That evening, just as they're finishing supper, the Dawsons get a knock on the door. Jack had cooked— something Rose had been surprised to find out he enjoyed doing, and something he was quite spectacular at, and so while Rose did the dishes and Josephine dried them, he was the one to answer it. It's not too late in the evening, and still light outside, and there on the doorstep anxiously kicking snow from his boot is William. He gives a sheepish smile to Jack, still scuffing his shoe on the ground.

"Do you think I could talk to Josephine?" the boy asks, looking somewhat desperate. For a second, Jack is reminded of a time when he had felt such desperation when trying to gain access to speak to Rose, only to be denied at every turn. This situation was much more tame, and the thirty-year-old was not about to deny access to the twelve-year-old boy, but Jack could sense the futility that William had been feeling at his attempts to apologize and speak to his daughter for the past week being denied at every turn by his admittedly rather stubborn child.

Jack nods, clapping a light hand on the young man's shoulder in a sign of welcome. "You can try," he says genially. "I can't promise she's ready to listen. You wait here and I'll see if I can fetch her."

When he enters the kitchen again, Rose looks back at him from the sink, raising an eyebrow expectantly. He lets his lips quirk up in a half-smile before training his eyes on his golden haired daughter, clearing his throat to get her attention.

"Miss Josephine," he says, adopting a faux-genteel accent and making the young girl look up from her chore, "It seems you have a gentleman caller out on the front veranda. Why don't you go and see what he would like."

Her eyes narrow at her father, first in confusion and then in comprehension as she realize that Jack means William. "I don't want to talk to him," she says, sounding grumpy now. "He knows that."

Rose sighs, abandoning the dishes and drying her hands on the towel Jo has thrown down on the counter. "Darling, I know you're still angry with William, but you two have been inseparable since before you could walk. It's your decision, but I think you should be kind, and at least go hear what he has to say."

The young girl heaves a dramatic sigh before making her way towards the front door, shrugging on a coat against the chill of the late winter evening before stepping onto the front porch.

Stacking the last plate, Rose heaves her own sigh, turning towards Jack.

"That boy seems absolutely heartbroken," Jack points out, gesturing over his shoulder towards the front of the house.

"I did warn you that Jo can be stubborn," she says with a hint of humor, although she herself desperately wants the two children to settle their differences, if only so her daughter would quit sulking.

Jack grins, weighing his words. "Not unlike her mother," he responds, earning a petulant look from Rose, and he puts his hands up in surrender before closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Not that that's a bad thing," he amends. "Your stubbornness adds to your strength, and you, Rose, are the strongest woman I know. How could I not want our daughter to hold the same strength?"

"Well, pretty soon she'll be a teenager, and heavens help us then," Rose states, reaching up to drape her own arms around Jack's neck. "I was a stubborn teenager still when I met you."

"There's a scary thought." Jack pulls a face of fear before grinning again and leaning his forehead against hers. "From what I recall, though, you were pretty wonderful. Although maybe we should try and keep Josephine away from steel tycoons and ships."

"I think its going to be young William we'll have to pay more attention to," supplies Rose. "Right now they're still children, but pretty soon he's no longer going to be just a boy and a playmate. He's three years older than she is, and already he seems so smitten."

Jack nods. "I think we have our work cut out for us," he agrees. Leaning forward, he kisses her lips soundly. "I have a feeling that daughter of yours is going to be able to break hearts, just like her mother."

"Our daughter," Rose corrects.

Josephine reenters the house looking much happier than she had all week, and Jack and Rose make a point of not questioning her, but are glad that everything is settled. When Josephine asks Rose about walking to school with William the next morning as her mother had promised her allowance to do a few weeks prior, Rose allows it, pushing down the small part of her that wants to selfishly hold on to her daughter so tightly and disallow her freedom. Unlike her own mother, Rose wants to allow her daughter a sense of authority over her own life and decisions, and she knows that that can only happen by relinquishing control.

Jack seems to sense Rose's inner trepidations, and once Josephine has left the room on her way to turn in for the night, pulls Rose a little closer, his hand on her lower back supportively.

"I'm not ready for her to grow up so quickly," Rose says, now a bit melancholy.

"She still has quite a bit of time to grow," Jack points out, "And you are a fantastic mother. Maybe we'll have another little one when the time is right."

She looks at him then, surprised by his suggestion but not finding the idea to be unwelcome. What would it be like to raise an infant with Jack? What would he be like if she were to become pregnant again? After all, he hadn't been there the first time around, but that wasn't by choice. She believes full heartedly that had he known, he would have supported her and loved her through everything.

"Rose," he suddenly sounds hesitant, "I hope that I haven't been too forward the past couple of weeks. I never want to rush things or make you feel uncomfortable. I just— I already feel like I've missed so much, and there seems to be so much time to make up for. I don't mean to rush things. I know that you want to take everything slowly. I just want you to understand that I mean everything I've said. Legally, you are my wife. That decision was presumptuous of me, but that is truly how I see you. You are my partner— my equal if not better. I fully intend to take care of you and build a life with you for the rest of our time on this earth, that is, if you'll have me." His gaze is intense as he takes a step back, turning instead to face her.

"I'm sorry," he says with a self-deprecating grin, "but If I get onto one knee I might not be able to get back up." He gives a light stomp with his bad leg for emphasis. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a small velveteen box, presenting it to her, and taking her left hand in his right. "I wasn't going to do this yet. I was going to wait and set up some elaborate scheme, but I can't wait any more. Rose Dawson, will you do me the honor and make me an honest man for real?"

Tears spring to Rose's eyes, and she can't think, instead throwing her arms around tightly around Jack and crashing her lips to his and he struggles momentarily to retain his balance. "So that's a yes?" he asks, his heart pounding from the kiss, and the nervousness he had felt in formally proposing.

"Yes, Jack. I'll marry you."

Jack lets out a whoop before being shushed by Rose. "Shh! Jack! you'll wake Josephine!" He only grins. Raising her hand, he slides the ring onto the proper finger, relieved at the perfect fit. He and Josephine had picked it out only the day before. It's a modest yet pretty ring— an art deco style thing with a bezel cut diamond laid in white gold, and surrounded by a thin row of sapphires and floral detailing on each side. It was the first somewhat lavish purchase he had ever been able to make, and if he had to guess, the most important one he would make in his entire life.

"Jack, it's beautiful." He watches as she raises her hand to look closer at the ring in the electric light still on above them. The coloring of the stones reminded her of "the heart of the ocean" in a way that was sentimental and full of meaning, and she could tell that he had taken great care in picking it out.

"Josephine helped," he admits, earning another smile from the woman before him. He sets down the small box on the nearby table, and gives the back of his neck an uncomfortable rub— a telltale sign of nerves, she has learned. "There's another thing," he says hesitantly. "While fixing your room, I found my parents' wedding bands." He pulls two loose rings from his other pocket, showing them to her in the palm of his hand. They're simple and silver, but still pretty. The men's band is thick and masculine, and the women's band is thin and dainty. "If its okay with you, I would like to use them when we have a ceremony. When I found them the other day, I had been considering a proposal already, and when I opened my father's secret box and there they were, it was like they were there, giving their blessing."

Rose nods, her heart growing even fonder of the man in front of her. "Of course, Jack. "They're lovely."