Chapter Twenty
July 1st, 1912
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Magically, as if a switch had been flipped, the chatter of a Fourth of July ball held at the Hockley estate was heard as a whisper between all the staff. Rose had heard their chatter when she stepped out of her bedroom. And she had quickly rushed off to confront Nathan and Ruth for the truth over breakfast. The idea of a ball sounded absolutely dreadful. As she descended the stairs without looking back, she feared she already knew the answer to her question.
Had Rose stalled for just a few moments more, like she normally did, she would have run into Cal, who exited his bedroom on time, despite only having gone to bed three and a half hours ago. He had doused himself in cologne, put on a new jacket, and gelled his hair. Carefully, he looked towards Rose's bedroom. He then reached out, grabbing the arm of a maid who was dusting the bannister. She gasped sharply, looking to the man who wreaked of leather.
"Has Rose left her bedroom?" He asked. Robotically, she nodded. Cal released her and briskly crossed, entering her room. Hurriedly, as if she would magically appear from the wardrobe, Cal darted towards her desk. Gingerly, he set the cursed journal back down. The sight of it alone made Cal grind his teeth together. He was in an awful mood. Cal had no time for games or tricks that day. He left her bedroom just as quickly as he had entered, and glanced to the maid, who kept her eyes averted. Cal then headed downstairs for breakfast, focusing on loosening his body up and uncurling his hands from fists. When he entered the dining room, Nathan, Rose, and Ruth had their teas, juices, and coffees, but breakfast had yet to be delivered.
Rose poured herself a glass of orange juice, glancing to the pulp dancing in the curves of the crystal glass cup. Her eyes fleetingly looked to Cal as he took his seat and helped himself to some coffee. Rose then cleared her throat and pursed her lips. "Is it true?" Rose asked softly, looking to her mother. Ruth abruptly paused from stirring the sugar in her tea.
"Is what true?" Ruth arched her eyebrows. "You'll have to be more specific, sweetheart."
Rose ran her tongue along her teeth. How she hated when her mother called her pet names. It sounded so mocking. Like she knew and was simply jerking her chain. "Are we hosting a Fourth of July ball?"
"Well, I thought you'd never ask," Ruth straightened her shoulders, taking a moment to sip her warm tea. "When have we ever skipped out on hosting or attending? I figured you would have asked sooner, but with less dread. You make me sound like I'm taking you hostage."
Close enough, Rose thought as she again found herself staring at her juice. The pulp had sunk and settled all along the bottom. Just like her heart had in the Atlantic Ocean. The last thing Rose was in the mood for was socializing. She'd be fine if she was invisible for the rest of her life. There was no one she wanted to see. And certainly nobody she wanted to talk to.
"It will be good for the business," Ruth continued despite the silence of her table mates. "I've heard news of expansion. And it will be good to have Caledon's face out there again since the whole incident in May. Right, Mr. Hockley?" She arched her eyebrows, catching Nathan's eyes across the table. He simply stared at her from behind his newspaper.
"Yes, yes. A good thing," He agreed, returning to his reading.
"And Rose, it will especially be good for you," Ruth now turned on Rose and the young woman held her breath, pressing her back to her chair. "There will be several girls your age there. It's wise you mingle with them, make some acquaintances. And I would like you to select two girls to be your bridesmaids."
Rose furrowed her brow. And in that moment, her mouth acted faster than her brain. "What a ridiculous request."
Ruth paused. "Excuse me?"
"I'm not going to find a bridesmaid in one evening," Rose shook her head, drinking her orange juice. "In fact, I don't want bridesmaids at all. I've thought about it."
"Oh, have you?" Ruth asked through a thin lip. "Reconsider, then. Having more people in the wedding party will make for better pictures. Not to mention, fill more space before the very large crowd we can gather in that church. Keep the venue in mind, Rose."
"I have," Rose nodded, gingerly setting her glass down. "I still don't want bridesmaids."
"Now you are the one being ridiculous-"
"Ruth," Cal's voice was sharp and made the thin woman jump in her chair. Both Ruth and Rose shared a similar look of surprise, gazing down the table at Cal, who seemed annoyed and exhausted. He didn't speak for a moment. He tenderly rubbed his temples and sighed. "If she doesn't want bridesmaids, then that's it. We're not having bridesmaids or groomsmen."
"That is not traditional!" Ruth shot back. "And it's not what we intially agreed on."
"Yeah, well, things change," Cal shrugged. "That's business, Ruth. It's not like this wedding is binded by some imaginary contractual agreement. In fact, it's all very simple." Cal set his elbows to the table. His eyes were dark with bags. It was obvious he hadn't slept well in weeks. Everyone at the table now gawked at Cal. But his eyes were trained intently on Ruth. "We get to have whatever kind of wedding we want. Hell, we could get married under a damn bridge for all I care. We get married. You get our checkbook. That's it. It doesn't matter how it happens, Ruth. Oh no, rest assured you'll get that bank account." He leaned in closer to her and whispered, "No matter what."
Ruth visibly twitched from where she sat. The stubborn woman would never admit out loud that she was vain or picky. She liked to portray herself as a mediator; somewhat like a voice of reason. But Cal was dismantling her character with his very words. And her inner core was trembling at the attack.
"It's not all about the money, Mr. Hockley," Ruth replied quietly, her words acutely articulate. "I'm doing this for my daughter's happiness. She deserves a wedding such as this. Wouldn't you agree?"
Slowly, a twisted grin came across Cal's face and he sat up straight in his chair, letting out a bellow of laughter. The rest of the table remained silent. Rose cringed and hunched her shoulders at the sound of his voice resounding through the vaulted ceiling. Cal broke out into laughs that bobbed his shoulders. Ruth looked at him incredulously. Nathan's face certified it: his son was mad.
"You know, Ruth," Cal finally smothered his laughter down to speak. "You've always had such a witty tongue about you. If you were a man, you'd do well in business. You're so good at making solid excuses up on a whim. But sometimes, Ruth... sometimes, you slip up, and it's easy to see the pile of bullshit that's up to your elbows."
"Mr. Hockley!-"
"'Your daughter's happiness'? Is that really the best you can do, Ruth?" Cal arched his eyebrows. "Look at her. Does she look fucking happy to you?" Cal now came sharply to his feet, his chair screeching across the marble floor. He gestured towards Rose. "Is a man's bride supposed to look at him like this? Like I'm her captor? What part of any of this trainwreck could possibly result in a happily ever after, Ruth?!" He was shouting now, his cheeks growing red and flustered. Rose stared at him, her eyes as wide as saucers. Cal finally quieted down, his shoulders rising and falling heavily.
Slowly, he looked between each person at the table before buttoning his coat. "Excuse me." Cal turned abruptly on his feet and walked out. Rose said nothing. She simply stood from her chair and left the room stiffly, not even casting another look at the astounded Nathan or humilitated Ruth.
...
New York City, New York
Joseph set a large platter in front of Jack. Two square buttermilk waffles, crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside. A few pieces of bacon, shrivelled and oily. A piece of dry toast accompanied by a rammican of honey butter. And a small platter of mixed berries to top it all off.
"Wow," Jack grinned, looking towards Joseph. The man was quick to deliver everyone's matching plates. He looked just as pleased as the hungry people at the table. "You've outdone yourself, Joseph. What's the occassion?"
"Well," Joseph laughed as he untied his apron and grabbed his plate, joining his housemates at the table. The pink morning light drenched the room through the bay windows overlooking the backyard. The birds were tweeting. And every man at the table seemed to be in a relatively good mood. "A little birdy told us that someone was accepted into the College of Arts at New York University."
"Oh, yeah," Jack felt his cheeks heating up. "I guess I forgot to mention that, huh?"
"That's alright," Curt was quick to speak up. He fiddled with the fork in his hands. "Dr. Phillip says it's normal for people who are reserved to keep even the best news to themselves. Even I do it."
Edward stuffed a chunk of waffle in his mouth, looking across the table at Jack. "So, you're gonna be a yuppy, huh? One of those free thinkers? Are you gonna keep living here?"
"Uh, no, actually," Jack shook his head. "I'm arranged to move into the dorms in early August."
"And Phillip said okay to that?" Edward arched his eyebrows. Jack only nodded. The man scoffed, nudging his bacon around his plate.
"What?" Jack furrowed his brow. "What is it?"
"It's just funny," Edward shrugged, his jaw clenched tightly. "You only have to stay in this house for a summer. While I'll have to keep living here for a fifth and a sixth summer..."
"Edward, you're projecting," Joseph broke in, straightening his shoulders.
"It's alright, Joseph," Jack set his elbows on the table, holding his eye contact with Edward. "I guess I'm not understanding your anger, Edward. Would you care to... walk me through it? You say you have problems with anger. Well, explain the rationality to me. Why does it bother you when just a few weeks ago, you told me you wouldn't want to leave due to temptation of freedom? Why is it a problem now?" Edward was quiet, only staring at the young man. Jack shrugged, sitting back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. "I mean, it'll be one less person in the house. One less person to talk to. Or deal with. At least, for a little while, until the next guy rolls in."
"My thoughts and opinions can change over time, can't they?" Edward sneered. "Maybe I'm ready to leave. Did you consider that?"
"Then we should talk to Phillip," Jack said.
"Oh, you're just a man of all solutions, aren't you?" Edward whispered sharply. He then rose to his feet and slammed his chair into the table, making the plates jump. Joseph pursed his lips. Curt looked rather frightened. Edward stormed upstairs, being sure his door could be heard at the end of the hall. Once he left, everyone let out a long sigh.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Joseph shook his head. "It's not how I expected your congratulations breakfast to go. I'm really happy for you. I want you to know that."
"Thanks, Joseph," Jack grinned. He then glanced towards Curt. "You alright?"
"Yes," Curt nodded, coming to his feet. "I think I'll go put another painting on the wall." Hurriedly, he scampered out of the kitchen, leaving Joseph and Jack to sit in silence around their breakfast. It wasn't long before the thud of a hammer to the wall began to ring out.
"You know, sometimes I think about the day when Phillip will tell me I'm free to go," Joseph said, making Jack look at him. "And I always tell myself that, if Edward and Curt are still here, I will say no... and stay a little longer."
"But, why?" Jack knit his eyebrows together. "Joseph, you still have time to have a great life."
Joseph grinned. "I think I'm a really good mediator for Curt and Edward. They come to my bedroom many evenings to ask for advice and just have a friendly chat. My way of giving back for all my sins is by giving them that comfort. To help them through the darkness, just as, in a way, they helped me, too. We've all been here together for a very long time, Jack."
"Yeah," Jack smiled boyishly. "I'm the outsider who has messed it all up."
Joseph chuckled at this. "It's not very often we get a fourth housemate. We are deemed fragile... precarious cases. Patients who are better off living in a solid consistent household, separated from all other cases. Why they brought you here? I have no idea."
"Luck of the draw for the poorest man aboard the Titanic." The two men exchanged a grin.
...
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Rose glanced up and down the empty hallway, drawing in a deep breath. Tensely, she knocked on Cal's bedroom door and waited, rather impatiently. She heard shuffling before the door flew open and he appeared in a flustered state. Cal seemed to be expecting someone else and his face softened when he realized it was Rose. Her hair was pinned in a bun on top of her head, with curly strands falling to frame her face. She was wearing a blue and gold silk dress that morning that accentuated her curvy slender body. Cal stepped aside, allowing her to enter.
"I have to leave for the office soon," Cal told her as he closed the door.
Rose gazed around the room with her back to Cal before carefully looking over her shoulder. "Did you mean what you said down there?"
Cal pursed his lips and tugged at his coat. "Yes. I wish you didn't feel the need to have to ask if what I'm saying is genuine. I want you to understand it is, Rose. All of it is. I'm not tricking you." Slowly, Rose turned to him, cocking her head to the side. "Whatever images you have of me on the Titanic, whatever memories you have of me in Europe, I want you to erase them all, Rose. And I will do you the same courtesy. I want to start over. I want to do things right."
"Why did you think I believed you were playing a trick on me?" Rose asked and he felt his muscles tense. She seemed so keenly interested. And he knew he'd been found out. She was so smart, who was he kidding? "You read my journal, didn't you?" Rose demanded, shaking her head. "You read my most intimate thoughts! Those words were not meant for you, Cal. They weren't meant for anybody to see."
"Rose," Cal took a step towards her, but one glare stopped him in his tracks. "I was worried about you. I... I didn't know what was going on inside your mind. I promise, I don't mean to hold any of it against you. I just want you to trust me."
"How can I trust you after you've read my journal?" Rose furrowed her brow. "Can't I have any privacy, Cal?"
"It will never happen again, Rose, I swear-"
"That's a lie," Rose crossed her arms over her chest, holding her ground firmly. "You sound just like my mother. Reading someone's journal is like opening Pandora's Box. You'll never be able to stop."
"I don't want to read it again," Cal shook his head. "What I read in there about myself... Rose, it's given me a whole new perspective and please... please let me show you I can change. I can be the man you've always wanted and desired." Slowly, he came closer to her. "Maybe it's a bad arrangement, but can't we try to make the best of an awful situation?"
Rose blinked rapidly, warding her tears off, but still her eyes became glossy. "How do we even begin to undo everything that's happened? I fear we've dug ourselves too deep, Cal. Is it salvageable?"
Carefully, Cal wrapped his arms around Rose's waist. It felt right to hold her in his arms and he actually grew nervous just by the touch of her. His heart rate accelerated rapidly, like he was a school boy in love all over again. And in that moment, Rose looked to him, only wanting solutions and answers. "I think it is, Rose," He nodded, carressing her cheek and neck tenderly. "If you just let me into your heart. And I promise, I don't require all of it. Only what you can give at this time."
"What if it's not a lot?" Rose whispered, their faces only inches apart.
Cal grinned softly. "Well, I'm a man quite good at turning a little into a lot. Just trust me, Rose. I'll make you happy. Just give me a chance."
She simply stared at him, gazing deep into those brown eyes. Despite being utterly exhausted, she could see something in his pupils. Rose couldn't quite describe it. It was unlike any look he had cast upon her before. She wasn't sure there were any words for it.
Slowly, Cal's face came nearer and his warm lips tenderly pressed against her's. His lips were so starkly different than the last one's that had touched her. But she returned it, pushing back against him in an effort to really test the waters. The kiss was different than any she had ever had. It certainly didn't feel the same as kissing Jack. But it was nothing like how Cal had kissed her before. It felt like he meant it. Like he craved her. But in a way that didn't demean her or make her feel like an object. He held her tightly against him, like he was kissing her goodbye at the train station forever. Finally, their lips parted but they remained tangled in each other's arms.
Rose cast her eyes down to the floor as she tried to process what had happened. Feelings stewed and boiled inside of her body. Cal continued to hold her, pressing his lips against her curls and closing his eyes. He wanted to relish in that moment. Finally, after so many weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds, he felt as if he had made a monumental move for himself. Cal felt like he was finally get his bearings back. But slowly, the two's minds wandered to the same thought: Now what?