Chapter 25: Distant Appearances
Josephine burst into the apartment and studied it intently. It was the same way it had been when she first entered it, when her mother had fainted and Jack had brought her here. There, on the couch and those two chairs, she was told her mother's story. In that very spot she learned that she had a father who was, indeed, not dead, but alive.
Traveling the length of the room, her eyes caught sight of the blood splattered on the floor. Suddenly queasy, she saw that it led from the guestroom to the kitchen, and then stopped.
Josephine walked into the room she shared with her mother, heart thumping wildly. There is where her mother fell asleep the first night, tears on her cheeks and still in her bathrobe, and there's where Josephine slept next to her in a borrowed nightgown.
Here was her book, Les Misérables, on the dresser, with Pride and Prejudice underneath. So long ago, it seemed. How much her life felt like that Victor Hugo novel right now!
Now... What ever happened to then? You remember things that were then and compare them to how they are now. And when you compare Josephine, you get a big change in not only her personality, but her looks. She was no longer dressed in rags, having to bathe in the local lake to clean her greasy, dirty-blonde curls with the touches of natural strawberry highlights. And she no longer had dirt rubbed on her arms and legs and neck. She now wore a crisp, clean dress that was simple, yet elegant. Her hair and body were clean and fresh. She had never felt lighter. Until, that is, Rose's well-kept secret was revealed...and Josephine had never felt so heavy.
Josephine Emma Dawson no longer found large, exquisite buildings something to gape at. Nor was she as emotional when it came to boys. After all, boys will be boys. She had changed in so many ways, and in some cases, for the better. Right now, though, she wished to turn back time and relive all her memories, bon ou mauvais, with her mother. She didn't care if it meant returning to a life of low luxury and dirty apartment rooms falling apart at the seams. If it only meant seeing her mother again!
This isn't real, Josephine wanted to believe. Her head was pounding, the blood rushing in her ears. None of this is real. Rose would still be in her bed, reading a book, all wounds healed. She would've never been dirty, poor, insane, or ill... Her face would radiate a life which has known little of the cruel things the world offered... Jack and her mother would be married way back seventeen years ago, before she was born. She would even have siblings, she thought, a little boy and girl, Michael and April. They would live in a nice, decent-sized house in Santa Monica, where they would walk to the beach as a family and watch the sun set. Everything would be a happy ending... No broken hope, nor shattered dreams. Did they really deserve all this?
Josephine's hope had been broken since she knew how bad her situation was being the daughter to a penniless young woman. Then it had been carefully mended back together again when Jack took them under his wing and into his loving arms. Her hope was broken again when she knew her mother would die, and from a secret she had kept hidden, even from herself.
She had plans for her parents, such as their wedding. She had sketched the perfect dress and ordered it to be made in her mother's size those couple weeks ago. It sat, waiting to be worn, under piles of dusty boxes, yet clean by its plastic packaging. Would Rose ever wear that now, and wear it with pride and joy as she married the one she'd always loved? Her hair worn defiantly down, its locks curling around her shoulders, pearls adorn into it? The layers of her dress sweeping around her high-heeled slippers, holding the hand of her lover in one hand, and a white and red bouquet of roses in another? Would she ever experience that?
Josephine ran, sobbing, to the bed, where she took her mother's pillow in her arms and breathed in its scent, its comfort. Heartbroken, she was. And depressed. She will miss her mother terribly when she passes into the other world. But the question was: Would she ever say good-bye?
She moved the pillow away from her eyes and looked at the nightstand. Seeing the scrapbook, she lunged for it, ready to soak up the memories held within its pages. Opening it, something cold and hard fell on her lap, along with a piece of paper with flowing handwriting. Her hands trembled and a quizzical look appeared on her face. She picked it up and felt its smooth diamond texture between her fingers.
The Heart of the Ocean. She'd completely forgotten about it! Holding it to her own heart, she picked up the letter and began to read:
November 6, 1929
My beautiful Josephine,
It pains me to know I will die and leave you alone in this world. Those were my thoughts months ago, but now I no longer have to worry. You have Jack, and you're like him in so many ways. Did I ever mention you have the same dazzling smile, sweet nose, and piercing eyes? These are a few things I love about him. You see, he's genuinely and truly your father, and I love him very much.
There is still a lot you don't know, but will learn throughout time. I regret not giving you a proper education or childhood you dreamed about. We just couldn't afford it at that time. I hope you'll forgive me if I've caused you any pain or regret. Please understand I never wanted any of this to happen.
As for the diamond, it is known as the Heart of the Ocean. Le Couer de la Mer, my ex-fiancé called it. He gave it to me as a gift, and now it is yours. A fifty-six-carat, blue diamond cut from the French Crown, worn by King Louis XVI's wife, Marie Antoinette, and worth more than the Hope Diamond. This is your inheritance and dowry. Oh, how I wish I could be there for you when you get married! You may sell the diamond or keep it without worry, for the man after it is dead.
You were born so tiny on that cool January day. You weighed around five pounds for being born on the same day as expected, the fifteenth of January, 1913. When I first held you in my arms, I wept, for you looked so much like Jack. I thought I lost him at that time, that he was gone forever. I'm so glad that was never true.
Remember when you took your first steps, Josie? No, you probably don't, you were too young. Only nine months and standing up! I helped you, of course, but I was so proud of you! Your hair was so blonde, your eyes so blue with those tiny hints of green. I would've believed you were too young. I would've believed you were a princess if it weren't for those overgrown rags I dressed you in. And for that, I am sorry a thousand times over.
Your first word was "papa," you know. I had cried that day, too, because I thought your father was gone. You kept saying it over and over, which made me feel worse. But then you stopped, and began to say "mama," never saying your first word again for a long time, not until you were old enough to understand and ask.
I hope you know, Josephine, that everything I've done was for the best. I pray you will forgive me for all I've done. Please, and I will pass into the next world peacefully. And know that I love you just as much as I love Jack. Maybe even more, but you might doubt that. Oh, and one more thing...
Josephine Emma Dawson, you were named after our song (Come Josephine In My Flying Machine) and my grandmother, Emma. You're the daughter of Rose Dawson, née DeWitt Bukater, and Jack Dawson. Your only living grandparent is Ruth, my mother. She never approved of Jack, but you may contact her in Philadelphia, PA. Her name is, again, Ruth DeWitt Bukater.
After the sinking, I stayed with a kind family. Adeline and Alec Thayer were very kind to me, but I left regrettably after you were born. I'm sorry I don't know where they are; the diner closed down a few years ago.
Now you know everything, sweetheart. That is, everything you may want to know. Remember, Jack has so much history that has been lost after a tragic fire when he was fifteen, while you can find most of mine with my mother. You should talk with him about it. Move to the Santa Monica Pier, I say, and live the dream!
Goodbye, my darling, and don't cry. We'll meet again some other time, in another world, and then we'll be together again. So wipe away those tears, darling Josie, for I won't be gone forever. And never look down on yourself for anything. You're too strong and beautiful to ever think that.
I'm so proud of you.
Your loving mother,
Rose
P.S. Never let go, but still move forward!
Of course Josephine Emma Dawson cried. She cried until her stomach hurt, and she still shed tears as she flipped through the album. There's Mama when she was expecting me, and there's me when I was a tiny baby. Oh, and look, here's me after making a mess in a mud puddle! Look at that smile on my face, unaware of everything that will eventually happen...
Josephine laughed to herself, visible tear tracks on her cheeks. She closed the scrapbook, laid down on the bed, and looked out the window, holding her mother's letter. "Silly Mama," she whispered happily. Her mother's memory will always be a good one from now on.
Tracing the water stains on the letter with her finger, which had been freshly spilled tears of Rose's, Josephine took the diamond necklace in her hand and knew exactly what to do with it. She tucked it in her pocket for now.
Rose Dawson may be dead in the streets right at this time, Josephine thought, but she didn't die in vain.
...
Meanwhile, Rose was prowling the streets of New York, heart thumping furiously in her chest. Her good leg began to wobble, and she knew her time was coming. But she would not let herself fall until she was a good distance from the City, a place where she could die in peace without the faces of her loved ones hovering over her, scared, anxious, and sad. She just couldn't watch them suffer as she convulsed, took her last breath, and never moved again.
A lover's broken hope, a rich girl's shattered dreams. Rose's hope was torn to pieces the moment Jack supposedly died. She never wanted to love again, or feel the emotion of it, or even see it. She wanted to isolate herself from the rest of the world and cry, cry until she could no longer. She had wanted her tears to bring Jack back; she moaned about him in her sleep for days. She never thought her spirit, which was so lively and full of life, could've been crushed like a bug in just a few hours. She had been broken.
So many promises she made to Jack, and him to her. How much she wanted to live those dreams. But then life had thrown her off the train, and she had been abandoned and alone with a child. Without the income or heart, Rose had never accomplished what she'd wanted. Truth was, she only wanted to do those things with Jack, and Jack only.
It began to rain. Rose knew she needed a breather and sat down on the sidewalk, curling up into a tight ball to prevent her shivering, for it was a cool November day. Closing her eyes, she remembered. She dreamed, and remembered, and dreamed some more. Of Jack's warm touch and Josephine's soft hair in her hand. Of the smooth Santa Monica sand between her toes, and the salty water tickling her legs. Of the burning feeling of cheap beer running down her throat, and watching the sun set each and every day.
Even if it had to be in the afterlife.
...
Jack was running all around New York City, yelling Rose's name over and over, each syllable more desperate than the last. He asked every person on the street if they had seen a sick young woman with fiery red hair and a large bandage around her leg. They gave him looks that said he was crazy; and those who didn't react strangely said that they hadn't seen someone fitting that description.
There was no luck so far. He'd been running for at least an hour, and he was exhausted, worried, and scared. What was she thinking?
Out of breath, he sat down on a bench and sobbed into his hands. His heart was painfully aching for his Rose, his withering Rose who was out there somewhere, alone and in the rain, frightened and ignorant. He had abandoned her in a time of need. Who knew what was going through that woman's head, mentally insane and all.
Through the drizzle of rain, Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out Rose's letter. Protecting it from the raindrops with his hand, he read it for the tenth time that day:
November 6, 1929
My dearest Jack,
My, where do I begin? Should we start from that first time I saw you, looking up at me from those lower decks, or from the time we first looked straight into each other's eyes? Yours were so blue, so passionate and full of concern. I've never forgotten them, Jack, and I never will, even when death do us part.
You must be wondering why I left the engagement ring behind. I honestly don't know why myself. I guess it's so you won't forget me, though I know you won't. But you know me right now... I can't understand anything I do. Speaking of my actions, you must also be wondering why in the world I ran away like this! It's stupid, really. I couldn't stand to see you watch me suffer, that's all.
Simple.
Remember when we first met, Jack? I was just as insane as I am today. I thought that jumping off the back of a ship was my solution, Thanks to you, though, you've made me see the world. Well, differently, that is. Then we talked the rest of the next day together, and you came to dinner and wowed the crowd. We went to that party in third class, and we danced together. Though you probably knew it was impossible for me to love you, you still so daringly took me in your arms like that!
Truth was, it was exhilarating. I felt the sparks, the connection me and you had. So when I was forced to forget you and be the proper girl I was not, it all became a mess. But by then, I knew. I knew that I had fallen head over heels in love with you, and I couldn't let you slip through my fingers like that to marry someone I would never love.
And you taught me to fly! To spread my wings and head off into the horizon! I love you for that. Not just your dashing looks, but your personality is what really flew into my heart and stayed there. I was released from my cage.
When I jumped out of the lifeboat, I did it for a reason. I couldn't leave you. Not after all we'd been through. You jump, I jump, remember? I couldn't go! I loved you too much to leave, and I didn't trust Cal, not one bit! I couldn't hope for you to survive, I had to be there to know!
Remember when I first told you I loved you? I thought we were going to die, and I wanted you to know. You never said it to me, though it wasn't necessary. I knew you loved me. Some things can be said without words, so was my theory through my broken heart. I thought you died. But you lived on with me, through Josephine, our lovely daughter. Take good care of her, Jack. She's still learning.
I hope you know how much I love you; I can barely put it into words! I've never wanted to love someone else. I never let go.
Remember when I told you that when the ship docked, I would be getting off with you? And how you said that this was all crazy, and I said, "I know, it doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it"? I meant those words, Jack. And I still want to get off the ship with you, but in a different way: Don't think of this as "goodbye." Think of this as "until the ships docks."
I'll be waiting for you,
Your Rose
P.S. Take Josephine to Santa Monica for me. She'll love it there.
A teardrop fell on to the paper, staining the word love. When Jack received the letter, it was already a little smudged from Rose's own tears. She had cried while writing this, Jack thought, this letter for me.
He had to find her before it was too late.
Getting up quickly, he dashed through the pouring rain, determined to locate his Rose before she departed for the next ship to the other world. He won't rest until he held her in his arms, to make sure she would pass peacefully, even though his hope was broken and his dreams shattered.
He was torn at the seams.