Chapter Five

February 14th, 1913
New York City, New York

New York City was chilly that evening. Rose had all the windows in her apartment opened, as usual, as she lounged on the couch, a book in her hands. She had her stocking feet resting on top of another stack of books on the coffee table as she read by candlelight. It was a book about the Civil War, which she didn't realize had been so fascinating. She had been on the couch since she had gotten home from work, completely lost in the words.

She twirled a curl absently around her finger, biting on her lip, as she read about Abraham Lincoln's role, recalling details that aligned with the biography she had read about him. Rose released her curl and turned the page to a picture showing what a Union Officer's uniform looked like. She brought the book closer, turning it slightly, to get a better look at the fancy cuffs and many belts.

Just then, there was a rap on her door, startling her. She glanced towards the orange and sherbert sky before setting the book down and curiously peering at the door. The knock came again. Rose brushed her hair back from her face as she went to the door and opened it. Greeting her in the hallway was Tim, in a black three-piece suit, with a bouquet of red, pink, and yellow roses in hand. He had a big grin on his face. Her face only displayed surprise.

"Tim!" She finally found her voice.

"Happy birthday, Rose!" Tim said, holding the flowers out to her. She took them into her hands, the smell of fresh leaves wafting towards her.

"How... how did you know?" Rose asked, her face becoming beet red. She almost matched the flowers.

"I asked Winston," Tim chuckled, "I was just curious. It's very suiting you're a Valentine's baby, though, with hair the color of a heart."

Rose grinned bashfully, "You came all the way here to give me roses?"

"Well, I was also going to ask if I could take you out to dinner," Tim replied, "It is your birthday, after all. It's worth celebrating."

Rose's entire body felt like it had been set on fire. She shifted the weight between her stocking feet and looked to the roses in her arms. She didn't quite know where Tim lived, but knew it wasn't exactly in the neighborhood. She felt dearly touched that he had worked all day and still had the energy to seek her out. Rose looked back to Tim, who was waiting so patiently, with his ever-present smile. He had his hands dug into the pockets of his pants and he swayed back and forth, as if he was smitten with her. Rose had never encountered anybody who had a crush on her before. In the next moment, Rose found herself smiling at Tim.

"That sounds nice," Rose nodded, "Why don't you come inside and wait while I get ready?"

...

Tim took Rose towards the heart of the city. The buildings were the tallest there and populated with the most cars she had ever seen at once. Despite it being cold and getting late, many people were out and about on the streets, looking for fun that Valentine's Day. Rose had her hair pinned against her head, allowing a few strands to frame her face. She opted for a dark green and black velvet dress, the nicest thing she owned that was appropriate for a fancy dinner. Even though Rose had lived in New York City for nearly a year, she had only been to true downtown a few times. She was mesmerized by the lights, the people, the atmosphere. Tim enjoyed watching her more than any of the people around them.

Rose paused on a curb, admiring a shiny black car. Tim stopped and turned towards her with a grin, "Do you like cars?"

"This one is especially nice," Rose told him, walking along the side of the sleek vehicle, "I love the pin stripes. Very sophisticated," She laughed at herself and Tim joined in.

"Ever driven one?" He asked.

"No, never," Rose shook her head, "I've only ridden in them."

The couple continued side by side down the path. Rose nervously glanced to the side of Tim's face, his glasses gleaming in the street lamps. He seemed so at ease, so composed. She wondered how he could manage to be happy all the time. She considered maybe he was simply a good actor. He exuded confidence, however, and always seemed to be at the top of his game, constantly aware.

"Right here," Tim pulled her from her thoughts, pointing towards a brick building on the corner of the block, "Myron's Steakhouse."

Rose stopped walking, looking up at the sign. She then glanced to the nicely dressed people lingering outside, smoking cigarettes and chatting. Sheepishly, she hugged herself and looked to Tim, "Here? This looks expensive, Tim."

"Hey, hey," Tim shook his head, coming closer to her. She could smell his aroma. He smelled like sandalwood. It was rather intoxicating and a refreshing difference, "it's your birthday! Why would you worry about cost? I'm certainly not worried. There's no price that's too much for you, Rose."

The warm tingly feeling began to invade her body again and she shivered in the night time as she gazed into his hazel eyes, "Looks like there might be a long wait."

Tim chuckled, "I actually made reservations this morning. I was feeling lucky."

Rose let out an airy and nervous laugh at the thought. On the inside, she was completely floored. It was as if Tim Calvert could predict anything. He could read her like an open book. It also showed just how confident he was, just how much she meant to him. Something was beginning to turn in her chest as she looked up at the lawyer. Her heart felt like it was quivering in her body.

"Shall we?" Tim asked.

Rose glanced towards the shiny gold doors beneath the patio, seeing into a warm dimly lit restaraunt that was packed window to window, every table filled with bobbing heads. The chatter from inside could be heard through the glass. Rose grinned at Tim and reached for his arm. She could tell she caught him off-guard, but he quickly adapted, bringing his arm further out to allow her to link to him. His arm felt so large in her hands. He felt sturdy.

Tim guided her inside and sure enough, there was a table for two waiting for the Calvert party. Rose glanced around at the dark red wallpaper, the large crystal chandeliers, the freshly pressed linens. It nearly reminded her of her old life, but she continually told herself it was different. It wasn't stuffy or aristrocratic. It was normal, she convinced herself. Tim and Rose were seated at a circular table in front of a large window with a nice view onto the street. Tim pulled Rose's chair out for her and then shrugged out of his coat, draping it over the back of his own chair. He looked sharp and smart in his simple black vest. He ordered them an entire bottle of cabarnet. It arrived in a bucket of ice with an ivory linen wrapped around it.

Tim smiled, admiring the label, before he popped the cork and poured them two glasses, "I love Myron's. It's one the few classy restaraunts you can get wine from France. Do you like wine?"

"Oh, very much so," Rose replied, eagerly watching him pour the dark red wine. She could nearly taste the tart dry alcohol on her lips already, "How'd you know?"

"Had a feeling," Tim handed her wine glass towards her. Their fingers brushed against each other as she accepted it. Rose felt a jolt of electricity between their skin as she took her first sip. She grinned as it slid down her throat, warming her. She blushed, however, when she noticed Tim was simply watching her. She let out a content sigh and swirled her wine as she looked around.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Tim," Rose said, looking back towards her date, "I can't even begin to express how nice of you this was. I had completely forgotten it was my birthday, actually."

"You're joking!" Tim arched his eyebrows, drinking his wine, "You're telling me that you have no one else around here who would remember?"

"No," Rose shook her head, "none of my family lives near me."

"That's unfortunate," Tim replied, setting his glass on the table and leaning forward. He was soaking in every word Rose breathed. She could tell, by his eyes, that she was the only thing he was focused on and thinking about. She felt her cheeks glowing hotly, "As you know, I come from a large family. Family is everything to me."

"That sounds nice..." Rose sighed, drinking more wine. The ends of her fingertips were beginning to tingle, "To be honest, I didn't have much family growing up. And the ones I did... we didn't get along very well."

"Were you an only child?" Tim slowly picked his glass up, but awaited her response.

"I was," Rose confirmed with a nod of the head, "Grew up all by myself."

"The horror," Tim took a swig of wine and pulled the bottle out of the ice. He gestured to Rose with it and she grinned, holding her glass out to him to refill, "I can't imagine how quiet your house was. You had your own bedroom?" Rose nodded and Tim laughed openly and warmly, "I shared a bedroom with my older sister and my youngest, Maggie and Kate."

"Did you grow up here in New York?" Rose asked, leaning against her chair. She felt so at ease with Tim. Something about him felt safe. Warm. Comforting. She found herself enamored by the feeling he gave her. Rose hadn't felt something like this in awhile. Nearly an entire year had passed since somebody had evoked this strange, foreign feeling, that even left her baffled when with Jack. It was something Cal had never brought forth, or any man for that matter, before that fateful night in April of 1912. Rose shuddered at the thought.

"I did," Tim replied, "North of New York City, in Tarrytown. My parents still live in my childhood home with three of my sisters."

"Do you see them often?"

"Maybe every couple of months," Tim tilted his head to the side for a moment and then took a drink of wine, licking his lips, "We write consistently, though. What about you? You said something about family in Wisconsin, right?"

Rose grew cold at the question. She drank some wine to stall herself and then shrugged sheepishly, "More like... family friends," She said, "They're not really family," It felt weird referring to those cold bureaucrats she dealt with in Wisconsin as friends.

"Well, family isn't always blood," Tim shrugged, "Where did you grow up?"

"In Philidelphia," Rose replied.

"Do your parents still live there?" Tim asked.

"Actually, my father passed away in 1909," Rose told him, not at all even bothered by it anymore. She hadn't thought about her father since 1911.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," Rose grinned, surprising Tim, "It was his time. My mother, however, still lives in Philidelphia, but... we don't talk."

Tim reached across the table, pressing his warm palm to her forearm. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass upon feeling his energy tingle her skin. She slowly looked up to his hazel eyes, shimmering in the dim overhead lighting, "I don't like to think you're all alone, Rose. That's not right, it's not fair. There are thousands of people living in New York City. You need someone."

"And you..." Rose said slowly, "want to be that someone?"

Tim grinned crookedly and sat up straight, bringing his hand back to his wine glass. He topped their drinks off and put the bottle back in the bucket of ice, "I'm not very good at coming across as sleek and mysterious, am I?" He laughed at himself, drinking more wine cooly, "I suppose I make it very obvious that I like you quite a bit."

"Can I ask why?" Rose cocked a bold brow up, "Why me? The waitress at your local diner? The girl, who you know, carries a lot of baggage?" She paused for a moment, bringing her hand up to cradle her head, "You're a great guy, Tim. You're well put-together, your life is organized, you have a steady and successful career... I'm... I'm no where near your level of functioning. Why do you like me?"

Tim glanced out the window for a moment, "One thing I've always believed to be true in life is that you can't judge someone for the life they live. It's about who they are. That's what has always made me mad about the society we live in. All this labeling of first class, second, third... what's the point? We're all human and there's something special about each one of us. I looked at you and I saw something special, simple as that."

Rose lowered her glass slowly, her green eyes shimmering in the light. Her mouth was pursed in an 'o' shape as she looked at Tim, nearly quaking in her seat. She finally regained composure and swallowed roughly, "I agree with everything you said. And..." Rose reached across the table, setting her slender hands atop Tim's, "That really means a lot to me, Tim."

...

The moon was directly overhead, hidden by shallow cloud cover, as Tim and Rose walked towards Rose's apartment from Myron's. It had been the best wine and dine Rose had had in awhile. She couldn't remember being so carefree for an evening, able to take her inner troubles off like it was no more than a coat. There had been a brief rain during their dinner and the streetlights gleamed in the puddles.

Rose was wearing Tim's jacket as the rain had really cooled the city down. Their breaths trailed behind them in the frigid air as they made it to the top of the hill where Rose's apartment was. They stepped into the dimly lit lobby and took a moment to breath.

"I cannot thank you enough," Rose was the first to speak, turning towards him. She looked much smaller in his jacket. It made him grin at the sight of it, "I really had a great time, Tim."

"I'm glad," Tim replied warmly, "I feel the same way. I really hope we can do this again, Rose."

"We will," Rose said with a smile, "And I promise to follow-up this time."

Tim laughed, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck, his face and hair windblown, "Oh, by the way," He blinked suddenly, looking to Rose, "how old did you turn today?"

Rose smirked, "Eighteen."

"Well, happy birthday, Rose," He nodded to her. Tim took his glasses off and wiped them of speckles of rain before putting them back on the bridge of his nose, "I'll see you tomorrow at the diner?"

"Mhm," Rose replied, "I'll have your coffee ready."

Tim looked towards the lobby doors, leading back to the dark windy night. He shifted the weight between his feet for a moment before he looked back to Rose. He set his hand on her shoulder and dipped his head down, gently pressing his lips to Rose's. She was almost surprised for a moment, but pushed back within just a few moments. She brought her cold hand up to gently touch his cheek as they shared a firm but passionate kiss. Slowly, their lips parted.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," He whispered before leaving.

Rose watched his silouette disappear from sight before she began her walk down the hallway. As she fumbled to find her key ring, she realized she was still wearing Tim's jacket. She paused in the dark corridor and slowly brought the cuff to her nose, inhaling. Sandalwood. She grinned to herself as she continued for her apartment door. As she jammed the key in the lock, she thought to her kiss with Tim. It felt good, but something felt... different. When she closed her eyes, she was almost expecting the texture of Jack's lips, but Tim's were no where near similar. She staggered through the door of her apartment and flicked the light on, kicking the door shut behind her.

Rose crossed the living room to stand at the window. Tim was no where to be seen on the street. He had disappeared into the night. She turned towards her collection of books, casting long shadows across the living room walls. Something about that kiss was different, but she just couldn't pin point it. She didn't know if she liked the difference or not. But something about it electrified her in a way Jack didn't. The two men evoked two separate feelings in her. Rose thunked down onto a chair and huffed, sagging her shoulders.

Tim was not Jack. Rose had to remind herself that. There was no more Jack.