack had been late, but this time was different. This time, without looking back, she boarded the train for Chippewa Falls.