Rose Dawson: Starting Anew
Chapter 7
April 15, 1913
It is just past midnight as I write this. I'm beginning to wonder if I will ever sleep tonight. I tried, but with absolutely no success. So I came here to Molly's parlor to write without disturbing Andrew. He is fast asleep in my room just down the hall. How I wish I could sleep as soundly as he does!
Something made me bring the necklace with me. Just looking at it brings me comfort I cannot explain. Mother has asked me why I keep it, considering the fact that I now have Andrew to remember Jack by. All I could tell her was that the necklace is still important to me, even though Andrew is here now. I told her I would keep it forever, and I will. I do see Jack when I look into our son's eyes, just as he said I would. Andrew has Jack's beautiful blue eyes, but there is more to it than that. It is as if Jack's soul has been captured in them. Andrew seems even to have Jack's disposition, being very at ease anywhere. He smiles easily.
Molly has offered to let us stay a few more months, mostly because she likes having others in the house. Molly and I have gotten in the habit of sitting and talking, just the two of us, in the afternoons while Andrew is napping. She treats me very much like a daughter now. I do not look forward to the day I will have to leave here. I know, however, that day will come.
I still dream about Jack every night. I feel him near me every minute. That, and Andrew's presence, gives me the strength I need. I must be strong for my little boy's sake. I will tell him all about his father when I think he is old enough. I dearly hope Andrew will love his father, even though he will never see him. It saddens me that Andrew will never really know Jack. That is why I must be sure to help him see his father through my eyes.
April 18, 1996
Finished, the man closed the leather-bound journal and looked over at the four others still remaining, wanting to continue. But he simply had to stop for today; his eyes were very tired. He vowed to continue each day until he had finished all of the journals. He still had much to learn. Andrew Thomas Dawson had already discovered so many things about his mother's life. She had never told him where she had met his father, nor the way he had died in that icy water. This realization brought tears to Andrew's eyes. Now he knew his mama had gone on loving his father, her Jack, all of her life, even after she had married. His mother had told him that she and his father had been married. He could only assume she must have lied to protect him from the scorn of society and the shame of being born out of wedlock. Uncovering the truth now, after so many years, he found he wasn't ashamed. Andrew only regretted never having his father in his life, and the terrible loss his mother had experienced.
From Andrew's earliest days, there had been talk of his father-always when they were alone. His mother had explained that he would never be able to meet him. Then, on his tenth birthday, she had shared vivid details with him for the first time. Prior to that, all Andrew had known about him was that his name was Jack, and that he had died far too soon. Andrew had been able to see his father through her description, realizing instantly that was what his mother had wanted most. He had hugged his mother very tightly on that first of many days when she sat him down to tell him what his father was like. With the embrace came a promise that he would live a life that would have made his papa proud. His innocent promise had made his mama cry, and Andrew had apologized. After explaining that the tears were shed because she was happy, not sad, she went on to say, "All I want is for you to have a good life and do the things that make you happy, not things other people choose for you."
Suddenly, Andrew had an idea. Moving from his reading chair over to his desk, he quietly pulled out his drawing materials, instinctively obtaining exactly what he would need. He worked slowly at first due to a combination of arthritis and uncertainty. How could he accurately draw what he saw in his heart?
Steadily his pace increased along with his concentration. He worked for nearly an hour, then pulled back from the page, smiling slightly. Yes, he had drawn his parents quite well. He had pictures of his mother to go by. For his father's appearance, Andrew recalled his mother's vivid descriptions over the years. They looked as they would have when they met, young and vital. They were standing side by side, holding each other-something they should have been able to do for so much longer...
Satisfied, Andrew signed his initials in a bottom corner of the page and left it on the desktop. He wanted it here, in his favorite room, where he could look at it often. Pushing back his desk chair, he rose and walked outside to take in the stars. It was a cool evening, but he was warmed by his thoughts. For the first time in his life, Andrew had looked into the face of his father, as seen through his mother's eyes.
July 7, 1913
We left Molly's house quite early this morning, and we arrived in Wisconsin by nightfall. After I leave here, I have decided to go to California, and Mother will be going back east to Boston. Both of us are saddened by the thought of separating, but we know the time has come. Andrew slept beside me the majority of the trip, lulled by the movement of the train. It is hard to believe he is nearly six months old already! He is very bright, and notices everything. His hair is blonde like Jack's, but he has curls like mine in the back. It seems right that Andrew should look like both me and Jack, because we are united forever through him, in more ways than one. He seems to very keenly sense when I am sad, so for his sake I try extra hard to be in good spirits.
The one time I cannot help my feelings is at night, when my dreams come. Mother says I often talk in my sleep. Since Andrew sleeps in my room, I worry about waking him. He only seems to do that if I begin to cry, so I am very thankful my dreams rarely make me cry anymore.
My son is beginning to try to say 'mama.' He seems quite determined to do it soon. I have not pushed him hard to talk, so I think he must simply be quite intelligent. At times, I fear Andrew is too attached to me, or vice versa. Mother says he is still too young, and needs me too much, to worry about that yet. But I do, more about my becoming too attached to him than the reverse. He is a part of Jack, the only part that still lives.
I miss Jack less keenly now, mostly because of our little boy. Molly told me time would help, and it has. I am quite busy caring for Andrew, and at last I am actually beginning to think about what else I want to do with my life. My son and I will build our lives in California soon enough, and I hope he will be happy there. There are things I must do.
When we pulled into the station in Chippewa Falls, Mother and I were greatly surprised to find Mrs. Collins and Caroline there. We disembarked quickly, but I resisted the impulse to approach them. Mrs. Collins saw us, and came to us instead.
"Ruth, Rose, I'm surprised to see you again!" She noticed my sleeping child for the first time. "Who is the little one?"
I smiled brightly as I answered, "This is my son, Andrew Thomas."
"Well, how wonderful!" She sounded happy for me, but I saw the questions in her eyes, and realized I had never had occasion to tell her that I was a widow. That would have to come later, as she continued, saying, "Caroline, aren't you going to say hello?"
I thought Caroline was being quiet because we hadn't seen each other in so long. Or maybe because she had forgotten me. When she looked up at me, with such sadness in her eyes, I knew neither of those things was the cause of her silence. She said softly, "Hi. I've been hoping and hoping you would come back. But with a baby, you won't have time for me."
"Caroline, that is very rude! Apologize, now."
"No, it's all right. Caroline and I just need to talk things out, that's all." I carefully gave Andrew to Mother, took Caroline aside, and picked her up, so she could see my eyes. "I've missed you, too. Just because I have Andrew does not mean I will have no time for you. I will make time, I give you my word."
She hugged me quickly. "Oh, thank you! We live in our very own house now. Maybe Daddy will let you stay with us!"
"Oh, I don't know about that. Where is your father?"
"We came here to wait for him. He'll be in on the next train. He's been gone two whole weeks!"
I remembered very well when I had been Caroline's age, waiting for Father to return from one of his many trips. Even a few days apart had seemed like an eternity to me. When Dr. Collins arrived just a short time later, I immediately put Caroline down so she could run to meet him. He instantly dropped his suitcases, picked up his daughter, and kissed her. Then, after he put her down and retrieved his bags, Caroline began pulling him toward me. I heard her say, "Daddy, look who else is here!" By then, Dr. Collins was close enough to see my face clearly. He met so many people, I was certain he could not possibly remember me, but he did.
"Well, hello, Rose! How wonderful to see you again."
"It's good to see you too." Mother and Mrs. Collins had come over to where we were standing. After affectionately greeting his wife, Dr. Collins spoke to Mother. "Who is this little fellow?"
"Rose's son, Andrew. He's asleep for the night, I think."
"Yes, of course. You all must have had a long ride yourselves, and it is getting late. Please, come back to our house for tonight. There is plenty of room."
Caroline's eyes lit up at this. Her joy only increased when Mother agreed. As we walked toward the Collins home, with the doctor somehow managing to carry both his bags and ours, Caroline slipped her hand into mine, looked up at me, and smiled.
July 10, 1913
As soon as Caroline knew I was awake this morning, she burst into my room and begged me to take her down to the lake. It was a perfect, sunny day. The lake was so close I knew she would accept no excuses. So I dressed appropriately to protect myself from the sun, and she and I met at the door, ready to go. I reluctantly left Andrew with Mother, knowing Caroline wanted time alone with me.
I was quite surprised to see her dressed in a bathing suit, covered by a light dress. I had assumed she wanted to spend the day playing in the sand, not the water. Carefully keeping the fear out of my voice, I asked her, "Caroline, do you already know how to swim?"
She smiled proudly. "Oh, yes. Daddy has been teaching me. He says I'm very good at it. I asked permission to go without him. He said I could, and I'll feel safe with you there. I should have asked you first. I'm sorry, Rose. Can we go, please?"
Something inside me instinctively said no, but like a fool, I ignored it. Obviously Caroline had been looking forward to this all morning. I couldn't bear to disappoint her. I answered with forced cheerfulness, "Yes, of course. You have to show me what a good swimmer you are!" Caroline called a good-bye to her mother and father, and we left. Once we were on the path that led directly to the lake, Caroline began going faster and faster, almost making me run to keep up. When we reached the beach, we both sat down. I watched silently as she took off her sandals and began wiggling her toes in the sand. After a moment, she glanced at me, obviously worried. "Rose, is somethin' wrong? You look so sad."
"Just thinking, that's all. I'll be all right."
"All right, if you say so. That's a pretty hat you're wearin'. Can I put it on?"
"Of course you can."
She took it and placed it on her head. It nearly covered her eyes, and I couldn't help but laugh. She did so right along with me. "Well, I can't see, so you can have it back. " She handed it to me, still smiling. She removed her dress, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the sand. "I'm goin' in the water now. Watch me, Rose!"
She had no idea how closely I would be watching! "I will. Be careful!" She hurriedly called back to me that she would, then went fearlessly into the water. I moved closer to the water's edge, to be certain I could see clearly. Dr. Collins had obviously spent a great amount of time teaching his daughter, for despite her youth I could see she already used proper swimming strokes, gliding through the water. I began to relax, sure she would be just fine.
Then, a short while later, I realized things were not fine. I didn't know exactly what the problem was, but Caroline had stopped swimming, seemingly frozen by fear. The current was pulling her even further from the shore. I knew the only way she would make it back was if I went and got her. Fear was gnawing at my stomach, but I knew what I had to do. I had to do it fast. I plunged ahead, automatically beginning to swim, barely feeling the water.
Even my light summer dress soon became very weighted with water. It clung tightly to my legs, making my progress painfully slow. Several times, when I had almost reached Caroline, the current pulled her away again. I could hear her crying and calling my name. That is when I began to fear I would not have the strength to help her. The cries of all those people...dying in the freezing ocean...echoing in my mind.
With great effort, I forced those thoughts from my mind. I had been helpless to do anything for anyone but myself then. Now I could help Caroline. I was the only one who could. After a few more labored strokes, I finally reached her, immediately grabbing her hand. When I did that, her tears began to ebb. Softly, I asked her, "Caroline, what happened?"
"Daddy said never to go out further than where my feet can touch the bottom. I was having fun, and before I knew it, I'd gone too far. I'm glad you came. I don't think I could have come back by myself."
"It's all right. I'm here now." I hoped she couldn't sense how frightened I really was. "Just swim like your Daddy taught you, and soon you'll be all the way back. I'll be right beside you, I promise."
She nodded, her eyes still wide with fear. At first, she kept a tight grip on my hand. This made swimming even more awkward, but I didn't care. When we got closer to shore, she released my hand. I saw her watching me out of the corner of her eye, making sure I stayed with her as I had promised I would.
When we were both safely on the beach again, I pulled her close, asking, "You didn't get hurt at all, did you?"
"No, I was just scared. I'm sorry you got all wet. Daddy's going to be mad at me."
She drew away from me, unable to look me in the eye. I tipped her face back up to mine.
"Caroline," I began softly. "You needed help. I had to come get you. I can put on dry clothes when we get back to the house. I'm sure your Daddy will just be happy you're safe."
We sat together for some time, my arms wrapped around her. She was silent, as was I. I remembered what Jack had told me about the time he had fallen through the ice. How terrible the water had felt as he waited for his father to get him out. It was very hard for me to even consider that Caroline could have died here. Of course, the water today was not bitter cold, but the fear Caroline had felt must have been much the same as Jack's. She could easily have drowned. And if I hadn't had the courage to go in after her...I shuddered when I thought about that.
At last, Caroline broke the silence, saying, "I'm so glad you were here to help me. I want to go home now, please."
"Yes, of course you do." I stood, and she followed suit. After she had slipped back into her dress and sandals and I had retrieved my hat, I took her hand. The walk back went quickly, but we were both in good spirits again by the time we reached the door to the house. However, Mother was right there when we entered, and was badly startled by my appearance.
"Rose, what on earth happened? How did you get..."
"I'm fine, Mama. Caroline just needed my help. We're both going to get into dry clothes now. As soon as I'm done, I'll come say hello to Andrew."
Later that evening, after Caroline explained to everyone what had happened, the subject was closed. Not once did I say how frightened I had been, for her and myself. My fear was in the past now. I knew I would never be afraid of water again.
July 14, 1913
Tonight, as I sat singing Andrew to sleep, Elizabeth came into the room, badly startling me. I was looking at Andrew's face so intently as he drifted into sleep, I did not even hear her open the door.
"Oh, I'm sorry to frighten you, Rose. I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes. Your mother said you were up here. Since you are putting Andrew to bed, I'll just go downstairs and wait for you instead."
"No. Please stay. Our voices won't bother him. He is nearly asleep already. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"
She sat on my bed, directly across from me. Mr. Collins had brought the rocking chair they had used when Caroline was a baby down from the attic. I sat there, gently rocking my son as she began, looking at me very intently.
"Rose, I've seen your wedding band, and I can't help but wonder. Where is your husband?"
I had known from the look on Elizabeth's face when we arrived that she would eventually ask questions. Still, I hesitated, very sorry that at best I would be telling her half-truths. She was only asking out of concern, I knew by the look in her eyes. And she had been so good to me, Mother, and Andrew. I simply could not bear to tell her everything, so I answered simply, "He died very suddenly. We hadn't been married long."
"Oh, I am sorry. I can tell you aren't from this part of the country. You sound more Eastern, like my husband and I. What brought you here?" For a moment, I considered how I should respond. On this point, I decided to tell the truth.
"This was my husband's hometown. He had never brought me here, and I felt a little strange coming somewhere completely new. After he died, I felt like I had to."
"Yes, of course you did." She looked tenderly at my now-sleeping son.
"Andrew looks very different from you. I assume he strongly resembles his father."
My voice caught slightly as I answered, "Yes, he does. My husband has no other surviving family that I know of. So Andrew is the only one who can carry on the Dawson name."
Elizabeth looked thoughtful a moment, then said, "My husband's brother lived here for several years, from about 1904 to 1909. He wrote us often, telling us how beautiful it was, how nice the people were. That is why we decided to leave New Hampshire last year and move here. Once, I remember him telling us of something terrible that happened to a family named Dawson. Could that have been your husband's family?"
"Possibly. He talked very little of his relatives, and Dawson is a common name, after all." I was growing more and more uncomfortable, not liking where this conversation was going at all. But I listened silently as Elizabeth continued.
"Yes, it is a common name, and if he never mentioned anything of the sort, it mustn't have been his family. There was a fire, I believe. The parents were killed. My brother-in-law James worked in the pharmacy, and he told us of their son, who had come back to town from...I don't remember where...needing many essentials because he had packed so quickly."
I stood up and turned my back to Elizabeth, putting Andrew down for the night. I mostly turned away because I did not want her to see the puzzled look on my face. She was not talking about Jack, I knew. When the fire had occurred, Jack had been living at home. It was only afterwards that he had left. So who was Elizabeth talking about? Jack had not mentioned a brother. Trying to sound simply curious, I asked while slowly turning around again, "Weren't there other relatives nearer who could have handled things?"
"If I recall correctly, James wrote that the family's other son was still quite young. He knew of no other family at all."
I knew the 'other son' was Jack. So he did have a brother, apparently. I wondered several things all at once. Why hadn't Jack talked about his brother? Had they been at all close, or not? Perhaps most importantly, where was he? Hoping I was masking my multiple emotions well enough, I said, "That is very sad. How is it you remember this so well if it happened years ago? You weren't living here yourself then."
"You are right. I suppose it stayed with me because I have always been petrified of fire. I couldn't imagine the suffering that family must have gone through."
I knew it had been a terrible thing; I had seen that, ever so briefly, reflected in Jack's eyes. I said evenly, "Yes, it must have been truly awful." Suddenly wanting very much to be alone with my son, I continued, calmly, "Andrew is fast asleep, and I am quite tired myself. I am sorry, but if you wouldn't mind..."
"Oh, of course. I am sorry to have kept you so long. Sleep well, Rose. Good night."
I bid her good night as well, and she left, closing my door behind her. Then, I went over beside Andrew's crib. I watched him a moment, glad he was sleeping so peacefully. Very gently, I ran my fingers through his hair. Then, I whispered, "I love you so much, Andrew. You do look very much like your father, and that makes me so happy. I thought none of his family was left. As it turns out, my little one, you may have an uncle. If he is out in the world somewhere, anywhere, I am going to search until I find him. I promise you."
July 15, 1913
This morning when I woke, I knew there was somewhere I needed to go. To the cemetery, to find the graves of Jack's parents. After they had come up in conversation yesterday, I could not get them out of my mind. I had asked Dr. Collins where to find the cemetery the night before. I had gone downstairs to find him after Elizabeth left me. He had been puzzled as to why I would ask, but gladly told me. I was glad it was within walking distance of the house.
By the time Mother had awakened and come to say good morning, I had gotten Andrew and myself ready to go. She immediately asked where we were off to. I told her the truth, and she reacted differently than I expected, saying, "Yes, I understand why you need to go there. The day is supposed to get very hot. It may be too much for Andrew. I'd be happy to keep him here with me."
"Maybe you're right. If you really don't mind, I'd rather he stayed. I'll be back as quickly as I can."
"Please, don't rush yourself, Rose. Take as long as you need. Andrew and I will do just fine."
I kissed Andrew softly, then gave him to Mother. He immediately began to cry and reach out for me, wanting me to take him back into my arms. Now I didn't really want to go, and Mother saw that in my eyes. She said gently, "He'll be fine in just a few minutes. You need time to yourself. Go ahead. Don't worry."
"All right, but I will try to be quick." I kissed my son once more, saying, "Be a good boy for Nana, Andrew. I love you." He was still crying as I left, and that made me feel terrible. I went downstairs slowly, on the verge of not going at all. What I heard next let me know everything really would be fine while I was gone.
Mother began to sing to Andrew, the same song I sang him to sleep with every night. He stopped crying almost instantly. I knew Mother often overheard me at Andrew's bedtime, but had never imagined that she was truly listening. I stopped there on the stairs as she began to speak then, saying, "You like that song, don't you, Andrew? I've heard your mama sing it to you. She loves you very much, and so do I. I was not good to your father, but I promise to always love you."
Quickly but quietly, I went back up the stairs, where I watched my son and my mother together, careful not to be seen. Andrew had laid his head on Mother's shoulder, his eyes wide open, contented. Mother had left her hair down, and he had twined his fingers into it, not pulling, just wanting to hold it. He was smiling slightly as Mother rubbed his back. I knew then for certain how much she loved him, and that he knew as well. Smiling to myself, I went downstairs and out the door.
It was only a short walk to the cemetery. I enjoyed it very much, because the sun was bright, but not yet too warm. I passed several people on the way who said very pleasant hellos to me.
I spent some time walking through the cemetery, going quite slowly, looking carefully. At last, I found what I was in search of. Stopping, I read the inscriptions on the two small stones.
Joseph David Dawson
Oct. 14, 1866 - Mar. 7, 1907
Mary Grace Dawson
May 23, 1868 - Mar. 7, 1907
As I stood there, I wondered how it had happened that both of Jack's parents had died in the fire. Had they been alone and gotten trapped? Or had Jack been at home and one of them had sacrificed their own life to save him? I wished now that Jack had told me more about them, if for no other reason than that I would feel I truly belonged here at their gravesides.
Despite my discomfort, there were things I wanted Jack's parents to know directly from me. Without speaking aloud, I told them what a wonderful man he had grown into, and how much we had loved each other. I also promised them that their grandson was in very capable hands, for I truly did believe now that I would do a good job of raising Andrew. I had to.
After this, I stood and decided I wanted very much to take a walk on the beach. I made my way there quickly, as it was quite close. It was rather full today, because of the warm weather. I went as far from the crowd as I could, then slowed my pace, watching the small white-capped waves hit the sand. I was so absorbed in them that I bumped into someone, seeing the person too late to prevent it. Immediately, I apologized, very embarrassed. The gentleman smiled as he answered, "It's all right. No harm done. I was very distracted. I'm sorry. Are you all right?"
"Oh, yes. Fine, thank you. I come here to think. I know I don't pay nearly enough attention to what goes on around me."
"I'm here for the same reason. Haven't been here in a long time, though. Far too long."
He looked directly at me then, and I was immediately startled by his eyes. They were exactly like Jack's. Could this be...? As calmly as I could, I asked, "You've been away, have you?"
"Yes, for several years now. It is wonderful to be home." He looked away a bit, seeming embarrassed himself. Then he extended his hand. "I'm sorry. I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Paul. Paul Dawson."
Upon hearing his last name, I nearly drew back in surprise. This had to be Jack's brother. The name, together with those eyes...I quickly recovered myself, realizing he was waiting for me to tell him my name as well. I shook his hand as firmly as I could, saying, "My name is Rose. It's nice to meet you."
He smiled again. "Rose. What a beautiful name."
"Thank you. I am sorry, but I must be getting home."
"Oh, what a shame. Maybe we will see each other again."
"Maybe." I surprised myself with how easily I smiled back at him. Then I turned away, walking a bit too quickly. Jack's brother, home again. I never ever had expected to come upon him so easily! Andrew would get to know his uncle, one way or another. I was sure of that now.