Cedar Rapids, Summer 1932
"I am going to bring Jack and Maude to your parents ."
He simply nodded without saying a single word. Then he kissed his children goodbye and watched how his little family marched out of the door. He needed to confront her when she came back. It was now or never. His heart had felt heavy since the moment he found the necklace. It was inside one of her old shoeboxes, wrapped inside a cotton cloth and tucked far behind in her closet. If it wasn't for their relocation he would have never looked inside of it, but they were far behind schedule and the packing needed to start. The 'empty' box felt too heavy. He had always wondered why she'd keep them when her shoes were always perfectly stacked up together. Then there it was; the blue diamond shined brightly within the darkness of the room. His stomach dropped and the time seemed to stop. Philip Calvert knew something wasn't right.
She was the pure representation of radiance when he met her almost ten years ago. He called her his Christmas miracle as her green emerald eyes pierced through his soul from the other side of the room. Her name was Rose Dawson, an actress from California, a friend of his distant cousin who also was an artist in the glamorous city of Los Angeles. He had never met someone as free spirited as her and it triggered his somewhat introverted professor heart. She had been on her own since she was no older than fifteen, right after her parents died. A girl, born from nothing, who had to figure the world out all by herself. It was a life that was nothing more but than a lie. Despite her fire, which burst through every crack of her being, there was always something mysterious about Rose Dawson. Something he had never been able to truly reach. She never spoke of her youth, never said anything about her family apart from her folks' death. She only wanted to look forward. To make each day count, a phrase she often used as she lifted her glass up in the air. Her mystery was a part of her he simply accepted, because he couldn't help but love her in every way possible. But then there was that aching feeling when he held the diamond in his hands. It looked familiar, as if he had seen or touched it before. He couldn't move for what felt like an eternity. Then he finally put it back in its place.
Philip had always been a calculated person. He believed everything ought to have an explanation and couldn't help but scan through every book in the library until he found the answer to a cause he wasn't able to clarify himself. He was so different to his wife. Yin and Yang. Yet, they worked together. He didn't want to confront his wife with his discovery until he knew why someone like her possessed such a treasure. After weeks of doing research in pure secrecy, he finally found out. Most of it.
Louis the Sixteenth wore a fabulous stone, called the Blue Diamond of the Crown, which disappeared in 1792, about the time Louis lost everything from the neck up. The theory goes that the crown diamond was chopped too... recut into a heart-like shape... and it became Le Coeur de la Mer. The Heart of the Ocean. Today it would be worth more than the Hope Diamond.
Philip's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing. Her gentle footsteps headed over to the kitchen where he was waiting somewhat impatiently. Her eyes widened when she saw the necklace laying on the table. She hadn't looked at it in years nor touched it. It made her skin crawl and a lump formed in her throat. It looked so delicate and innocent, its beauty was immaculate. But to Rose it held all of her pain from the past. Even before meeting her husband, she had thought about selling it only to be reminded of that man. She had done it all without his help. It was also the only thing that was the closest she'd ever be to him. She could still see his artistic hands wrapped around it and her pounding heart as she spoke her biggest desire to him that night, over twenty years ago. He was her guide to freedom, the voice in her head whenever she thought about giving up. She even knew, within the deepest parts of her heart, that he had sent Philip to her. It was as if he stood beside her and whispered that it was all okay. He would be okay.
Rose took a deep breath. "Where did you find it?" It hurt her voice to speak.
"Who are you?" He simply asked. There was no emotion in his voice. No anger, no sadness or betrayal, "Who are you truly, Rose?"
"It is not that simple."
Philip walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her trembling body. She felt cold and frail, as if she could collapse within seconds. He kissed the top of her head, taking in her sweet scent and softly reassured her: "You don't have to hide anymore, Rose. I know everything." Hearing those words fall from his lips, she burst out crying. He in fact knew most of it. He had tracked it down through insurance records and an old claim that was settled under terms of absolute secrecy by someone with the name of Nathan Hockley. It was for the diamond necklace his son Caledon Hockley bought in France for his fiancee a week before he sailed on Titanic. His fiancee, Rose DeWitt Bukater supposedly died aboard. But no one knew that that girl was now his wife. She had used a disaster to free herself from her family, but all ghosts from her past were no longer alive. Except one.
"I have talked to a woman who happened to know you. Mrs. Margaret Brown. She witnessed all of you throughout the journey until you refused to go into a lifeboat. She told me she tried to search for you back on the rescue ship and when I mentioned your last name once, she jumped up from her chair and told me it all made sense. She spoke to me of a man named Jack Dawson."
Rose's heart stopped. She had never heard his name being said out loud. It still sounded like music in her ears. She nodded her head and tried to wipe her tears away, but her emotions were too strong. It was after a few minutes she spilled it all out to him. Her past as a Philadelphian heiress, her engagement and meeting him. Her love. She could still feel his orbs burn through every part of her body. He had managed to touch every part of her soul and had carved himself a place in both her mind and heart. The tracing of his fingers over her nakedness. He was the source of her now existing life. Her lips still tingled by the thought of his gentle and passionate kisses. And at night he was in her dreams more than she'd like to admit.
She felt nothing but numb the moment she stepped off the Carpathia and onto dry land. She blocked her vision from all the reuniting families and screaming journalist and only walked. Walked until her feet had physically given up and she somehow had found herself a bed for the night. The numbness remained for a long time, but despite that there was also this drive for survival. After everything they had been through the last thing she could do was to let him down. Promise me know, Rose. And never let go of that promise.
"But now you know, Philip. Now you know the real me and that there once was a man named Jack Dawson and that he saved me in every way that a person can be saved. A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets."
"Did you love him?"
"Yes," she cried, "I believe I will never be able to stop loving him. But, darling, despite the place he has in my heart I do love you so much. I love our children and the life we have together and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way." She kissed him tenderly, "He is a part of my past I only hold within my memory. I don't even have a picture of him."
He took a step away from her and opened one of the drawers in their dresser. It was a small envelope all the way from France. He handed it to her. Then there it was, her memory printed on a piece of paper as if time had stopped within the right time for him. Montmartre Mars 1912. A month before they met. It was somewhere in a cafe where he sat behind a table together with a man and Fabrizio. His eyes sparkled and his smile warmed her to the core. It was him in his truest form. An epicurist, full of joy and light. How she would always remember him. She put the picture against her chest and sighed.
I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go.