A/N: Hello to my returning readers! And greetings to the new ones who may have stumbled upon this sequel without having read the first book [in which case, I would recommend you do to keep up with the storyline :) ].
After a bit of a break, I've returned with an exciting edition to my series. Here's the very first chapter. Enjoy!
CHAPTER 1: The Draft
The Dawsons had paid little more than casual attention to the war until the United States became involved on April 6th, 1917. Both Jack and Rose felt strongly that America had no business being in the war.
Those already in serving in the military were immediately shipped off to Europe. Shortly thereafter, the Selective Service Act was passed on May 18 requiring all men between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one to register for the Selective Service, or as commonly referred to as the draft. Jack knew he had to register as it was required by the law, but neither him nor Rose were too enthused. However, personal opinions meant nothing, and the draft notice arrived for him in the mail on May 29, 1917. Jack wasn't home when it arrived; he was working at the courthouse.
As he strolled down the sidewalk that warm late afternoon of May, Jack whistled a joyful tune. He was in a good mood for no reason at all; it was just one of those days. The sun was shining, the temperature was just right, and he felt he had no excuse not to be happy.
Veering onto the short path leading to the porch of his home's front entrance, he smiled when he saw two small boys' grinning faces pop up in the window as they waved at him.
"Hello, I'm home!" he called, once he stepped through the doorway and set down his portfolio.
"Hi!" Rose called back from the kitchen. It was only four o'clock, but Rose was busy prepping a roast beef that would take over an hour and a half to cook in the oven. "Boys, settle down,"
"Whoa," Jack bellowed as his two boys unpredictably came colliding into his legs, hugging him in pure happiness of his arrival.
"Papa!" Paul squeaked in his small voice, jumping up and down at his feet, outstretching his arms expectantly. He was barely two years old, and he knew several words.
Jack tousled Matt's soft blond hair and chuckled at Paul's waiting arms. As he usually did, he scooped Paul up from under his arms and slightly tossed him up straight up in the air. Paul squealed in ecstasy at the weightless feeling until he was found himself caught again in his father's safe arms, and set back down on the ground.
Jack crouched down to their level as he had an arm wrapped around each of them. "What were you guys up to today?"
Rose peered over from the kitchen in the middle of her preparing the supper, only to find Jack wildly tickling the boys, despite their incessant giggling and protests as they squirmed on the floor. Rose smiled to herself and shook her head as she turned to resume what she had started. They were typical boys up to their usual antics.
Jack growled as he scooped Paul up from his waist and settled him under one arm, as he did the same with Matthew under his other arm. He walked towards the kitchen, carrying his sons like they were nothing other than parcels. They kept giggling playfully as children do, just as Jack bent down to set them back on their feet.
"You guys go play in the other room, okay?" he told them as he stood up straight again, a bit out of breath. "Hey, darlin'" he breathed, greeting Rose.
"Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance," Rose laughed, as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Mm hmm," he leaned into her and kissed her lips and then pulled her into his arms, enjoying the scent of her hair. "Looks like that's gonna be good."
She pulled back and looked over her shoulder to see that he was referring to the roast. "Oh! Yes, I hope so." She had become more than decent at cooking if one were to consider that she had only had her start at it not long ago. Her friends were to thank for her learned skills, and not to mention Jack as well. Rose turned back to him, laying her hands over his chest. "Listen, I told the children we would take them to the park for an hour once you got home."
"Sounds good to me. I'm gonna go throw on some other clothes."
"Alright," she said just before his lips brushed against hers. "Hold on," she stopped him before he stepped away, "I forgot to tell you that something came for you in the mail today."
"For me?" he pointed to himself. He picked up from the kitchen table the envelope that was addressed to him. He rarely got any mail. Rose turned to resume what she had been preparing earlier. "What's this?" he asked himself as he slid his forefinger under the lip of the envelope and ripped it open. Rose held her breath in anticipation of what they were to find out. In the back of her mind, she had a feeling she already knew. "Shit…" he cursed under his breath after a few moments. The once happy atmosphere in the room grew almost tangibly heavy.
It was the dreaded registration notice for the draft. All men between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one were required to register a draft card at the local draft board by the fifth of June. At twenty-five, Jack was among the group of men, as well as was Fabrizio, and Albert. Except for Tony—luckily, he was thirty-three.
He dropped the telegram on the table as he muttered, "It's the registration notice." He let his hands rest on his hips as he stared at the folded paper.
"What are you going to do?" Rose was right beside him the next moment.
"I have to go in to the office like all the other men and fill in the card, I guess..." He ran a hand through his sandy hair and let it rest on the nape of his neck as he stood with his other hand on his hip.
"I wish you didn't..." she bowed her head, finding sudden interest in her hands.
"I know... me too."
"Well then, please don't."
He let the hand on the nape of his neck fall to an audible smack against his thigh as he turned to her, "I don't have much of a choice." What they were talking about would be to go against the law. It was a criminal offense not to register for the draft and was punishable by law.
They both were aware of the chances of getting selected to go to war after submitting a registration card. If you were in good health and you were not working in an industry in need of manpower, there were good chances to be called upon to serve the nation. The only thing Jack had going in his favour was his family situation, which in any case was common among many men his age: many were married and had small children.
"Rose?" Jack asked after a beat when she had not responded but kept staring down at her hands anxiously twisting her engagement and wedding bands around her finger. She looked up just as she had suddenly heard her name. "Remember what I said?" He put his hands on her shoulders, and peered into her eyes, trying to get her to look back into his. "It'll be alright."
Rose nodded slightly as she shakily took in a breath.
After dinner, Jack washed the dirty dishes as the children went to play in the living room until their bedtime. Rose had been quiet during most of supper, saying very little to him since he opened the telegram. He hoped she was not upset with him for going through with registering. After all, it wasn't his fault. She had to see that, didn't she? He thought that if anything, she was just lost in thought thinking about the situation in general. Either way, he could no longer handle her distancing herself from him. He hated it when this happened, and it only ever seemed to happen lately with anything related to the war.
"I'm gonna step out," he mumbled as he looked out the front window in the living room. Rose was kneeling on the floor next to the boys attempting to build a castle out of playing cards.
"Okay..." she said with uncertainty. It was not like him to just "step out". After work, he usually stayed home, unless they were going somewhere together. "Don't be gone long," she weakly added. Was he angry with her? Or worse—did he think she was mad at him? She knew she may have seemed distant that evening, but she had really not meant to. She was just so lost in thought at the mess that everything has become. She had hoped and hoped that somehow things would turn out alright just as Jack had said. But in the back of her mind, she had doubt. The state of the world always seemed to be worsening and it was not getting any better. How could he be so confident that things would be "alright"?
Jack eventually made his way over to Fabrizio's home and invited him outside for a chat. They sat on the steps of his front porch.
"Smoke?" Jack offered. He had bought a pack on his way over.
Fabrizio took one and leant in for Jack to light it. Jack sat back and lit his own.
"You get draft notice yet?" Jack asked, as he blew out some smoke from his mouth.
"Si," Fabrizio replied. They were silent for the duration of a long drag before Fabrizio continued. "If I have to, I will 'a fight for this country. It's my home now."
Jack considered Fabrizio's words. As much of a patriot as he was for his country, he could not fathom going half way across the world to fight for something he did not understand. That was, however, the least of his concerns.
"Fabri," Jack shook his head as he looked across the street which faced the West where the sun was just setting, "I don't know what it is, but I can't find it in me to willingly go to war... I can't even imagine leaving Rose and my boys." If he were single, that would be a different story. He'd serve his country—no questions asked. But he could not bear the idea that if anything were to happen to him—God forbid—what would become of Rose, Paul, and Matthew. It sent a chill up his spine by the mrere thought of what could be. "But you also have a family, and yet you're willing to fight." He turned to him and looked at him in the eye, full of bewilderment at the bravery of his friend. "How do you do it?" After all the years that he'd known Fabrizio, this is exactly how he only expected him to react—by fighting for his country. This part of his character blew him away. The only way he could ever fully understand it would be to have walked in this man's shoes.
"Let me tell you—" After another puff, he continued, "I fought to come to this land. Now that I am here, I have to fight for it. It is my country now. This is the land I dreamed to come to." Fabrizio spoke with a passion in his eyes that Jack remembered seeing every time this young Italian spoke of coming to America while they were travelling together in Europe. Fabrizio was now smiling a smile that revealed no sign of fear or uncertainty, and Jack only returned it with a weak smile of his own that did little to mask his own doubts and uncertainties.
"You were smoking," Rose stated once he returned about an hour later. The children were already in their bed and it was dark outside by now.
"Yeah," he simply responded. He had not moved since she started speaking.
"I can't remember the last time you ever did."
"Spur of the moment. Anyway, I gave the rest of pack to someone on my way back."
"Oh" was all she said. She looked at him for a moment and discovered no trace of him being upset with her. "You're not mad at me, are you?"
His head snapped towards her, her words grabbing his attention. "What?—no, of course not." He took her hand and gently pulled her close to him, to reassure her.
Rose let out a great sigh of relief, "thank goodness." She laid her head against his chest. "I was worried you were when you went out..."
"There's been so much going on. I just had to go think for a bit," he said as he lightly stroked her hair. "Guess this means you're not mad at me either?"
"No," she replied barely audibly. She did not know why, but she suddenly felt the need to say it, "I love you."
Jack responded by kissing her temple as he hugged her closer.
[A/N: So I screwed up the last chapter of the first book. I had Rose saying, "What are we going to do if the U.S. does like Canada and imposes a draft?" WELL. I just discovered some important information: Canada had no conscription until August 29 1917… almost three months after the States imposed the draft. So what Rose says is actually 5 months ahead of this fact. I felt this was kinda useful to know for the sake of the content in this chapter. (Oh, and I changed that bit of historically-incorrect statement in the dialogue of the last book!)]
