All the bunks in Jack's room were occupied. Two of his roommates were brothers. Originally from Ireland, they were disillusioned with America and were heading to Australia in search of the dream that had so far eluded them in two countries. The third man was an Australian. As he explained to Jack the first night, he was on his way home after five years away. I wanted to see the world," Clark said. "But it wasn't what I expected."

"How do you mean?" Jack asked.

"I thought I'd find something better than I had at home, some place more exciting, but I didn't."

"I found plenty of places more exciting than home, my original home anyway," Jack replied. Dinner was ending, and the tables were emptying around them.

"You've traveled a lot?" Clark said.

Jack nodded. "For a long time. Since I was fifteen."

"I can't imagine being on my own that young."

"You get used to it," Jack said. "I was on my own whether I liked it or now. I figured I might as well do what I wanted, you know?"

"Why Australia?" Clark asked. "Or is it just an undiscovered country for you?"

Jack hesitated. How much should he tell this man? He sensed the beginning of a friendship, if he let it happen, but he didn't have time for that, and didn't all of his friends end up hurt or dead eventually? He was probably a walking bad luck charm. "I know someone there," he said. "I need to see them."

Clark seemed to accept this explanation. He asked no more questions, at least.

…..

"You should've have done it," Rose said. Cal sat on the floor, Louisa on his lap. Toys were spread around them.

"You didn't want it?" he said.

"Well, of course I wanted it, but Cal that doesn't mean-"

"So, why shouldn't you have it?" he said.

"Just because I want something doesn't mean I get to have it. Life doesn't work that way."

"Not with everything, that's true," Cal said. Rose was taken aback by his willingness to admit a limit to his powers. "But there are so few things I can't give you and can't do for you," he went on. "Why not enjoy all that I can do, Rose?"

They came from love, these gifts, this generosity; he acted out of love, not an urge to control her. Everything Cal did, he did as extravagantly as he could. She'd seen herself how far he could take things when he wanted to. Nothing was beyond the line. So why was she surprised to find an eventually priceless painting hanging in their bedroom?

"I don't want to end up a spoiled, helpless wife," Rose said. "Throwing tantrums when my whims aren't met."

"Haven't we discussed this? You'll never end up that way. I won't spoil Louisa," he added. "It's hard not to, but I promised you I wouldn't, and I meant it. I intend for her to have everything, but I don't want her ending up like my sister. Or like me," he added drily.

Rose knelt down next to them. "Thank you," she said. "For the painting. I never thanked you yesterday."

"You don't have to, Rose."

"Of course I do," she said. "I can't take you for granted. Then I would be spoiled." She leaned over the baby and kissed him. Louisa watched contentedly. She sensed their love, not just for her but for each other as well, and it made her feel safe. She was too young to wonder why her father looked nothing like her. She couldn't ask questions about why there wasn't a wedding album, or why they lived so far away from everyone her parents had ever known.

…

The deck wasn't crowded, despite the nice weather. Jack found a seat easily. He hadn't planned to come up there, but after two days in his room he realized he couldn't spend the whole trip there. The air was getting stale, and he was tired of looking at the wall.

He opened his sketchbook and settled into draw. He let his gaze roam across his fellow passengers, seeking out inspiration. His hand moved on its own; his eyes followed, glancing from the people around him to the page and back again. Jack completed two drawings before he remembered where he was.

He blinked, startled by the sudden change in time. The sun was lower in the sky. It glared into his eyes. He turned and found himself staring up at the First Class deck. A woman stood at the railing. Jack held his breath. It was her. Rose. She looked down at him, tilting her head in confusion. He blinked again; the sun was gone, sinking into the water, and so was she. The woman at the railing was a stranger. She looked nothing like rose. She said something to the man next to her, and he gave Jack a cold look before sweeping her inside.

"You alright?"

Jack drew back, startled by Clark's voice. "What're you doing here?" he asked, more sharply than he intended.

"Just taking a walk," Clark replied, unaffected by Jack's tone. "Thought I'd say hello. You don't look so good, Jack."

"I'm fine. The—the sun was in my eyes."

"The sun or that girl?" Clark said. "I saw her too. She was pretty."

"Really? I didn't notice."

"What, you don't notice girls?" Clark said.

"Not so much anymore," Jack said.

"Something happen?"

"You could say that," Jack said. He closed the sketchbook and put away his pencil. "I don't wanna talk about it, alright?"

"Well, you want to come down to the party later? I hear it's gonna be a good one," Clark said. "And you've barely left the room so far. It might be what you need."

"I doubt it."

"Look, we don't know each other," Clark said. "It's probably none of my business, but you seem like you're going through something, like you're having a hard time. So, if you want to talk or just come have a beer later, I'll be there."

"Thanks," Jack said. "But I'm fine, really."

…

Jack didn't know what compelled him to go to the party. Clark's offer stayed with him for the next few hours. Here was the friendship he'd sensed earlier. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if maybe it wouldn't be good for him. Sean had tried to be his friend, but he left, ending that. Still, it felt good to talk about everything that happened; it was almost a relief to talk about Rose. Jack was lonely, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and it would be weeks before he was anywhere near her again. What harm could making friends do?

"Jack, over here!" Clark called, waving to him. "You want a drink?" Before Jack could answer Clark passed him a full pint of beer.

"Thanks," Jack said. He took a sip. The taste was comforting in spite of its bitterness. How long had it been since he had one?

"This is Mae," Clark said, indicating a buxom girl with peroxide blonde curls. She grinned good-naturedly at Jack. "Hi doll," she said.

"And that's Lionel," Clark continued. A dignified man with dark hair nodded at Jack.

"Good to meet you," Jack said. He took another drink. The bitterness was gone; it just tasted familiar now, good even. If he kept drinking, all the edges would blur, and his sadness would blur along with them. Jack never drank to soothe pain, but as he took a deeper swallow, he wondered if it was really such a bad idea.

…..

Laughter echoed in the smoke-filled room. Jack couldn't tell if it was one person's laughter or if it was the whole party laughing together. The band played a lively Scottish tune. He recognized it. What were the words? He'd known them once. He sang this song, a long time ago.

"You look like you're having fun," Lionel said. He produced a worn deck of cards. "Care for a little game?"

"Hold off on that," Mae said. "He's been drinking."

"We all have," Lionel argued.

"You're drinking cider," Mae said. "And not the hard kind." Lionel shot her a look. "Don't pretend I'm not right," she said.

"I don't mind playing," Jack said. An empty pint glass was near one hand. A glass of whisky was in the other.

"You know about cards?" Clark asked. His own glass was nearly empty. Two others sat near it, already drained. His cheeks were flushed.

"A little," Jack said. "I used to play a lot." His words slurred, but they sounded normal to him. Mae eyed him with concern. "Jack, maybe you ought to go bed," she said. "You look like you've had enough."

"I—" Jack couldn't think of anything to say. He was saved from having to reply by Clark, who chose that moment to topple from his chair. He landed on the floor with a groan and a thump, nearly knocking over a nearby couple. Jack dissolved in a fit of laughter. Clark looked around, confused, before laughter overtook him as well.

"Maybe—" Jack struggled to breathe. "Maybe we should head back." He lay his head on the table, still giggling.

"You'll hafta get me up," Clark wheezed.

Somehow they made it back to their room and collapsed into their bunks. Jack slid into a dreamless sleep and for once he wasn't worried about whether or not Rose would appear; he just slept, and it was a relief.

….

"We'll have to get her new clothes soon," Rose said. "She's growing so fast. I never realized how quickly babies grow." She lifted the now-dressed Louisa into her arms. "Yes, you are," she said. "You're growing much too quickly. I don't like it."

"Getting her new clothes won't be any trouble," Cal said. "I can go with you, if you'd like."

"You would come along on a shopping trip for the baby?" she said. "That hardly sounds like an interesting day for you."

"Why not? I like being with my family, and you never know, I might be helpful."

"With shopping?" she said. "Well, now that you mention it, you always did like helping me choose dress designs, didn't you?"

"I meant I could help with Louisa," Cal said. "But you could use some new clothes as well, Rose."

"My clothes are fine."

"They're old," he said. "Some of them are wearing out." She started to argue as he went on, "This isn't about fashion. I don't want you wearing anything you don't like. I just want you to have nice things. That's all."

"Don't you have to work?"

"I'll figure out a way to take a few hours off," he said. "This week has been nothing but ten-hour days. I deserve an afternoon off."

"And we deserve an afternoon with you," she said.

"If we're lucky, we'll get the whole day."

"I thought you didn't believe in luck," Rose said.

"I'm not so certain anymore. I haven't been certain about much of anything for a long time. Except for you," he added. "These last months, things have sort of fallen into place again. I no longer feel like the ground might give way beneath me at any moment."

"I didn't know you still felt that way."

"It wasn't that bad," Cal said. "It wasn't like the way I felt when we first came together. I could handle it, usually."

"We've done a lot of healing together, haven't we?" Rose said. She kissed Louisa. "And you've helped me a lot, darling. I don't know what I would have down without the two of you."

Cal put his arms around them. He rested his head on Rose's shoulder. "I could say the same thing."

….

Cal signed his name with a flourish. It looked good. Bold. Commanding. He blew on the ink to help it dry faster and put the last paper into an envelope. His secretary would mail it along with the rest. He slipped into his coat and was about to leave when the phone rang. Sighing, he answered it. "Yes?"

"Mr. Hockley, I hate to disturb you, but-"

"Then don't," he said.

"But-" his secretary protested.

"I'm leaving for the rest of the day. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow."

"Sir, I'm not sure it can," she said.

"Unless it's a matter of dire importance, unless there's some calamity about to befall this company," he said. "It can wait."

"Very well, sir."

He set the phone down with a satisfied smile. It was difficult to resist the urge to stay; all his instincts and years of training told him not to leave, but he'd promised Rose, and that was more important than even the amassing of wealth.

…..

Jack's mouth tasted like dry cotton; his head ached; the last week was a blur. He remembered the first night. He remembered going to the party, the pints of beer followed by glasses of Irish whisky. Stumbling back to his room and sleeping. Oh, the sleeping he'd done.

When he woke up he told himself it wouldn't happen again. He hadn't drank in over a year. He'd just gotten carried away. Maybe he needed to get a little carried away after all that had happened, but he wouldn't do it again. Jack washed his face with cold water. His reflection was puffy, the eyes bloodshot. He was a pitiful sight.

"What would Rose think if you could see you?" he asked himself. "You don't run away from things. You face them. You don't give up. Isn't that what you always tell her? This isn't like you."

Jack kept his resolve for the rest of the day. He even tried to go to bed early, but he tossed and turned, lonelier than ever. Rose wasn't there. She was so far away, too far for him to reach. Deep down, he feared she always would be. He didn't want to believe it. She still loved him; she had to; a love like theirs wouldn't just end. But could he actually expect her to be waiting for him to appear, back from the dead yet again?

But if she wasn't out there, waiting, then what was the point of all this? If only she were closer. This waiting was torture.

He could end it. The solution was only temporary, but that's all he needed, just something to help him get through the trip. Something to help him sleep. To help him not feel so empty. So lonely.

There were cheers at the table when Jack arrived. He accepted the pint with a grin and drained most of it in one gulp. He felt better already.

…

Rose wouldn't agree to it. Cal knew without asking. It was the last thing she would ever want to do. It wasn't something he wanted her to do. His family and his business were separate. That was the only way it could work. He couldn't bring Rose back into that world, even if she was willing to go.

But the partners were relentless. A reclusive wife is no help, they argued. Ours are hostesses; they support our endeavors when we need it. Yours should as well. They didn't know Rose; they didn't understand why she was more interested in raising her child herself than in playing Society Wife. Did what they thought really matter? His was the controlling interest; his votes, his voice, held more weight than all of theirs combined. He had more money. The surge of growth the company was experiencing was due to his efforts. His skills were bringing them profits they'd only dreamed of before. So why wouldn't we do what he wanted and let Rose do the same?

She appeared at the top of the stairs as he came in. Her curls tumbled down her back. She wore one of her new dresses, a dark green velvet. Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. "You're home early again," she said.

"And you are quite dressed up," he said, kissing her.

"Do you think-"

"I think you look wonderful," Cal said. "I didn't expect to find you like this."

"I have new things. I may as well wear them."

"So, it's not on my account?" he said amiably.

There was a flirtatious lilt in her voice. "Perhaps it is," she said. "But I can't let your opinion of yourself get too high."

"No, we wouldn't want that to happen again."

"I hoped you'd make it home early," Rose said seriously. "And I did want to look nice, in case."

"You're always beautiful." Cal kissed her again. "Where's Louisa?"

"She's having her nap."

"Will she be asleep long?"

"She just went down," Rose said. "Why?"

Cal offered her his arm. "Would you care to take a walk with me?"

"Just a walk? There's no hidden destination? No extravagant gift at the end?"

"Just an ordinary walk," he said. "It's a lovely day, and you'll make it even lovelier."

….

There was a chill in the air, though the sun was bright and the sky cloudless. Rose drew closer to him, glad for her dress's thickness. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Nowhere, really."

"Cal, you hate wandering," she said.

"You don't. We could go to the beach," he offered.

"We'll ruin our clothes if we do."

"And we'll get new ones," Cal said with a shrug.

"There's no need to be wasteful," Rose replied. "There are plenty of better things we could do with that money. Besides, I'm not so drawn to the ocean anymore."

"You aren't? Why not?"

"I thought it would bring me closer to Jack," she answered. "I know now that won't happen. It can't. And even if it could, I'm not sure it would be for the best."

"You wouldn't take him back if there was a way?" Cal asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know. I dreamt about that for so long. I spent all those years wanting him back, and when I got him, I lost him again. I haven't let go of him. You know that, but I'm happy. I don't know if I'd trade this life for another," Rose said thoughtfully. "It's everything I never knew I wanted. You aren't the same Cal, and I'm not the same Rose."

"You're the Rose I love," Cal said. "The Rose I need."

"And you're the Cal I need."

…..

The days became another week. Every morning Jack promised himself he'd stay away. He'd draw. He'd go to bed early. Eat only good foods and not stomach coating bread and grease. He'd let the headache go away on its own. He'd fall asleep without help. He'd scrub himself clean. Every morning Jack promised himself he wouldn't drink again, and every night he forgot that promise. It was easy to make with the light piercing his eyes and his stomach rolling and twisting, when the only thing he felt was shame at his own weakness. This isn't me, he told himself again and again. I am not this guy. This is not the Jack Rose loves.

He'd never had a problem with drinking before. Jack knew when to stop. He liked the feeling it gave, the warm, loose happiness, but he didn't rely on it. Even at his lowest, he never sought false comfort.

Jack plunged himself into the frigid water. So why was he so drawn to it now?

….

"Hey, Jack!" Clark called. "Wait."

Jack turned and slowed his pace. "Hey. Haven't seen you in a few days," he said.

"I'm surprised you've seen anything," Clark replied.

"What's that mean?"

"Just the way you've been knocking it back," Clark said. "You've been a bit out there."

"Yeah, well, I've been under a lotta stress," Jack replied, avoiding his eyes. "And when we get to Adelaide I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Clark asked. "If there's something bothering you, Jack, something you need to talk about-"

"I'm alright," Jack insisted. "I've got everything under control."