CHAPTER 14: Santa Monica II

Friday May 17th, 1912

Jack strode along the town boardwalk in the morning sun, hands crammed in his pockets as he whistled to himself. He found he could no longer fall back to sleep once he woke up that morning at an early hour so he decided to get dressed and get some fresh air. Hopefully, Rose would be still asleep by the time he got back—he didn't want her to worry.

Today was the second last day of their honeymoon in Santa Monica. He had truly had the greatest time of his life and he knew Rose did too and that she'd want to come back again soon enough. They had done so many fun things together from walking on the pier and looking out onto the ocean, to drinking cheap beer; from going to museums, to going swimming; from shopping in town, to sketching Rose at the beach. They had gone on the roller coaster too, quite a few times in a row until he, himself, declared that he would actually throw up if they'd gone on one more time. He could still remember the look on her face when they walked up to it.

Rose's eyes went wide, roaming up and down the large wooden structure. They approached the loading station and she could feel the wooden planks below her feet tremble as the cars zoomed down the wooden coaster. Jack glanced at her face and, seeing the excitement on it, he smiled to himself. After he bought two tickets, they waited a couple minutes until the train of cars rolled into the station and made a screeching stop. The gates opened and they hopped into their designated cart and strapped themselves in.

Then the cars of the roller coaster began to move out of the station, going up the chain lift, higher and higher, giving them the feel that they could touch the sky. Suddenly, with a lurch, their cart reached the top. As it crested the hill and started down the other side, they could feel it begin to pick up speed. They flew down the track, screaming every time they felt their stomach rise to their chest from going up and down smaller hills; screaming even more as the roller coaster rounded curves in the track they got pushed to one side of their car, accidentally elbowing the other by the force of the turn.

Overall, Rose had really enjoyed the ride, though at first she showed signs of fear.

"I don't think I've never experienced anything quite like that!" she exclaimed, stepping onto the station platform. "Let's do that again!" He laughed as she tugged him back to the start of the line with her.

They'd done it over and over and each time, Rose would say, "Just once more!" He was never the type to be weak stomached but even he, himself, had never gone on the ride as often as they just had. He couldn't even remember how many times it had already been… was it six or seven times already? He was really surprised how Rose was enduring all this. He started feeling a little nauseous even after the fourth time around but he didn't tell her because he wanted to last longer than that and he didn't like the idea of being less tolerant than Rose in that sense. But after that last time on the coaster, Rose was about to drag him in again but he stayed back, hunched over on his knees, taking a couple deep breaths.

"No more," he let out.

"Jack?" she asked trying to catch her breath from all the laughing she had just done on the ride. "You're teasing me, aren't you? Well, I'll have you know that I don't feel the least bit nauseous. This is the some of the best fun I've ever had! Let's go just one more time, I promise," she said, about to take his hand to drag him with her but he pulled back, putting his hand up in front of her as to say, "no".

He finally looked up at her and as he did, she could see the colour in his face was changed and slightly paler. She wanted to laugh at him for having a stronger stomach that he did but she restrained herself, attempting to stifle a grin.

"Honest to God, Rose. . ." he took another breather, "if I go on that damn thing one more time, I'm going to hurl and it won't be pretty."

She couldn't help it anymore and let out a laugh. "Okay, so what do you want me to do?" she said, trying to be helpful nonetheless.

"Just—okay—" He straightened up, trying to collect himself. "I just need to sit down for a minute."

Jack had even taken her to the Buffalo Nights Theatre, which Rose was much thrilled of, to see a play, Misalliance, written in 1909 by George Bernard Shaw. He could see Rose was passionate about theater and acting by the way she watched the play. He knew she had many other passions and interests and if this is what she wanted to get into, though she had not mentioned anything of the sort to him recently, than he would support her all the way. He would support her in anything she wanted to set her mind to, because he knew how much she had to offer. She was full of potential.

Jack thought wandered to the memory of when he had brought Rose to a men's clothing store and bought them each a pair of Levi's® jeans, or as they were traditionally called, "waist overalls" and a flannel shirt for Rose to wear as a blouse with the pants since he already had shirts. He remembered the look on Rose's face when he told her she'd have to wear those to ride horses—a look of surprise and disbelief. She was skeptical at first about having to wear those sorts of clothes in public but Jack managed to convince her as he always did.

"If you wanna do it like a real coy boy, you gotta wear the right stuff! You can't ride with a leg on each side of the saddle in a dress."

Rose had laughed at that and decided she'd wear the clothing if it would make riding like a cow boy easier.

"Well…?" Rose asked uncertainly when she came out of the hotel bathroom in the estranged outfit.

Jack was standing contentedly with his arms crossed the smallest hint of a grin on his face. "…Well…"

"I look ridiculous, don't I?" she sighed, flustered. "This was your idea!"

"No, Rose, you don't. In fact, you look even better in pants than I do."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "You really think so?"

"Sure… I mean, they really bring out your figure," he broke into a grin.

"Jack!" she castigated, smacking his arm.

So they rode horses on the beach, in the surf, just as planned. Jack had helped her up onto the horse and, once he got onto his own, he showed her how to sit properly on one if she were to ride like a man. And that was all he needed to tell her since she apparently had already known how to control a horse and steer it in her earlier side-saddling experiences. She indeed successfully rode her horse "coy boy style", much to her pride and Jack's amusement. She seemed just as exhilarated as the time where she had "flown" at the bow of the ship. She did not hesitate to follow Jack's galloping horse into the surf, beaming with life as she felt the water splash up lightly against her legs. They posed for a photographer in front of the pier, with the roller coaster in the background as they stood their horses side by side and smiled enthusiastically at the camera.

Presently, Jack smiled. He and Rose were going to go to a carnival that evening near the pier. Rose had never been to one before so he was looking forward to showing her a good time. He began towards the hotel, eager to get back before she would wake up.

Never would he have imagined how the evening would end with moods taking sudden changes for the worst.

That evening, they had arrived at the carnival just after sunset. It made it all the more exciting to be there at night when it was dark with all the colourful lights flashing and lightening up different structures. Besides the rides, Jack had treated Rose to cotton candy, something she had not had in a long time—since she was a child, in fact. There was also a Crooked House—a building with mirrors as walls that made allusions to one's appearance and made it difficult to figure the way out of the house since everything looked the same. Rose couldn't say she enjoyed it as much as Jack who was getting a kick out of it; she found it all too confusing.

Awhile later, they decided to take a bit of a rest because they had had enough for the time being. They headed over to the outdoor bar and Jack seated himself at the counter.

"I'm going to the restrooms. I'll be back soon," Rose said, leaving Jack alone at the bar.

"Okay," he said, watching her as she walked off.

He swivelled around on his chair and ordered a beer. And taking a sip of it, he stared off at the colourful lights, the décor, the interesting sights and the excitement the carnival had to offer. He was torn out of his daydream when someone came and sat down on the bar stool right beside him.

"Anyone sitting here?" said the anonymous person.

Jack was about to answer but paused as he looked up. It was a young lady with medium-cut wavy auburn hair and brown eyes. Her face, narrow, had a childish appearance to it. Her figure was slender and delicate-seeming. He had once seen her before. . . he knew he had but he could not retrace the timeline in his memory to when that had been. Then it dawned on him.

"Clarice? Clarice Simmons!"

A big grin broke on her face when she saw that he remembered. Her pale lips were thin but had one of the friendliest smiles he had ever known.

"Jack Dawson, where have you been in the last three years?" her feminine voice had the slightest hint of a southern accent.

"Oh boy, isn't this quite the surprise," Jack chuckled. "I just got back from Europe about a month ago. How 'bout you? You're still living with your aunt Ellen?"

"I sure am. But I've been savin' up, you know, to hit the road soon. It's come time for me to explore the world too—I kinda feel like I'm following in your footsteps, Jack."

Jack's smile dropped slightly at her last sentence. He knew this girl well enough from the time he had stayed in Santa Monica those three years ago; she was never the adventurous type before when she met him and heard all his stories and his travelling ambitions. Over the time of their friendship, she took onto his character, in a way, and he figured she even admired him. He could maybe even go as far to say that she had had a sort of crush on him. But he knew that the world was too cruel for a young woman to be vagabonding in by herself and he wanted to let her know that. The things he had seen in his travels. . . some were pretty bad and even scary at times.

"'Course," she continued, "I might have to leave a little later now that you're here visiting," she smiled at him again.

Distracted by those thoughts, Jack asked her abruptly, "Hey, Clarice, how old are you now?"

She furrowed her brow slightly, but still smiling, surprised by his sudden change of topic. "I just turned seventeen last month." Rose was just about half a year older than her, he thought. He still saw Clarice as a young girl—a child, practically—and a plausible reason for this could be that that was how she was when he first met her. But all the same to him, Rose still seemed much more of mature woman, one of the things he admired a lot about her.

"Jeez, that's awful young to be running off alone now, don't you think?"

She giggled convulsively, leaning over and even laying her hand on his arm, "Don't be silly, Jack! Remember, you started travelling at a much younger age than me. Besides," she said, composing herself, "I've matured a lot since the last time you saw me."

Jack just looked at her and smiled at the corner of his lips. Lord knew how stubborn she was when she was set on doing one thing but he knew she would listen to him; she always did. He felt like she was a little sister to him. He was about to reply but let it slip when he saw Rose approaching.

Rose emerged from the restroom and began walking back to where she had left Jack. But when she turned the corner and looked though traffic of people to distinguish him at the bar, she saw him talking to someone. She could not tell who the other person was but she kept walking, hoping to see when she got closer. To her surprise, it was a girl—quite young looking too, like herself. She was a little confused as to how Jack knew this girl, if at all. But as she continued her way through the crowd of people, she became even more surprised when she saw the girl go into a fit of laughter and lean on Jack's arm for support. She felt the blood rise to her face as she became angry with the situation. Though Jack had no reaction to the contact the woman made with him, she was just angry that another woman—a very stranger to her!—was touching him in that sort of way.

Jack swivelled in his seat to face her when he noticed her approaching.

"Excuse me for a moment," she heard him say as he got up and went to her, a smile on his face. Of course, it had to be some sort of misunderstanding because Jack did not look in any way guilty when he smiled at her like that.

"Jack," Rose uttered.

"I want you to meet someone—an old friend of mine," he said indicating the smiling girl he had just been conversing with. And old friend? Rose thought. "This is Clarice Simmons. Clarice, this is Rose—my wife."

It seemed the smile fell a bit from the girls face. Jack married?, she thought, how is that possible? To her, Jack had never seemed interested in getting into a relationship with anyone; his restless mind was always busy with other things. He seemed like he was always eager to keep moving to other places. She looked now at the beautiful woman who stood beside him now—truly a beauty, even in the way she carried herself, she gave the impression of superiority or of a higher class. She just couldn't figure out how and where Jack had managed to meet someone like that. She even became a little jealous of this woman, though she didn't mean to be, but she just couldn't help it. What had Jack seen so special in her?

"My, my. . . married now!" she exclaimed. "Seems like a lot has been going on for you in the past three years, then," she said innocently, without a trace of jealously in her face. She just seemed pleasant to them. But even though Rose had now seen her from up close and heard her, she could still not bring herself to believe that this girl meant no harm. "When was the wedding?"

"Just a couple weeks ago, actually."

"That was not long ago at all. And you live here, now?"

"No, we're just visiting—" Jack began to reply.

"We're enjoying our honeymoon here," Rose butt in, interlocking he arm through his as though to prove a point.

Jack glanced at her for an instant, flustered as to why she had so sharply cut him off. "Yep," he simply agreed.

"That's wonderful! How much longer are you here for?"

"Just another day," Rose replied, feeling that the girl was being fake.

"Oh? Too bad. I wanted to catch up with you, Jack," she said, friendlily touching his shoulder, "and get to know your wife."

At that, Rose could didn't think she'd be able to stand this for much longer. Apparently, from the contact she was making with Jack, even in her presence, there had been something between them.

"Oh my," Rose said, pretending to yawn, "it's getting quite late. How about we head back to the hotel, Jack?"

"You're tired?"

"Quite."

"Alright. . ." he turned to Clarice. "I hope you don't mind, but we'd best be heading back. It was nice seeing you again."

"Same to you. If you have time before you leave, you could both come over to my house for lunch tomorrow. Wouldn't you like to see my aunt Ellen again, Jack?"

"Sure, I'd like to."

"But don't we leave early tomorrow morning, dear?" Rose hinted.

"It's in the late afternoon," he reminded before addressing Clarice again. "If there's enough time after we're done packing, we'll be there."

Rose sighed inwardly—Jack had not caught on. "Couldn't we go now?" she asked, trying not to sound too impatient in her tone of voice, but she felt really irritated all of a sudden.

"Oh, sure," he said, confused as to why Rose was acting like she was in a hurry. "See ya around, Clarice."

"See you tomorrow, maybe. It was a pleasure to meet you, Rose. Bye, now."

Rose nodded politely before leaving with Jack.

The entire walk back to the hotel was quiet and even a little awkward. Rose didn't even hold Jack's hand or interlock arms with him like she usually did when they walked together. They got into their hotel room and Rose went over to the vanity table and began pulling pins from her hair. Jack just stood there and stared at her. She seemed so distant to him all of a sudden.

"Rose, what was that all about?" Jack asked, referring to how she had acted with him at the carnival ever since he introduced her to Clarice. He was concerned. Was she not feeling well?

"I should be asking you that," she replied dryly, still working on removing the pins.

At that tone, Jack knew there was something wrong.

"You mind telling me what's wrong with you this evening?"

"What's wrong with me?" She turned around sharply and Jack could see a flash of anger in her eyes. "What's wrong with you!" she said loudly before getting up and storming towards the door.

Jack watched her, stunned. He was downright confused as to why Rose was acting the way she was. "Rose, where're you going?"

"To get some air!" She swirled, causing her curls to whip freely around her shoulders, and she harshly shut the door behind her, not bothering if the sound may have disturbed other hotel guests.

Jack stood in his spot, dazed, and in the next instant, he was out in the hallway going after her. He could not let her go off like that in the state she was in.

"Rose!" he called after her, minding the level of his voice, as he walked quickly behind her to catch up with her hurried pace. "Why are you going this?"

No answer.

"Rose?"

"Please, go back to the room." She stopped at the elevator, and pressed the button, waiting with her arms crossed.

"Why don't you just come back with me and talk to me?"

At that moment, the elevator stopped at that floor and the clerk opened the gates.

"I don't want to talk to you right now," she said, getting into the elevator.

Jack was done trying. She obviously was not in the mood at the moment. He sighed, "Fine."

He started back to the room and once he got there, he shut the door behind him and headed over to the window. He crossed his arms, exhaling loudly, deep in thought. He must have been standing there for awhile because, next thing he knew, he was distinguishing Rose's silhouette in the darkness of the night, out below, heading towards the beach as it seemed. Something lit up his eyes when he saw her. What am I doing? I can't let her go, he thought, heading back out the door.

His hair blew wildly in the wind as he ran towards the beach in the obscurity. He could hear the waves crashing on the shore as he approached and he could make out the familiar silhouette he was after. When he finally caught up enough with her, he stopped for a moment, to regain composure as he caught his breath.

"Rose," he called over the sounds of the waves.

She stopped suddenly and turned around to look at him.

"Why are you following me?"

"Because," he said, still catching his breath as he took a few steps closer to her so that they were only a couple feet apart, "I care about you and I want you to talk with me."

"Now's not the right time," she turned to start walking again but he stopped her, slipping in front of her.

"Listen to yourself! Rose, what's the matter? What's going on?" he now sounded insistent.

"Alright, do you want to know what's wrong? That girl—whatever her name is—was being sweet on you and I can't imagine why!"

"She was not—" Jack started to defend, but she kept going.

"She couldn't even look at me when she was talking to us; she always had her eyes on you. Did you see how she was staring at you?"

Okay, Jack had to admit that Clarice was flattering towards him but he didn't take any of it to heart. She was just the same as she was three years ago; she just admired him a lot—like a little sister admires her big brother, he guessed.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that there's an unfinished relationship between the two of you."

Jack still remained cool, even at Rose's outrageous assumptions. He couldn't get mad at her—how could he? He could see now that she was just jealous and had the right to be. Heaven knew he would have been a little jealous too if instead a male friend of Rose's showed up and was acting charming with her.

"No, that's not it at all," Jack defended again. "I'll tell you how I met her. Three years ago, I was visiting the pier—that was the summer I first came here—and I noticed this girl crying on the bench. I felt bad so I took a seat beside her, asked her if she was okay, and that's where our friendship started. I was seventeen at the time and she was fourteen. I found out the reason she was crying: turns out she was being abused by her alcoholic father whom she was living with at the time since her mother passed away years earlier. I just tried to help—she seemed so sad and desperate to get out of the life she was in and—"

Rose zoned out then and there as those last words that Jack spoke echoed in her head. Oddly enough… that sounded all familiar to her. And in a hot flash, she blurted out:

"So that's what this is? Compassionate-Jack, always ready to help a damsel in distress?" by that, she meant that her encounter with Jack had seemed very similar as his encounter with Clarice: he had seen a girl who was sad and trapped in her life and he wanted to save her. "Is that all I am to you? Just another girl you decided to be 'friendly with' and help out? Did you draw her too, Jack? Did you?"

"Well yeah. . . " at that point, Jack was starring at her, flabbergasted, even hurt by her words. He was tongue-tied trying to get the words out to speak to her. He was not going to lie, but she seemed really intimidating in this state. But he had to make things clear.

With those words, Rose had completely misinterpreted their meaning. He drew her too? was all Rose was thinking. She couldn't believe her ears. Had she meant anything to Jack? Was she just another girl to him, like the others he had used so he could draw? She suddenly felt disgusted with him. ". . .you! How could you—"

Jack realized the misinterpretation of his words. "Whoa! Now hold on a second!" Jack began to raise his voice before she would say something she would regret. He wouldn't stand to be insulted unjustly when she didn't know what she was talking about.

Rose shut her mouth, remaining quiet. She wasn't going to challenge him after hearing him like that. She had never heard him raise his voice at her the way he just did. It wasn't the worst tone of voice she had heard him in—she had head him in much worse with their previous experiences on a certain ship of doom—he had just never once raised an angry tone with her.

"Wait a minute, there! Drawing her was not how you think it went—we were just friends and she was not that type of girl. She was just a girl that I was helping get back on her feet. And it shouldn't be a surprise that I drew a friend of mine; I drew dozens of people—strangers and friends." He simmered down a bit. "It's in my character to help someone who looks like they need it." Right then, he recalled that that was how he met Fabrizio. But he brushed that memory away for the time being. It was still too painful to remember, knowing that he was gone.

Rose registered Jack's last words and suddenly, she started realizing the sense of everything. Jack was absolutely right and she knew it—it was in his character to help. He saw right through her with his gift of discernment and he helped her in a time when she needed it most. He was the kindest and most generous person she had ever met, giving as much of what little he already had to offer. That was the core of their relationship.

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair as he briefly turned away from her to stare at the dark ocean. In some way, it helped calm him. But the sound of the waves splashing on the shore made it hard to be heard. In addition, Jack had just begun to notice that they were not alone at the beach; there were a few more people out. He knew he could not finish talking with her here. They needed to be in the quiet and privacy of their room.

"We need to get back, now," he was quiet now. "We'll finish our discussion there."

This time, Rose was not reluctant. She wordlessly followed him back to the hotel, beginning to feel now that she was in the wrong when she had been most definitely sure that he was in the wrong at first.

Rose sat at back down at the vanity, facing the mirror, as Jack shut the door behind him and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She could not look at him now because she felt terrible, after hearing his words. How could she have overreacted like that and boiled over to the point where she was going to say something she now knew she would have regretted? After all they went through together—after having saved each other's life over and over—didn't that mean anything? She could not understand why she had doubted him.

"Rose, would you look at me for second?" he asked calmly.

She glanced up and made eye contact with him in the mirror. She felt even worse now—there was nothing but love in his eyes and the anger that was on his face earlier was now gone; there was only hurt clearly pasted on it. She slowly turned in her chair to face him, but she still could not bring herself to look at him.

"When I met you, you were not just some girl that I saw who needed someone to pull her back. You were different. . . You know it was different when I drew you because you were not one of those French girls. You asked me to draw you, and at that point, I would never have—never in my life—made you do anything you were not willing to do. Never," he paused. "Alright, I realize you were probably a little jealous of Clarice, and I don't blame you from the way she was acting, but she means nothing more to me than a little sister." He still couldn't get her to look at him. "Do you see, now?"

"It's not only that. . ." she replied quietly, looking down at her hands, "I guess I was just upset by the thought that you had perhaps loved someone before me."

Jack understood now. That's why she had gotten upset when he said he had told her the way he met Clarice and when he answered that he had drawn her. When he told her, on the Titanic, about the French girls he had drawn, maybe she had been wondering ever since if there had possibly been anything more with those girls than just using them to draw. He understood now, the conflict that was going on in her head from the encounter with Clarice, and not just the fact that she was being too friendly with him.

"Look, if you're wondering about whether or not there was anyone before you, there wasn't." Jack calmly stated and Rose finally looked up at him, locking eye contact.

"Really?" she asked in a small voice.

"Well, yeah. . . I was never really interested in girls at the time. I was always too busy moving from one place to another. I had too many things on my mind for me to care at all. My mind was always on things such as art, when my next meal would come, where I would sleep that night, where I might earn some more money to get through the day, what city I would relocate in next. . . Why does that seem surprising to you?

"I—I figured you'd been everywhere and met lots of girls. You're so charming at times. . . I thought Clarice might have been one of those girls."

And for the first time since they had met Clarice that evening Jack smiled and chuckled, which loosened the tension between them.

"Gosh Rose, my parents taught me more morals than that," he stood up and so gently took her hand, leading her to the bed to sit beside him. "I want you to know that you were my first and you'll be the last."

Rose was so touched by his words that she was speechless. How could he still be so good to her after the way she had treated him and the after the awful things she had said to him. She once again felt terrible and couldn't bring herself to look at him.

Jack's voice continued after a pause with a more serious tone. "And I also want you to know that if you ever have any questions about anything, come to me first from now on before jumping to conclusions—you can tell me anything and you know that I listen." He looked down at her, though she still would not look into his eyes. ". . .You gotta trust me more from now on."

Rose desperately wanted to bundle up her courage and look at him but she knew that as soon as she would, she'd be broken and wouldn't be able to help her emotions anymore. And so she was right. The moment she looked into his forgiving eyes, she broke down and flung herself on him, tears streaming down her face.

". . . I'm so sorry," she cried into his shirt and he welcomed her desperate embrace. "I do trust you. . . I really do." She pulled her face from his chest, resting her head on his shoulder instead, so that her voice wasn't so muffled. "I just—I don't know what's wrong with me tonight." She didn't know why she had acted so defensive in front of Clarice—after all, she hardly knew the girl! Perhaps she had exaggerated the scene in her head as it played out. But she knew that her mood had taken a sudden change for the worse that evening. "God, what a way to end the trip."

Jack chuckled, pulling back from the embrace. "Hey, it's not over yet. We've still got most of the day tomorrow until we leave. Tomorrow will be better," he reassured.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, we can accept Clarice's invitation."

"You sure you're alright now…?"

"I'm perfectly fine—I just want to show you that I trust you and it doesn't make a difference to me anymore, now that things are cleared up."

"Alright, but the moment you feel uncomfortable, we can leave right away. Anyway, I don't plan on going over for long—just long enough to say hello and goodbye." Jack had wanted to check up on Clarice and her aunt and talk some sense into the girl before she would do something stupid.

That night, as Rose was drifting off, she thought about the day's events and how she very nearly ended the trip on a bitter note. Her thoughts went to Jack and how she discovered he was more patient and understanding than she ever imagined he was and also slow to anger. She felt a tear slip down her cheek at the thought of how good Jack was to her and how she did not deserve it. She would never underestimate him again. If her emotions would settle down the next day, she knew things would be better. She hoped in as much.

N/A: No comment. (Only that it did not take me three months this time to update! And that the next chapter is already halfway through! And that I had a long weekend so I came up with the rest of the plot for this story and I'm brewing up an awesome sequel already!)

But other than that, I have no comment. …But YOU could comment! Any thoughts on this particular chapter?