Jack doesn't sleep for a long while that night. He can't, at first. The only thing that has changed in this room since his parents' passing is the addition of an electric light. Their clothes still sit in the drawers, musty and moth eaten now, and their photos are still framed on the bedside tables; a silver tintype picture from their wedding back in 1888 that his Pa must have paid a fortune to have done, and and a family portrait from 1906— just a year before their death. Jack knows from snooping in their room as a child that if he was to open his mother's bedside drawer he would find drawings and scribbles he and his sister had made her as children, and a book of the English poetry that she loved with little wild flowers pressed in the pages, a bottle of the perfume she always wore, and maybe some terribly stale penny sweets. In his father's drawer he was sure that he could find some old cigarettes and matches and the heirloom pocket watch he only wore on special occasions and probably his bible.
His father was never religious, so Jack had asked him about that bible once and why he had it, and his father told him that it was just good to have a copy in any house. He had then opened up the book for a fourteen year old Jack to see. The middle of the pages had all been cut out to make a box, and in their place was a small stack of papers: love notes his parents had exchanged while courting. "Not many really want to open a bible when snooping around, so its a good place to hide things you don't want found. When you find a girl you love as much as I love your mother, you'll understand why I kept these here," he had said. "She'll become your religion." It had taken Jack five more years to understand what his father meant, but once it had happened, once he had found Rose, he understood completely.
Jack changes the sheets, trying not to think too much about where he is, but finds that once he settles down into the bed, his mind continues to get the better of him. Right across the hall is the room that had once been his, and he thinks about the last day he saw it when he was too consumed by grief to care about anything he was leaving behind: all the memories of his childhood. He had been incredibly sad, and scared for his future, and he hadn't been able to take the sight of that room for one more day. Most of all though, he had felt guilty. Time and distance has made him understand that none of what happened was his fault- it had truly been an accident. The barn workshop had caught fire, and his sister had died trying to save her animals, which was just like Julia to do, and his parents had perished trying to save her. And he had been away in search of some kind of excitement which was just like him at the time; desperate for some kind of escape from the monotony of small town life, even if it was just a few hours by the lake with his friends, and yet here he was now, after years of living a vagabond existence wanting nothing more than a small town life again, at least for a while.
He needs to face that room again, but he decides that it is not the night. Tonight he would need to make himself get at least a little sleep so that tomorrow he could clean this room out and start making it fit for Rose. With any luck, if their relationship progresses where he hopes its heading, they'll be sharing this large room after some time, instead of sleeping separately. He has longed for so many years to have her in his arms at night and soon it could be a reality. He has no doubt that if anything can fend off the nightmares of his past its her.
Jack is an early riser, and always had been. When this house had kept farm animals, he had been up with the rooster crow every morning to help his twin with their chore of feeding the livestock and collecting the eggs for breakfast, and he had found that he liked the early hours— he was able to spend some time on his drawings undisturbed before being herded off to school by his overly worrisome mother. Since then, he had continued to wake early, either from necessity; one didn't want to be arrested or pick-pocketed for spending the night under a city bridge, or through a desire for the peace and quite. During the war the only times of real stillness had been the very early morning.
Despite knowing that he hadn't gotten more than three or four hours of sleep after finally nodding off after 2am, Jack is up with the rising sun. The room looks different now in the blue dawn light. Its less full of nostalgia and ghosts, and in spite of the old furniture and yellowing paint, he can see new potential for the nice room he wants to make for Rose.
Dressed again in yesterday's clothes, he makes his way out of the room and downstairs, careful not to wake the two women still sound asleep. He stokes the fire to warm the house of its chill and brews coffee in the percolator Rose had left on the kitchen counter, appreciating the familiar and warming aroma. He's killing time until Rose and Josephine are awake, and not wanting to feel nosy he avoids opening any cupboards or drawers. On a small table in a corner however, he spots a stack of blank paper, and some pens, as well as some wax crayons he assumes belong to Josephine. Taking advantage of the silence in the house he writes a letter to Fabrizio. He had intended on sending a telegram days ago to let his friend know he had arrived in Chippewa Falls safely, but had since, understandably, been distracted. His best friend however deserved to know what had happened; that he had arrived to find Rose alive, and with a daughter, and that they had welcomed him into their home. Fabrizio had been with them on Titanic, too, and he had seen Jack's misery afterward. He deserved to know of Jack's newest revelation and change of circumstances, and Jack knew Fabrizio would be overjoyed, and probably jump at the first chance to visit.
With one letter done and the house still quiet, Jack hesitates for a bit before starting his next correspondence. Molly Brown had helped him a lot after he had been pulled from the Atlantic, and for a time she had become somewhat of a mother figure to Jack. He had been distant since returning from the war however, and he felt guilty for it, but knew that Molly worried over his wellbeing. He hadn't wanted to be a burden, or worry her further with his injuries and the pain they still gave him so he had written very infrequently, and when he did it was brief. Now, however, with Rose alive, he felt that Molly should know everything. And while the woman still has ties to Rose's old life, he trusts her not to inform anyone in Cal's circle that Rose Dewitt-Bukater is still alive. He knows that Molly will simply be happy for them both, and glad that Jack has found some hope after so long in a dark place.
He's nearly finished when he hears light footsteps approach, and looks up from his seat to see Josephine peering at him from the doorway to the kitchen.
"Hello there," he says, meeting her eye while he folds his letters and sticks them in his vest pocket.
"What are you doing?" She asks curiously, not even questioning his presence in her kitchen.
"I was writing some letters to a few friends," he answers easily. "I've been traveling to get to Wisconsin for quite some time, and I should let them know I've arrived in once piece."
"Oh." She accepts that answer, and trots toward the pantry, pulling out a box of corn flakes.
She looks back at Jack. "Would you like some?" She asks politely.
"Sure," Jack responds, standing to join her. "How kind of you to offer." She really is a polite and well mannered little girl, if a little shy, and Jack finds her completely charming. He wonders if Rose had been like this as a child. If he's not careful he knows he'll find himself completely wrapped around Jo's little finger in no time.
She pours two bowls and retrieves the milk form the ice box. He watches amused has she shakes a heaping spoonful of sugar over her own cereal before looking up at him. "Momma says too much sugar isn't good for me, but I don't like them without it," she explains.
Jack can't help but grin, amused. "Me neither," he admits, copying her and adding a generous spoonful to his cereal as well, making her giggle.
"What are you two up to?" He hears from behind them, and turns as if caught being a naughty child. Rose is leaning in the doorway watching them, arms crossed in a cozy looking dressing gown, eyebrow raised in amusement, and Jack grins at her impishly.
"We're just making breakfast, Momma," Josephine says innocently.
Rose smiles, coming forward to push her daughters messy curls from her face. "Not too much sugar, I hope," she says, and Jo giggles again before going to have a seat at the small table.
Jack's eyes follow Rose as she pours a cup of coffee from the pot Jack had brewed before adding milk and taking a seat by her daughter.
"You're an early riser," she comments, and Jack shrugs, going to sit by them as well, taking his bowl of cereal along.
"Always have been," he admits. "There used to be a rooster that stood right at that back door every morning to crow as loud as it could to wake us up. They say roosters crow because the sun is rising, but I always said its because they want their breakfast more than we do. I've been waking with the sun for as long as I can remember, unless I've had a particularly late night."
"I can't say the same for myself," admits Rose. "I'm a dreadfully heavy sleeper. Sometimes Josephine here has to wake me up for work. Unfortunately, she's inherited my sleeping habits and sometimes we're both late."
"Well, I guess with me here you won't have that problem anymore." That gets a happy smile from Rose and he's glad.
Jack looks at the clock on the wall. Its nearing seven-thirty now. There was still an hour until Josephine had to be at school, and he supposes that he should go into town and take care of checking out of the Inn and post his letters. He doesn't know Rose's plans for the day now that she has time off, but he would like to find some fresh white paint in town if he can. He wonders if he can walk along with them when Rose takes Josephine to school, or if that would garner too much attention.
He waits until Josephine has left the kitchen to get ready for her day before he broaches the subject, but Rose speaks first.
"Its still a shock to see you here, Jack. After all this time."
He smiles somewhat ruefully. "It's a shock for me as well— being here. And finding you. I hate that we've missed so much time we can't make up." He looks at her again, taking in her tired appearance. Despite having just awoken, she is still as breathtaking as ever. He thinks of Josephine, just a floor away. "I hate that I've missed so much of Josephine's life."
Rose nods. "I'm just glad you can know her now. I'm glad she can know her father." Her smile returns, and she goes back to her coffee, but not before taking his free hand above the table, absent-mindedly stroking over his thumb.
Jack broaches the subject hesitantly. "I reckon I should check out of the Inn this morning," he starts, and Rose nods, still looking down. He continues. "I also need to post some letters. I've written to Fabri and Molly, letting them know the news. I, uh, was wondering how you felt about me walking into town with you and Josephine…"
When Rose stills, he continues in a rush. "It's perfectly alright if you'd prefer I go separately. I know this is still an adjustment, and with the way people talk.."
"Jack." She squeezes his hand. "Its perfectly alright. We can't avoid the town forever. They're just going to have to get used to us." She has a steely determination in her eyes when she says this that tells Jack not to argue, so he nods instead.
"Okay." He says it easily, like he's assured that everything will be fine. Realistically, he knows that they will be met with more looks and whispers and maybe the odd remark, but the sooner they get it over with, the better, and then maybe they, and the town can move on from the shock of his arrival. He has things he wants to do, and he isn't going to let small town gossip stop him or delay creating a happy life with his family.