Clara Dawson
A/n: Don't kill me! I've been gone for a little while again…but I'm back now. Happy really belated Christmas and New Year! I've been busy with school and life and my new obsession which is writing contests. But me and deadlines equals bad. I need to work on that.
Eww I really need to get to finishing the editing for those earlier chapters, in case of new readers buttt…I never have time, and when I do, I'm a bit lazy. So, they'll get edited eventually. And when they do, I'll let you know.
And you guys, I know I say this a lot but thank-you for your reviews. Really. More than anything, you guys are the ones that give me more faith in myself as a writer, and enable me to go on to try other things (like writing contests) with more confidence and courage. You help me learn a great deal with your willingness to praise, and constructively criticize where it's needed. It's the greatest gift I could ever receive, and one day when I'm finally a published author…I won't forget that.
Love+Peace (I sound like a hippie),
Rory
Disclaimer: Titanic does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. Mmmkay?
Chapter Twenty-nine
"Jack?" Rose repeated, her voice groggy. She blinked; looked again. It wasn't Jack bringing her back to the world of the living, but Jonathan. Jonathan with a very uncharacteristic look of concern on his face.
Her mind defogged. Of course it wasn't Jack. Jack was dead.
And her head hurt.
"What happened?" The last thing she remembered was getting ready to go over the final scene. And, she recalled with a frown, someone shouting for her to look out…
"There was an accident," Jonathan began.
"An accident? What kind of accident?" Rose immediately tested out the mobility of her arms and legs, and when she found everything in working order, albeit throbbing, breathed a sigh of relief. Then she noticed that she was lying on the floor, stage left.
"This man's a hero, Miss Dawson," said a gravely voice from somewhere above her. "If it hadn't been for him, right now you'd most assuredly be dead."
Rose opened her mouth to tell the man, whom she'd identified as the kind elderly doctor that had occasionally come down to the theater when some of the actors had taken the term 'break a leg' literally, that she wasn't planning on dying any time soon, when his words sunk in. What man was a hero?
"Don't try to sit up just yet," the doctor said, now kneeling on the floor next to her. "You may have concussion. Now, follow my finger with your eyes. Good. Do you know what year it is?"
"Nearly 1928. What happened?" When she voiced the question the second time around, her tone was stronger; more agitated. It demanded answers.
Satisfied that that she was alright for the time being, the doctor was happy to oblige. "There was a loose beam, my dear. Poor carpentry. It missed you by mere inches, thanks to our Mr. Rudders. Knocked you out of the way, he did. You may be a little sore from the fall for a few days, but tis nothing compared to what could have been."
Rose's eyes widened. The self-centered, egotistical Jonathan Rudders had knocked her out of the way of a falling beam?
She must still be unconscious. A spasm shot through her back. She winced.
Nope, not unconscious. Just crazy.
And suddenly, too tired to keep her eyes open. The last thing she saw as she fell into the land of nod, was the worn and wrinkled face of the doctor.
When Rose awoke hours later, she was somehow in her own home, with Jonathan sitting in an armchair nearby.
& & &
Once Amelia and I left Daniel's house, we parted ways, with my reassuring her that I'd get the costume sketches drawn up. I made my way back to the theater. If I was lucky, I could catch Annie before she left. Even after rehearsals were over, many of the behind-the-scenes workers stayed behind to finish up their day's tasks. I was eager for all this to work out. The night had to be perfect. I had a feeling my relationship with Daniel depended on things going flawlessly. Change was coming. I could feel it in my bones, no matter how much that made me sound like an old woman.
When I entered the theater, only a few lights were on. It was strange to see it empty and silent after seeing it filled with people and laughter all day. I made my way back stage, and immediately found Annie immersed in a sea of fabric, scissors at the ready.
"Need any help? I'm not much good at sewing, but I'm an expert with colors." Annie jumped at the unexpected sound of my voice. I smiled. She reminded me of myself when I was sketching: completely oblivious to everything around her.
"Don't do that! Actually, you can be my mannequin for a moment. You're about the same size as your mum, aren't you?"
I nodded. "Pretty close."
"Then come stand here. And tell me what you want while I take your measurements."
Annie missed nothing. "Well, you know the party coming up? The one Mrs. Sanders is throwing?"
"Of course I do. It's the one I'm not attending."
"What if I told you I had a way you could attend without being embarrassed at not having an escort?"
"I would ask you to elaborate, of course."
"Well, I know a rather handsome bachelor whom would be willing to accompany you for the night. Only, I have to ask him first. And for me to do that, I need your help with something."
"Did you ever think that artistry may not be the career for you?"
"Pardon?"
"Maybe you should be one of those types that wields and deals. You're quite good at it. But, you've got my attention, so go on."
"Well my friends and I wanted to create hand-made costumes. And since none of us knows the first thing about any of that, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind offering us your assistance. When you're available, of course."
"Well, I'm never truly available. This production is consuming all of my waking and sleeping moments. But, I suppose I could somehow squeeze you in. Only if you agree to put in some work of your own, that is."
"Of course! I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Good, now what did you have in mind for your costumes? Oh, I hope your mother can come after her accident today."
"Wait. What do you mean my mother's accident?"
Annie put a perfectly manicured hand to her Cupid's bow lips, her honey brown eyes wide. "You mean you don't know? I thought you would have been by your house by now. A beam nearly fell on your mother this afternoon, but-"
Before Annie could finish her explanation, I was running toward the Exit doors, all thoughts of costumes, dates, and parties gone from my mind.
& & &
The room was silent except for the ticking of the small clock on the mantle, and the soft sounds of Jonathan's deep, even breaths as he lightly dozed. In her chair. Why the hell was Jonathan here, in her chair, and why was she home when she was last at the theater? At least that's where she thought she had last been. Her mind was a little muddled. She groaned as she sat up and put a hand to her temple to massage it. More like scrambled.
"Jonathan!" He didn't wake up when she called to him; didn't even move an inch. Rose said his name a few more times, and when he still didn't respond, she blew out a frustrated breath. She didn't feel like she would be able to walk, but if it meant getting that ingrate off of her chair then it would be worth it if her knees gave out from under her.
She tried to stand, and when her legs wobbled like she was standing on stilts, promptly sat back down. What had the doctor said? She may be sore for a few days? That was an understatement. With that option gone, Rose did the only thing she could think to do next. She grabbed a pillow from the couch, and winged it at the male actor's head.
He woke up with a startled yelp and his posture jerked into ramrod straight attention. He blinked a couple of times with that bleary fog that engulfs you when you first wake up, and then looked right at Rose, as if surprised she was alive.
"How do you feel?"
No explanation as to why the hell he was in her house, why the hell she was in her house, but more of the agitating questions she'd been bombarded with when she'd first come to on the floor of the stage in the theater.
"Let's pass with the formalities, Jonathan. What's going on?"
"Does your head hurt at all, is your sight blurred?"
"Jonathan…"
"Wait, wait there's one more the doctor told me to ask…"
"Jonathan!"
"Rose, don't…"
"Jonathan, tell me what the hell is going on before I-"
"Dizziness! Do you feel any dizziness?" Rose paused for a minute at the animated look on Jonathan's face. He was really taking his new role as doctor's ignoramus assistant seriously. He looked so proud of himself for remembering to ask her if she was dizzy.
"Yes to the first, no to the last two. Now, will you please tell me what's going on?"
"I drove you here, and carried you in. The doctor said it was okay to move you, and he left me with a few instructions and an order to watch you carefully. He had to make a house call to that hypochondriac George Stone, and couldn't stay to monitor you any longer."
"Oh, is that all?"
He nodded.
"Well, I'm relieving you of your duties. You can kindly get out, if you don't mind."
"Look, Rose…"
"As I said, I do have a headache and it would most appreciated if you just-"
"I'm sorry."
The world spun on its axis. Rose stared at Jonathan Rudders, the man that made the word vain sound like modesty, dumbfounded. Rose had never been speechless before in her life. She had opinions about everything, and had no problem voicing them, but this time she had no barb to throw at her nemesis. Had he really just apologized?
Rose decided to go with eying him suspiciously. He wasn't trying out a new way to ask her out for a night she would never forget again, was he?
"For what?" She asked.
"Everything."
"What is 'everything' specifically?" She felt like her daughter goading Jonathan like this.
"Are you really going to make me say it? Let's pretend I never-"
"Oh, no Jonathan. You started this, though I've no idea why. What are you sorry for?"
"For being a pompous ass towards you, alright? Does that sate your spiteful streak, Dawson?"
He was serious, Rose realized. Dead serious. He was looking her straight in the eye and speaking the truth. It wasn't a come on, or in fun, but the God's honest truth.
Jonathan was the kind of person that would step on some one's toe and blame it on the injured party for being in his way. He never apologized for anything.
Apparently that had now changed.
"What brought all this about?"
Jonathan's gaze was suddenly tender. Rose was taken aback. Jonathan Rudders never looked at anyone but himself with tenderness. That had apparently changed now, too.
Rose was even more surprised when he took her hand gently into his own. "I'm glad you're okay."
Alright, where had the real Jonathan gone? Was he hiding behind the curtains somewhere, silently laughing to himself as he watched his alter ego wow her?
She was about to make a reply when the front door burst open and Clara dashed her way into the room, a look of naked worry on her delicate features. Her eyes immediately fell on their joined hands. Rose guiltily pulled her hand out of Jonathan's as if a teenager caught steeling kisses.
"What in the world is going on? I heard you had an accident, Mum. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, sweet heart. The worst is passed. Jonathan was just sitting with me; the doctor told him to keep an eye on me."
At the mention of his name, Clara turned to glare at Jonathan. She didn't even like the thought of him touching her mother, let alone the sight.
Jonathan cleared his throat and stood up. "I was just going. Rose, I'll see you soon. Clara, it's always a pleasure."
Rose didn't know what possessed her, but before he could leave, she grabbed his hand. She felt him tense as he looked down at her.
She smiled. "Thank-you."
He looked at her for a long minute, then nodded and walked out.
Clara watched all off this with a wary look on her face. She felt that she was missing something, but did she really want to know what it was?
She eyed her mother for a minute before sitting down, half trying to find answers on her face and half searching for any gruesome injuries she may have.
"Precisely what happened?"
With a sigh and more temple massaging, Rose told her daughter the tale from beginning to end. By the time she was done, Clara was as white as a sheet.
"Well, for once that man did something right," she breathed, shaken at the idea that her mother had almost been killed because of some one else's neglect. Didn't they have inspectors that checked for things like potential killer-beams? She was going to be looking over her head every time she stepped foot near that stage now.
"For once," Rose agreed.
There was silence as both females mulled over the events of the day. And then Clara stood up as if suddenly inspired.
"You rest. I'm going to pamper you tonight. And while we're eating dinner later, I have something to run by you. You're going to love it!" She shouted over her shoulder as she made her way into the kitchen to try and figure out what she could manage to cook without burning. Tonight she didn't want to have to clean up any messes. All she wanted to do was help her mother recuperate, and get her on board with the costumes.
There were so many preparations to make, and so little time to make them.
A/n: Okay, so my ideas for this chapter started to wane towards the very end, as you can tell. I'll fix it later. Anyway, next chapter Clara talks to Jack about being Annie's date. Can't wait to see how that one goes. Hehe.
-Rory
