A Chance Encounter
Early December, 1918
It was a cold, bitter night on the beach in Atlantic City.
Only a few souls with upraised collars and gloves braved the frozen wind that swept in from off the ocean. Rose's boots squished in the sand as she hitched her skirt over her calves, making her way to the line of boulders pointing towards the sea like a finger to the horizon. Her breath blew before her like a misty flag as she walked towards the jetty.
It was if an invisible hand was pulling her towards the ocean, drawing her to the black churning water. The clear white stars shone brightly down upon her in the ebony night sky, masking in the distance where the sea stopped and the sky began. The sickle shaped moon hung low, pale white light shimmering like discarded diamonds in a jagged line across the ever moving surface of water. She climbed the low rocks easily in the moonlight, nimbly walking along them as she made her way to the end of the ledge.
Rose stood like a lone sentry at the end of the quay and she cocked her head towards the sound of the crashing waves. Her hair billowed out behind her, a dark, rippling flag in the wind as she pulled her leather flying coat closer around her body. Her dinner dress clung to her legs, whipping and snapping as the wind fought to flow through her towards the shore. The tide was rising; the waves collided against the rocks in an angry attempt to dislodge them from the water's path. Rose was so deep in thought the spray from the waves was easily ignored.
Only for Sarah and the return of Doug Calvert would she have come back east. The influenza that had taken so many lives had nearly taken hers only two months before. It was the stubbornness of Sarah and her homeopathic medicine that kept her alive when her body threatened to betray her by succumbing to the illness. Even now, almost two months later, Rose still did not feel like herself. She tired easily and the shadows under her eyes had yet to fade from view.
Not comfortable with the idea of waiting for her son to return to Illinois on his own, Sarah decided they must meet him in New Jersey after his debriefing was over at Camp Dix. In two days Douglas Calvert would be arriving by train in Atlantic City to reunite with his family and spend a few days of resting and relaxing before returning to the farm to begin a much needed hiatus from the military.
Rose tried valiantly to beg off, believing it should be a family only event. She pleaded her own recovering health, but Sarah would not hear a word of protest. She packed Rose's suitcase and had her out the door and on their way to the train station, leaving Rose just enough time to grab her satchel and warm winter coat.
But if she had not returned east and to this city, she would have never learned of Ruth Bukater's death.
Just this afternoon as she and Sarah strolled down the wooden boards of the nearly deserted Boardwalk she spotted a newsboy hawking the Philadelphia Inquirer and on a whim purchased one. She had waited until after dinner when she returned to her room to sit down with a cup of hot tea to peruse the pages for news of her hometown. When she spotted the obituary, tucked in small print towards the back of the paper, she felt the blood run from her face in icy disbelief. She sat back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair distractedly, pulling pins and releasing the long curls. The funeral had been three days before and Ruth was to be interred by her memorial, next to her father.
Unsure of her feelings, she walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside, staring out over the dark ocean in the distance.
She was too restless to remain in her room, knowing sleep would elude her tonight. So she pulled on her gloves and coat without a second thought, walking out of the hotel without knowing the time. She roamed the boards for hours, walking up and down the strip as memories and conversations swirled through her mind. Just before she decided it was time to return, she stared at the water for a moment, spotting the jetty in the distance. Without a second thought, she walked towards it, with only the intention of standing on the end, near the beach.
But in her grief, she had pushed herself farther out on the jetty than she thought possible. It was part therapy, possibly part masochism, because she hoped each step forward on the rocks would be a cathartic experience, purging her of the fear she felt for the massive body of water. She knew deep in her heart there was nothing to stop the sea from rising over the flat beach and carrying the boardwalk and all the storefronts away, dragging them back to the deep, for she had seen its destructive power on a calm night. This ocean awakened in her a terrifying sense of awe and awareness of its ever changing moods and irresistible power.
In her hand she clutched the obituary torn hastily from the newspaper as her memories of the last night with her mother swelled and stretched between relief and longing, as she finally understood what it meant to be alone. Although she had left her mother's protection so many years before, always was the thought in the back of her mind that maybe, possibly, one day, if she needed to, she could return home.
"I hope you find peace, Mother," she whispered to the wind as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. It was if the small tangible tie she felt with her mother was severed this night as easily as a rope pulled taut until it was stretched beyond its limits, snapping from the strain.
So here she stood, on the very last rock; where she could say good-bye to her mother in peace, never forgetting for one moment somewhere out on the ocean floor lay her childhood dreams and a fleeting love, alone and bitterly cold.
Would the temperature of the water in December be any different from that night so long ago? Would it still feel like a million shards of glass assaulting her body all at once?
How easy it was to imagine the water as a haunted entity, as it had been the cause of mass destruction and heartbreak since the beginning of time.
When she was a child, she never feared ghosts and it seemed the lack of fear served a purpose now as she lived with them everyday. When she stared into a mirror, she would forever see traces of her mother staring back at her. She smiled her father's smile, brushed her hair back with hands inherited from her grandmother, not to mention the other ghosts from the ship of dreams who visited her from time to time.
She stood stoically silent as she pulled her hair from her face and stared down the angry waters. She lifted her face to the light mist from the waves and sighed. The tide was rapidly coming in; she would have to return to the hotel soon.
Rose the aviatrix was becoming restless, the need to move on becoming stronger with every passing day. Oh, how she would miss the Adlers, whom she had come to love as foster parents. But flying was what she would miss the most, the exhilaration that pulsed through her body in waves as she flew above the horizon and danced along the clouds. She knew she would always be welcome at the airfield, but as the men returned from war, she would not have the opportunity to fly with as much frequency as she was used to. They would reclaim their planes, their mail-routes and Rose would be grounded and left behind as she watched them soar above.
There was still the matter of the promise to Jack to make every day count, as well. Her life was stretched out in front of her, a half empty book, and it was up to her to fill in the pages.
She still missed Jack, for he remained a part of her life -- not a day passed without some small thought of him. The sorrow was less overwhelming now though - she no longer allowed it to affect her with the burning intensity of before.
Her mother's spoken words about loss and grieving had preoccupied her thoughts for weeks on end, as yes, seven years was a long time to mourn someone. And although she refused to completely say good-bye to her past, she was no longer awakened from her nightmares with the regularity of the first few years after Titanic slipped beneath the ocean.
What was it about Jack and their short time together she would not allow herself to forget? Was it because he saved her life? It was almost as if she was afraid she would betray him and his memory if she did allow herself to fully move on. Was her mother correct in saying the relationship never would have lasted?
Well, Mother, she thought silently, I'll never have the chance to find out if your prediction would come true.
If she and Jack had never met, if they had remained strangers aboard the massive ship, separated by their classes, would he have survived the wreckage? Even now, so many years later, she knew the odds of him surviving without her assistance were slim. Sometimes when she had lain awake unable to sleep she was haunted by guilt born of the possibility if Jack had never met her, he would have survived. Morose thoughts ran through her head about the choices that she had made as she held her head in her hands, listening to crash of the waves on the rocks.
"Good-bye, Mother," she said at last as she slowly tore the newspaper to shreds and let the wind offer the remnants to the sea. With one long final look, she set out to turn the page on that forlorn chapter of the past, the churning sea and the wreckage of Titanic.
"Don't jump. However bad it may seem right now, Miss, for God's sake, please don't jump!"
Rose leapt out of her skin in fear as she whipped her head around to look behind her; certain she was hearing another ghost from her past.
"What!?" She exclaimed to the very real, very tall stranger standing a few feet behind her, "that's absurd. I have no intention of committing suicide."
"Then why are you standing on these rocks above the ocean on a in the middle of the night?" The stranger asked as he held his hand out to her. "Here, take my hand; and we'll walk back to the boardwalk together."
Oh, this cannot be happening, Rose thought to herself as she gazed at her savior, lips twitching as she struggled to contain a wry smile. Tonight of all nights, standing here alone surrounded by her thoughts of Titanic, she encountered another man who thought she needed saving from herself. Twice in her lifetime was too much for her to take, especially after fighting so hard for her life during her severe bout of influenza a few months before.
She was finding it difficult to get a good look at her Samaritan in the moonlight; however she could tell he was several inches taller than she was and well-made. His hat leaned jauntily to the side, lending him a rakish air.
"What were you thinking sneaking up on me like that," she admonished him. "I said I'm not going to jump. Now, please go away and leave me be." Rose said as she turned back towards the water. She sighed with impatience, looking over her shoulder to see him still standing there realizing she was going to have to wait for the stranger to leave before she could follow him back to the safety of the boardwalk and the warmth of her room. She didn't want to be rude; she just wanted to be alone.
The stranger lowered his waiting hand, as the young woman quirked an eyebrow up as she watched him over her shoulder. He placed both of them in the pockets of his long wool overcoat and shrugged his wide shoulders.
"Miss, please, help an old man out here. Just take my hand and allow me to lead you back to the boardwalk. I've just returned from overseas two days ago, spending a week on an overcrowded boat and I've been on a cramped train for the last three hours. I'm tired. I'd really like to go to my room and slip into a coma for the next few days."
Was he speaking to her as if she were a child? Rose turned around, letting out a small gasp of surprise as she lost her footing. The stranger reached out to her as she righted herself, but she waved his hands away and then placed them on her hips as she confronted him.
"Oh, you must be joking with me. I'm fine. Honestly. You can go. Go to your hotel, crawl beneath your covers and sleep. I have no intention of throwing myself bodily into that freezing water," she pointed down into the darkness. She showed her disbelief in the tone of her voice as she addressed him with disdain.
"I was only saying good-bye to something," she stifled the urge to tell him to shoo.
"Please, Miss, I'll sleep much better tonight if you'll just come back –"
His words were cut off as a massive crushing wave slammed over the jetty and Rose found herself thrown off balance by the force and the extreme iciness of the water. Her body was sent hurtling towards the stranger, her outstretched fingers brushing his open arms as he struggled to grasp a hold of her hands. A short scream escaped her as her booted feet lost their footing on the slippery, wet rocks. She swallowed the sob in her throat, looking up at the stranger in desperation as she began to plummet over the side of the jetty. An intense feeling of vertigo washed over her as another wave crashed deafeningly against the rocks, thundering with the intention of sweeping them both into the sea.
Her hand met his, fumbling for grip and then slipped, finally connecting just as Rose was about tumble into the rushing water. The stranger had fallen to his knees as he struggled to keep her hand tightly in his grasp.
"I've got your hand. I won't let go," the stranger shouted over the roar of the surf. "Give me your other one. You can do it, I can't do it alone. You'll have to help me!"
Rose sobbed both in fear and remembrance of the last time she found herself in an eerily similar predicament. The rocks on the jetty were as slippery as oiled leather as Rose tried frantically to find a toehold to shove her boot into. She grabbed his other hand, holding on for dear life as panic ran through her. She arched her body backwards, struggling to keep her balance and her hands from sliding out of his. Hysteria was rising in her chest as her breath struggled to be released from her constricting lungs.
"Help me!" she cried as more waves broke over the quay, threatening to pitch both of them into the foaming sea. Rose screamed in fear as a terror she had only known once before welled in her throat. "Please! I can't go back in there, don't let it take me again!"
The stranger pulled on her hands with all of his might until he was able to snake one arm around her waist and drag her back to towards the center of rocks. Rose landed on top of him, both of them losing their breath from the impact. She rested her head on his chest, breathing heavy from exertion, both of their hearts thumping frantically from shock. His arms tightened briefly around her back, his breath leaving his chest in a sudden exhalation before falling limply to his sides.
He rested for a moment before lifting Rose up against him as he struggled to stand and regain his footing.
"See, that's what you get for being rude with me," he scolded her. "Come on, we have to get out of here before another wave wipes us both off into the water," he said looking back towards the surging waves. He took her upper arm in his grasp and half-dragged Rose back towards the safety of the boardwalk.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Rose babbled, her teeth chattering from the cold shock.
"Miss, right now I really wish you had taken my advice the first time I offered it," was all the stranger said to her over his shoulder as he led her back the way they had come.
The boardwalk seemed a million miles away as they crept carefully from rock to rock, slowly making their way back to steady ground. A huge sigh of relief she wasn't aware she was holding escaped from her quivering lips as her booted feet squished solidly on the wooden planks.
He dropped her arm at once and reached inside his coat pocket for his watch. He popped it open, looked down at the face and then scowled as he shook it, sending droplets of water raining down on the wooden boards. He closed it with a tight click and dropped it back into his inside pocket. Rose wrapped both of her hands around her tingling upper arms, trying to rub some feeling back into them.
He looked uptown and then downtown. With his luck, her hotel would be all the way at either end of the strip. It was long after midnight and the boardwalk was deserted, which meant two rickshaws would be needed if she was staying at one of the farther away hotels. Was there even rickshaw service at this time of the night? Probably not, he thought, sighing and running a hand through his wet hair.
He was almost tempted to leave her there, finally acquiescing to her request to be left alone. But his sense of duty to her was too strong, even though the stupid chit had almost gotten them both killed.
"What hotel are you staying at?" The stranger asked gruffly as he took in her bedraggled, trembling form. "Hopefully, it's close or we'll both die of pneumonia."
The stranger's hat was gone, knocked off by the waves and his dark hair fell over his forehead, partially obscuring eyes that gleamed in the hazy glow of the electric lights lining the boardwalk.
Rose shifted from one foot to the other, shivering uncontrollably, her lank wet hair sending icy fingers of water down her spine.
"Again, I'm sorry, for everything. I'm sorry for being rude, I'm sorry for not heeding your warning. You were only trying to help me," Rose said guiltily, her chattering teeth biting on every word she spoke. "I'll... I'll pay for the watch." If she hadn't been so cold, she would have burned with embarrassment.
The stranger flicked his hand away. "Don't worry about it. Thankfully I was there, enough chit chat, though. It's more important for us to get inside before we freeze to death. Where's your hotel again?"
Rose was momentarily speechless as she gestured numbly behind her. Her mind paused to dwell on what he had said. What if he hadn't been there? What if the wave had crashed over the rocks a few minutes earlier when she was out there alone? She was furious with herself for being so careless, so stupid.
"Here. I'm staying at the Hotel Dennis."
"This must be my lucky day," the stranger said, smiling as he took her leather-clad elbow and steered her across the boards toward the luxury hotel looming in front of them. "This is where I'm staying too."
They rushed along the concrete path to the front of the hotel, both of them struggling not to break into a run away from the cold, blustery wind. The stranger held the heavy door open for her and they dashed past the startled attendants at the front desk, leaving dripping wet footprints in their wake on the pale, marble floor. They broke into a run when they spied the open, waiting elevator.
The elevator operator did a double take at their soaked clothing, but he was decorous enough not to say a word. This was not the oddest occurrence he had ever witnessed in his years with the hotel. "What floor, sir?"
The stranger looked at Rose as he pushed his limp hair off his forehead. "Please allow the lady off first, of course," he gestured to Rose.
"The fourth floor, please," Rose said as she pulled her hair off the back of her neck and over her shoulder, listening as it pitter-patted in a jagged rhythm to the carpeted floor
The operator nodded his head and pulled the gate shut, turning the lever to floor number four.
Her hair was a lost cause and as she flung it back over her shoulder, Rose began to giggle nervously, the shock of events fully penetrating her mind. She held onto the brass railing tightly as elevator ascended, trying to stifle her giggles and failing. Both the stranger and the operator stared at her with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. As she saw the twin looks on their faces, she began to laugh in earnest, shrugging her shoulders as if to say she couldn't help it.
After a moment the stranger, recognizing the folly of their misadventure on the jetty joined in, his laughter deep, warm and rich.
Both of them stood side by side, on the back elevator wall, laughing as the lift reached Rose's floor. As she stepped out onto the marble of the vestibule, she turned and smiled gently at her Samaritan.
"Thank you again, my knight in dripping wet armor for not throttling me and throwing me into the ocean yourself, even though I gave you every reason to do so."
The stranger smiled and shook his head at her as he held his hand up in farewell. The operator closed the brass gate with a dull clunk and the elevator slowly began to descend to his floor. She watched him until he was gone and then turned down the hallway.
Rose walked briskly to her room, shivering as she played over the amazing turn of events of the evening in her mind. She unlocked her door and turned the light switch and paused to push the door closed behind her. She let out a little cry of distress, realizing that she had never even thought to ask the stranger for his name.
Peeling the wet clothes from her body and dropping them to the floor to be picked up in the morning, she moved from the bedroom to the adjoining bath where she ran a hot bath in the claw-footed tub to warm her frozen body. She pulled the fluffy white hotel towels from their shelf above the radiator and laid one across her shoulders and wrapped another around her midsection, allowing their warmth to envelope her goose-pimpled skin. She knelt by the tub, swirling her fingers in the rushing water as she waited for it to fill.
Once done, she turned the faucets off and dropped the towels. She sighed as she stepped into the hot water, her body tingling from the sudden heat surrounding her. Rose sank gratefully into the tub, submerging herself up to her chin.
She closed her eyes against the rising steam and leaned her head back against the enamel back splash.
Oh, well, she mused sleepily. Maybe she and the stranger would meet again someday.
Early December, 1918
It was a cold, bitter night on the beach in Atlantic City.
Only a few souls with upraised collars and gloves braved the frozen wind that swept in from off the ocean. Rose's boots squished in the sand as she hitched her skirt over her calves, making her way to the line of boulders pointing towards the sea like a finger to the horizon. Her breath blew before her like a misty flag as she walked towards the jetty.
It was if an invisible hand was pulling her towards the ocean, drawing her to the black churning water. The clear white stars shone brightly down upon her in the ebony night sky, masking in the distance where the sea stopped and the sky began. The sickle shaped moon hung low, pale white light shimmering like discarded diamonds in a jagged line across the ever moving surface of water. She climbed the low rocks easily in the moonlight, nimbly walking along them as she made her way to the end of the ledge.
Rose stood like a lone sentry at the end of the quay and she cocked her head towards the sound of the crashing waves. Her hair billowed out behind her, a dark, rippling flag in the wind as she pulled her leather flying coat closer around her body. Her dinner dress clung to her legs, whipping and snapping as the wind fought to flow through her towards the shore. The tide was rising; the waves collided against the rocks in an angry attempt to dislodge them from the water's path. Rose was so deep in thought the spray from the waves was easily ignored.
Only for Sarah and the return of Doug Calvert would she have come back east. The influenza that had taken so many lives had nearly taken hers only two months before. It was the stubbornness of Sarah and her homeopathic medicine that kept her alive when her body threatened to betray her by succumbing to the illness. Even now, almost two months later, Rose still did not feel like herself. She tired easily and the shadows under her eyes had yet to fade from view.
Not comfortable with the idea of waiting for her son to return to Illinois on his own, Sarah decided they must meet him in New Jersey after his debriefing was over at Camp Dix. In two days Douglas Calvert would be arriving by train in Atlantic City to reunite with his family and spend a few days of resting and relaxing before returning to the farm to begin a much needed hiatus from the military.
Rose tried valiantly to beg off, believing it should be a family only event. She pleaded her own recovering health, but Sarah would not hear a word of protest. She packed Rose's suitcase and had her out the door and on their way to the train station, leaving Rose just enough time to grab her satchel and warm winter coat.
But if she had not returned east and to this city, she would have never learned of Ruth Bukater's death.
Just this afternoon as she and Sarah strolled down the wooden boards of the nearly deserted Boardwalk she spotted a newsboy hawking the Philadelphia Inquirer and on a whim purchased one. She had waited until after dinner when she returned to her room to sit down with a cup of hot tea to peruse the pages for news of her hometown. When she spotted the obituary, tucked in small print towards the back of the paper, she felt the blood run from her face in icy disbelief. She sat back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair distractedly, pulling pins and releasing the long curls. The funeral had been three days before and Ruth was to be interred by her memorial, next to her father.
Unsure of her feelings, she walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside, staring out over the dark ocean in the distance.
She was too restless to remain in her room, knowing sleep would elude her tonight. So she pulled on her gloves and coat without a second thought, walking out of the hotel without knowing the time. She roamed the boards for hours, walking up and down the strip as memories and conversations swirled through her mind. Just before she decided it was time to return, she stared at the water for a moment, spotting the jetty in the distance. Without a second thought, she walked towards it, with only the intention of standing on the end, near the beach.
But in her grief, she had pushed herself farther out on the jetty than she thought possible. It was part therapy, possibly part masochism, because she hoped each step forward on the rocks would be a cathartic experience, purging her of the fear she felt for the massive body of water. She knew deep in her heart there was nothing to stop the sea from rising over the flat beach and carrying the boardwalk and all the storefronts away, dragging them back to the deep, for she had seen its destructive power on a calm night. This ocean awakened in her a terrifying sense of awe and awareness of its ever changing moods and irresistible power.
In her hand she clutched the obituary torn hastily from the newspaper as her memories of the last night with her mother swelled and stretched between relief and longing, as she finally understood what it meant to be alone. Although she had left her mother's protection so many years before, always was the thought in the back of her mind that maybe, possibly, one day, if she needed to, she could return home.
"I hope you find peace, Mother," she whispered to the wind as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. It was if the small tangible tie she felt with her mother was severed this night as easily as a rope pulled taut until it was stretched beyond its limits, snapping from the strain.
So here she stood, on the very last rock; where she could say good-bye to her mother in peace, never forgetting for one moment somewhere out on the ocean floor lay her childhood dreams and a fleeting love, alone and bitterly cold.
Would the temperature of the water in December be any different from that night so long ago? Would it still feel like a million shards of glass assaulting her body all at once?
How easy it was to imagine the water as a haunted entity, as it had been the cause of mass destruction and heartbreak since the beginning of time.
When she was a child, she never feared ghosts and it seemed the lack of fear served a purpose now as she lived with them everyday. When she stared into a mirror, she would forever see traces of her mother staring back at her. She smiled her father's smile, brushed her hair back with hands inherited from her grandmother, not to mention the other ghosts from the ship of dreams who visited her from time to time.
She stood stoically silent as she pulled her hair from her face and stared down the angry waters. She lifted her face to the light mist from the waves and sighed. The tide was rapidly coming in; she would have to return to the hotel soon.
Rose the aviatrix was becoming restless, the need to move on becoming stronger with every passing day. Oh, how she would miss the Adlers, whom she had come to love as foster parents. But flying was what she would miss the most, the exhilaration that pulsed through her body in waves as she flew above the horizon and danced along the clouds. She knew she would always be welcome at the airfield, but as the men returned from war, she would not have the opportunity to fly with as much frequency as she was used to. They would reclaim their planes, their mail-routes and Rose would be grounded and left behind as she watched them soar above.
There was still the matter of the promise to Jack to make every day count, as well. Her life was stretched out in front of her, a half empty book, and it was up to her to fill in the pages.
She still missed Jack, for he remained a part of her life -- not a day passed without some small thought of him. The sorrow was less overwhelming now though - she no longer allowed it to affect her with the burning intensity of before.
Her mother's spoken words about loss and grieving had preoccupied her thoughts for weeks on end, as yes, seven years was a long time to mourn someone. And although she refused to completely say good-bye to her past, she was no longer awakened from her nightmares with the regularity of the first few years after Titanic slipped beneath the ocean.
What was it about Jack and their short time together she would not allow herself to forget? Was it because he saved her life? It was almost as if she was afraid she would betray him and his memory if she did allow herself to fully move on. Was her mother correct in saying the relationship never would have lasted?
Well, Mother, she thought silently, I'll never have the chance to find out if your prediction would come true.
If she and Jack had never met, if they had remained strangers aboard the massive ship, separated by their classes, would he have survived the wreckage? Even now, so many years later, she knew the odds of him surviving without her assistance were slim. Sometimes when she had lain awake unable to sleep she was haunted by guilt born of the possibility if Jack had never met her, he would have survived. Morose thoughts ran through her head about the choices that she had made as she held her head in her hands, listening to crash of the waves on the rocks.
"Good-bye, Mother," she said at last as she slowly tore the newspaper to shreds and let the wind offer the remnants to the sea. With one long final look, she set out to turn the page on that forlorn chapter of the past, the churning sea and the wreckage of Titanic.
"Don't jump. However bad it may seem right now, Miss, for God's sake, please don't jump!"
Rose leapt out of her skin in fear as she whipped her head around to look behind her; certain she was hearing another ghost from her past.
"What!?" She exclaimed to the very real, very tall stranger standing a few feet behind her, "that's absurd. I have no intention of committing suicide."
"Then why are you standing on these rocks above the ocean on a in the middle of the night?" The stranger asked as he held his hand out to her. "Here, take my hand; and we'll walk back to the boardwalk together."
Oh, this cannot be happening, Rose thought to herself as she gazed at her savior, lips twitching as she struggled to contain a wry smile. Tonight of all nights, standing here alone surrounded by her thoughts of Titanic, she encountered another man who thought she needed saving from herself. Twice in her lifetime was too much for her to take, especially after fighting so hard for her life during her severe bout of influenza a few months before.
She was finding it difficult to get a good look at her Samaritan in the moonlight; however she could tell he was several inches taller than she was and well-made. His hat leaned jauntily to the side, lending him a rakish air.
"What were you thinking sneaking up on me like that," she admonished him. "I said I'm not going to jump. Now, please go away and leave me be." Rose said as she turned back towards the water. She sighed with impatience, looking over her shoulder to see him still standing there realizing she was going to have to wait for the stranger to leave before she could follow him back to the safety of the boardwalk and the warmth of her room. She didn't want to be rude; she just wanted to be alone.
The stranger lowered his waiting hand, as the young woman quirked an eyebrow up as she watched him over her shoulder. He placed both of them in the pockets of his long wool overcoat and shrugged his wide shoulders.
"Miss, please, help an old man out here. Just take my hand and allow me to lead you back to the boardwalk. I've just returned from overseas two days ago, spending a week on an overcrowded boat and I've been on a cramped train for the last three hours. I'm tired. I'd really like to go to my room and slip into a coma for the next few days."
Was he speaking to her as if she were a child? Rose turned around, letting out a small gasp of surprise as she lost her footing. The stranger reached out to her as she righted herself, but she waved his hands away and then placed them on her hips as she confronted him.
"Oh, you must be joking with me. I'm fine. Honestly. You can go. Go to your hotel, crawl beneath your covers and sleep. I have no intention of throwing myself bodily into that freezing water," she pointed down into the darkness. She showed her disbelief in the tone of her voice as she addressed him with disdain.
"I was only saying good-bye to something," she stifled the urge to tell him to shoo.
"Please, Miss, I'll sleep much better tonight if you'll just come back –"
His words were cut off as a massive crushing wave slammed over the jetty and Rose found herself thrown off balance by the force and the extreme iciness of the water. Her body was sent hurtling towards the stranger, her outstretched fingers brushing his open arms as he struggled to grasp a hold of her hands. A short scream escaped her as her booted feet lost their footing on the slippery, wet rocks. She swallowed the sob in her throat, looking up at the stranger in desperation as she began to plummet over the side of the jetty. An intense feeling of vertigo washed over her as another wave crashed deafeningly against the rocks, thundering with the intention of sweeping them both into the sea.
Her hand met his, fumbling for grip and then slipped, finally connecting just as Rose was about tumble into the rushing water. The stranger had fallen to his knees as he struggled to keep her hand tightly in his grasp.
"I've got your hand. I won't let go," the stranger shouted over the roar of the surf. "Give me your other one. You can do it, I can't do it alone. You'll have to help me!"
Rose sobbed both in fear and remembrance of the last time she found herself in an eerily similar predicament. The rocks on the jetty were as slippery as oiled leather as Rose tried frantically to find a toehold to shove her boot into. She grabbed his other hand, holding on for dear life as panic ran through her. She arched her body backwards, struggling to keep her balance and her hands from sliding out of his. Hysteria was rising in her chest as her breath struggled to be released from her constricting lungs.
"Help me!" she cried as more waves broke over the quay, threatening to pitch both of them into the foaming sea. Rose screamed in fear as a terror she had only known once before welled in her throat. "Please! I can't go back in there, don't let it take me again!"
The stranger pulled on her hands with all of his might until he was able to snake one arm around her waist and drag her back to towards the center of rocks. Rose landed on top of him, both of them losing their breath from the impact. She rested her head on his chest, breathing heavy from exertion, both of their hearts thumping frantically from shock. His arms tightened briefly around her back, his breath leaving his chest in a sudden exhalation before falling limply to his sides.
He rested for a moment before lifting Rose up against him as he struggled to stand and regain his footing.
"See, that's what you get for being rude with me," he scolded her. "Come on, we have to get out of here before another wave wipes us both off into the water," he said looking back towards the surging waves. He took her upper arm in his grasp and half-dragged Rose back towards the safety of the boardwalk.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Rose babbled, her teeth chattering from the cold shock.
"Miss, right now I really wish you had taken my advice the first time I offered it," was all the stranger said to her over his shoulder as he led her back the way they had come.
The boardwalk seemed a million miles away as they crept carefully from rock to rock, slowly making their way back to steady ground. A huge sigh of relief she wasn't aware she was holding escaped from her quivering lips as her booted feet squished solidly on the wooden planks.
He dropped her arm at once and reached inside his coat pocket for his watch. He popped it open, looked down at the face and then scowled as he shook it, sending droplets of water raining down on the wooden boards. He closed it with a tight click and dropped it back into his inside pocket. Rose wrapped both of her hands around her tingling upper arms, trying to rub some feeling back into them.
He looked uptown and then downtown. With his luck, her hotel would be all the way at either end of the strip. It was long after midnight and the boardwalk was deserted, which meant two rickshaws would be needed if she was staying at one of the farther away hotels. Was there even rickshaw service at this time of the night? Probably not, he thought, sighing and running a hand through his wet hair.
He was almost tempted to leave her there, finally acquiescing to her request to be left alone. But his sense of duty to her was too strong, even though the stupid chit had almost gotten them both killed.
"What hotel are you staying at?" The stranger asked gruffly as he took in her bedraggled, trembling form. "Hopefully, it's close or we'll both die of pneumonia."
The stranger's hat was gone, knocked off by the waves and his dark hair fell over his forehead, partially obscuring eyes that gleamed in the hazy glow of the electric lights lining the boardwalk.
Rose shifted from one foot to the other, shivering uncontrollably, her lank wet hair sending icy fingers of water down her spine.
"Again, I'm sorry, for everything. I'm sorry for being rude, I'm sorry for not heeding your warning. You were only trying to help me," Rose said guiltily, her chattering teeth biting on every word she spoke. "I'll... I'll pay for the watch." If she hadn't been so cold, she would have burned with embarrassment.
The stranger flicked his hand away. "Don't worry about it. Thankfully I was there, enough chit chat, though. It's more important for us to get inside before we freeze to death. Where's your hotel again?"
Rose was momentarily speechless as she gestured numbly behind her. Her mind paused to dwell on what he had said. What if he hadn't been there? What if the wave had crashed over the rocks a few minutes earlier when she was out there alone? She was furious with herself for being so careless, so stupid.
"Here. I'm staying at the Hotel Dennis."
"This must be my lucky day," the stranger said, smiling as he took her leather-clad elbow and steered her across the boards toward the luxury hotel looming in front of them. "This is where I'm staying too."
They rushed along the concrete path to the front of the hotel, both of them struggling not to break into a run away from the cold, blustery wind. The stranger held the heavy door open for her and they dashed past the startled attendants at the front desk, leaving dripping wet footprints in their wake on the pale, marble floor. They broke into a run when they spied the open, waiting elevator.
The elevator operator did a double take at their soaked clothing, but he was decorous enough not to say a word. This was not the oddest occurrence he had ever witnessed in his years with the hotel. "What floor, sir?"
The stranger looked at Rose as he pushed his limp hair off his forehead. "Please allow the lady off first, of course," he gestured to Rose.
"The fourth floor, please," Rose said as she pulled her hair off the back of her neck and over her shoulder, listening as it pitter-patted in a jagged rhythm to the carpeted floor
The operator nodded his head and pulled the gate shut, turning the lever to floor number four.
Her hair was a lost cause and as she flung it back over her shoulder, Rose began to giggle nervously, the shock of events fully penetrating her mind. She held onto the brass railing tightly as elevator ascended, trying to stifle her giggles and failing. Both the stranger and the operator stared at her with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. As she saw the twin looks on their faces, she began to laugh in earnest, shrugging her shoulders as if to say she couldn't help it.
After a moment the stranger, recognizing the folly of their misadventure on the jetty joined in, his laughter deep, warm and rich.
Both of them stood side by side, on the back elevator wall, laughing as the lift reached Rose's floor. As she stepped out onto the marble of the vestibule, she turned and smiled gently at her Samaritan.
"Thank you again, my knight in dripping wet armor for not throttling me and throwing me into the ocean yourself, even though I gave you every reason to do so."
The stranger smiled and shook his head at her as he held his hand up in farewell. The operator closed the brass gate with a dull clunk and the elevator slowly began to descend to his floor. She watched him until he was gone and then turned down the hallway.
Rose walked briskly to her room, shivering as she played over the amazing turn of events of the evening in her mind. She unlocked her door and turned the light switch and paused to push the door closed behind her. She let out a little cry of distress, realizing that she had never even thought to ask the stranger for his name.
Peeling the wet clothes from her body and dropping them to the floor to be picked up in the morning, she moved from the bedroom to the adjoining bath where she ran a hot bath in the claw-footed tub to warm her frozen body. She pulled the fluffy white hotel towels from their shelf above the radiator and laid one across her shoulders and wrapped another around her midsection, allowing their warmth to envelope her goose-pimpled skin. She knelt by the tub, swirling her fingers in the rushing water as she waited for it to fill.
Once done, she turned the faucets off and dropped the towels. She sighed as she stepped into the hot water, her body tingling from the sudden heat surrounding her. Rose sank gratefully into the tub, submerging herself up to her chin.
She closed her eyes against the rising steam and leaned her head back against the enamel back splash.
Oh, well, she mused sleepily. Maybe she and the stranger would meet again someday.