''There's something in me, Jack. Like a dynamo. I don't know what it is, if I should become an artist or a sculptor or a dancer, just like Isadora Duncan, a wild Pagan spirit, or...a moving picture actress!''

-Rose

''It's the best show of 1922, or so the papers say.''

''Well, they said that about the last one of 1921.''

''And that was true! If it wasn't they wouldn't have wanted you to do that picture now, would they?''

Jack touched Rose's silky shoulder length platinum blonde hair. A cloud of smoke surrounded her, and Jack took the cigarette from her and took a long drag.

''Well, maybe once the next picture is shot. We could take a vacation, someplace. Away from California.''

Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. ''Wow, we haven't had a vacation in ten years.''

Rose playfully hit her husband's arm and he pulled her into a standing position. She took the cigarette from between his lips and placed it between her own, taking a long drag before exhaling right in his face.

''Well, that's because we spent three years travelling,'' she kissed him just once, right on the lips, ''then we made two babies,'' she kissed him again, this time he smirked, ''then came the war and then once you were back, well, we made up for some of the lost time.'' Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

''Then, Hollywood came knocking, for my wife.''

Rose took another long drag. ''You encouraged my acting, darling.''

''Yes, because a redhead, many moons ago told me that she wanted to become a moving picture actress. I did marry her but then, she woke up blonde.''

Rose stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray upon the table in their kitchen. ''Yes, and my husband told me he enjoyed the blonde.''

''I do, I love you whatever the hair colour.''

His hands came around her slender waist and he tilted his head to the right, watching how her lips curved into a smile. They began to sway a little and after a minute, they realised they were dancing, to no music. Her blonde curls fell into her face, in that moment, she stole his breathe away, just as she had ten years before but now, it was much more intense.

''You know I do believe I am dancing with the most beautiful actress there is. The most in-demand actress in Hollywood.''

Rose snaked her arms up around his neck and rested her face next to his, she felt the stubble of his couple of days' worth of growth.

''No, Jack. I am none of those things, just your wife.''

''Teddy, come here. You know you burn in the sun, darling.'' Rose shouted after her eight-year-old son. His brother, Sam, aged five followed his brother closely behind. Together, they were like two peas in a pod. They could pass for twins, except for the couple of inches height difference.

''Coming, Mom. I want to play in the water.''

''Have a little rest, just for a minute.''

Teddy dragged his feet up the sand to the blanket where his Mother was sat in her striking blue bathing suit beneath a huge straw hat and dark sunglasses. A large parasol covered them and Samuel ran passed his Mother to see their father carrying two ice creams from the cart.

''Oh, daddy! Is that for me?'' Samuel cried, his blonde hair flapping as he ran towards Jack.

''Yes, but only if you do as your Mother said. Both of you, sit down and take a rest.''

Samuel ran back to the blanket and sat beside his brother. Two pair of blue eyes eagerly awaited the ice cream cones to be in their hands. Within seconds, their tongues licked at the already melting ice cream.

''Thank you, daddy.'' They chorused and suddenly, all was quiet as their boys ate happily.

Jack sat beside Rose, taking her hand in his he kissed it.

''You know I do believe all eyes are on you, my darling.''

''Oh, Jack. It's just a bit of leg.'' She swatted away her hair and avoided gaze without any fuss of the other beachgoers. ''Besides, I have seen four other women in such attire and no one pays attention to those.''

Jack smiled, moving his own hair from his eyes. ''No, darling. I think it is because you are the loveliest woman here.''

Rose removed her shades, to reveal the amusement in her eyes. She leant closer to Jack, her words tickling his ear. ''Well, this will be the last time I can wear a bathing suit, perhaps ever again in my life.''

''Nonsense.''

''I am almost thirty years old, and I have borne two children.''

''And still look seventeen and have kept your trim waist.''

Jack glanced at their children, sat watching other children play with a volleyball behind them. They were good kids; athletic, kind and caring. They had been raised with love and nurture. Rose leant back against Jack. It was warm, but she still loved to feel him hold her. His bare arm tickled at her shoulder.

''For now.'' Her eyes were sparkling with underlying mischief. Jack's furrowed brow silently asked her a question. She leant in closely to him, whispering into his left ear. ''I'm expecting again.''

If he wasn't lost for words before, he was now. As she pulled away, he saw the face splitting grin across her face and he pulled her to him so tightly that she felt in that moment just how much he did love her.

''Oh, Rose.'' He kissed her hair. ''How far?''

''Not so long, couple of months. I wasn't so sure but now I know for definite. In around seven to eight months, we will have another child.''

She fiddled with the strap of her bathing suit. It wasn't tight but soon it would be, she would increase once more and with it she would give birth to new life; a sibling to join their two sons.

''Pittsburgh Steel Tycoon Caledon Nathan Hockley, son of the late Nathan Hockley of Philadelphia was found dead yesterday. The cause of death was heard as suicide. He was found in the study of his mansion by his wife Mary, the pair have three sons together; Larry 13, Alfred 11 and Caledon Junior aged just nine. A pistol was found with his body and was listed as the cause of death. This comes just three weeks after the fall of Wall Street.

His family were too distraught to comment. Mr Hockley was also a survivor of the Titanic disaster back in 1912, in which he lost his fiancée Rose Dewitt Bukater who was then just seventeen. Some say he never recovered from her death.''

Jack read aloud to Rose. He never thought they would mention Rose with the Titanic disaster again – or that he would be reading such a piece in the paper. They did usually avoid such tripe but this headline caught his attention. Caledon Hockley had shot himself in the mouth.

''Oh, God.'' Rose placed her hand to her mouth. ''Such a spineless man, to the very end. But- those poor children.'' She thought of her own children. Thirteen, ten and five. They were too young to lose a parent.

''Like, you said. A weak man.'' Jack folded the newspaper in half and took a sip of his morning coffee. He played with the end of his moustache. ''I have to be at work in forty minutes. I have a meeting with an artist today.''

Rose's depressive mood soon lifted. ''Oh, that's wonderful. We do need more talent. It's so much about photographs these days, it's almost as though people don't wish to enjoy paintings as much.''

''It's modern America, darling.''

''Hmm,'' she agreed from behind her coffee cup, ''I do miss those simple times. When we painted that garret, do you remember?''

A playful smile came to Jack's lips. ''Of course. How could I forget how cramped it was?''

''Or how we had nothing to do but create art and make love.''

Jack shook his head at his unashamed wife. ''We do the same now, darling. Except we have three children, a dog and an art gallery.''

As if on cue, Beth, the family white Labrador howled as she limped into the kitchen. Her tummy wriggled and she whimpered once more. ''Oh, sweetheart, you are just about ready to pop, aren't you?'' Rose hitched her dress to her knees and slipped onto the floor beside her treasured pet. ''Teddy, Sam and Lilly are just waiting with baited breath for those puppies to come.''

''Another day or so.'' Jack nodded, seeing how swollen Beth's tummy was. ''As a kid we had plenty of dogs, cattle, horses. Delivering their offspring was my first job.''

Rose laughed, she hadn't heard the snippet of his life before. ''I can imagine your parents must have been thrilled.''

''Yes, they were.'' He paused for a moment. He hadn't thought of his parents in so long. Perhaps once or twice in the five years since his daughter had come along. He had been fifteen when they passed and now it was over twenty years, it felt as though their existence was just a distant memory.

Beth howled again and Rose ran her hand along the swollen tummy. ''I know your pain, beautiful girl. I know how uncomfortable it gets at the end, but, I suppose you are carrying a litter so you will have ten pairs of feet kicking away at you!''

As Jack predicted, two days later. Four tiny puppies were born.

Here lies Harry Dawson

2nd July 1870 – 10th November 1907

Also, his wife, Lillian Dawson

27th April 1973 – 10th November 1907

May they rest in eternal peace, together.

Next to his parent's grave, fresh soil and flowers were piled atop a small rectangle. His wife clasped his hand, her black dress came to her knees, tight and thick, despite the warm day.

''Rest with the angels, my boy.'' Jack whispered, clutching Rose's hand tighter. She returned his grasp, leaning against him for support. She had tried to not cry but the pain in her stomach had been too much to bear. Soon, uncontrollable, hot tears streamed down her face and she didn't even try to stop them. Her baby boy was gone. Twelve days old.

She had carried like the others, wonderfully and healthy. Their return to Jack's hometown of Chippewa Falls eighteen months previous and Rose had discovered her pregnancy not long after. Their new home was cosy, peaceful and for the first time of all her pregnancies, Rose had relaxed and allowed the children and her husband to dote upon her. Their eldest son turned sixteen just two weeks before their new son had arrived. He had been the image of the older two boys, with a good weight and they had named him Harry, after Jack's father but less than a fortnight later, the angels had come to take him away, leaving a space in their lives, a deep grief and a dark cloud over their lives.

''We have to bury him with your parents, Jack. He cannot be alone.'' Rose had told him and so, that morning, they had buried their dear boy. For a parent to outlive a child, it was beyond believable but to lay their new-born to rest had been the most excruciating pain any person could feel.

''Take care of him, Pops.'' Jack whispered to the ground, as though it had ears to hear him. ''Take him flying, make him laugh and love him just like we would do down here on this mortal plane.''

His words pierced Rose's heart and she fell against him for support. For nine months she had carried the child within her body, felt his movements, his life. She had cried in pain for twenty-seven long hours and once he had come into the world his cries had been by far the loudest of her four children. He had slept upon her chest, his steady breathing and those twitching eyes. She had cradled him, loved him and become his Mother. Harry Dawson. Their wonderful, beautiful boy...gone.

It was a loss she would feel for the rest of her life.

''Did you know that alcohol is legal in England and it's only an eighteen-age limit!'' Teddy smoked his cigarette as he pushed his dark blonde hair from his eyes. Rose had to do a double take, each time his mannerisms mirrored his fathers at that age.

Rose wafted the smoke away. ''Yes, I do, Teddy, but you are not going to England just to have a drink!'' Rose shook her head at her teenage son. ''And don't smoke when Eadie is around. Put it out!''

Teddy quickly exhaled the last of his hand rolled cigarette and squashed it in the ashtray. ''Sorry Ma, she's still so new and quiet I forget she is here.'' He thrust his hands into his pocket as he craned his neck over his sister's crib. She was asleep, just as she had been all morning. ''You know, they sure are boring this young.''

Rose poured herself her third cup of tea at the dining table of their home. ''Not boring, darling. They are simply too young to do much. When you were this age, you were the same.'' Rose could barely remember her son been that fragile and yet, it only seemed like yesterday and yet when he towered over her petite frame he made her feel older than she was.

''Well, she will be great fun for Lilly. Poor girl hasn't another girl to play with in the family.''

''Yes, but ten years is an awfully large gap between them, Teddy. Lilly will be just as tall as you and Samuel soon enough.''

''Samuel is taller than daddy now!'' Teddy scoffed. ''Just when will he stop growing?''

''When his body tells him to. I am sure your father is taller now than when we met twenty-one years ago.''

Teddy laughed, the same laugh as his father. Rose's heart swelled with such love that she stood from the chair, forgetting her tea and came to her eldest son.

''You know, you will always be my little boy, Teddy.''

He swatted his Mother's hands from his face as she placed them on his cheeks, coming closer to kiss his cheek. ''Oh, Mother, get away from me! You have Lilly and Eadie to kiss all over. I'm eighteen years old!''

''Yes – and still, I will refuse you a passage aboard a damned ship with your friends to go to England just so you can get drunk in England.'' She scolded.

''It's not like that Ma, I want to study over there, too. The universities are great.'' Rose's lips parted into an 'o' and she sighed.

''Oh dear, boy. I forgot just how old you are. You will have to speak to your father about that.''

Jack had feared America would become involved with the war like they had in the first world war. He feared his family would be affected; his sons.

After Japan attacked Pearl Harbour on December the 7th 1941, America joined the war and Jack's fears became a reality; both of his sons were conscripted. Teddy was twenty-seven and Samuel was twenty-four.

They left on January the 22nd 1942, leaving their devastated family behind in the USA. Teddy did everything he could to avoid the war but he knew he would have to leave if not he could end up in prison.

''Ironic, isn't it.'' Rose furiously knitted, her hands moving so fast that Jack couldn't even register her handiwork. ''How twenty-four years ago, I was giving birth to Samuel by myself whilst the war had taken you away from me and Teddy. Now, Cecilia, is alone too about to give birth to her child without Samuel, without her family.''

Jack ran his fingers through his greying hair, smoothing it out. The wireless played in the background but it wasn't heard by any of them.

''We will be there for her. As much as we can. I know we aren't her family, but we already love her like a daughter. They did plan to marry.''

''Yes, the reason for the damned shame her family feel. The poor girl fell in love with our son, they planned to marry but the war took him away. He wants to be here, with his girl and their child. What difference does it matter if she was married to our son or not? A piece of paper doesn't mean you love the other. A child needs love.'' She threw her knitting to one side, the anger building up in her stomach was a distraction. She watched as her handsome husband glanced up from his book. He had read the same lines over and over since Samuel and Teddy had left. His stomach couldn't settle and nothing could stop his heart from sinking when he thought of their children fighting in that damned war. When he met his wife's gaze, he softened.

''Do you remember, darling. To be that young and in love.''

''Yes, absolutely.'' Even at forty-seven years old, Rose didn't feel a day older than her eldest son. Her hair was still the radiant copper it was as a young girl, her eyes, although lined with wisdom were still as alive as ever. ''Perhaps our children keep us young.''

''Six children,'' Jack chuckled, ''that was idea of Hell as a young man and then our Teddy was born.''

''Then Sam, Lilly and Harry, God rest his soul. But I think it is Eadie and Helen who keep us so active.''

''What fifty-year-old man do you know who chases his three-year-old daughter, huh? Hell, I am about to become a grandfather.''

Rose bit back a smile. ''Yes, Helen was quite a surprise, wasn't she?''

Jack fully closed his book and placed it on the end table where a gas lamp burned. ''A reminder that just because of one's age, it doesn't stop a man still loving his wife.''

''Jack, I would never doubt that. You have given me more in these last thirty years than a woman could ever wish for. Our children, our lives and our love, it's been wonderful.''

''Then, stop talk like it's about to end then and come and kiss your old husband.''

Cecilia Fox cradled her son tightly to her chest. He wailed, loudly as though, as just two months old, he knew what day it was. Her deep, dark eyes ran over the fresh soul below her heeled feet.

Samuel David Dawson

December 1st 1917 – March 9th 1942.

A beloved son, brother and father.

Beside her, stood her loves family; his sisters Lilly and Eadie, both cried together, their large blue eyes and matching copper hair were pressed together. Lilly's a darker copper and straighter than her younger sister but still, alike. Helen was three, in her father's arms, she cried, purely because she had no understanding of why the others cried, and that frightened her. A small bonny black hat stopped her blonde curls from spilling from beneath it and she rested her small face upon her father's shoulder, settling there for comfort.

Teddy stood, a foot or so taller than his Mother with his hand upon her shoulder. His chin lowered to the floor.

''It should have been me, Ma.'' His voice cracked. He had arrived home with three days leave for the funeral before he would go back to the cruel war himself. ''I have nothing here, Sam had Cecilia and a baby to love.''

Rose eyes her eldest son through sharp, raw eyes. ''Don't be so stupid, Ted! You have everything to live for!'' She could have cursed his stupid words in that moment but she lost the energy to. Teddy pulled her sob wracked body into his own and together they cried, for their Samuel.

Together, as a family they would have to find the strength to go on. Just like they always did.