The mood in the house was tense for the next few days. Jack felt it when he came home that night, but it wasn't until he was putting the twins to bed that he found out what was causing it. They didn't know all the details, of course, but they knew enough to put a fairly clear picture in his mind. Rose wouldn't talk about it, though, and he knew better than to ask Ruth. She didn't even like when he asked for the time.

Ruth was always the first one up, and most mornings he bumped into her in the kitchen. They rarely spoke. She cast cold looks in his directions, and he tried to ignore them. But that morning, as she watched him pour Rose's tea, he sensed what she wanted to say. He kept his back to her, pretending not to notice.

Rose was awake when he came in. She was sitting up, pillows around her. He sat on the edge of the bed and offered her the steaming mug. "Thank you," she said. She sipped slowly, grateful for the warmth it gave off. Their bedroom wasn't cold, but it wasn't as warm as the other rooms. None of the upstairs rooms were as warm as those downstairs.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm alright." She shrugged and added, with a smile, "About the same as always."

"You need anything?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm fine."

"I'll bring you some breakfast before I go," he said.

"I can go down—"

"Let me bring you something, Rose."

…..

Rose tried to spend as much of the day in bed as possible, but by mid-morning she couldn't stand it anymore. Lying, alone, with nothing to do was torture for her. She wished Jack could stay with her if the twins weren't allowed to come up. Slowly, she climbed out of bed and dressed. It still surprised her how much being pregnant affected her movements. No longer could she spring from her chair or the bed; she couldn't run down the stairs or sweep the twins off the floor and carry them. She couldn't hold Jack, not the way she usually did. Being so limited was frustrating, and she felt slightly guilty about how much she looked forward to it being over.

The twins were talking quietly when she came down. They were at the kitchen table, papers spread in front of them, carefully practicing their writing. There was no sign of Ruth. Rose went in, placing a kiss on each of their heads. Rose was sitting between them when Ruth came back. She frowned deeply but said nothing.

…..

"You need to speak to Rose." Ruth stood stiffly, her hands folded in front of her. Jack stared at her, still unwinding his scarf.

"What?" he said.

"You need to speak to her about what she's doing," she said. "She isn't staying in bed, and she won't listen to me. As always, she believes she knows best."

Jack chose his words carefully. "Maybe she does. It's her body, after all. I'm sure she knows what's going on inside it."

"Oh. Well, I'll go then," Ruth said sharply. "Let her take over things again since it's perfectly fine for her to be up and about. I suppose I didn't even need to come at all. You didn't need to have the doctor come see her. Rose knows best."

"That's not—I didn't meant it like that," he said, annoyed with her and himself.

"Maybe you should think more before you speak then," she replied.

Jack swallowed the first reply that came. "What's she been doing?"

…..

Rose was ensconced on the couch with the twins on the floor next to her. They each held a book and were taking turns reading aloud to her. Rose tried to get up when she saw Jack, but he motioned for her to stay where she was. The twins hurried to him for their usual hug, and he held them for a long moment. He watched Rose, checking for signs of ill-healthy, but she seemed as cheerful and lively as ever. There were small, dark circles under her eyes, though, and he worried Ruth might be right. Even the little she was doing might be too much.

"Hello," Rose said brightly, leaning up for his kiss. "You're cold."

"Yeah, it's gettin bad out there," he replied. Jack took a seat next to the couch, on the floor. She pulled the blanket from her feet and put it around his shoulders. "I'm fine," he said, but he left it on.

"Have you eaten?"

"I will in a minute. Not that hungry yet," he answered.

"I can—" she began.

"You can rest here. I'll manage," he said. He turned to the twins. "These two can help me, right?"

Ben nodded. Emily put her book aside, eager for a new project. "We had soup again," she said, making clear her disapproval.

"Well, soup's good in weather like this," Jack said. "Keeps you warm."

"I don't like Grandmother's soup," Emily said. "I like when you and Mama make it." Ben agreed but kept quiet.

Jack and Rose exchanged glances. They agreed too, but they couldn't let the children know. Finding the right tone for dealing with Ruth and the twins was difficult, and they weren't always successful, or so Rose thought. She worried about the type of relationship Ruth was establishing with the twins. They needed to know one another, but the three of them actually getting along appeared unlikely. Ruth had made her disapproval of their lives clear too often. Secretly, Rose feared her mother would stay even after the baby was born, maybe forever. But no, she told herself, Jack wouldn't let that happen. Or would he? He was so good-natured; she knew how hard he tried not to make things worse with Ruth, but she didn't seem to care.

"I'll do the cooking tomorrow," Jack said. "We should give her the weekend off anyway."

"I can walk, Jack," Rose said.

"I know, but—"

She held to the railing. "It may take me a few minutes, but I will make it up the stairs," she said. Jack walked behind her, ready to catch her if she slipped. Her refusal to accept his help frustrated him, and yet he admired her for it. He saw how difficult it was for her, but the fire in her eyes hadn't dimmed.

Jack helped her into bed. There was a chill in their room. He busied himself with the heat, even stacking wood for a fire if necessary. Rose watched him, exhausted by his boundless energy. Jack never slowed down; he kept going no matter what. She couldn't imagine him wanting to sleep for three days, the way she found herself wanting to lately. No, instead, he was always making sure they were all taken care of. Not for the first time Rose reminded herself how lucky she was to have him. She wished her mother could see it too.

"Should get warm in here soon," he said, getting into bed next to her. He put an arm around her. One hand rested on her belly, above hers.

Rose allowed herself a yawn. "I shouldn't be tired. I haven't done anything all day."

"You went downstairs."

"That hardly counts as doing something. And I couldn't stay up here, alone, all day. Mother tuts when the twins come and see me in bed," she said. "I try to avoid that sound."

"You sure that's all you do?"

Rose gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"You're not doing more?" he asked.

"No. I'm limiting my activity," she said mockingly. "As much as I hate it."

"I know how you feel, but it's not gonna last forever, and it's for the best. For both of you." He gave her a gently squeeze. "You take care of yourself and the baby, and I'll take care of everything else, remember?" He kissed her cheek. She turned her head and caught his lips. Jack kissed her softly, trying not to enjoy it too much. He couldn't want her; it would just leave him frustrated. But they had always loved winter; the long, cold nights burrowing under blankets and quilts, finding warmth in each other.

"Jack," she whispered, putting a hand on his back. She kissed his neck, running her other hand down his chest.

"Rose." Her teeth grazed his skin, and he felt himself being swept away. Her hand kept moving lower. He didn't want her to stop. But it had to stop. "Rose, don't," he said, struggling to breathe normally.

"Why?"

"Because we can't," he said. "And right now, that's all I want."

"I miss you." Her eyes were heavy with desire.

Jack let himself be drawn into another kiss. It felt so good just to lie there kissing her. It couldn't go any further, but at least they still had that much.

…..

Rose pulled the blankets even tighter around herself and tried to snuggle closer to Jack. She put her head under the blankets, still mostly asleep but awake enough to recoil from the cold. Her movements woke him. The light that shone in was grey, and the air was bitterly cold, almost as if they were outside. "You alright?" he asked.

Rose nodded, fully awake now. "What's happened?"

"I don't know. I'll check the radiator."

It was like ice when he touched it. Clearly, it hadn't been on for a few hours, though he couldn't tell why. Nothing he tried made it work. His hands were beginning to numb when he gave up and lit a fire. Fortunately, there was more wood on the screened in porch in the back. He'd gotten it for a day like this. He took another blanket out of the closet and spread it across the bed. "I'll gonna check on the twins," he said, putting on a sweater.

"The whole house is probably like this," she said.

"Yeah, most likely," he replied. "I'll bring them in here with you."

The rest of the house was indeed just as cold. The twins' room had a fireplace, but lighting one in there could be dangerous. He couldn't stay home and tend to it. Rose couldn't, and neither could they. Ruth, he was sure, wouldn't. He scooped up a sleeping child in each arm, keeping them wrapped in their quilts. There was enough space for one on either side of Rose. They snuggled against her like kittens, neither waking up. Slowly, the room began getting warmer.

Jack knocked on Ruth's door, trying not to feel awkward as he did so. It opened immediately. She was wrapped in a blanket and wore a thick robe. She eyed him scornfully. "Yes?" she said.

"I came to light the fire for you," he said. When she didn't respond he added, "Or you could get in bed with Rose and the kids. It's warm in there."

For a moment she looked as if she might spit on him. Jack wondered how she could still carry so much hatred for him, but he didn't let himself dwell on it. There were more important things to think about. "That would be fine," she said, stepping back to let him in. "I don't suppose you know why there's no heat?"

"The electricity's out," he replied. "Should be back up soon, but until then there's plenty of wood. I'll bring some up, but you might hafta help Rose keep the fire going in out room. I don't want her doing all of that."

"Of course not. She does too much already."

"Well, I'll be home early," he said. "I'll see what I can find out about the electricity."

….

It was still snowing when he left, and attempts to clear the streets were mostly at a stand-still, as if those in authority were waiting to see how bad things would get before continuing. Jack moved through the frozen streets quickly, comforted by the familiar sight of a snow-covered world. He could almost be back in Wisconsin; if he tried, for just a moment, he could imagine he never left. It wasn't something he thought about often, though whenever he did, Rose was always there. Jack believed they would have met no matter what. Somehow, they would have met; something would have brought them together. If he hadn't left and found his way to her, she would have found her way to him.

The office was busy in spite of the weather, and it took Jack no time to find out at least half the city's power was out. More storms were predicted, so even if it was fixed it could still go out again. Jack didn't bother settling in. Instead, he gathered his projects to take home. It had been a long time since he drew by candlelight, but he could still manage it. They couldn't afford for him to get behind on his work.

"Hey, Dawson," George said jovially. "Some weather we're having, huh?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. "I woke up in an icebox."

George laughed. "So, you're one of those that got hit. Not going back already, are you?" he added, noticing Jack's armful of papers and art supplies. "Why not stay here where it's warm?"

"I gotta go make sure my family's alright," Jack said. "Her mother's with them, but—"

"Her mother's living with you?" George shook his head. "That's a bad situation."

"It's not so bad." Jack shrugged. "It's only temporary, until Rose has the baby. We needed some extra help."

"Sure, you say that not, but you might never get her out," George said ominously. "Trust me. The same thing happened to my brother. His wife's mother came for a visit, to help with the kids, and she never left."

"She won't want to stay," Jack said. "She has her own life. She hates it here. She hates me."

George laughed. "Don't they all hate us?"

"And besides," Jack went on. "We don't have enough room. We'll need the room she's in before long."

"You could always move."

"No," Jack replied. "It took too long to find this house. If we move again it'll be out've the city."

"Well, good luck getting her out," George said. "And surviving the weekend. The radio says we're gonna get stuck. That's why I'm going to have a drink. Maybe I'll get trapped with a pretty girl and a few bottles of Scotch."

Jack hoped to never become like him but he wasn't terribly afraid he would. As far as he could tell marriage was an obligation and disappointment to George; it had never been either of those things for him. But George's prediction that Ruth would live with them forever was more disconcerting than he cared to admit. When the time came to leave, would she? Or would she decide living with them was more comfortable? But she despised him. As he walked home, he wondered if that wouldn't motivate her to stay. Her distrust of him and her belief that he could never properly care for Rose and the children might convince her she was needed there.

The house was quiet when he came in. It was dark and bitterly cold on the first floor. He tried the lights, but the electricity was still out. It didn't take long to get a fire going in the kitchen stove. It was out of date, but it was more useful than a modern appliance. Soon, the kitchen was warm, and a few candles gave it a soft light. He set about preparing lunch.

Ruth's door was closed. He went past it without knocking. His own door was closed, but to keep in warmth, not as he suspected with Ruth's, to keep anyone out. The fire glowed cheerfully. Rose slept, the twins still on either side of her. They opened their eyes at the sound of his step. Jack held a finger to his lips and they nodded, slipping form bed. He took their hands. "Want some lunch?" he whispered.

Ruth declined his offer of food, but after a few minutes her hunger got the better of her, and she appeared in the kitchen. The smell was delightful. Jack pulled a pan of biscuits from the oven, and she wanted one more than she cared to admit. So far, she had either refused to eat his cooking or found fault with it. Her main complaint was how simple it was. He took a few things already in the kitchen and made meals out of them. How could Rose possible enjoy the dishes he prepared? But they were good. Flavorful. Filling. When he made something the aroma filled the house. And he made it look easy. Too easy, Ruth thought.

Without a word, she sat down. Jack just nodded at her as they began eating. She watched him fill a plate and cover it before placing it in the oven to keep warm.

Jack was there when she woke up. Rose smiled. "Did I sleep all day?" she asked.

"No. I came home early," he said. "Pretty much as soon as I got there. The weather's supposed to get worse, so I thought I should be here."

"Where are—"

"In the kitchen," he replied. "Don't worry. It's warm down there. I got a fire going in the stove, and everyone's had lunch. Except you," he added, handing her the still-warm plate.

Rose tried to eat slowly, but she couldn't. She was ravenous, as if she hadn't eaten in days. "There's more," he said with a grin.

"I know what you must be thinking," she said.

"That you enjoy my cooking?"

"No," she said.

"You don't?" he teased.

Rose rolled her eyes but grinned as she did it. "Have it your way, Jack."

"I think you're beautiful," he said, looking into her eyes.

"I don't feel beautiful."

He set the empty plate aside. "Can I help?" He caressed her face with his fingertips and kissed her softly, moving closer when she pressed a hand against the back of his neck.

"Jack," she breathed.

Too late he realized what he had done. He felt her desire as strongly as he felt his own. But there wasn't anything to be done about it. "We can't," he reminded her. He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers.

"I know," she said. "I don't think I've ever wanted you this badly."

"Oh really?"

"Maybe…maybe on the ship," she said.

"We'll make up for it," he promised.

"You'll still want me then?"

"Always."

And the snow kept falling, covering the streets and the house. The world outside was sparkling and frozen. The sun disappeared behind thick clouds, and they gathered in the kitchen, grateful for the warmth and light they had. Jack carried Rose down and placed her in a chair near the stove. She was wrapped in a quilt, more to make the wooden chair more comfortable than to ward off cold. If she wouldn't stay in bed—and how could he tell her to stay up there alone?—then he would bring as much of it to her as possible.