Chapter Twenty-Six
Karina, Madeline, and Ruth haunted Rose it seemed. The day after Karina's arrival, of her basically fabricating out of nowhere, she surprised Rose by waiting outside her bedroom door. When she exited, she nearly yelped in shock, but only pressed her hand to her chest in alarm.
"I'm sorry if I scared you," The Russian woman said, "I needed to talk to you... alone."
She had taken Rose to the parlor, seating her across from her. The women sat knee to knee.
"Do you want da wedding?" Karina asked, bluntly.
"Of... of course I do."
"Be honest with me, Sweet Rose." She warned, "As a wedding coordinator, I have seen da unhappy women forced to wed a man they simply despise." She shuddered, "I, myself, was forced into an unahppy marriage back in Russia. It was one of da reasons I left and came here to America. Dat man... he's not da the man you want to marry, is he?"
"No, no," Rose quickly jumped in, "I love Jack with all my heart. But, Karina, we are already married. My mother had arranged me to marry another man I abhored, but I met Jack and raced out of my engagement to that horrid man." Rose shook her head, tucking a curl behind her ear. "My mother now hates me for it, but hates me more for running off with Jack and getting married without her there. Now her and Little Miss Companion are planning a wedding I get no say in."
"Interesting..." Karina tapped her slender finger to her chin, "I could sense da hatred. I could not sense who it was directed at, but now I know... Your mother must hate da man you love. How tragic." Karina clucked her tongue. It must have been a trait of hers. "Anyway, do you have da names and addresses of da people you and your husband would like at da wedding. It is your wedding, after all." Rose smiled. Karina was on her side.
...
Later that afternoon, Jack sat in the DeWitt Bukkater's healthy library with a book about Leonardo DaVinci's life in his hand. He was bobbing his knee and picking at the edge of the page absent-mindedly. Karina appeared in the door way, but Jack didn't notice. She looked over the interesting American boy. Karina had been in America for less than a year. She had lived in the uppity New York for a short period as a banquet server before she started her own wedding coordinating business in Pittsburg. She had had few clients, but had made a comfortable living and enough extra money to put ads in surrounding newspapers. She was shocked when Madeline Astor, the girl she had read about in the Titanic article, had contacted her. She wasn't sure she could come up to such a woman of power's standards. But now she had grown confident in her skin, and second language, and was even more intrigued by the interesting social circumstance following everybody in the house.
That American boy was very charming, even in his obliviousness to Karina's prescence. She loved blonde hair. They didn't have it in Russia. And Jack's ocean blue eyes only made Karina want to stare at him longer. He was tan, but his skin was still lighter than what Karina was used to. She found herself attracted to light colored men, more so than the dark olive skinned boys of Russia and more than the African men she had shamelessly flirted with on the ship to her new home. Jack Dawson was a delight to look at. Karina was a smart girl, though. Jack was married. And Karina never found herself interested in commitment. She enjoyed the idea more of playing in the garden, rather than rooting in spot. Her shameless flirting, though, could not be stopped.
"Hello, Mr. Dawson," The Russian woman cooed from the doorway. Jack's head snapped up.
"Oh, Karina. You startled me, I... I didn't see you standing there." He flipped to the next page, his eyes darting up to the tall slender woman. She found herself a cozy spot on the couch next to him.
"What are you reading?" She asked.
"Leonardo DaVinci's biography," Jack told her, trying to focus on the page.
"You are interested in daarts, yes?"
"Very much so." Jack nodded, "I am a photographer for a magazine, after all."
"So very successful," Karina creened, "Mrs. Dawson is so lucky to have a trophy husband such as you. Tell me, how tall are you?"
"Uh... last time I checked, I was around five foot ten." Jack replied, looking at a DaVinci sketch.
"In Russia, our men get up in the six feet zone. They're so very tall..." Karina tapped her chin.
"My dad was that size," Jack told her, "He was a pretty big guy for an American."
"Do you descend from Russian blood?" Karina asked with bold arched eyebrows.
"No, not at all." Jack laughed airly, "My bloodline is mostly English and German. My mother's last name was Klein."
"Your parents... will they be at the wedding?"
Jack gave her a sad smile, "No, they won't. They died during my childhood."
Karina brought her palm to her cheek, "Forgive me, Mr. Dawson! How could I be so insensitive?"
"Don't worry about it." He continued to smile, "You didn't know." He returned to his book. A comfortable silence fell between the two. Karina tapped her heel against the ground and drummed her nails on her thigh. Jack turned to another page.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-three."
"How much do you weigh?"
Jack laughed again now, "Close to 190. Why so many questions?"
"I like to get to know my clients to every last detail," Karina told him. "It's my job."
"How did you come to be a wedding coordinator?"
"Back when I lived in Russia as little girl, I remember attending a wedding for my cousin, Elena. Her parents were filthy rich and had da money to toss about, so they planned a big, big wedding for da girl and her groom. I believe his name was Stepan. It does not matter what his name was..." She waved her hand at the thought, "I went to da wedding and saw da sweets and foods dat were normally so difficult to find in our famine. All da traditional music and dancing and good fun to be had. I even got to wear silk. My parents very much so wanted to attend da wedding, so my mother sewed my sister's and I deese very ugly dresses, but the magnificent part was dat she did it out of silk. They felt so good and we knew they were a treat. Being at dat wedding was so... wonderful. Divine. Whatever you would use to describe heaven. In da rough times we suffered in Russia, we found peace at a coming together of two families. I thought it was beautiful and desired da job to create such happiness. And dat leads me to my life today."
"Wow, that's really nice." Jack nodded, "You have some great motivation behind your passion."
"Dank you." Karina bowed her head, pressing her hand to her chest. "What made you become an artist?"
"I'm not sure." Jack shrugged, "Art has always been a passion of mine. It seemed right to pursue."
"So very smart, Mr. Dawson."
"Just call me Jack," He told her, returning to her book. "And you can call Mrs. Dawson Rose."
"But that is not polite for such powerful people."
"We aren't anything." Jack looked over at her.
"Really? Are you not?" Karina asked, "Because I think da world of you, Mr. Dawson." They only stared at each other for a few seconds before Jack cleared his throat and turned back to his book. How Karina got a kick out of flirting with boys. Especially when they got antsy. "Tell me... what do you draw with your talents?"
"How did you know I drew?"
"Why, Mrs. Dawson showed me a few loose sketches she found in your room. They're beautiful."
"Oh," Jack blushed furiously, "I just draw whatever strikes me."
"Even... naked women?"
Jack stood up, "I have to go, now. It was... nice chatting with you." Jack set his book on a nearby table and began to walk out, but Karina called to him one more time.
"It was nice getting to know you, My Groom."
...
"Rose! Rose?" Jack called as he entered the garden. Somewhere in that twisty maze of flowers and bushes, Rose was. "Rose!" Jack called again as he entered the garden and began peaking around corners. He found Rose sitting underneath a tree. She had a small tulip tucked behind her ear. She was smiling up into the warmth of the sun. Jack paused and smiled when he saw his wife so serene. "There you are." Rose perked up, but was relieved to discover Jack had found her.
"Were you looking for me?" She asked as he sat under the tree with her.
"Kind of," Jack replied, kissing her cheek. He secured the tulip better behind her ear.
"Did you finish the book I found you?"
"No, I didn't get a chance," Jack admitted, "Karina came into the room and started talking to me."
"Really? About the wedding?" Rose asked with surprise in her voice.
"No, that's the worst part. I would have rathered her talk to me about that crap."
"What did she talk to you about?" Jack set his hand atop Rose's.
"At first, she said she wanted to get to know me. And then she told me about how she became a wedding coordinator. But then she started talking about my art, asking me about me drawing naked women. She was talking very suggestively. So I left."
Rose was silent as she took that in. The next moment stunned Jack when she burst out laughing, giving his hand a squeeze, "Oh, I'm sorry..." She chuckled but began to regain her composition, "Is there any woman you don't charm, Jack Dawson?"
"You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad?" Rose asked, cocking an eyebrow up, "You did nothing wrong. You somehow charmed a woman who comes from the land of tall, dark, and handsome. I find that rather funny. How did I end up with such a good looking, honest man?"
Jack was about to reply when Madeline and Ruth appeared from around the corner. Jack and Rose sat stunned to see the two. "Rose," Ruth gave her a look, "you shouldn't tuck flowers in your hair. You'll get pollen in those curls and loosen them up." Obeying, Rose gently pulled the flower free and set it back onto the earth where it belonged. "We're going to the trainstation to greet Nina and Anne. Why don't you two come along? The ladies should meet who they're planning for."
"Not like it matters..." Rose muttered as she stood with Jack to accompany Ruth and her replacement daughter to the train station.