Chapter Eight

April 15th, 1913
New York City, New York

The sound of Jack's creaky bedroom door opening drew him awake. Slowly, he cocked his head over his shoulder to see Iris standing in the door, two mugs of coffee in hand. Jack rubbed his face and sat up on his elbow, glancing towards the clock. It wasn't even seven in the morning yet. Frenchie wasn't due to be in for another hour. Jack looked to Iris who still only stood by the door, not moving in the least. Jack reached along the side of his bed, grabbing the dark red button-up he had discarded last night. He pulled it on over himself, buttoning only half the shirt. Groggily, he looked to Iris again, cocking his eyebrows up.

The pale girl shuffled in place for a moment before coming just a few more inches into the room, "I... wanted to apologize," She said very softly. She finally found the will to cross the room and offer him his mug. Jack shifted on his squeaky bed and accepted the mug, still only looking at her, "I acted far too frivilously last night," Iris told him, thumbing at the lip of her mug, "I should have thought more rationally about it... taken more time to absorb what I was going to tell you."

Jack took a slow drink of his coffee, his blue eyes piercing her, making her nervous yet enamored at the same time. He lowered his mug and licked his lips, "Did you really see her?"

"I think I did," Iris nodded, "But now... I'm just not certain. You just don't see too many vibrant red heads. I could have sworn..." She shook her head and released a curt breath, "Either way, I'm sorry. I know she's a painful topic and I barged in on your day off and-"

"You said she was alone?" Jack asked, holding his mug in his lap.

Iris paused, "Yes, she was."

Jack looked to his window for a moment and let out a long sigh, "Tell Frenchie I'm takin' the afternoon off."

...

Rose left the library, tucking a small list of recommendations from the kind librarian into her small black leather clutch. She went down the tall steps towards the sidewalk, holding her olive green dress up as she went. It was turning into a comfortably warm afternoon. Rose had gotten off early since she had volunteered to go in at the break of dawn to prep for a catering gig. She found herself hungry as she dawdled at the base of the steps. She glanced to the many people brushing past her, continuing with their day.

Rose decided to head in the direction of her apartment. She would be passing her favorite little cafe and figured two days in a row would be a nice treat to herself, especially on two days that were so hurtful in the past. As Rose walked, she took the time to withdraw into her thoughts.

She thought about where she had been a year ago on April 15th. Awakening on the Carpathia in a large mess hall that been rearranged to act as an infirmary. She remembered the confusion that plagued her, the smell of sick people, the constant hum of chatting, crying babies, and sobbing. The room had been insufferably hot because of the amount of people packed gut-to-elbow. Rose's insides were searingly cold, however, her skin was covered in sweat. Her head had felt heavy as lead and her limbs would not follow her brains commands. Just thinking about that first breath in a conscious state of mind made Rose ache terribly. The memories of waking up on the Carpathia were the darkest of the ones she remembered. At least when the Titanic was sinking, she had Jack. But she had awoken without anybody. Not even her mother or Cal. She was completely alone, sick, and hurt.

Rose swallowed a growing lump in her throat as she turned a street corner. She had to remind herself she had survived, she had moved on. That sick, hurtful, lonely feeling couldn't grab her anymore. She wouldn't let it. She let out a sigh through her flared nostrils as she tried to convince herself the dates on the calendar would soon become meaningless. But she knew she was lying. The month of April evoked so much inside of her and the thoughts of Jack were ever-more present.

Would he be happy for me right now...? Rose thought distantly, as she walked without even paying the slightest attention, Living on my own, just for me? Destination unknown in life... She wondered what 1913 would have had in stock for Jack if his life hadn't ended so short. She liked to think he would have found a promising entry into the real art world, instead of continuing to live beneath it in his portfolio. She liked to think he would have been ambitious, craving of a new year, especially being back in America. What was he going to do once he got back here? She wondered, knitting her eyebrows together, Did he ever tell me?

Just then, Rose heard her name being called. She perked up and turned around, untensing when she saw Tim jogging up behind her, swinging his briefcase at his side, "Rose! That is you! I thought that red hair belonged to you," He smiled.

"Tim, what a pleasant surprise," Rose grinned.

"What a stroke of luck to find you over here."

"I was just at the library," Rose told him.

"Ah, I should have guessed. Are you off for the rest of the day?" Tim asked, rather eagerly.

"Yes, I was just on my way to have lunch and-"

"Let me take you out, my treat," Tim said.

"Oh, really?" Rose asked with arched eyebrows, "I mean, if you're not too busy, sure, I'd love to catch lunch with you."

"Great, I know just the place," Tim seemed pleased. He wrapped his arm around Rose's shoulder, pulling her against him as they started walking, "I was beginning to miss you!"

Rose chuckled and looked up to his hazel eyes, "I saw you this morning at work."

"That was nearly five hours ago!" Tim threw his head back and laughed. Rose melted into the sound.

...

Jack sat against the far wall, opposite of the door, at Albert's Garden Cafe. Sitting in front of him was a chicken salad sandwich, but it had been left untouched, along with his Coca-Cola. He had his elbows on the table, his hands clapsed into fists hovering in front of his mouth. He bobbed his knee impatiently as he looked around the cafe. Only six other patrons occupied the small diner, eating quietly together, the clanging of silverware faint.

His waitress had been eyeing him oddly. She had brought Jack his sandwich nearly twenty-five minutes ago. She was sure it had grown stiff. She left him be, however, because he seemed rather preoccupied with his mind. Jack's blue eyes darted everywhere. To the decorations on the walls, to the uneven floorboards, and constantly towards the door, even when no one had entered.

Jack sighed and pressed his palms flat to the table, looking at his lonely lunch in front of him. He took a hesitant sip of the soda and then reached for the sandwich, deciding that at least while he was there, he'd better make it worth while. The chicken salad was delicious with hints of pickle juice. He suddenly found himself hungry. But still, his eyes looked obsessively around the foreign diner. He had walked past it many times, but had never stopped in.

Could Iris have been right? Had Rose really been in this diner only the day before? He lowered his sandwich and carelessly wiped the crumbs from his lips, contemplating. Jack didn't want to get his hopes up. He always wished to so desperately believe Rose was alive, but seeing the obituary, not finding her name or seeing her body, he just didn't think it was possible. Rose was his lightening in a jar and he knew lightening never struck in the same place twice.

The front door swung open and the afternoon light bled into the room. Hurriedly, Jack turned his head to see who was entering. It was Iris. Jack sighed and set his sandwich down, sinking into his chair. Iris looked around the diner for a moment before spotting Jack and crossing to sit with him. The waitress immediately attended to her, but Iris only ordered a water with lemon.

"She hasn't been here, I'm guessing..." Iris said, twirling her straw in her drink.

"No," Jack's eyes were on his discarded lunch.

"I'm sorry I even said something," Iris sighed, "It was wrong-"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Jack, I know you're angry with-"

"Iris," Jack's eyes lifted to meet her's, "I don't want to talk about it."

And with that, he stood and left, leaving the rest of his lunch behind. Iris sighed and cradled her head in her hand. She felt horrible. Jack was obviously in pain, trying to get over what had happened, and yet, she had crashed through and opened all his wounds again. Iris gazed towards the door longingly, willing that red headed girl to appear for her, but no one else entered. Iris looked out the windows, towards the river not far beyond. She had made a mistake. But she was determined to make things right with Jack again.

...

Tim picked a patio restaraunt that was down a winding hill. The restaraunt sat right on the water. Tim and Rose had a small circular iron garden table along the railing beside the river. Rose honestly had never been so close to it before and found herself gazing at it quite frequently. Tim only had reports left to write in his office, so he ordered them a bottle of white moscato and a small platter of a variety of finger sandwiches. He sat back in his chair and watched Rose, who was mesmerized by the wide flowing river beside them. Her hair was against her head, some wisps free in the wind. There was a small smile present on her lips.

Tim was drawn away from her as the waitress brought them what they ordered. He set about to pouring their wine. Rose grinned enticingly at the sandwiches and grabbed a cucumber one for herself, "Thanks again for lunch, Tim."

"My pleasure," Tim replied, handing her the wine glass. Her fingers gingerly wrapped around the thin stem, "This was a better ending to my day, by far. My plan really was just to go stay in my office and pick dinner up on the way home and maybe listen to the radio," He laughed at himself, "I'm rather boring, don't you think?"

"No, not at all," Rose sipped her wine and shook her head, "You're actually very fun. I have a grand time with you, Tim."

Tim smiled as a gust of wind came over the balcony, sweeping his dark blue tie askew across his coat. He didn't care. He chuckled a little, adjusting his glasses on his nose, "I feel the same way with you, Rose."

Rose glanced to the river, drinking a bit more of her wine. The sound of the water surprisingly soothed her. Before it had always been painful. She looked back to Tim, whose eyes had never left her. He swirled his wine absent mindedly in his hand, all the while looking at her. She felt comforted by his gaze. She could tell it was adoration, not lust. It was that look and feeling she had craved to feel in the past year. Rose found herself mesmerized by it.

"Hey, this weekend," Tim leaned forward on the table, setting his wine glass down, "would you like to go to Tarrytown with me? I could take you out on the old country roads, where it's just hills and trees. I have a great treat to make it all the worth while. Would you like to go?"

"Tarrytown?" Rose echoed, "Where your parents live?"

"Yes, we'd just drop by momentarily so I could pick the treat up for you."

"What treat?" Rose laughed now, her cheeks heating up, "Do you want me to meet your parents?"

"Well, partly, but they're not the treat," Tim shook his head.

"Wait- you do want me to meet your parents?" Rose was nearly breathless, "Tim, what are you really saying?"

Tim grinned sheepishly and lowered his eyes momentarily to his wine glass. He looked to Rose boldly, "I want you to be my intended, Rose. My... my beloved. Will you?"

"Me? You... you want me?"

"I do," Tim reached his hand out, resting it atop her's, "What do you say, Rose?"

The way he said her name had her trembling. She grinned at him, her entire body radiating with warmth. Rose was sure her skin matched her hair as she gazed coyly across the table towards Tim, "I will," Rose nodded, "I'll be with you, Tim."

Tim breathed almost what seemed like a sigh of relief and his grin grew wide across his face. He raised Rose's hands up and gingerly pressed his lips to her knuckles. Rose's entire body shook as she stared directly at him, startled by the feeling he had awoken in her. Something about this felt right. Like it was her second chance. And she knew she could not let it pass her by.