As if my entire life had been in vain, I left him. I let go, contradicting the words leaving my mouth; "I'll never let go, I promise..."  

          He was my world. I had known him for three short days, and yet everything I had ever been taught or would ever learn seemed to be the sun, rising and setting in him. Jack was the name for God on my lips and in my heart.

          I'll just sit here now, and remember. I'll remember how he was, what fun we had, what tragedy we endured, and what love we shared. I'll remember past that, to my attempts at living without him, to my attempts at moving on, and to my success in doing so.

          And I'll remember before that… I'll remember the way it was, and the way it would never be again.

                   On March 19th, 1895, it happened. I was born into a realm of wealth and control; freedom and love.

          …A child screams; its lungs expanding and its face blood red, the vocal chords being strangled only to let one know it exists.

          "It's a baby girl, Mr. Bukater; A beautiful little lady."

The man rose from his velvet chair, straightening his slender body and reaching out to shake the hand of the doctor.

"Thank you, Doctor Fritz. Is my wife well?"

"She'll be a tired thing, but she's alright. The girl gave her a bit of a hard time, but your missus is a fighter sir, and I think your little one will be too. Best of luck to you, I've got to be going. I'll be back tomorrow morning at 7:30 to check up on things."  The doctor, with his gray hair and thin spectacles, let go of the young man's hand.

"Thank you again. Let me have someone show you to the door," His face turned around, a bit of brown hair falling out of place. "Liesel,"

A young girl, no more than the age of 16, turned around. "Yes Sir?"

"Could you kindly show Doctor Fritz to the door?"

"Yes." The girl shyly hung her head, and led the Doctor down the hall. Not even waiting to see if they made it out alright, the young millionaire walked hastily down the hall of rich carpets and through a door of magnificent oak. Once he was in the room, a flurry of maids and nurses ran out.

"All for your privacy, Mr. Bukater." One older maid commented on her way out. The man graciously tipped his head.

"Ian?" A faint voice came from under the great tapestries over the bed.

The man walked calmly and sat in a chair, placing gaze over his wife. "Ruth, good morning," He kissed her on the forehead. "The doctor says you were a real champion, and that you'll recover nicely."

She chuckled lightly. "I'll delight in hearing he said the same of her."

The young man smiled. "He did, dear. He said that she was a feisty thing, and that he did expect her to be fine. He'll return in the morning to do the first of many follow ups,"

The young woman, all of 28 years of age, nodded tiredly and began to reach for the basket at the side of her bed.

"Oh, dear. You don't need to move. After all, I still haven't laid eyes upon my girl."

"Go right ahead then." The lady gave her permission.

The man walked over to the basket and picked up the small child, her eyes briefly and barely opening, allowing him to see the small sapphires for just a moment. A tear ran down his face as he ran his large thumb over her tiny forehead. "She's beautiful, Ruth. I'm so amazed… I'm just so amazed that this gorgeous being, my little daughter, was created out of all my love for you."

"Likewise. Where is Liesel? I should be requiring some milk and crackers." The lady picked up the ringing bell on her bedside table, and began ringing it.

"Ruth, please. You'll wake the child."

"Where has all of the help gone? I do not give them precious money to do as they please. They have a job."

The young man sighed. His wife had long since changed from the woman he once knew. When he first met Ruth DeWitt, she was a kind, loving girl. While she never had much money growing up, she had worked as a seamstress since the age of 15, until the age of 22 when she married Ian Bukater, heir to the Bukater coal fortune. She had become greedy and expectant, and while Ian had noticed, he still held the strong love for her that he once did… Only in dreams that her kind spirit was still in there somewhere.

And then he turned his attention to his daughter… The tiny human in his arms was his daughter, and he would make sure that any riches he ever had received would go towards her happiness. If she wanted a pony, she would have a pony. If she wanted a piano, she would have it. And if she wanted none, then she was to have none. He vowed to himself at that moment that he was to honor her every wish, and with his wife scolding the hired maid just a few feet away from him, he promised his little girl in words.

"I'll never let anything happen to you, my darling. I'll always see to it that you are happy, that you are taken care of… That you have what you wish to have and still are grateful," He smiled and wiped a tear from his cheek, his wife oblivious to the heartwarming scene in front of her. "You are so beautiful, just like a flower. You're like that of a red rose… and that shall be your name, Rose. Rose Elizabeth Dewitt-Bukater. Hello Rose. I'm Daddy."

My daddy. I can remember him very well… with his greased brown hair and stiff mustache. His long, slender body that would give out on him way too soon. I loved my Daddy.

The young girl ran inside, her long red curls flowing behind her.

"Daddy! Daddy!" She flailed her arms and jumped up and down at the sight of her father. He too grinned; the stress of his failing business and the demands of his wife leaving his world, for it was now exclusive to his angel. He picked her up.

"Hello, Princess," She swung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Have you had a good day?"

The little girl looked down. "No."

"No? Why not?" Ian was concerned, but not overly so. He understood why his daughter, only at seven years, experienced such unhappiness. But unfortunately, this was something he could not help, with his being gone during the day.

"Mother would not let me play with Sarah, Maid Amelia's little girl. She told me that Sarah was dirty and had bugs, and I tried to tell her that she was wrong but she only punished me."

Ian saw the disappointment and hurt on his daughter's face and his heart only went out to her. He wished so desperately that there was something he could do, and he was going to try. His wife's actions of telling Rose that those with less money were raunchy people were going to be stopped.

"How did she punish you?"

"I had to play the violin for an entire hour. No breaks."

Ian sighed. Rose hated the violin, and always had… But Ruth insisted that it was the most sophisticated instrument, and with Rose's highly expensive schooling, musical training was required. At his own regret, he had come to dislike the woman he had married, and for a split second, wished he would have never met her. And then he looked at his daughter, and once more, regretted nothing.

"Well, how would you like for me to go outside with you, and we can invite Sarah over to play with us?" To his delight, Rose's face dropped all sadness and lit up. She nodded her head vigorously. "Good deed. You go on outside, and I'll be out in a minute."

Rose smiled and scampered outside to the back lawn, where Ian had built her a sand box. It was there that she played her heart out with Sarah, the maid's daughter, and formed some of the greatest memories of Ian that she would ever have.

I only wish that my happiness lasted long. I had never longed for it to go away… I dream still that it had been different, that the bliss I felt for those few short hours with my father and my forbidden playmate would not have been ripped from me so violently. That day was the day... May 3rd, 1902, I truly began to hate my mother.

"What in the name of all things Holy has happened?" Ruth stood in the corridor with her arms folded, every red hair in place and her dress elegantly hanging from her body. She gawked disapprovingly at her young daughter's attire, the expensive cream colored dress with a hole in the bottom and covered in dirt and sand. Rose looked down.

"I was playing in the sand box, Mother."

Ruth's face boiled over with anger. She was trembling at the thought that her daughter had behaved in such a manner. "Ian!"

Rose jumped at the shrill shriek of her father's name, but dared not to move. She heard her father come in through the French door, and she could hear the smile dropping from his face and being thrown somewhere into eternity. "Is something wrong, love?"

"Is something wrong? Is something WRONG?! Why have you ever dared to let her play in such fine clothes? Why have you ever dared to let her play during her study time, at any rate? And look at you… in your fine suit. All covered in sand and muck. Have you lost all of your senses completely?"

Ian couldn't stand it any longer. He let himself go. "God damn it, Ruth!" Rose became frightened and quickly ran to her room. She had never heard her father curse, nor had she ever heard him be so angry. She quickly assumed blame upon her mother, and justified it after hearing the argument through the door.

Ruth stood wide-eyed, staring at her husband. No one had ever cursed at her like that before. "Why, I never…"

"You never what? You never had a heart; you never had feelings for what your daughter needs? You never cared for what your daughter wants? For what I want? You never had a feeling for ANYONE but yourself?" Quite taken aback, Ruth took a moment to gather her argument.

"Ian, I do care about my daughter. But we have standards. We are people with social standings that must be upheld, and some of the things she does… wanting to ride horses, wanting to play with little boys, little poor boys at that—"She was cut off.

"POOR BOYS? It does not matter the quantity of their dollars, my queen. What matters is the quality of their hearts, and if you have failed to see that then you have the problem. You are the one who has lost your senses completely," Ruth just sighed and looked down, though not admitting defeat.

"Our daughter has needs. Maybe I've spoiled her, but it's gone beyond that now. Now it's up to me to get her away from this hell that she lives in while I work, and while I fail. Yes, Ruth. The company is filing for financial help. We're having problems, and pretty soon you may no longer have all of this that you have become quite accustomed to. Do you want to leave? Do you want to find someone with security? Because by God I do the best I can, but that's not what you want. You want more, and I can't grant you that much longer," A sudden wave of anger swept over him, and he grabbed Ruth by the shoulders. "You will not raise my daughter to be like you. I have never forbidden anything, but I will start now. She will be who she wishes to be, and she will live how she wishes to live. And until the day I die, this rule is effective. Do you have any misunderstandings?"

Ruth pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"Then I'll be going. I have some errands to do, and I'm taking my daughter with me. Don't expect us for dinner; we're going for creamed ice."

With that, Ruth was left standing in the corridor, her anger and sadness and betrayal sweeping over her all at once. She had been told of the new ways, and she would abide by them. But much to everyone's dismay, not for long.

          The wind blew forcefully; the young teenager, no more than 15 years old, gripped at her umbrella tightly. She was trying to hold back any tears that were edging their way to the brims of her eyes. All attempts were in vain.

Gazing down at the cherry coffin in front of her was too much for her young, troubled heart to handle. She was crying; she was sobbing. She was letting this horrible tragedy overcome any of the good, yet painful, memories that she stored. Her father was dead. Her angel, the only person that had ever let her be happy was gone.

"Rose!"

She glanced up at her mother, who had quietly muttered at her through clenched teeth. Rose assumed that all she was doing was crying a little too loudly. Socially unacceptable, it was presumed. But she didn't care. She longed so much to return home, and he would be sitting at the table; his blue eyes piercing business papers until he saw running towards him, and then he would rise up and smile; picking her up and swinging her around.

She shook her head, for it was no more. Today would be different. She would return home, and her mother would give her a lecture on crying in public. And then it would be time for wash up, and then dinner. And then she would have to read 3 chapters of some horrid book and be in bed by 9 pm with no father to tell her a funny story, or to call her princess and kiss her goodnight. She would have to go to sleep alone; she would have to tell herself the funny story. She would have to find some way to let herself move on. And the service was over.

The car ride back to the Bukater mansion was a quiet one. Ruth said very little about Rose's "outburst", and Rose had absolutely nothing to say to her mother. The hatred Rose felt for her ran too deep to say anything.

"Rose, look, it's the Hockley's. Straighten up, and take that stupid veil off of your face. These are very important people; we have to look our best."

"We always have to look our best mother, even for the garbage taker."

Ruth looked at her daughter sharply, and smacked her face.

"Get rid of the horrendous attitude you're having with me, Rose. Get out of the car."

Rose sighed and did as she was told, to see her mother be greeted by an older, wealthier looking man. "Ms. Ruth,"

Ruth stuck out her gloved hand for it to be kissed.

"I'm so sorry for your loss. We at the steel company have felt it as well. May I be of any service to you?"

Ruth looked gracious, but Rose knew it was only an act. It was an act to get pity, maybe even more.

"Oh, Mr. Hockley, while any of your assistance would be greatly appreciated, it is unnecessary at this time. We will be able to fully regain our bearings on our own,"

The old man nodded sweetly, and Rose couldn't help but notice the young man standing behind him. He looked cold and reserved, his black hair pushed back neatly and his beady black eyes staring at her. She immediately felt uncomfortable.

"If you will allow me to, Mr. Hockley, I would like to introduce my daughter," Mr. Hockley bended down, and Rose received a kiss on the hand very much like that of her mother. "This is Rose, and Rose, this is Mr. Nathan Hockley. He runs steel mills and bases his largely successful business in Pittsburgh."

Rose nodded her head in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hockley. Were you a friend of my father's?"

"Eh, an acquaintance, mostly. We had business here and there, and I had the pleasant opportunity to meet with him at a few galas,"

Rose nodded her head, and immediately decided that this man had no right to be at her home.

"Lady Bukater, young Rose, if I may now introduce my son," The strange man standing behind Hockley that Rose had became aware of stepped forward. "This is Caledon. He's a fine young lad, just finishing his schooling at Harvard and is now a manager at my mill here in Philadelphia. He is also heir to my fortunes." Hockley laughed, as if there was something funny. Rose saw no humor. This man was creepy.

The young man bent down, and again Rose received a kiss. "It is a pleasure to lay my eyes upon one so beautiful," Rose smiled in mockery. "I do hope this is not the last time we shall meet."

"Like wise." Rose nodded and smiled briefly. She glanced at her mother, and saw planning in her eyes. Rose was instantly frightened; frightened of what, she wasn't sure. But her father would not approve.

Dear god, my mother was a horrid woman. Her own greed and despair leading her to put everything on top of me. I hated her for it. I realize now that I have matured that she never was intentionally trying to hurt me… She was only looking out for her family. But she was greedy in doing so; there were other ways to handle it.

Rose stepped out of the car; it was a year after she had met Caledon Hockley. While she was now only 16, she felt as if she was 40. Her mother had forced her into a "relationship" with him, and she was sure that he would ask her to marry him, and if she turned him down, her mother would be furious. She had no way out.

"Dear Rose," She turned to look at the man. "Please, come here for a moment."

She nodded in compliance and walked with him to the back of her house, where she had so often played with her beloved father. She winced at the memory.

"Yes Cal?"

He turned around to face her, and for a single moment she took in his features and found him attractive. Then she remembered how this relationship was sought after by her mother, and pushed the thought away. She could never love this man.

"I have loved you, Rose, from the moment I first saw you," Rose knew this was coming, and she had dreaded it. But there was no way to stop him; he was as demanding as her mother. He would have his way. "I would be most grateful if you would be my wife."

Rose looked down to the massive diamond that he had presented from his coat pocket and she was immediately flabbergasted. "Oh my goodness, Cal. How? Why?" Cal simply smiled and took her hand.

"So it's a yes, then?"

Rose then took in what was happening, and for a second decided to be brave. She stopped Cal from putting the ring on her finger.

"Cal, I… I can't. I am so thankful to have you in my life, and to have you around. But Cal, I'm just not sure if I am ready to be married. I'm only 16, I have ambitions… I want to live a little before I settle down with a husband and a family. You are a wonderful man, Caledon Hockley, and I would love to be your wife. But right now I just simply can not do it. I'm sorry." She stood up from the bench and began to walk away, but Cal caught up to her. He grabbed her harshly by the shoulders and turned her around.

"Are you telling me no?" Rose was frightened. No one had ever been so physically forceful to her.

"Yes, Cal. I'm telling you no." Cal let go of her shoulders, and for a moment she thought that he was going to accept her answer. But she was wrong.

"Rose… you will be my wife. I love you, and I want to have you. In any way that is possible. This way would make my wishes come true. I will not let you go so easily."

"Cal, you can't---"

"Do NOT tell me that I can't! I will have you, Rose!" She struggled against him as he forcefully put the ring on her finger.

Looking at the ring, she began to sob. She wasn't exactly sure what had just happened… She had tried to stand up to Cal and tell him no, but he had become forceful with her. He scared her. And now she was supposedly engaged to him? There was no way to make her mother pity her and let her out of it. For all intents and purposes, she had sold her soul to the devil and she knew it. She wiped a few tears from her eyes and look at Cal, who was staring at her blankly.

"Now that we have this settled, I must be going. I'll call on you tomorrow, Rose. Good evening."

And then he left her to cry.

She looked into the sky, and then looked to see that Cal was gone. Then she fell to the ground.

"Please, daddy… Come home. I need you now; I need you to save me. Why did you leave me with her, daddy? I hate her!" She stood up. "I HATE HER! God damn it, daddy! I hate her!"

"Rose! Shut up!"

"I hate her! I hate him! Come back, daddy! Come back!"

"Rose!"

She was slapped, and it was a slap that knocked her fragile mindset back to the ground. She looked up at her mother, who was fuming.

"What's all this?"

Rose wiped her eyes and showed her mother the ring. She was hoping that her mother would have some compassion. "He told me I had to marry him, mother. I don't want to. Please don't make me!"

Ruth breathed heavily, and looked down at her daughter. For Rose, this was symbolizing the god to the waif. "You must marry him, Rose." Rose began sobbing.

"No!"

"Here, stand up," Ruth bent down and helped her daughter stand, then led her to the same bench where she had sat with Cal just moments earlier. "That's a girl."

"Why, mother? Why?"

Ruth sighed and brushed a piece of fallen curl from Rose's forehead. "Because, Rose. We have no other options. Your father failed us. The almighty savior of your life left us with nothing, and if we don't find some security soon, we'll be in debt. We already are in debt; we can't just go on living as if your father left us millions. The money is gone, Rose."

"But why is it up to me to fix this problem?"

"Because. I can do nothing about it. The fate of this estate; of this family, is in your hand's Rose. You have the power to save us. Marry with Hockley, dear. Keep us happy,"

Rose stared at her mother yet said nothing. Her mother was giving the request in a kind manner, at least. "Come inside, dear. It's cold out. You'll catch death." Ruth kissed Rose on the forehead then stood, and walked inside.

Rose sniffled and exhaled, not feeling the urge to cry any longer. She had taken in what her mother was telling her, and while she didn't want to go through with this, her mother was being sincere.

And then she saw the sandbox. It was now a flower garden, for her mother had called the idea of a sandbox ludicrous.

 "Young girls don't need to have such things."  She had said.

Then Rose became angry. She would go through with the marriage, but she would continue to hate her mother. And she would never love Cal.