Chapter Twenty
November 10th, 1913
New York City, New York
Rose pressed her shoulders to her bedroom wall and reached at an angle behind her back, holding her breath for a moment. Her hand finally caught hold of the zipper and she yanked it up. Rose let out a sigh as she was able to conquer the zipper on her new velvet green evening dress. Rose approached her mirror, smoothing out any invisible wrinkles. She pinned her side bangs up with pearl clips and put on a sterling silver necklace with a small silver heart charm on it. She brushed some blush on her cheeks and opted for a light pink lipstick and pale pink for her lids. She looked in the mirror at herself, simply staring into her green eyes. Rose hadn't put so much effort in her looks in well over a year. Her hair was always a rats nest, her cosmetics left untouched on her vanity. But here she was, using them without even a second thought. She perked up at the prospect.
Could it be a sign, Jack? That I'm regaining my energy?
Rose grinned as she applied another layer of lipstick, running her lips together. She fluffed the end of her hair. Just as she had finished, there was a knock at her door. Almost nervously, Rose went to answer it, feeling rather shy about getting done-up. When she opened the door, Tim was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and red tie. He wore a gray woolen coat over it. He took the time to gel his hair a little, still allowing some to claw over his forehead. Rose couldn't help but think he looked trim and dashing. When he saw her, however, he had to stop his jaw from hitting the ground.
"Rose, wow," He felt his face growing warm, "you look stunning," He brought his hand from behind his back and presented her one sole rose, "You could light a room up."
Rose giggled, taking the rose into her hand and twirling it before giving it a smell.
"Hey, you'll want to grab a coat," Tim told her, "It's wet and cold out there," He walked a short ways into her apartment, closing the door behind her while she filled a cup up with water and placed the rose in it.
"What about an umbrella?" She asked as she shrugged into her black woolen peacoat, letting the sash dangle at her side.
"No, we should be okay," Tim shrugged and grinned, "Getting caught in the rain is all the more romantic, isn't it?"
"Oh gosh, how many of those books did you read?" Rose laughed as she put her purse on her shoulder and opened the door, "Come on, Romeo. Our star-crossed dinner awaits."
...
Jack came down the stairs to the workspace of the studio. He was wearing his new crisp garments. They felt rather good. He wiggled his toes in his new back leather soled shoes. They were stiff, but he knew he'd break them in in no time. Jack let his hair untouched, boyishly layered and tossled atop his head. He sheepishly had his hands in his pockets as he spotted Frenchie, Iris, and Irene in the center of the space. Irene was busy combing out Frenchie's beard and mustache despite his protests. Iris spotted him, however, and her lits up. She left Frenchie's side to greet him.
Iris was wearing long black one-shoulder evening gown. It accentutated her petite figure very well. She had her long blonde hair wound into a fishtail braid, resting on her exposed shoulder. Iris grinned at Jack, her smile pearly, "Hey, you," She said, folding her hands together, "You look great, Jack. Like a real artiste," The two of them shared a curt and stiff laugh, obviously nervous about the impending evening.
"I just hope Frenchie gets what he wants," Jack shrugged, raking his hair back from his eyes, "I hope this art show is really great for him."
"Oh, I think it will be," Iris glanced towards her distracted brother and mother and then looked back at Jack, "And really, it's all thanks to you, Jack," She crossed to him and got up on the balls of her feet, leaving a gentle kiss against his cheek. Jack looped his arms around Iris' body, giving her a big hug, which she returned around his neck.
...
"Okay, okay..." Rose said between her laughs, lowering her wine glass, "So, you're telling me that Maggie beat up boys? Just because she didn't like them?" Tim nodded, smirking all the while pouring himself more wine, "Are you are telling me all this gossip to get dirt on your sisters?"
"Redemption is a big deal between siblings," Tim winked, taking a drink of wine. Rose grinned, her cheeks growing red. She glanced out the window speckled in raindrops. The street gleamed with moisture beneath the street lamps. Many people beneath umbrellas bobbed by, "Maggie likes to pretend she's a delicate little flower, but that girl could knock your lights out."
"You know," Rose looked back to him from the window, "that doesn't put any dirt on Maggie, in my opinion," She grinned deviously, "That just makes her more badass to me."
"You women are impossible," Tim threw his head back and laughed deeply. Rose grinned at the sound on it, placing her head in her hand, giving herself in to only focusing on Tim in that moment, as if he was the only person in the world. She supposed he really was the last person left in her world, any how.
"So, what kind of art are you expecting tonight?" Rose asked, taking a sip of wine, "Were there any names on the list you recognized or are familiar with?"
"For the most part, you and I are both going in blind," Tim replied, grinning lop-sidedly, "I recognized one name, though. Frenchie Cohan. I represent one of his clients. He purchased a night autumn's night scene from him towards the beginning of the year. So, maybe we can expect more landscapes from Mr. Cohan."
"Frenchie?" Rose scrunched her nose up, "I've never met anybody named Frenchie."
"Oddly enough," Tim laughed sheepishly, "It's his nickname for Frederick. I met the man once, at my client's social party where was presenting the painting. Very colorful man. Rather full of himself, if you ask me. But I suppose many artists are and have to be in such a competitive field."
Rose cast her eyes down for a moment, an image of a shiny dime passing by the forefront of her mind, for no longer than a gust of wind. Rose grinned and looked back to Tim, immediately rejoining the beat of the conversation, "Well, I'm going in with high hopes."
"That's what I want to hear," Tim offered the wine bottle to her and filled her glass, "I think we're going to have a grand evening, Rose. I always do when I'm with you."
Rose felt her face gather heat in it, "Can you believe we've known each other for over a year now? It doesn't feel like that long at all. Time sure does fly."
"I feel like the rest of my days wouldn't be long enough with you, Rose," Tim replied tenderly, "Time is so precious but often us humans disregard it. It's easy to forget... easy to let it get away from you," He paused for a moment and drank some of his wine, "I wish I took more time to appreciate when I was a kid with my sister's. I always dreamed about getting out of there the first chance I got. Not because I was unhappy... I was just cramped. But now, my sister's and I are much too busy to see each other often. I miss those days it was raining and we were all stuck in a bedroom together with some books and board games," He glanced fleetingly to the window, "We were stuck in those rooms together on a day just like this one."
Rose looked to the candle in the center of their table, flickering gently in the spherical glass holder, infused with opaque stripes, "Yeah... I've taken a lot of things for granted. But," She raised her eyes to meet his, "I think I'm done regretting, Tim."
"Good," Tim replied softly, "Life is too short to harbor so many regrets, Rose."
"I just want a future to look forward to," She set her wine glass on the table.
Tim reached across, setting his smooth hand atop her's, "I can give you one."
...
Jack and Iris walked huddled beneath an umbrella, their shoes splashing through shallow puddles on the sidewalk. Irene and Frenchie shared an umbrella a few paces back. Their breaths puffed out before them as they listened to carts and cars wheel past them on the street. Lightening flashed distantly behind the thick cloud cover, but only a light drizzle fell from the sky, making the night hazy in the street lamps. Iris' nose and cheeks had grown cold to bite of the wind across her skin. She glanced to Jack for a moment.
"Are you nervous?" She asked.
"Personally, no," Jack shrugged, holding the umbrella above them, "For Frenchie, yes."
"Me, too," She admitted, staring straight ahead.
"I think we have a lot to be proud about," Jack said, glancing towards the glossy concrete, "I think, we as artists, brought something refreshing to the table. Innocently honest. I'm not good at describing things, but you get my point."
Iris grinned and looked at the side of Jack's face, "Yeah, I think I get what you meant. And... I agree. You and Frenchie worked really hard. I watched you two. You're a two-man show. How many artists here do you think had more than one assistant?"
Jack shrugged again, "Not sure. I don't even know any other artist's at the show. Who knows, maybe some of them did it with no assistants."
"The Devil's advocate and always the wise one," Iris laughed, shaking her head. Her braid thunked against her shoulder. They walked in silence for a few moments, weaving between puddles that rippled as the drizzle picked up to small pace of rain, "Why didn't you want your painting of Rose in the show? It's beautiful."
Jack stared ahead at the rain falling before them. Their umbrella sliced through the rain, emptying out on either side of them. He lowered his eyes for a moment, listening to the rain thunk onto the umbrella, "I don't want to show her to the world," Jack finally said, the sound of rain on a metal roof ringing out above them, "I... I want to keep her for myself."
Iris glanced out to the rain as a car drove past, it's windshield wipers furiously pushed rain out of the way. The some cold rain speckled over her ankle as she walked, making goosebumps pucker on her skin. She then looked at Jack, who was only watching the path before him.
"It's okay, I understand," Iris told him, drawing his eyes to her's, "She's your little secret. Your happiness. You can't share it. I understand," She grinned at him and after a moment, he weakly returned it. Iris then linked her arm through Jack's, huddling closer under the protection of the umbrella.
...
"I love nights like this," Rose grinned, her breath puffing out before her. She held had her hands dug into her peacoat, which was tied tightly shut to ward the winter surrounding her off. She glanced to Tim who smiled at the sight of her rosy cheeks and red-tipped nose, "I remember my favorite nurse, Trudy, would bring me hot chocolate with a marshmallow every time it got cold like this. It was always a great treat. I wasn't allowed much sugar as a child."
"The holidays always gets me into a festive mood," Tim agreed, strolling around a puddle and brushing against her, "I like the holidays because my entire family can get together," They walked in silence for a few moments. Rose admired some glossy cars parked along the street, covered in droplets. It was drizzling all around, coating Rose's skin in a chill, "Rose," Tim's velvety voice cut through the cool air, "were you all alone last holiday season?"
Rose's heels splashed through a puddle, dribbling down the curve of her ankle. She nodded at first before finally saying, "Yeah, I was. But it wasn't a big deal, really. Holidays were never an huge ordeal with my family. Just another waste of money," She shrugged.
Tim reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through her's, "I don't want you to be alone ever again, Rose. I won't stand for it. Will you spend the holiday's with me and my family this year?" Rose watched the curving sidewalk for a moment, clenching her free hand in the pocket of her peacoat.
"I wouldn't want to intrude-"
"Rose," Tim squeezed her hand, "you're family."
Rose grinned and looked to their clasped hands for a moment, then followed a gleam in a puddle between them, "Thank you," She finally said softly, looking at him. Tim watched her beautiful head tilt to the side, a curly strand of hair sticking to her wet cheek as she smiled at Tim. He felt his body grow warm beneath his coat.
Tim walked a bit closer to Rose now and lowered his head for a moment. His glasses were speckled with rain drops. He took in a curt breath as he said, "It's amazing how far you and I have gone in a year. Isn't it funny how sometimes you just meet someone and get lucky?"
Rose's heart panged achingly inside her chest, she felt her stomach jolt. Her eyes looked towards the hazy street lamps to distract herself for a moment. Her blood throbbed beneath her skin. Her mouth became dry. Gently, she licked her lips and composed herself, "Do you think you only get that chance once in your life?" She asked, staring forward.
"I don't know," Tim shrugged, "Maybe. Guess it all depends, really."
"On what?" Her eyes turned on him, "What does it depend on?"
"Well," Tim clucked, "maybe you can feel lucky like that with true friends and lover's."
"Would you even be able to distinguish between them?" Rose arched her eyebrows, "Doesn't that sound frightfully confusing?"
"No," Tim shook his head, tightening his grip around her hand, "I think it's relatively simple to decipher. You just know."
The cicadas filled in the silence between them as they came to the top of a hill, pausing on the corner. The museum was right across the street, lit up, gleaming, and bustling with many well-dressed people. The couple stared at the commotion on the other side of the street before Tim shuffled his feet.
"I knew when I met you," Tim said, staring straight ahead, "I knew immediately."
"You knew what?" Rose kept her eyes on the indicator across the way.
He grinned and lowered his eyes to the slick asphalt, She's not just going to let me wiggle out of this, is she? He cleared his throat, "I knew... I loved you," Tim look to Rose, "I knew... you and I could make a life together."
Rose looked down, There is so much you don't know about me... Her eyes searched his face for a moment before she gazing longingly towards the indicator, which still told her to wait. She said nothing as they continued on that corner. Tim wasn't surprised, though. He continued to hold her hand, not even letting on the slightest bit of discontent at Rose's lack of words. Eventually, the indicator signalled it was their turn and they crossed the street. Rose inhaled deeply through her nose, willing herself to give completely into the art she was about to see.
...
Jack was towards the back wall of the museum space that faced Frenchie's section. The light did not reach the corners, leaving the area relatively dim. He had a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and a glass of champagne in his hands as he leaned his shoulders up against the wall, watching their paintings from afar. Jack's eyes hovered over the sea of heads bobbing past. He sighed, slumping himself against the wall. He took a sip of his wine, his eyes following a woman with a red dinner dress sauntering by. He thumbed the lip of his glass for a moment before tilting his head back and taking a drink. A waiter came by momentarily and Jack was able to swap for a full drink, popping a cheese cube into his mouth, too. He paced a few steps back and forth in the dim area he occupied alone. Jack listened to the string quartet play jubliant warm pieces.
"Hey, Jack," Iris appeared beside him, startling him for a moment. He pushed his bangs from his face and nodded, looking around the party.
"What are you doing in the dark awkward corner?" Jack asked, watching an elderly couple stroll by with linked arms, "You should be out there, fitting in," He told her, raising his champagne slightly before taking a drink.
Iris laughed. She has her eyes down towards the wooden floorboards, her eyelids sparkling with gold in the dim lighting. Jack had to do a second look, "I don't know anybody here. Turns out, Frenchie does. It would probably would be best if I stand over here, too," Iris lowered her glass and checked her wrist watch, "The show has been going for nearly an hour now. Surely, they will be having the commencement shortly."
"I'm going to stay back here during that time," Jack told her, swiveling his wine around, "You should be up there, though. You and your mother with Frenchie when he's called to that stage."
"Why wouldn't you go with us?" Iris furrowed her brow, "Jack, you were the biggest contributor-"
"So, that way, I can draw the scene of you two with your mother later," Jack said, his cigarette tucked in the corner of his lips as he looked around the room at the sea of unfamiliar faces, "If I'm up there, I'll miss it. All of it."
Iris grinned, glancing to the side of Jack's face. His paleness was beginning to fade back into his typical almond-tanned skinned. Seems from his escapade the week before, he had received plenty of sun. Jack had been feeling better, too. Iris took a sip of wine, "Thank you, Jack," She turned to face him. He peered down on her, his cigarette smoke swirling around him, "You're a great guy," She grabbed his arm, her blue eyes looking deep into his. Jack lowered his cigarette and slowly exhaled, licking his lips pensively, "You do so much without even expecting a thank you."
"Well," Jack laughed, his somewhat scratchy, "you don't need a reason to help people, right? You can see someone in trouble and have absolutely no obligation. It is entirely free-will to help somebody who needs it."
"And let me guess," Iris tilted her head to the side, her braid swaying back and forth, "You've always chosen to help people?"
Jack shrugged, taking a drag of his cigarette. As he spoke, the smoke travelled from his lips, slowly and in curls, "Maybe I have. I don't do it for the honor."
"Why do you do it?" Iris smirked.
"Like I said," Jack arched his eyebrows, his blue eyes piercing her's, "you don't need a reason to help someone."
Iris was about to respond when a microphone could be heard cackling over a speaker system. Someone cleared their voice and began speaking into the microphone from near the very back of the museum. Everyone glanced over their shoulders and began migrating closer towards the noise. Jack nudged Iris with his arm, dipping his head down to be heard over the loud voice.
"This is probably the commencement. Grab your mom and get to Frenchie," He told her, his eyelashes brushing up against her ear, making goosebumps pucker up across Iris.
Iris paused, reaching her hand up to gently grip his neck, "You're sure you don't want to come share the moment with us right now and simply guess how happy we were on paper later?"
"It's what I want," Jack replied. Iris grinned and pecked Jack gently on the lips. After a moment, she parted, her slender fingers waiting until she walked away to graze Jack one more time. He watched her slender body fit into the large crowd, her blonde braid disappeared behind a wide-set man. Jack lowered his eyes to his champagne and sighed, striding a few more steps to get a better view of the stage. When he did, however, something caught the corner of his eye and he double took, his eyes weaving between all the foreign faces, trying to recapture what had just fleetingly met his eyes. Jack let out an uneven breath through his nostrils and took a drink of champagne. His blue eyes darted all around him before he resigned to looking back towards the stage, his shoulders tense.
After a few moments of trying to focus on the speech about the integrity of artists, something in the side of his eye caught his attention again. Jack's head whipped to the left and his mouth fell agape. His cigarette dropped into his champagne, the ash sinking towards the bottom as the filter bobbed at the surface. Jack's entire body began trembling. He felt almost as if he was going to be sick. Jack's nostrils flared and tears began brimming the edges of his eyes. His face became pinched, his eyebrows furrowed together, as he gazed nearly across the room, through one small sliver in the crowd, that lead to the most unlikely attendants in his opinion.
It was Rose.
Jack was certain it was her. He resigned to simply watching her for a few moments. Her slender fingers, painted dark red along the nails, were holding a slender flute glass. She was wearing a stunning green velvet evening dress. His eyes followed her curls, spinning in circles with every strand. Jack gnawed on his lip and tore his eyes away, closing them. He could hear his heart beating in his ears as he breathed unevenly. Jack had completely forgotten about the commencement happening in front of him, Is she real? Or is it another horrible trick by my brain? Jack dared himself to look back towards her. She was still there, her eyes trained forward, clapping appropriately as the announcer introduced the artist's of the night. Jack felt his face pale, No... no... she was supposed to disappear. She's not here. She's... not here, Jack's lips quivered as a few tears broke free, sliding down his cheeks. Exasperated, her rubbed his face, setting his ruined champagne down on a table and silently back pedaling through the crowd behind him. He brushed past person after person, gazing to everything that seemed unfamiliar about them. Jack walked slowly, silently, on the outskirts of the large crowd facing the stage. Jack paused, clenching his hands together. He was staring at the back of Rose. She was still there, 3-D, completely immersed in the world.
Did she jump out of my brain and re-animate herself? How could this be? She wasn't on the survivor's list for Titanic, Carpathia, Red Cross, White Star Liner; nothing! How could she have possibly dodged every single documentation proclaiming she lived. Why would she do that? Jack felt his face pinch in hurt. Just then, over the top of Rose's head, Jack could see the commencement show continuing. Frenchie, Iris, and Irene were up there, waving and thanking the crowd. Jack watched this glassy eyes, his mouth hanging open like the hinge was broken. Jack shook his head fleetingly. Rose suddenly looked to the side, drawing Jack's eyes near her. He could make out her silouette in the dim lighting for the ceremony. He saw her green eyes gleam, her porcelain skin absolutely flawless. She looked to perfect, how he just wanted to reach out...
Jack furrowed his brow together as he watched Rose's lips move while she spoke. Slowly, his eye turned on the man she was speaking to. A man with similar height to him with dark black hair and round thick glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a nice coat, grinning towards Rose while she spoke to him, their words not making it towards Jack's ears. Jack put his hands into his pockets, hoping to stop them from quaking. Jack took the slightest step towards Rose, his body aching horribly. But in the next moment, the lights came up, revealing Jack, and frightening him back.
Jack shuffled towards a pillar, cooly rounding it and pressing his shoulders against it. His heart was thundering in his chest. He panted shallowly, staring straight ahead at a few other paintings he was not able to interpret in that moment. Jack pat his vest, reaching for his cigarettes. Shakily, he placed one in his mouth and lit it, inhaling unevenly. Jack peered out from his hiding spot. Rose was getting a new glass of champagne, all the while talking rather animatedly with this tall, dark, and mysterious man. Jack's eyes hovered over Rose's dress. She nearly looked even more petite than the last time he had seen her. He ached deeply when he saw just how well Rose could pull off anything she wore. He was convinced she could wear a trash bag and look stunning.
Jack set his cigarette between his front teeth, pressing his sticky palms flat to the pillar. He intently looked to the man with Rose, noting every thing about him. Jack furrowed his brow and watched Rose laugh about something, brushing up against him. Jack heart began pounding again and he tilted back towards the pillar, pressing his sweaty body completely to the cool marble. Jack's eyes were now glued to the floor. Absolutely nothing ran through his mind at that moment. He couldn't understand why. Here was Rose, standing before him. Jack was shrouded into a world of question as he slowly came to realized what he was understanding. He bit into the filter of his cigarette momentarily, before lowering it from his lips and tapping the ash off the end.
Jack glanced around the pillar the other direction now. Rose was leaned against a marble wall, holding her champagne glass near her chest. She had her head turned coyly, some bright red hair framing her heart shaped face. She was smiling as that same man spoke to her. He rubbed his neck and gestured widely. Rose cast her eyes down, her eyelids shimmering with a light pink. Jack felt a quake rush through his body. He tilted his head back, watching her longingly.
With shakey hands, Jack brought his cigarette back to his lips as he simply observed Rose. She still moved so languidly. She still glowed like a goddess. The detail he drew her in, the consistency he dreamt of her; it was all true, ringing right in front of him. Rose hadn't changed in the least. It was like she had been trapped in a time capsule. There she was.
But how? Jack thought, lowering his cigarette with a trembling hand.
...
The art show was beginning to wind now near midnight. Jack watched as Rose and her male companion left through the front doors. Quickly, he hurried to the coat check and retrieved his woolen coat, shrugging into it and staggering for the doors.
"Jack?" He paused, his hand on the door handle. He looked to see Iris was standing there, her brow knit together, "Where are you going?"
"Iris," Jack was breathless as he approached her, putting his hand on her shoulder, "I can't explain right now. Please, give me some time. I need to go. Right now," Jack shook his head, obviously flustered, before he burst out the door, taking a left. The opposite direction from the studio. She was stunned in a place, blinking rapidly. She sighed and hugged herself, wondering what in the world had gotten into Jack Dawson.
Jack did his best to not splash through puddles on the wet sidewalk. His cigarette remained tucked in his lips, forgotten, as he followed the couple who passed through many rings of light from street lamps ahead of him. Jack walked slowly, trying to act cool and collected. He jammed his hands in his eyes pockets, occasionally watching the duo walk in front of him. They were still talking it seemed, laughing about something. Her laughter reached her hair and his knees buckled for the slightest moment. Jack swallowed roughly, shifting his cigarette around on his lips. The couple paused outside of an apartment complex and went up the steps, into the foyer.
Jack stood still where he was for a moment. He tossed his cigarette into the wet gutter, glancing around the block for a moment, making a mental note. He furrowed his brow together as he gazed up at the apartment complex. Jack went to the slanted ledge on the other side of the stairs and carefully leaned over, just barely allowing the light of the foyer to touch his face. He could see Rose and that man still speaking with each other. Jack breathed shallowly as he slowly tilted his head to the side, his eyes locked on the man's face. The man leaned forward and he and Rose shared a kiss. Jack felt his stomach plummet. He staggered back from the ledge for a moment, rustling against some wet bushes around him. The foyer door swung open. Jack ducked his head beneath the foliage, her heart beat spiking.
"... Good night, Rose," He heard the man say, before allowing the foyer door to swing shut. Jack paused a beat, listening to the man's heels fade away. Jack scrambled back to the ledge and looked over it. Rose entered the first apartment on the right. Jack sighed, staggering away from the ledge again. His ankle caught a root and he fell flat on his spine. Jack folded his legs together and pressed his clenched fists to his lipsd. He was shaking profusely. He didn't know how to make it stop. He wanted to punch a hole into the wall. He wanted to cry. He wanted to howl in excitement. But he didn't know what one he wanted to do, if any.
Jack reached into his vest pocket, withdrawing his Fatima's and holding them in his shaking fingers. He stared at the orange banner that portrayed a scarved-woman, his eyes following the stars printed across the package. Jack gnawed on his lips a moment and sighed. Using his thumb, he crushed the box in his hand. He bit down so hard with his teeth, he tasted his own blood.
"Lucky, huh... Feh," Jack tossed the cigarettes on the ground carelessly, wraping his arms around his knees. Jack sat in silence, the moist soil soaking into his nice new pants beneath it. But Jack didn't care. He was completely aborsbed within himself at that moment. The cicadas hummed around his as his eyes were locked to the leaves directly in front of him. Slowly, Jack glanced towards the glowing light of the front foyer.
Jack staggered out of the bushes, not even bothering to brush any twigs or leaves off his shoulders or out of his hair. Boldly, he climbed the stairs, pushing strongly through the door. His leather soled shoes echoed in the small foyer as he steamed forward onto the coffee, swinging his legs out confidentally in front of him. Jack paused, looking to the numbers beside her door. 102. Jack's blood throbbed as it coursed through the entirety of his body. He bent his knees anxiously and took in a deep breath, raising his hand. Jack knocked on the door, curtly, and twice. He closed his eyes, listening to shifting on the other side of the door. He felt a chill seeping into his bones.
The door flew open and there she was, meerly inches away from him. She had changed into a light blue cotton nightgown, a towel in her hands from washing her face. Jack's face lit up in surprise and hurt. Rose immediately paled. And then she fainted.