Rose gasped for air. She was only dimly aware of Jack's arms around her. He pressed his lips to her cheek. Slowly, she noticed her body trembling. Jack caressed her face with his fingertips. His eyes were dark pools of love and desire. "What did you do?" she managed to ask. "I've never—I've never felt anything like that."
He grinned, satisfied, and kissed her cheek again. "All I did was kiss you," he replied.
"Is that what you call it?" she asked, incredulous. "That came from a kiss?" A light blush covered her face. "Is that what you call it when you—when you do what you did?"
"That's what I call it."
"I didn't know anyone did such things," she said. "Or that it could be so—so—I don't know how to describe it. Words aren't enough; none of them are strong enough for what I felt. Jack, thank you," she said warmly.
"You don't hafta thank me." He softly kissed her lips. "I like making you feel good," he whispered. He kissed her again, more deeply this time. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him onto her. They kissed feverishly. He shifted his weight, and she felt him pressing against her thigh. She stifled a gasp.
Rose's fears were gone. She didn't care what was proper behavior and what wasn't anymore. There was no trace of the revulsion she felt when Cal's body pressed against hers. There was only the exquisite ache, though why it persisted, she didn't know. She was certain the pleasure she had already experienced couldn't be duplicated.
But she was wrong. Jack seemed able to read her thoughts. He was actually just following the cues she gave him. Her legs pressed against his hips, setting his pace. Her nails dug into his back; his name came out as a groan. He looked down into her eyes. Damp curls clung to her neck. Her cheeks were red. She tried to match his movements with her own.
"You're perfect," he gasped. "You're everything."
…..
Jack never wanted to move. His head lay on Rose's shoulder. Her arms were around his neck; her fingers brushed through his hair. Their legs were intertwined. He had never been so content in his life. His mind was clear of everything but her. He'd thought he had made love before, but now he knew he had been mistaken. Nothing he had experienced compared to this. In those moments, they had been one. Their bodies had come together to form a whole; it was as if they were destined to be together. They had been made for each other.
Jack never wanted to stop touching her. Just holding her hand was enough. He felt safe and happy when she was near. It was unlike anything he had felt in a long time. It was almost like he was back home again, before his parents died and he still had a home. He never regretted taking on the life of a wandered. The road had beckoned, and he had been glad to answer its call. Home was wherever he lay his head, or so he had thought. Now, he realized, home was wherever Rose was.
Jack sighed, "We have to get up," he said quietly.
"I know," she replied. She kissed his forehead.
They dressed quickly. There was no awkwardness between them; the comfort they felt with one another had only increased.
Once they were in the corridor, Rose couldn't help wondering if the people they passed could read her feelings on her face. Did they sense she and Jack were in love? Could they tell how sublimely happy she was? Anxiety began casting a shadow over her joy. Could they tell what had just passed between them? Taking a lover was wrong; it was supposed to leave a woman wracked with guilt. She was a bad woman now; no-one, especially not a man, would ever respect her again. And yet, she didn't care. Rose felt no guilt about what she had done or about what she was doing. Why should she? What power did words like "husband" and "wife" have compared to the power of what she felt for Jack? Had Cal been a good husband, perhaps she would have felt differently, but he wasn't, so Rose refused to dwell on the world's opinions.
They walked in an amiable silence. They had no particular destination. Jack had said they would find a place of their own, and Rose trusted they would do so eventually. There were only a few days left until they docked in New York. She told herself they could make it until then. Cal would come looking for her or send Lovejoy after her; she had no illusions about that, but it was the largest ship ever built. There were thousands of hidden corners and nooks; it would take him weeks to look through them all, if he even found them. And it wasn't as though they intended to remain still and make it easier for him. All they really needed, she decided, was a place to sleep. It might actually be better to spend their days in public parts of the ship. Cal would never risk his reputation by causing a public scene, not even over her.
Cal liked things neat and orderly. He liked routines. He was, as Rose well knew, capable of strong passions and overwhelming emotions, but he kept them hidden whenever possible. She suspected that despite the outward perfection of his life, he was actually a rather unhappy man. Why else would he feel compelled to control everything, down to the books she read? Even in his most tender moments there was a distance between them. Cal had never spoken about his childhood, the often tense relationship with his father, or the older brother whose death overshadowed his life. Rose had been forced to gather what information she could and infer the rest.
His proposal had been brief. She had known it was coming; she had dreaded the inevitable event, knowing she couldn't refuse, no matter how much she longed to. The diamond had glittered mockingly. It weighed down her hand when he put it on. It was cold and didn't sit comfortably on her finger. She wanted to take it off as soon as it was on.
Cal had smiled, clearly pleased with himself. What woman in her right mind would refuse such a ring? Or the man who could give her a ring just like it for each finger? His father opposed the match but not strongly enough to take steps against it. Rose's youth and beauty spoke highly in her favor, even if her family had fallen on difficult times, as his mother so politely described it. Her father's inability to manage either his businesses or his family's estate was an open secret and had been for years. Ruth pretended no-one else know, and out of politeness—and in some cases affection—the fiction was gone along with. It was the least they could do for the poor woman, her friends said.
Rose had just stared at him, unable to speak. "I know it's rather soon," he said. "But I don't see any point in waiting. This is a perfect match. Why put it off?"
She nodded and forced herself to smile. "You're right," she said. "Why prolong the inevitable?"
Jack glanced at her. She was lost in thought. Her face worse an expression of quiet concentration. He wanted to ask what she was thinking about but didn't. So much had happened so quickly, it was best they took some time for themselves. Without intending to, he had begun creating a list of things he swore to himself he would never do with—or too—her; it was a sort of unconventional wedding vow. Near the top of the list, he had put, "Never force her to talk." He planned to say the entire list when they got married. He was sure they would get married, eventually. As soon as she divorced Cal. That would be no easy task, but it wouldn't be impossible. He would fight it, but he couldn't drag Rose back by her hair. He might try, but Jack was determined not to let him.
There was always the possibility that he would never give her a divorce, out of spite, but Jack doubted that would happen. Men like Cal needed heirs, and for those they needed wives. He would have to remarry eventually, and until that day came, Jack was happy to live with Rose on whatever terms necessary.
Twice before Jack had thought he was in love. There had been a girl back home. Lucy was tall and blonde, with deep grey eyes. In the summer she turned as brown as he did. Her family owned the farm next to his family's farm, and they grew up seeing each other often. She was only younger by a few months. Unlike him, she wasn't an only child, but rather, was one of five children. She was the only girl. Everyone expected them to get married someday, and their parents looked on the idea fondly, imagining the two farms united with Jack and her brothers growing ever more prosperous with each passing year.
She was his equal in nearly everything, which Jack didn't mind. He had often felt affectionate toward her, but never once had he felt protective toward her. There was something about her that resisted being taken care of. She wasn't masculine; she was just so clearly capable of handling anything. Rose wasn't weak; her strength was one of the things he loved most about her. But she let him care for her. Lucy had invited his fumbling caresses but spurned his attempts at helpfulness, his small attentions. Growing up with four brothers, she constantly felt the need to prove herself. Jack understood that and even admired it about her, but now he realized he needed to give that kind of attention to the woman he loved. And Rose would give it back to him. He'd known that even before she said so.
Jack hadn't thought of Lucy in years. The last time he remembered thinking of her had been sometime during his second summer away. He was in California then. He saw a girl who looked like her, and for a second he was sure it was her. But he got closer, and of course, it wasn't. Lucy would never leave Wisconsin. Hadn't she made that clear?
March 1907
Wisconsin
Lucy's eyes flashed. "What do you mean you're leaving?" she demanded. "You can't leave! Where will you go?"
Jack shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Right now, I don't care. I've gotta get out of here."
Her tone softened. "Jack, I know how you feel." She laid a hand on his. "But—"
He jerked away from her touch. "You don't know how I feel!" he cried. "You can't. Nothing like this has ever happened to you. You still have your whole family; you've never lost anyone."
Lucy's eyes filled with tears. "I'm losing you now," she snapped. "Doesn't that count?"
Jack reached for her. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling her into a hug. "None of this is your fault. I shouldn't be takin it out on you. You've been great."
She held him tightly. "I know you're upset," she said. "You're right. I don't know what you're doing through. But that's no reason to do something you'll regret. Jack, you can't just throw your life away! How'll you survive if you leave? You don't know anyone; you have no money."
"So?" He sounded more confident than he felt. "I'll figure somethin out." He lifted her head. "You're not losing me," he said. "You could come with me. You're the only person who really matters to me now."
"I can't do that. Do you know what my family would do if I ran away with you?" she asked. "My brothers would kill you. Really, truly kill you. But if you stay…" She looked up at him pleadingly. "We can still be together. In a couple of years—"
"I can't," he said. "Lucy, I'm sorry. I know what we've always said, but things are different now. I just—I can't stay here." He sighed. "I'll die if I don't go. I know how it sounds, but it's true. I don't want to end up like—I don't want to die never having seen anything but this place, those couple of streets in town, these same fields, every day. You can understand that, can't you?"
There was an edge in her voice meant to disguise her pain. "When are you going?"
"Day after tomorrow," he answered.
"You're not wasting any time," she said.
"Lucy—"
"No. Just don't talk about it anymore, Jack." She kissed him. "Let me enjoy the time we still have together."
Present
Every door they tried was either locked or led to a room that couldn't be used as a hideaway. Finally, as Jack was beginning to give up, they opened a door that led down a series of stairs. They exchanged glances. "Shall we go down?" Rose asked.
"Can't hurt to see what's down there."
Once at the bottom, they found themselves in the ship's cavernous cargo hold. It was colder down there. There were no heaters, and the entire area was under water. Rose shivered. Jack slipped out of his coat and draped it across her shoulders.
"Thank you," she said gratefully. "Won't you need it?"
"I'm fine," he assured her. "I shouldn't even be wearing it. It's not mine."
"It isn't?"
"I found it outside," he admitted. "When I was comin to talk to you. I was trying to disguise myself. Cal had already sent that Lovejoy guy to keep me away from you. I kinda forgot I was even wearing it."
"We should take it back," Rose said. "Whoever owns it is probably looking for it. Although, the First Class decks are probably not a place we need to be. Unless, he wouldn't think to look there. We'd have to be crazy to hide in plain sight like that." She felt the too familiar grip of anxiety. It was just a coat; the owner probably thought he lost it. But what if the owner were overzealous and reported it stolen? Cal would be looking for any way to get Jack away from her, and that might be enough. Jack wasn't afraid of him; he even seemed to underestimate him. But Jack also didn't know, firsthand, what Cal was capable of.
She had experienced his anger over trivial matters, like wearing the wrong dress or not smiling enough at a party. She shuddered to think what his rage would be like if he caught them. To her relief, Jack said, "Yeah, you're right. We'll leave it outside somewhere so someone can find it."
"I brought my coat," she said, setting down her suitcase. "It's in here somewhere." She set the borrowed coat on a crate and dug through her suitcase until she found hers. "You have one, right?" she asked. "I saw you in it, the night we met."
He patted his bag. "In here. But, I told you, I'm fine. I'll get it out if I get cold."
She took his hand as they set off to explore. The vast room was a maze of boxes and crates. Jack's eyes lit up when they saw the car. "What do we have here?" he said.
Amused by his enthusiasm, Rose let him pull her toward the gleaming Renault. He inspected it, careful not to touch it and leave a smudge. Rose couldn't help but smile. His excitement over something that wasn't even his was adorable. He was like a child looking at a beloved toy through a store window, content just to be near it. "Can you drive?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I wanna learn," he said. "I haven't had a chance yet. Probably hafta get a job as a chauffeur before I'll get it."
"You don't know that. I read in a few years everyone will have a car. They'll be affordable enough that anyone can buy one."
"You believe that?" he said. "Think even we'll be able to afford one like this?"
"I don't know," she replied. "Maybe. Anything's possible." She looked from the car to him. "Jack, what if we slept here?"
"Down here? It's pretty cold for sleeping, and I'm not sure how comfortable that'd be."
"In the car," she explained. "We can sleep inside. No-one will be able to see us if we're lying down. It's better than a floor. Cal probably won't think to look down here, not for a while at least."
"That's not a bad idea. Rose, you're a genius."
…
They left their bags in the car and went back to his room in search for blankets. Jack wished they'd brought them to begin with, but two people wandering around with luggage would be suspicious enough. Secretly, he'd been hoping they would find an empty room somewhere, with a bed. Now that they knew where they were going, it didn't take long to get back to his room. They stripped his bunk. There was an extra blanket under each set of bunks. They took them both. Their loot under their arms, they hurried down the corridor, doing their best not to draw attention to themselves. It was dinnertime, so the corridors were mostly empty. Rose breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the hold.
She perched on a crate near the car. "Should we go back up for dinner?" she asked. She was hungry-famished, actually—but the thought of leaving their haven again made her nervous. The more they wandered around, the more likely Cal might find them. But at the same time, that also made them more difficult to find. Rose wasn't sure which option was better. She suspected neither would truly make her feel at ease; that wouldn't happen until they were safely off the ship.
Without realizing, she placed her hands on the bruised parts of her arms. She seemed to draw into herself before Jack's eyes. "No," he said. "I'll go get us something and bring it down. You stay here, alright?"
"Jack, are you sure? What if—"
"I'll be fine," he said reassuringly. "There are a lot of blonde guys on this ship. I'm not unique. You, Rose, you're unique. People'll remember you." He kissed her forehead. "Flower-fire-goddess," he said affectionately. "I'll be back soon. I promise."
She smile faintly. "I'll make the bed."
When he was gone she busied herself arranging the sheets and blankets inside the car. It wasn't a real bed, but she was pleased with the result of her efforts. They wouldn't be too uncomfortable. They would at least be able to stay warm.
She lay on the car seat, glad to be invisible to anyone who might pass by. She would know if they did; their footsteps would echo loudly. She tried to focus on positive things, but the fearful thoughts kept elbowing their way in. What if Cal did find Jack? Would he forget his abhorrence of public scenes? Had he told any of the stewards or crew members to look for them? He would give them money in to help him and promise more if they succeeded. She knew he would. She was equally sure most of them would agree to the arrangement.
"Why did I let him go alone?" she whispered. "If I were there—"
What could you do? You can't stop Ca. Don't delude yourself. You've never been able to stop him. You're utterly helpless before him. Aren't you? Admit it. He yells, and you cower, hoping he doesn't hit you.
"Fighting him makes it worse. There's no point. I don't care about myself anymore. There's nothing left for him to do to me. But if he hurts Jack—" She pressed her face into the pillow and breathed in his scent. Don't think about it. He's fine.
Rose tried to hold back the memories, but they came anyway. Cal's dark eyes glittering with rage, contempt and desire mingling in his smile. She shuddered at the thought of his hands on her. There was nothing soft or tender about his touch. He grabbed at her, leaving bruises even when he didn't intend to. She still thought the first night was the worst. She hadn't known what to expect, and she had allowed herself to hope it wouldn't be so bad.
The memory overwhelmed her. It was as if it were happening all over again. Her body, tense with fear, beneath his, the triumph in his eyes. He looked at her, but he didn't really see her. She had stared past him, focusing on a spot on the ceiling, and tried to imagine she was somewhere else. She told herself it was an awful dream, and soon, she would wake up.
"Hurry Jack," she said, hugging the pillow. "He's fine," she said firmly. "That's all over now. We're going to be happy. We're going to be fine."
…
Jack didn't know if they were allowed to take food out of the dining hall, so he tried to get as much as he could without being noticed. "Jack, where've you been?" He turned at the sound of Fabrizo's voice.
"Hey," he said, keeping his voice low.
Fabrizo looked at him curiously. "Where's Rose?"
"She's waiting for me," Jack said. "We wound a place to hide out. I just came to get food."
"You did? Where?"
"It doesn't matter. It's probably best if you don't know."
"Jack, I heard some talk; some guts were asking about Rose."
"Did you hear who it was?"
Fabrizo shook his head. "No. That's all I heard."
"Did anyone say they saw her?"
"Not that I heard. Jack—" Fabrizo hesitated. "Are you sure you want to be doing this? She's a great girl, but this could be dangerous. Another man's wife?"
"I'm not afraid of him or his money," Jack replied. "Rose's terrified of him, but I'm not. I'm not stupid; I know what a guy like him is capable of. But we won't be on this ship forever, and he doesn't own the whole world. We can get away from him. Fabrizo, I love her. I can't explain it, and I don't expect you to understand. Just please, don't tell anyone you know me, alright?"
"You know I won't."
"Thanks."
Jack turned and hurried out of the dining hall. Fabrizo watched him go with a deep sense of foreboding. Jack had always known what he was doing; he had always landed on his feet. But Fabrizo feared this time things would end differently.
