I make a correction. In the last chapter, they board the Californian ship, but I found out the survivors actually board the Carpathia.
Skips to where they're in America, BTW. I couldn't think of any transitions between this part and the previous chapter.
"Where do we go from here?" I asked Jack, who was still recovering from some illnesses that I didn't know the name of. "We can't go anywhere. We don't have any money. And our clothes . . ." Our clothes were okay for now. We were given some from generous passengers. The clothes we had now were the only ones we had. "I can't go back to my mother—no. Absolutely not."
"I have some friends that we could go to," Jack said. "I haven't talked to them in forever. I hope they'll remember me."
"Well, I hope they do, too."
We walked down several blocks until we got to the poorer part of town—a place I wasn't familiar with. I stayed close to Jack as we made our way through the crowded streets. We turned down one street and then another. Pretty soon, I lost track of how many lefts and rights we made.
"Here we are," Jack proclaimed.
I turned to look at the house. It was mediocre with paint peeling off the sides and boarded up windows. The fenced-in yard around the house had brown grass. A few children were in the back, playing with run-down dolls or something of the like. Jack opened the black gate for me.
"Thank you," I said as I walked past him, but then stopped once I was through so I wasn't all alone when I got to the door. He grabbed my hand and we marched up the stairs. Jack knocked twice on the door.
"I'm sorry, we don't want to buy anything, thank you," the woman said when she opened the door. She looked us down. Remembrance glared in her eyes after a moment. "Well! I'll be darned! Jack! Please, come in. And who is this?"
"LeAnn, this is Rose; Rose, this is LeAnn," Jack introduced us. I shook LeAnn's hand. LeAnn had a unique combination of hair and eye color. Her hair was red and her eyes were blue. She had a faded pink dress on.
"Nice to meet you," I said, smiling.
LeAnn turned and walked into the house, presuming we would follow. "Be careful," Jack whispered in my ear, "she has a bunch of kids. They run all over the place. She takes in and raises some of the kids that live on the street." I nodded.
"I'm almost out of rooms, but we can probably squeeze," LeAnn said. We walked up a set of squeaky stairs. They looked dangerous for a bunch of kids to walk on. We went down a hallway. Doors were open to the rooms, some revealing kids taking naps or playing games or unmade beds. "You two can have this one." She unlocked the door with a key.
I walked inside with Jack on my heels. It had a full-sized bed and a small dresser. A closet was in the corner. I turned to say thank you to LeAnn, but she was off scolding someone.
"How many kids does she have?" I asked. There seemed to be a million in the hallways.
"Thirty," Jack said.
"Thirty? Amazing."
I lay on the bed and stretched out. It wasn't as comfortable as the first-class beds I was used to, but it was perfect for what we needed. I probably wasn't to get much sleep, anyway. I was sure I was going to have nightmares about that tragic night on the Titanic.
"I'll have to find a job sooner or later," Jack continued.
"What about me? I can find a job, too."
"You wouldn't last a day," he joked. I smacked his arm.
Jack rested on the pillows beside me. I moved my head to his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me. It felt nice. Nice?!? I scolded myself. This is way better than nice! How about glorious . . . fantastic . . . wonderful . . . magnificent!
I don't know how long we were like this, but there was a knock on the door to get us out of our reverie. We turned our heads towards the door, where LeAnn was waiting, flour on her face and apron. "Dinner," she said simply then turned and left.
We got out of the bed slowly and went back down the stairs that groaned under our feet. We turned left down the hall and to the kitchen-slash-dining room. There was a long table with kids aging from about three to sixteen all around it in un-matching chairs.
"Everyone," LeAnn said, "this is Rose and Jack. Say 'hello' to them."
"Hello!" the kids chorused.
"Here, I'll get you two chairs." She searched the room for some.
I decided to be bold and break the silence in the room. "What are your names?"
The older kids started, at the farthest end of the table. (I later found out they were seated oldest to youngest.) I tried to remember them as they said them. John, Mary, James, Anna, Elizabeth, Joseph, Dorothy, Marie, Edward, Henry, Alice, Ethel, Harry, Lillian, Edna, Annie, Grace, Raymond, Emma, Richard, Bessie, Clara, Roy, Joe, Hazel, Anthony, Gwendolyn, Katherine, Alvin, and Jacob. That's them. All thirty kids. How does this woman manage all of them? I thought.
"James!" LeAnn called from the next room. "Help me get these chairs down!"
James stood up. He was tall and muscular. He had brown hair, but I didn't catch the color of his eyes. Later, they walked in, each holding a heavy-looking chair. The set them down at the table.
"Thank you," I said, sitting down between Jack and Gwendolyn. I remember her because she has such an exotic name.
"Now, let's pray! Katherine, it's your turn to lead us."
"God is great," Katherine began. We joined in with her, "God is good. Now we thank him for our food. By His hand we all are fed; give us, Lord, our daily bread. Amen!"
Everyone started chattering and grabbing their share of food off of the dishes in the middle of the table. I got whatever I could, as everything was disappearing as the kids fought for the food.
When the commotion settled, LeAnn asked me and Jack, "So, what's your story? Why are you here?"
We paused, coming up with an answer. Jack was the first to speak. "We were on the R.M.S Titanic. I don't know if you heard about it yet, but it sunk. We were lucky to even survive."
I looked at my hands, fighting the tears that were coming. The memories flooded my brain. The screaming, the terror that radiated off of everyone. "Rose, darlin'?" LeAnn said. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing," I said, rubbing my eyes. Jack wrapped his arms around my shoulders. "Well, actually . . . it's because of this." I told them the whole story of that awful night, April 15th. When I finished, I saw tears in some of the older girls' eyes, the older guys leaning towards me in interest, and the younger kids trying to make something of the story.
Finally, I couldn't take it. The memories overwhelmed me. "I'm sorry," I said, standing up and walking to our room in a first-class manner. Old habits die hard. Once in the comfort of our room, I laid face-down in the pillows and cried.
I hate this chapter. If it seems forced, I'm sorry. It was just hard to write. Constructive criticisms are accepted and flames are not. Any ideas are welcome, too!