Jack thought he had been nervous on the way to see Rose on the day before, but that was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. He had spent most of the day asleep in his small room at the Inn, as he had spent the majority of the previous night awake, thinking, and marveling at having Rose alive and well, asleep in his arms. Even now he felt as if it wasn't completely real.
He had gone back to the Inn when Rose had gone to fetch her daughter from Mrs. Richardson's, and slept until after noon. After getting up, he had done some exercises to help his bad leg, and then made his way into town, ignoring the odd looks and whispers he was attracting. Having been off in the war for several years, Jack had very few possessions to call his own that weren't of military issue, and only had two complete sets of civilian clothes, both of which were at that point very old and out-dated, not that he cared much about fashion. He was determined, however, to look nice this evening, if not for Rose, then to make a good impression on the daughter he would be meeting for the very first time. While his military stipend left over from the war was not large, he could afford some clothes, especially if he was to be looking for a new job soon, and if he was honest with himself it also just felt good to be wearing something new for once.
Finally, its nearing six o'clock, and he's making his way down a long road off of a back street of the town towards the two story farm house he had grown up in. It's still February, and the cold is nowhere near being done with, so in the darkening street, he's careful of any lingering ice. Walking was hard enough nowadays without injuring himself further. He cannot help, looking at this same old muddy drive that he had walked as a kid, but to think of the past; his mother and father, his twin sister who had gone unmentioned since her death. What would they think of him now? Would they be proud? Disappointed? Would they approve of Rose? He knows that they would; his mother would have adored her. His father would have called her high spirited in his matter-of-fact tone. He liked to think that she and his sister would have gotten along very well, maybe even being the best of friends.
As the house comes into view in the fading light, an upper window, what would have been his sister's room, and the whole bottom floor are electrically lit- something he had never seen before from the outside, and somehow that illumination cleared away some of the ghosts lingering at the edge of his mind. This had been his family home, but now it belonged to a different family- Rose and her daughter. Maybe, someday soon, if he was lucky, they would be his family as well. For so long he had remembered every detail of this place; every stone and board. He could lay on the battlefields of Lys and Calais and picture the way the red rust tin roof sat on top of the cool grey stone, and hear the sound of the rain beating against it as he drifted to sleep in his childhood room, full of the comforts he had missed on the road in the years that followed. When he hadn't been dreaming of Rose during the war, this was the place his thoughts would take him, and walking towards it now, it still seemed like a welcoming refuge.
As he draws within a hundred yards of it now, he sees the face of a young girl gazing from the top window, and blinks, wondering if he is seeing ghosts, as the girl looks very much like his sister at a young age. Within moments, however, he can see the young girl running down the staircase and into the entryway, calling something over her shoulder as he approaches the wraparound porch, and through the front door he can see Rose heading towards the entryway with a hand on the young girl's back. With a flutter in his stomach, Jack realizes that this is his daughter. He is about to meet his daughter for the very first time.
In his lifetime, Jack has rarely been nervous, and for the life of him, cannot recall a time when he as ever been this tongue tied. Rose opens the door with a smile, which he immediately returns before stepping in out of the cold, and then Josephine comes into view, and his heart stops with his feet. Immediately, he knows that whether its because he is her father, or because of the curious and yet open way she is gazing at him, he already feels a connection to this child.
It's Rose who breaks the silence. "Jack, I'd like you to meet your daughter, Josephine."
Jack's eyes slide to Rose's, who gives him a slight nod, and back to Josephine's. The girl is in some ways a spitting image of his mother; his sister, and even himself, and in other ways looks very much like Rose, and being able to recognize these traits in her appearance is both strange and comforting. She really is his daughter.
The silence still persists, and Rose tries again. "Josephine, darling, this is your father, Jack Dawson."
Jack swallows hard, and remembers the two little bouquets he had picked up that afternoon, which he had been planning to present to them upon knocking on the door. He hadn't knocked, and had all but forgotten, upon seeing Josephine in the window. Now, he looks back up at Rose, who seems nervous herself, he realizes, and offers her the small bundle of red roses. "For the lady of the house," he says, his tone mocking that of a proper gentleman, which he is glad to see makes Rose smile as she accepts the flowers.
He then kneels down to his daughter's level before holding out a bouquet of yellow Roses to her, smiling sincerely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Josephine. I hope you and I can be good friends."
The young girl takes the bouquet before shaking Jack's offered hand with an unsure smile of her own. "Me too," she says quietly: shyly.
Jack straightens up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and looks to Rose who is giving her daughter's shoulder a squeeze. "Darling, why don't you go put these lovely flowers Jack has brought us into some water?" she asks, handing the girl her bouquet. Josephine nods, glancing back shyly at Jack, before hurrying into the kitchen.
"I'm sure you've won her heart already with those flowers, Jack, you didn't have to do that."
Jack shrugs. "I've never had much chance to give flowers to pretty girls," he says, "so I figured, why not?"
Rose gives him another bright smile, and he has to keep himself from reaching out to touch her again, or hold her hand, reminding himself to keep it slow.
"Can I take your coat?" she asks, and reaches out to take it as he removes it from his shoulders. "I realized I never offered yesterday."
"I think we were both a little distracted yesterday," he responds, handing the grey coat over before adjusting the suspenders on his shoulders. The shirt he had ended up with was a cream colored button-up over dark brown pants. While he couldn't stand ties, he had purchased a pair of suspenders and two vests.
When they reach the kitchen, the nine year old girl is carefully arranging the flowers, alternating red and yellow, within a glass vase that had belonged to Jack's mother, and perhaps his grandmother before that. He is beginning to find that its nice to see familiar objects again, and he cannot picture a better scenario for ever entering this old house than to have it lived in by the love of his life, and his own child, even if they weren't yet really a family. As they sit down to a simple dinner of a beef and vegetable stew and buttered bread, Jack feels as if he's dining like a king, if only because of the company. His daughter is lovely and charming, opening up a little after some time, and he is able to learn some more about her, and shares some stories of his own as well as hear about Rose and Josephine's lives here in Chippewa falls. Even with dinner coming to a close, and the young girl's bedtime drawing near, Jack cannot think of a more perfect evening. He still feels the ghosts of this place tugging at the corners of his memory, but with Rose and Josephine, he knows that he has more memories to create.