I've hesitated over putting a trigger warning in this chapter, due to a later scene involving Rose's past with Cal, and I thought better safe than sorry. Nothing is described in detail, but Rose is triggered while spending time alone with Jack, so I thought I would mention that in case anyone would want to skip the scene. I'll bold words around it to make it easier to skip ahead if you'd like.
Nearing St. Louis, Rose was already getting antsy and ready to fling herself off the train for some fresh air. She'd never traveled on a train car for so long before, especially one as cramped as they were in; and though she didn't want to complain or risk coming off as a pretentious rich girl, passing through Pittsburgh on the way to Columbus had left her nauseous, to the extent that Jack had to show her to the bathroom. The bathroom was nothing more than a hole in the floor of the moving train, and staring into its void, seeing the ground rush by, made her nausea worse. Instead, Jack showed her how to open a window for some air, and that helped for a few minutes, but even then, she was ready to end the first day of their journey out west.
Her being wiped out while Jo was wired wasn't helpful either. When Rose was feeling well rested, if not a bit jittery, at the beginning of the journey, Jo was sleeping, but now that she was becoming overwhelmed with exhaustion, Jo was just waking up. She couldn't handle such exuberance when her stomach was still churning like a choppy sea in the middle of a storm, so she handed her daughter off to the others, and tried not to feel guilty as she rested her eyes.
Jack joined Tommy and Fabrizio, who were sitting down entertaining Jo. He'd just left Rose alone, needing her space given their lack of space, and she was watching their luggage at her feet as she nodded off. "How are you two doin'?" he said at the same time that Jo made a reverberating, delighted screech while playing with her toys. "That good, huh?"
"You know Jo," Tommy said, sitting back. "She doesn't need us to have any fun, so we're just watchin', makin' sure she doesn't get into any trouble."
Jo had two corduroy dolls (one that was the original that Jack had made, the other was one that Rose had tried to make) and was making them act out something indiscernible; it was entirely gibberish and child's play. "Makes you wonder what's going on in her head."
"I really wonder," Fabrizio said, pushing another toy—a small ball—into Jo's view with his foot. She caught it with her left hand—interrupting her imagination to say a quick "thank you"—and incorporated it into her playtime, having the dolls roll it between them like she does with her family.
Once Jo grew bored of playing, she yawned and mumbled something about "Mama," and Jack assumed she meant she wanted to spend time with Rose. Earlier on in the day, when Rose and Jo's schedules had synched, Rose had taught her some hand games, placing their hands together in an order meant to create a clapping rhythm. Jo wasn't great at it, her coordination still a seed needing to be grown, but Jack had caught the moment on paper anyway, their smiles priceless. "Mama is tired right now," Jack explained to her, glancing at Rose, who still had her eyes closed. "But come here, we can play something together."
It was after midnight by the time they reached St. Louis and rented a room for the night—two rooms, actually, due to lodging restrictions. Too many people passing through the city to get out west these days, the front desk manager had said. But it was no problem to the traveling group; Tommy and Fabrizio would take one room, Jack and Rose the other. And to make things easier on Rose, who was taking the heaviest toll so far, Tommy and Fabrizio offered to have Jo sleep in their room for the night. Before Rose could agree or protest, Jack thanked them for their thoughtfulness, and they split off to their adjacent rooms.
"They didn't need to do that, Jack," Rose groaned as she collapsed on the bed, arm draped over her eyes. "We should have her in here with us."
"Why's it matter, Rose?" Jack zipped open one of their suitcases, placing a nightgown and hairbrush beside her as they prepared to retire for the day. "They're used to watching her all the time."
"Because…" Rose removed her arm from her face, revealing her irritated eyes. "I'd be a terrible mother for wanting to be away from her."
Of course, Jack thought. He should have been able to guess that before she even said it. "You're not a terrible mother," he said, sitting beside her. He knew that he could say it until he was blue in the face, keeled on the floor, a skeleton in the dirt, and it still wouldn't be enough. "Here, look at this." He pulled his portfolio out of the bag, flipping to the freshest page. "You're amazing, Rose."
Rose examined the drawing as Jack continued to unwind for the night. She noted the joy twinkling in Jo's eyes and smile, the nurturing way Rose's hand connected with her daughter's. Burning the image into her mind, she could close her eyes and recall the memory with impeccable detail: the soft sound of their hands meeting, palm against palm; her voice as she counted their claps; Jo's rupture of giggles. Jack was right, in this case. No terrible, awful mother could create a bond like the one that was emanating off the page. All she could detect and see was pure love.
While Jack headed to the sink and mirror to comb his hair and brush his teeth, he slipped his shirt off to change into his nightshirt, and that's when a series of events was triggered. As Rose was returning the portfolio to the suitcase, she saw Jack changing his clothes—and suddenly she was back in Cal's bedroom, averting her gaze as they turned in for the night. Do you think I enjoy this any more than you do? Just looking at you is revolting.
When Jack's hands went to tuck the shirt into the waistline of his pants, Rose's hands darted up to cover her face; she couldn't take it anymore. How pathetic, she thought to herself as she stared into her dark world dotted with colorful, woozy dots, echoing with the whirring blood in her ears. Jack isn't doing anything but standing there, and you're thinking about Cal?
Suddenly, tears were pouring out of her eyes; her barrier had broken. How cruel and inconsiderate she was to herself to deny herself the ability to move forward. If she showed herself any scrap of self compassion, she'd acknowledge what she still feared. That she was still hurt by the things Cal had done to her, the things he'd said, and would be for many years. But instead, she crumbled under the weight of her own pressure to invalidate these experiences, to keep them bundled deep inside, and Jack turned around to see her sobbing.
"Rose, what is it?" He collapsed beside her, not wasting a second to console her—if only he knew what had happened in the minute he had turned away. Was the drawing too much? Distressing instead of comforting? Was it—
"I-I'm so sorry, Jack, I can't—" Her breath came out in gasps, and the gentle pressure on her back from Jack's hand encouraged her to slow down (though nothing could stop the racing of her mind, jumping from each memory she had tried to suppress with increasing speed). "I can't talk about it… I—"
What was there to say? Her brain felt like it was melting, and that she had no control over it. Despite all of her thoughts being occupied by the meltdown, a crevice of her mind reminded her that Jack acted like an icebox to her overheated head, and maybe she had some control after all. So instead of wading and fighting through more words that she didn't want to say, Rose threw her arms around him, wishing to be in his embrace more than anything else. Just like that, his coolness slowed down the thoughts that were like gas particles violently colliding into each other, slowing down until they would barely scrape by each other.
As Jack readjusted from being thrown back a bit by the force of Rose's crashing into him, he let Rose tuck her head under his chin and rested with her in their collective embrace. After four months of being together again, there still seemed to be a lot that Jack didn't know, and he had come to terms with that. He only wished that he didn't have to see Rose become crippled by what she couldn't talk about. And it pained him that she had unraveled that way their first night on the road as an official family, from an act as simple as getting ready for bed.
Even after Rose fell asleep that night, her cheeks pink and dry from Jack wiping away her tears with his thumb and the back of his hand, Jack couldn't sleep. All he could think about was how sorry Cal Hockley would be if he could ever get his hands on him.
"I'd never do anything to hurt you, Rose," he said over and over that night, whispering it into her soft bed of red hair as she fell asleep with her arm wrapped around his torso. "I promise I'll never hurt you."
Two days later, they disembarked in California. With it being another late arrival, they set up lodging for a night in Los Angeles, to head off to Santa Monica in the morning. When Rose stepped off the train and smelled the breeze—fresh and tinged with salt, not at all humid or heavy like Philadelphia in the spring and summers—her spine tingled. She knew that there was a reason why California had been calling her, and after taking one step on western soil, she knew why: even the air was free.
The next morning, Rose's slumber was disrupted by something she wasn't used to: Jo. But unlike Jack, who'd spent months growing used to being woken by Jo's screaming and sobbing, Rose was only used to waking to silence. Fortunately for her, she woke up to Jo's playful squeals instead of her distressed cries, because (as Jack had explained while sitting down with her on the edge of the bed) her energy now hit a high at seven in the morning.
"Could we not get another hour, darling?" Rose said as her voice croaked. She grazed Jo's cheek with her knuckle, her knotted hair spilling over her shoulders.
"I think she wants to see her new home more than we do," Jack said as Jo continued to ramble and fidget in his arms.
As Rose massaged her eyes, swollen by lack of sleep from the long journey, she was awestruck by Jack's ability to look so refreshed as he stood up with Jo, already dressed and ready to go for the day. "Do we have to wake up Tommy and Fabri?" she said while draping her legs over the side of the bed, the achiness in her knees intensifying as she stretched. If she could only get a few more minutes of sleep…
Rose had pictured her first day in Santa Monica as exhilarating and breathtaking, unable to reel in her abundant energy. Instead, she was pushing herself out of bed, wishing to start the day later. A thought flashed through her mind, a glimpse doused in guilt: this wouldn't have happened if Josephine wasn't around. She and Jack could have slept in to their heart's content, then headed out to the pier after lounging around in bed for a while longer. But she banished that thought from her mind as quickly as it had been generated; she would never want to live a life where Jo didn't exist.
While Rose continued to wake herself up with a stretch and a cold splash of water, Jack knocked on Tommy and Fabrizio's door (though he knew they were just as used to Jo's schedule, so they were already awake). "Today is the day we finally find the American Dream, no?" Fabrizio joked while slapping Jack on the shoulder.
"I hope so, Fabri," Jack said. His apprehension stemmed only from the woman whose entire destiny relied on this location they'd been dreaming about for years. If this wasn't the American Dream, then what was?
"A bar on the beach nicer than a factory," Fabrizio reassured him, and Jack nodded, reminding himself of his past experiences in Santa Monica: the salt water soaking his feet as the squid boat rocked on the choppy waves, grabbing a beer with his buddies even though their pants were sopping wet, drawing portraits on the pier while watching the sunset on the horizon. He couldn't recall one repulsive thing about Santa Monica, aside from the fact that he was dirt poor; but he had been dirt poor for years, so for him, this really was the American Dream.
When they got to the train station, Rose's senses became overloaded by California in the daytime: the cloudless sky, the bright sun, the salty smells, the towering palm trees. She glanced up at where they stood now in the station and read a sign: Los Angeles and Independence Railroad. No mention of Santa Monica, except that it was known to get one there from Los Angeles.
With their final train expected to arrive at any minute, Rose linked her arm through Jack's. "Oh, God… I can't believe it." Her breath got trapped in her lungs again, and she had to shove it out or risk passing out. She patted her side pocket, where she kept a small notebook of paper and a pen. "I need to start writing to Trudy…"
Jack unlinked their arms so he could throw his around her shoulder, pulling her into him and flashing his boyish charm. "Just enjoy the moment, Rose. No need to rush anything." Rose looked up at him, her relieved green-blue eyes glinting with refreshed hope. "We're right where we gotta be."
When Rose thought of looking out at the Santa Monica Pier for the first time, she pictured herself holding Jack's hand, dragging him out to the end of the dock to peer down at the water before getting in line for the roller coaster or grabbing a cheap beer. Now, looking upon the wooden structures, she was still holding Jack's hand, as expected—but in her other arm, she cradled Jo, who grabbed one of her curls in her hand and insisted on holding onto it like a doll. She didn't drag Jack anywhere; instead, they walked over to look down at the water's edge, to which Rose was dumbstruck that she was gazing at the Pacific at all.
"It's gorgeous," Rose mused out loud. "Far more beautiful than the Atlantic."
"More beautiful than Lake Wissota." Jack leaned farther out to see the sun rays sparkling off the water. "Then again, that lake did try to kill me."
Rose's laughter bounced off the gentle waves of the ocean lapping at the pier and the sand, and it was only Jo's incessant pulling of Rose's hair that caused a premature end to the pure moment. "Bird!" Jo pointed to a pack of seagulls out by the beach, which Rose was able to see after brushing the hair that had flown into her face by the breeze out of her eyes. One of the few times she didn't wear her hair up…
Jack exchanged a smile with Rose and he picked up Jo, his grin taking over his lips. "What about horses?"
He led them down the shore, a distance out from the pier, to a small stable big enough to hold only three horses on the beachside. "This is Honey," the stablehand introduced Rose to the light brown female with a star-shaped white patch on her nose. "She likes it when you pet 'er right 'ere."
As Rose's hand met the soft star, her smile grew. Even though she hadn't even gotten up on the horse yet, fireworks were exploding in her belly just thinking that her dreams were becoming a reality. Turning her head to look at Jack, who had Jo in his arms while meeting the other horse currently in the stable named Hershey, Rose asked, "Do you want to pet the horse, Jo? She's really sweet."
Jo had already been a bit frightened meeting Hershey, but Rose showed her how to pet Honey on the star spot, and her fear seemed to be replaced by joy. "I like horse!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands after her palm briefly touched Honey's velvety fur.
Jack and Rose basked in the pure, sweet moment they were getting to share with each other, this little family they'd created and were rooting in this very town—but then Rose started to drift off as she remembered something.
Now, you'll have to do it like a real cowboy, none of that sidesaddle stuff.
You mean...one leg on each side? Can you show me?
Sure, if you'd like.
With Jo sharing one set of their arms at all times, how, exactly, was Jack going to help her achieve cowboy status?
"Come on, we'll just need to adjust. I'll show ya," Jack said, having no intention to hand Jo off to a stranger. First he paid the stablehand to take out Honey onto the surf, then he pulled up a nearby crate to sit Jo on for a moment. "Here, I'll help you up."
Rose's stomach was tied in knots and her heart was palpitating as she let Jack hoist her onto the horse. She'd ridden plenty of horses in her life and had never fallen off, not once, but she'd also never had to swing her leg over so that she was sitting in the "unladylike" position (or, as she called it, the comfortable position) like she'd seen all the men do.
But with a swoop that lasted a second and, at worst, left her stockings exposed, Rose was up on the horse, riding cowboy style. "Here," Jack said, handing Jo to Rose, whose hands and heart were still shaking. "I'll take lead."
Jack climbed up behind her, holding her waist for a minute while Rose clung Jo to her abdomen, bracing her for their trot on the beach they would call home. "All right, let's do this," Jack said as his arms rested by her waist, his hands gripping the reins. "Though you've already done most of it…" He brought his lips closer to her ear and whispered playfully, "Cowgirl."
Rose dodged his kiss, laughing. "That comment isn't deserving."
As the horse's hooves sunk into the sand, Rose's stomach tightened from her nerves, and she held Jo more closely. The burning brightness of the sky, the rambunctious chaos of the pier in the distance, the water lapping at the horse's ankles as Jack led them closer to the shoreline—everything was overwhelming. She closed her eyes and wondered if she'd still be there when she opened them.
But she was still on the beach when she opened her eyes to the yellow-tinted sun overhead, Jack's hands gripping the reins while his arms wrapped securely around her waist. Her cheeks blushed as the tension released from her shoulders, which fell down from her ears.
Only then could she take a deep breath of the salty air and appreciate the novelty of this life she was building from the ground up, the one she'd written about countless times as a dream or a scene from a storybook. Over there, by the side of the pier, she could picture herself setting up a picnic blanket with Jack, and helping Jo build a sandcastle. By the shoreline, she could imagine herself watching Jack as he led Jo into the water and held her carefully, protectively, as he taught her how to swim. Then there was the pier itself, with its rides and photographs and cheap beer. Countless memories to be had on this beach alone.
While Rose unwound these thoughts, tacking them down as realities instead of possibilities, a flutter inside her chest grew into a warmth that spread through her fingers and toes, flushing her neck and cheeks. "Jack," she said, turning her head to catch his attention.
He set his chin on her shoulder, increasing the flutters as she rested her cheek into his. "Yeah?"
How to put this? She used to be eloquent, but since meeting Jack, had found herself dumbstruck the majority of the time instead. "I think… We should start our family here, in Santa Monica, the proper way. Today."
Jack lifted his head off her shoulder and pulled the reins, slowing down Honey until they were stopped. "Do you mean—"
Rose laughed. "Whatever you're about to say, yes."
Jo only mumbled something gibberish in agreement, already tired from the excitement of the morning.
They rode the rest of the way back to the stable looking as shy as if they were two strangers that had just met, but inside they were bursting at the seams to get going to their next destination. As Jack helped her off the horse, he swept her up into a quick, yet brimming, kiss.
"What do you say we get out of here and to a courthouse?"
A/N: I'm "hard at work" (the writer's way of saying I'm writing like mad, then taking days off to stew some ideas) on the last couple chapters, so my updating schedule for chapters 33, 34 and 35 (the final three…) will likely have longer gaps between them, but nothing too major. (Maybe a couple of weeks or so.) I want to make sure I end this story the way I want to. I've also been really busy with work-related stuff, so that's why it's been taking me so long to update and why I've been generally inactive on this site.
As always, thanks for reading!