Happy holidays and here's to a happier, healthier 2021!
xx
First Snow:
December 25, 1912 - Rochester, Minnesota
Slowly, I felt my eyes begin to open, but shut them as soon as I became aware of it. The air was far too cold to take me from the warmth the comforter provided, and my half asleep state wouldn't have allowed me the energy to get up and rekindle the fire anyhow.
For a moment, my eyes remained shut as I tried to lull myself back to sleep, but as the sun began to peak through the thin curtains above the bed, I gave up. In one swift motion, I shot my arm out to grab a throw blanket off the chair beside the bed. Using that as a makeshift robe around my bare frame, I half sprinted to the small closet I share with Jack.
After throwing on undergarments and stockings, I pulled down the dress I'd carefully picked out the previous week. It was long, pink, and hugged the curves of my body perfectly; the lace bodice and frilled sleeves was an equally elegant touch that drew my eyes to it in the first place.
All week I'd been waiting to show Jack her newly purchased attire, but knowing Christmas was moments away, I had to hold off until said day arrived. Not that it really mattered what I wore, for I knew that he'd be attracted to me if I wore nothing but a rucksack. But a few weeks prior, he'd convinced me to pick out a nicer dress for myself since we'd acquired some extra cash, and I wanted to surprise him.
It'd taken a little extra convincing, but I was more than glad that I'd actually gone out and done it. It was liberating to buy something so beautiful that wasn't handpicked by the hands of my mother or one of the various hired help that used to roam around me at all hours.
To combat the chill filling the air, I threw an off white jacket over the dress, pleased as I watched it pool around my feet. I finished up as I opened the bedroom door, grabbing a string of ribbon and running my fingers through my less than perfect bed head.
A heat immediately hit against my skin, along with the sound of logs being thrown into the fireplace. A smile forming against my lips, I approached Jack from behind, fixing the top half of my hair in the ribbon, resting it on my mid back before he turned around.
For some reason, I found myself nervously fiddling with my hands in anticipation for his reaction. I hadn't felt this anxious in Jack's presence since seeing his back turned to me at the top of the grand staircase. It was then that I knew I had been waiting for both of our lives to change, and I supposed that my current anxiety was the most overdramatized feeling of the year when compared to then.
Once he did make his way to his feet and turn, though, all the nerves faded away. I smiled at him, dropping my hands to my sides, "What do you think?"
Whistling lowly, Jack stuck his hands in his pockets.
It was this that caused my face to droop down to a frown. I thought that he must be thinking the same thoughts I had been while purchasing the dress, "It's too much isn't it? Maybe I should've purchased a different style-"
"No, no, no!" Jack closed the gap between us and took my hands in his. "It's stunning. You're stunning."
Chuckling at my own foolishness, I stood up on my toes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for that, I don't know what I was so worried about."
"I'm the one who encouraged it. If we have some extra change in our pockets, I want you to spend it on something you like."
Jack knew that I was still apprehensive when it came to buying stuff that was actually worth something. In the months since the sinking, we'd been living off whatever cash we were able to come by with our unstable income.
Part of me still clung onto the idea that Jack had fallen in love with me, and not the beautifully intricate clothing he'd first met me in. To me, wearing pretty clothes felt wrong when I knew the more practical things we could be spending the cash on.
Turning my head to the window, I dropped his hands. The glass pane was almost like a full length mirror, which gave better access to viewing the yard.
I walked over to the window, watching the leaves blow in the wind. Much to my despair, snow hadn't come yet this year.
Back in Philadelphia, it was more of a promise than a guess as to whether we'd have a snowy Christmas or not, which was just about the only thing I missed about the place.
Running my finger across the frozen pane, I watched my warm breath leave an imprint against the glass. "Do you think we'll see some snow before the day's over?"
Jack met me at the window, wiping some of the frost away to get a better look. It did look cloudier and more wet than most days, but I could tell that he still wasn't all too sure. "It's not all too known to snow here until January, so I wouldn't count on it." Reaching over to where I stood, he drew a heart in the frost, "But who knows, Christmas is known for miracles, isn't it?"
Drawing a heart next to Jack's, I looked up at him, "So I've heard."
Thinking back on my life, I realized that I'd never really been one to believe in miracles. Not until recently, anyway. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't shake the feeling that my encounter with Jack was nothing short of a miracle.
It was the first of many, is what I had come to find.
"Speaking of miracles, I do believe someone's been in our office."
I felt my face contort into a look of disapproval, concerned with how nonchalant Jack seemed about this information, "What do you mean someone's been in the office?"
Laughing at my worry, Jack placed a finger to my lips, "What's his name again?" He pretended as though he were in deep thought, only dragging on my confusion. "Ah yes, Father Christmas!"
Before I had any time to respond, my hand was being tugged along. Our small house was the perfect place for us to stay for the time being. It contained one bedroom, sitting area and a minuscule bathroom and kitchen. And luckily, a tiny little office space for us to do our respective work in, though in truth it was more the size of a glorified walk in closet.
That very same space was where he dragged me to. Once inside, my eyes sparkled as I caught sight of a fairly decent sized pine tree. Surrounding it were a few presents wrapped in newspaper, along with some other festive decorations filling the space up.
"Jack, I…"
"I know it's not much compared to Christmas at the DeWitt Bukater's, but I figure it'll do."
"Ah, don't even compare the two! This is much better." I half skipped in excitement over to a small box resting on a desk next to the tree. I knew my behavior could be seen as childish, but honestly I could have cared less in the moment.
While it was true that the holiday back at home was marvelously extravagant, with every decoration, gift and meal under the sun, it was nothing compared to what Jack had set up for the two of us.
"There were a few boxes of ornaments leftover at the corner store, so I snagged them up on my way home the other night. I figured we could set it up together, maybe start a new tradition?"
Bubbling from ear to ear, I turned to him, immediately pressing my lips against his. The kiss wasn't long, but it still sent shivers up my spine. I pulled back as my hands grasped at his arms, "I'd love nothing more!"
So it was decided. There, we hung up the red, silver, and gold decor, somehow with only a few casualties along the way, for I had little experience with decorating a tree, and left a few too close to the edges of branches.
With each small catastrophe, a fit of laughter ensued, both of us enjoying the uniqueness we both brought to a seemingly simple activity.
As a child, I'd only been able to watch as our housemaids decorated for the season. When I was a little girl, I used to believe that angels brought the holiday spirit to our living space overnight, as the many workers would work extra hard to set up the house before I awoke the next morning.
I'm not all too sure why my mother disapproved of me helping decorate for the occasion. I knew many school friends in my social circle who did so just fine, but I'd always been discouraged. Always.
So now, more than ever, I was thankful for Jack. He didn't know it, at least not to the full extent of which he believed, but with every new experience he allowed me to partake in, I was shedding more of my former self away.
Once we finished with the tree, he wrapped me up into a hug and spun me around the cramped space. I wondered what it was about the day that brought this delight out of him, but I wasn't going to complain.
He set me down, and reached to pick up one of the newspaper wrapped gifts. My heart wrenched in my chest, and I raised my hands to my heart, a guilt coming to my senses. "Oh, Jack! I didn't wrap anything for you. If I would have known..."
"Nonsense," Jack cut in right away. "You didn't know. That's exactly how I intended it to be. I wanted this day to be special for you."
My voice somewhat faded, I grabbed hold of the gift. "What about you? I'm not the only one deserving of a perfect holiday."
"Having my Rose petal with me is present enough," Jack ran his hand across the back of my head, his fingers getting tangled in the ribbon, "You're all wrapped up anyhow." When I laughed at his comment, he simply placed another kiss on my lips, pushing the present closer to my chest, urging me to open it.
For one reason or another, my hands shook as I neatly worked to unfold Jack's careful wrapping of the newspaper. Once I did free the present from its box, though, I let out a breath of air at the large, chunky camera. It was something I could only imagine ever getting to hold, and I was completely astonished to say the least.
Then, realization hit me and my face shot up, "How were we able to afford this?"
Jack scratched the back of his neck, "Well, I didn't give all the extra change to you, and I've been saving some of the factory income on the side for myself."
By the look on his face, I guessed that he thought I'd be upset with him. That was further from the truth, since he earned that money for himself and deserved to spend it as he pleased, really. If anything, I was more upset with myself for not getting him something nearly as extravagant or even thinking to wrap it at all.
Two of the other gifts were household items for the both of us, and one was something he told me there was one not under the tree that I couldn't open until that evening. With a curious nod, I had readily agreed, already feeling the wonderment eating at me. In the past, I'd never been one for surprises, but in this case, I didn't necessarily mind.
We spent much of the day simply basking in each other's company. In truth, there wasn't much else for us to do anyway. With the weather and everything's being closed due to the holiday, staying home was probably the best choice of action we could've made.
It was later that evening, a few hours before the sun promised to go down, that I returned to our bedroom to retrieve the gift I'd hidden under our bed frame. As I sat on my knees, holding the unwrapped gift in my hands, I began to think that I hadn't done nearly enough for him.
I met him back where I'd left him, which was in the kitchen cooking dinner. To say that I was a bad cook was an understatement, but I was learning. Jack had taken over the role of the main chef for the evening, and I was simply an extra pair of hands should he ever need it.
Holding the gift behind my back, I approached him. "Chef Dawson?"
Chuckling, he turned to face me, knowing I was up to something by the look in my eye, "Yes assistant Chef Dawson?"
"Close your eyes." I could hear his own voice echoing in the back of my mind as I said that, but I quickly pushed any thoughts of Titanic to the back of my mind.
"If I don't get back to this ham, it may be burned before we-"
This time, I put a hand over his eyes, "Close your eyes! Now, hold out your hands."
He immediately obliged, now getting the idea of what I was trying to do. I dropped into his hand a leather bound sketchbook that was very similar to the one he always seemed to lug around with him on Titanic, as well as numerous other items he could use for drawing.
"Open," I said, wringing my fingers together in anticipation.
I think he already could've guessed what it was before he opened his eyes, but if he did, he never let on. "Wow! The quality of this is phenomenal."
"I assumed you needed an upgrade from the equipment you've been using for the last few months. I know it can't make up for what was lost, but I hope it's at least a start."
"Aw, quit your downplaying of things, Rose. I've been needing new materials for awhile, and this is more than enough. The quality is better than the one I used to have anyhow."
"But all of your old drawings-"
"-can be replaced with new ones. That's the thing about art, sweetheart. I can draw a million Madame Bijoux's, but it's the things like you that are irreplaceable."
"I'm flattered by your words, darling, but are you sure it'll do?"
Jack tilted my chin up, kissing me. "Yes," turning to place his things on the counter, he grabbed my hand. "Now, why don't we get back to cooking?"
The whole process lasted another hour, and before we knew it everything was done. We ate greedily, both not caring about anything in the world but each other. While holding my fork to my mouth, all I could think of was how things had changed over the last year, and how I wouldn't give any of it up for the world.
Despite all of our moments of ups and downs, Jack was the most solid thing I'd ever been given in my life. I didn't need anything but him to feel content, and that was something that never ceased to amaze me.
He always knew what to say, what to do, and what would improve any given situation by a hundred percent. We'd been through more things than an average couple would go through after fifty years, I knew, but somehow it only brought us closer together. Every trial and tribulation couldn't ever pull us apart, I was sure of that.
And as I took another bite of his mashed potatoes, I would've been remiss not to note that on top everything else I'd already listed in my head, he was a mighty fine cook as well.
After dinner, I decided to take my chances out on the front porch. We were now losing our daylight fast, but I nevertheless sat out on the porch in order to get away from the heat radiating throughout the house.
It was somewhat ironic how I'd willingly stepped outside, seeing as more often than not I'd rather be locked away in the warmth of the house than spend a minute outside for longer than I needed to. But with all the cooking going on, outdoors seemed like the best option.
Behind me, I heard Jack step out of the house, the door closing behind him. Stepping in front of me, he removed one of his hands from his pocket, offering it for me to take. He'd since put on his checked coat and boots, and I could tell that perhaps he wanted to go on a walk with me.
Walking during the evenings was something we'd grown accustomed to in our time living here. After a long day at work, sometimes sitting at home didn't do enough to unwind him, and me taking a walk with him allowed his muscles to relax.
But other days, much like this time, we simply had nothing better to do. And besides, a walk would ease the ache in my stomach from eating too much, so I didn't have any complaints. Well maybe other than the fact that I wished to change from my elegant looking dress and coat, as it made me feel overly dressed.
Knowing we didn't have time before the sun disappeared, I took his hand and let him lead me away from our home.
We only walked a few minutes before we reached the rose garden down the street from where we were living. Most of the flowers had withered away in the winter's harsh weather, but the scenery around it was otherwise calming.
The place seemed uninvolved enough to a normal passerby, but to Jack and I it meant a whole lot more than anyone could ever conjure up. When we'd first arrived in Minnesota in late May, the heat of the impending summer was just beginning, and in the last weeks of spring, we both could've used a much needed break from the new move.
We'd aimlessly walked around the unfamiliar town, for it was one that even Jack hadn't been to before in his travels. Once we stumbled upon the flower garden, though, he wouldn't let us leave until we wandered through the area.
He told me that the various roses reminded me of him, and when no one was looking, he managed to free one from its shackle against the bush and deliver it to me. It was a lovely, silly thing for him to do, but as we laughed it off, I couldn't help but think how the simple act represented him so well as a person.
And now, as we walked hand in hand along the empty garden, the feeling of that spring day was gone. There were no more flowers, no more groups of people, no more heat beating down on us. It was just the two of us, chilled but content with one another in the place that would forever remind my love and I of a gleeful time in our young life together.
We both seemed to stop at the same place. I leaned myself back into Jack, and he gladly wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. This moment was it, I thought. Nothing could possibly happen to make this day any better. It was the most plainly, uneventful Christmas I'd ever experienced, and yet in truth, it was all I'd ever really wanted.
Life in society had never been it for me. This is what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be. I knew then, looking at that sunset, that my life had taken every turn, every bump and every tribulation to bring me, us, here.
I'd been so absorbed with my thoughts that I hadn't felt Jack move away from me until I heard his voice, "It's so beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I hummed, not looking at him.
He cleared his throat to get my attention, and when I turned around I found myself feeling rather foolish. I realized that he'd simply been buying time when he brought up the whole thing about the view of the sunset, and I'd been too into the sight to notice.
Before me, he was leaning down on one knee, a ring being held out to me. My hand immediately went to cover my mouth, and a cry escaped my lips.
Jack and I had never gotten married in our time together. After my engagement to Cal and us now having to adjust to our new life with limited access to money, marriage seemed like the last thing on our minds. It may have been scandalous, but with my last name technically Dawson as far as anyone was concerned, it hadn't been an issue as of yet.
We'd agreed that, until the time was right, we'd remain unwed. It seemed right at the time, but now, looking into his eyes, I knew that taking a step towards marriage was right for where our lives were headed now.
"Rose, I know our plans were to wait a while before I took your hand in marriage, but damn it, I can't live another day knowing that you aren't my wife. If you'll have me, I'd like to make sure that we spend our next Christmas together as one."
With his other hand, a wilted rose came out from behind his back. In any other circumstance it would've caused an uproar of laughter, but now it just warmed my heart. He remembered.
"I promise I'll never let you down, never make you doubt me. You're the one that I want, my Rosebud. So what do you say, will you marry me?"
The answer seemed like an astounding yes, but in the moment my tongue held me back from speaking. I tried, but my voice had slipped away into somewhere far off, and all I could manage was a nod of my head.
Jack seemed to get the memo, standing up and quickly swooping me into a kiss, twirling me around and hollering as if he'd just been made a billionaire.
Though, to him, I figured that I was worth more than all the cash in the world.
I laughed through my tears, and as he put me down, I managed to croak out, "Marry me before the night's over."
He looked at me like I was crazy, though I never would have joked about something as serious as that. By the look in his eye, I knew it wasn't possible, but it was a dream I'd carry around nonetheless.
It would be a perfect thing, to celebrate your wedding anniversary and Christmas all in one, but I could tell by the nearly faded light and darkness of the streets that my desire could simply not come true.
It didn't matter, I decided, placing another kiss on my fiancé's lips. There was always tomorrow.
The streets lights around us flickered on as the last of the sun began to set. Normally but now we would've returned home, but neither of us wanted to ruin this perfect moment.
Jack reached up to tuck one of my curls behind my ear. Ever since we'd run away together, I can hardly remember a day where I'd worn my hair up. It only reminded me of tedious hours of making sure my hair looked nothing short of perfection, numerous pins being shoved to keep my wild curls in place which only longed to be free.
My hairstyle now, just a simple ribbon wrapped up halfway, was more fancy than usual. Having it down made me feel much more free. Before, I could hardly be caught dead wearing my hair down; and now, it was quite opposite.
I longed for this moment to last forever - Jack's hand through my hair, me looking into the sparkling blue of his eyes that the dimness of the street lamps allowed me to see.
I leaned in for another kiss, and as I did so something magical happened. Maybe it was one of those so-called Christmas miracles Jack talked to me about that morning by the window, for I had no other way to describe what had just happened.
Just as my lips locked with his, something wet and cold touched the tip of my nose. I looked up upon its contact with my skin, and saw little flakes floating down to meet us where we stood.
One could hardly call it snow, but there was no denying that by the morning, the streets would be filled with a thin layer of the substance.
"Well, would you look at that, it seems we have a Christmas miracle on our hands here," Jack turned to me, that boyish grin I loved so much ever present on his face. I admired the way the pinkness of his cheeks and nose complimented the smile, and I had to hold myself back from pressing my lips against his once more.
I looked at the ring on my finger, before my eyes landed back on Jack. "I do believe this calls for your mother's special eggnog recipe, doesn't it, Chef Dawson?"
He linked his arm though mine, and we started our walk back home. It was freezing, but in our blissful filled state, it didn't bother us. The droplets of would-be snow continue to fall on us, and I prayed that when I awoke, my assumptions about the thin sheet of slush would be correct.
"I think it's about time you get promoted to Mrs. Chef Dawson."
I laughed at that. Me, having the title chef? That was more unlikely than anything he'd said to me yet.
"I think I'll stick to the title Mrs. Dawson for now, darling."