Rose leans forward, clutching the porcelain of the sink in her hand for balance. Sweat is rolling down her back from the sweltering heat of the late August day. She has been at work for hours now, and is exhausted and irritable. They had been unusually busy today as a rain storm had swept through, making everything that much more humid and sticky, and pushing everyone indoors for the afternoon. It seemed that the whole town had come in for lunch and simply hadn't left, ordering more and more the entire time.

As Rose tries to stay upright in her exhaustion, her swollen ankles screaming at her in protest, her hand goes to her belly, feeling the baby give another hard kick— something else that hadn't made the day easy. It seems the baby is just as uncomfortable today as the mother. The diner is stifling, between the number of people milling about and the kitchen grills firing nonstop, and being unable to open the front door or windows because of the deluge outside had made it that much worse. Even here alone in the bathroom, it was sticky with no airflow.

A knock at the door disturbs her from her thoughts. "Just a moment," she calls, assuming its a patron needing the facilities.

"Mama, it's me!" She hears Josephine's voice drift through the doorway.

Rose opens the door, giving the girl a confused and probably rather stern look. "Josephine Cora Dawson, what are you doing here? It is entirely too busy today for you to be hanging around."

If Jo is surprised by her mother's attitude, she doesn't let on. "I came with Papa," she explains. "He said we should get you in the car so you wouldn't have to walk home in the rain."

Rose is cowed for a second, feeling guilty for digging into her daughter in her irritable state when her appearance had obviously been all Jack's idea. She gives a sigh, pushing Jo's stray hair behind her ear. "Well, you can tell your father that I'm nowhere close to being able to leave. There is still too much to do. And besides, I'm not going to melt in a little rain. I know he just wanted an excuse to drive that damned car. If I had wanted a ride I would have asked for one. And do something with your braid, please. It's falling out. People will think you don't care to look in a mirror at all when you leave the house."

Jo's eyebrows do raise at this. She had never heard her mother be this grumpy towards Jack before, and although the swearing from Rose isn't new, Jo doesn't know if she should repeat it. She isn't sure how she feels delivering this particular message. It seems though that she doesn't have to. Jack is stepping up behind Josephine, having seen the two of them talking in the open door of the rest room.

"Are we caring what people think, now? If I didn't know better I'd say that was your mother speaking." Jack, who had only heard the end of what Rose had said, realizes the moment it's out of his mouth that he has said the wrong thing. He doesn't mean anything by it— his tone was jovial and teasing, and he had a pleasant smile on his face that only serves to aggravate Rose more. He's so carefree all the time and on days like this when all she wants is a minute alone to cool down and catch her breath it is that much more infuriating that simply nothing ever seems to faze Jack Dawson.

Rose isn't even sure what to say to him just now, angry that he would even mention her mother, but they're interrupted anyway by Julia who is just as bubbly and oblivious in this moment as her brother is apparently joking and carefree. "Rose!" she greets her sister-in-law happily, "I just saw the new picture of you that Jack got in the magazine! You're absolutely stunning!" She holds up the magazine to show her— the painting Jack had done was a bit older, and had an overlay advertisement for some kind of chocolate. In it, Rose was not yet pregnant, and did indeed look lovely— like a starlet or an actress with her then long curls cascading over her shoulder. Seeing it does nothing to improve her mood, as nowadays she knows she looks like nothing but a whale or an ogre with how large her belly had gotten, and she was puffy and swollen everywhere, with short boyish hair that refuses to sit right in the sticky humidity of summer. She had felt anything but lovely for weeks.

"Sweetheart," says Rose, addressing Josephine again with a pointed look, "why don't you go wait in the car? Your father will be out in a minute to drive you home."

She turns to Julia, whom she knows means well, and tries to quell some of the anger she can feel simmering beneath the surface. "Thank you, Jules," she says and tries to smile, although she can feel that it looks off. "I'm sorry, but could you excuse Jack and I for a moment?"

Rose doesn't wait for a response, but grabs Jack by the arm, pulling him along further down the hall and into back foyer between the restaurant and Miranda's flat. By now Jack has picked up on her stormy mood and now looks concerned and a little apprehensive.

"Jack, I want you to take that car and take Jo home. I'll be along when I'm ready to leave here."

"Rose, it's pouring outside! Besides, Miranda said you're free to leave— that you've done too much today as is. "

"Oh?" Rose asks, her anger building again at him going over her head with Miranda. "Are you managing my shifts now then, Jack? Did you even notice how busy it is out there? I'm not leaving everyone else to clean up alone."

"What? No, Rose, I just— it's late. You're usually home by now so I thought we would come and check on you and spare you a walk in this weather. That's all. Besides, there are only a handful of customers now. It's almost dinner time."

"Well, Jack, I don't need the ride. Just go home. I'll be there later. If I'm completely honest I'm not happy with you right now, and would like to be left alone to finish this hellish work day. And I hope you're not expecting dinner either. You're a big boy and can fend for yourself." Her hand goes to her belly again as the baby gives another kick, and Jack's expression, while now a little hurt, grows even more concerned. He reaches out for her, but she steps back, evading his touch.

"Rose, when was the last time you sat down today?" He asks, still reaching for her, but not laying his hands on her as he knows that will anger her further.

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture, Jack. Take Josephine. Go home." She can feel tears of frustration building in the corners of her eyes, and doesn't want him to see, so she turns her back. "Go, Jack. I'll be home later."

— — — —

He is hesitant, but knows that right now its best not to argue any more. Getting back out to the front of the restaurant, he can see Josephine sitting sulkily in the car through the front window, and Miranda and Julia are nearby talking in hushed tones.

"Has Rose been like this all day?" he asks the restaurant owner as he draws near.

"Well, she certainly hasn't been as cheerful as usual today," says Miranda, "but she only got irritable in the past hour or two. I keep telling her to take breaks from being on her feet but you know her. She never listens when she's told to slow down. I wouldn't worry too much, though, Jack. It's just the pregnancy hormones affecting her mood. I'm sure after a good night's sleep she'll be all apologies tomorrow."

"Did this happen last time, too?" he asks, referring to her last pregnancy, which he hadn't gotten to witness.

"Occasionally. I think it's normal for all women. I certainly was no peach when I was pregnant with William. Why don't you go on home. I'll make sure she gets some rest here and gets back alright."

"Thanks, Miranda." He gives his friend a smile, and his sister a quick kiss on the cheek before continuing out the front door again, and back to the waiting car to take himself and Jo back home.

Once they're back home, however, Jack is presented with another unexpected challenge of parenting. Despite his best efforts in the car to cheer her up and reassure her that its nothing— that Rose had jus been tired from working and carrying the baby, Jo is obviously upset by her mother's attitude, and by seeing Jack and Rose argue. Instead of staying downstairs to keep Jack company in the kitchen while he prepares supper as she normally would, she retreats upstairs to her room, not even paying much mind to Chaplin, who is pawing at her shoes for attention.

After putting some leftover pasta sauce in a pan on the stovetop to simmer, Jack sinks into his usual kitchen chair, feeling weary himself, his thoughts drifting to the ladies in his life. He tries to remember if his mother or sister had ever been this moody back in the day, but he supposes that he had never paid much attention back then. He wishes he had another man around to talk to about having a pregnant wife— that his father were still alive to answer all of the questions and assuage all the worries he's afraid to bring up with Rose. Miranda had told him that it would get worse before getting better, and he believes it.

He knows that when Rose gets home he is going to have to make it up to her, although without really knowing what he had done wrong, he isn't fully sure how. He had thought, when first leaving the house, that she would appreciate the gesture of him coming around with the car so she wouldn't have to walk. He resolves that the only thing he can really do is make sure that she has a nice dinner waiting for her when she does return along with a clean house, and maybe a bath.

He is about to get up again to fold and put away the small pile of laundry that is drying down the hall when Josephine's high pitched scream from upstairs shatters the silence of the house, sending him moving faster than a bullet up the stairs, making him strain his leg and hip painfully.

"Jo! What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He reaches the landing, and turns left towards her room. The door is open, but the bathroom door nearby is closed, the light on.

"Papa?" Her voice sounds a little panicked and tearful.

"Josephine, what's wrong? Open the door, baby." His heart is pounding with adrenaline and fear from her blood curdling scream.

"No!" she shouts, "Don't come in!"

"Darling, what's wrong?"

"I— I just— I need mama. Can you call mama?"

"Sure, baby," he answers, still feeling scared. "I can do that. Just— are you hurt? What's wrong, Jo?" he asks, wanting a clear answer.

She's quiet for a second aside from a sniffle. "I— I don't think so?" it comes out as a question. "I— Papa, I'm bleeding… down there. It doesn't hurt, I just— I want mama. Can you just call her?"

It takes Jack a second to register what his daughter is telling him. "Down… Oh. Oh!" When he finally gets it, he can feel his own face redden, and realizes that he is entirely unsure what to do. The only thing for it is to call Rose, and already he's steeling himself for whatever version of her he'll find on the other end of the phone, but he knows that he needs to get her home to Josephine, now.

"Okay, Jo. I'm gonna go call Mama and get her home, alright, baby? I'll be right back."

"Okay." her voice is small, and his heart goes out to her. His daughter sounds scared, and he wonders if she and Rose have talked about this at all before. He can understand that it must be a shock for the young girl— especially if she has no clue of how normal this is.

—

When the phone rings, Rose, Miranda, and Julia are seated at the diner bar, having tea and talking, having decided to take their time with finishing the closing duties after such a long day. Miranda is telling Rose all about where experiences with being pregnant back in the day, the two women comparing stories while Julia has been wincing comically, declaring that she'll never have a baby of her own.

When the phone rings, Miranda is thinking nothing of it as she answers, greeting whoever may be on the line casually.

"Jack?" she says, her eyes meeting Rose's. "Slow down. Yes, she's still here."

Rose can feel frustration bristle within her again, wondering what Jack is thinking, calling to check up on her again even after she had just sent him home not an hour before, clearly wanting her space. Miranda's eyes are widening as she listens.

"Yes, got it, Jack. Hold on. Let me get her on the line."

"Tell him he's being ridiculous and that I'll speak to him when I get home," says Rose, annoyed at her husband's persistence.

"Rose, Doll, you wanna take this call," says Miranda. "Jack seems to be having a little crisis that I think you're gonna want to handle."

Rose sighs, standing up to take the reliever from Miranda, holding it to her ear and stepping near enough to the telephone box that Jack can hear her. "What is it, Jack?" she asks tiredly.

"Sweetheart, it's Jo," he answers, and she can hear the worry in his voice, the tone sending her into her own panic.

"Jo? Jack what's happened? Is she hurt?" Her blood is rushing in her ears now as her own worry rises.

"No! No," he answers, trying to calm her, "She uh— oh what's the right word? She has started her, uh, monthly cycle? No. Uh… her period?" He's stumbling over his words, and Rose can almost see his undoubtedly embarrassed expression through the phone.

"Oh!" Rose exclaims, surprised. She herself had been rather late starting her cycle, nearly thirteen, so it hadn't even crossed her mind that this could happen with Josephine any time. She had explained it to her daughter briefly, about a year ago, but didn't even think about this happening yet. "Oh, no, Jack. I'm sorry! I'll be right there. Is she okay?"

"She, uh, I think she's okay. She's a little shocked, I think. She won't come out of the bathroom, and just wants her Mama, if I'm honest."

Rose sighs, her anger with her husband all but forgotten for the moment. "Well, tell her I'll be right there, Jack. I'm coming now."

"Should I come get you?" he asks sheepishly, not wanting to restart their earlier argument.

"No. No, I don't want you to leave her alone right now. Just go sit by her washroom door and talk to her about something else. I'll be there soon."

Hanging up before getting another response from Jack, she turns to her waiting friends, Miranda having filled Julia in on what's happening.

"I can't believe little Jo is becoming a woman already," says Miranda. "Just yesterday I was holding her in my arms as a crying baby."

"Don't remind me," says Rose, her hand going to her pregnant belly as she tries not to tear up at the thought of her first daughter growing up so quickly before her eyes. "I need to get home. I should have taken that ride earlier. Dammit!" she's cursing her own stubornness.

Julia holds out the umbrella she had used earlier in the day. "Here, take this. You're gonna need it out there. And be careful walking home. Let us know if you or Josephine need anything. Have you got kotex?"

Rose nods, accepting the umbrella. "I think I still have some from before the pregnancy. I'll have to pick up more tomorrow," says Rose. "I'm sorry for today, Miranda. I don't know what's come over me."

Her friend smiles. "I do, honey. You're six months pregnant and its the middle of August. Now head home. Those two need you."

Rose heads straight upstairs when she enters the house, a little out of breath, and her ankles and lower back now screaming in protest. Upon reaching the second floor landing, she sees Jack sitting with has back against the wall of the hallway next to the washroom door, Chaplin sitting and staring at the doorway, his little tail wagging.

"Jo, darling?" Rose calls out. "I'm home now. I'll be right there."

Jack uses his cane to stand again as Rose meets his eye with a reassuring glance before heading into their bedroom and coming back out with a small parcel in her hand. She grips his bicep as she nears the bathroom door again, giving him a squeeze and reassuring nod, silently letting him know that she has this situation from here, and he appears beyond grateful as he makes his way back downstairs to wait.

"Josephine, open the door please."

Jo's expression upon seeing her mother is a mix of fear and relief. "Mama, I'm sorry for making Papa call. It's not his fault. I just didn't know what to do."

Rose hugs her daughter, shushing her. "Oh Jo. I'm sorry. I know. I'm sorry for snapping at the two of you earlier. It's okay, baby. You're okay, I promise. This is all completely normal. Remember what we talked about last year?"

Jo nods, fresh tears springing to her eyes. "I ruined my dress, Mama. I'm sorry." The nine-year-old turns around, showing Rose the red stain that had bloomed on the back.

"Thats okay, darling. You couldn't help it. Let's get you all cleaned up, alright?"

Rose shows Josephine how to put on a sanitary belt and change the disposable pads, explaining that she would get her a brand new one of her own in the morning, and grabs her some comfortable night clothes to change into, before showing her how to soak her stained dress in cold water to remove the blood. Josephine still seems a little uncomfortable, but soothed by her mother's presence and reassurance.

"How long do I have to wear this thing?" She asks Rose, receiving a chuckle.

"Trust me, that thing is a whole lot more comfortable than what we used when I was your age. It'll last a few days or a week each time," explains Rose. "Once a month or so. The older you get the more you'll be able to know when its coming."

"But why?" Complains Josephine. "Why every month? Isn't there a way to make it go away?"

Rose can't help but laugh again. She remembers having much the same reaction during her first time, and for her it had been a maid who explained everything. She had never been able to ask her own mother these questions.

"Darling, this is your body letting you know that you're becoming a woman. When you have your period that's when you know that your body is beginning to change from a little girl to a young lady. These changes need to happen in order for you to make a baby someday if you ever decide you want to."

"But I don't want a baby!" Jo wails, misunderstanding, and her fear returning anew.

"Oh, I know, darling. You're not going to have a baby for a very long time, and even then, only if you want to, with a man whom you love. It's just the way that your body grows. Women's bodies work on a cycle, Josephine. It's just the way it has always been."

"Does this still happen to you?" she asks, and Rose does laugh now.

"Yes, Josephine, when I'm not pregnant, it happens every month like clockwork. Some day it will go away, but I'm not that old yet."

"Am I gonna start looking like how you do when you're not pregnant?" asks Josephine, gesturing to her chest.

"Over time, darling, yes," answers Rose. "Your bosom will grow and your hips will widen. It's all normal, I assure you."

"I don't know if I want to be a lady yet," says Jo, looking disgruntled.

Rose hugs her daughter to her again, swiping her hair from her face and kissing her forehead. "Don't worry, my darling. It'll happen so slowly you won't even notice, and then one day you'll wake up and you'll be facing a beautiful woman in that mirror." Rose turns her daughter around in her arms, hugging her close as they both look at their reflections above the sink.

Every day, Josephine shows more of both of her parents in her appearance. Rose's wild curls, and Jack's dusty blonde mixed in with the Dewitt family copper. She has Jack's eyes and easily tanned complexion, with Rose's freckles and smile, and already is nearly as tall as Rose, whom she would probably be passing in height within the year, as recently she had been growing like a weed, developing a slim and slender athletic frame much like Jack.

"I love you, darling girl." Says Rose, kissing her daughter's cheek again.

There's a soft knock on the bathroom door, and Rose opens it to see Jack standing there, still looking worried.

"Dinner is ready if you want it," he tells them, appearing unsure, and Rose feels bad for the way she had blown up at him earlier in the evening.

Rose lets her daughter go. "Is it alright if I eat in my room?" she asks, looking up at Rose.

She knows that her daughter is likely feeling a little uncomfortable and embarrassed after the whole ordeal, so she nods. "Just for tonight," she answers, kissing her forehead and sending her on her way. Jack, not wanting to antagonize his daughter, but also not wanting to avoid her pulls her to him quickly by the shoulder, and drops a quick kiss to her hair before releasing her, glad for the chuckle this causes.

"You didn't have to cook, Jack," she tells him, as they make their way downstairs.

"Well," he says, "I didn't know what else to do with myself, and I didn't want you worrying when you got home. Is Jo alright?"

"She's fine," says Rose. "A little embarrassed, I think, but she'll be fine come morning. Thank you for being there for her."

They stop in the foyer as Rose starts to finally remove her shoes for the day, struggling in her pregnant state to even reach her feet, and so Jack bends down to help her.

"Jack, you don't have to do that. You'll strain your leg." She tells him, but he just shakes his head and continues unlacing her boot.

"Sweetheart, just let me help you, please," he says, pulling the boots from her feet to set by the door. "You're carrying my baby, the least I can do is help with your shoes." Straightening up, he takes her hat from her head as well, placing it on the coat rack. "You're all wet." He straightens her hair for her and rubs his hands up and down her arms as if to warm her. Despite the heat in the air, water always makes Jack feel cold— probably a hangover from the sinking, and Rose had noticed that it had become a habit of his to check on Rose in this manner.

Rose steps closer to him, just wanting to feel his arms around her— something that had been getting harder the larger she got. Her middle was protruding so far at this point that Jack struggled to get his arms fully around her waist, and so he places his hands on her hips and leans his forehead down against hers. At this contact, Rose feels as if Jack is transferring some of his calm to her, and she feels the irritable mood from earlier begin to slip away. She feels bad for how she had acted and treated him when he had just been trying to be his helpful sweet self.

"I'm sorry for how I was earlier, Jack." She tells him, meeting his gaze with her guilty one. "That wasn't fair to you. I just hate feeling like I can't fend for myself, and I was having a harder time with everything today than I wanted to admit."

"I know, Cherie," he says, using one of her favorite nicknames. "You're such a strong, independent woman. That's something that I adore about you. I just worry, and I also just simply enjoy doing things for you. I didn't mean anything by it. Although, I am sorry for comparing you to your mother. That was a bad joke, and ill-timed on my part. You are nothing like her."

She chuckles now. "Maybe, but I think I deserved it," she admits. "Sometimes I still hear her voice in my head of all the things I'm doing wrong, and when I'm stressed sometimes it just slips out, and that's not fair, especially not to Josephine."

"Well," says Jack, his fingers now soothingly carding through her curls as they dry, "let's eat, and then I"ll see what I can do to ease your stress a bit."