Author's Notes: I wanted to have this up before Christmas rather than after, but that exact thing got in the way of finishing this chapter. Happy Holidays.
Chapter Thirty-Four
December 24th, 1913
New York City, New York
Jack's internal clock had him awake at the first mornings light. He glanced to the window to see it was a rather overcast day and snow was already drifting over the city. Jack's eyes wandered to Rose, who was facing Jack. Her skin glowed in the whiteness of the weather. He tenderly pushed a stray curl from her cheek and her eyes fluttered for the slightest moment before she continued sleeping soundly. Jack got dressed and held his boots in his hands, quietly shutting the bedroom door after him. He crept down the hallway and then staggered into his boots, leaning against the back of the couch. He looked around the apartment surrounding him and placed his hands on his hips. Jack's eyes stopped at the empty space between the two windows in the living room. He smiled to himself and nodded, grabbing his wallet from the counter and shrugging into his coat.
The morning air was sharp against his skin as he stepped out onto the street. The many people that bustled by were wrapped up in scarves, ear mitts, and hats. All Jack had was a nice pair of leather gloves Iris had given to him. Immediately, like a bad habit, Jack stuck a cigarette between his lips and struggled to light it against the gusty wind coming from the alleys. He began up the street, snow flurries getting caught along his coat and in his hair.
As he stood at a street corner, he flicked some ash off the end of his cigarette and glanced around. The morning light was shedding through the slivers of the buildings and cascading across some windows. That's when Jack noticed a glinting and hurriedly, he crossed the street before he was given the signal. But it was so snowy, he wasn't worried about cars. His breath puffed behind him as he tossed his cigarette into a snow bank along the curb and approached the glittering window.
He used the sleeve of his coat to wipe away the fog and dew, leaning forward, his eyes locked on what was before him. On a velvet flat sat a sterling chain, no more than fourteen inches long. And locked onto the chain was a silver shaped heart. Nothing fancy or elaborate, large or gaudy. It was tasteful and Jack could imagine it dangling just below Rose's defined shoulders, grazing against her porcelain skin. He glanced to the store hours painted on the window. They wouldn't be open for another thirty minutes.
Jack paused and took a moment to gaze up and down the rather desserted street. He spied a diner across the street and shuffled his feet in the snow for a few moments. He decided he'd just wait before continuing his intial task when leaving the apartment. Jack sniffled, glancing upwards to the falling snow. Rose dearly enjoyed sleeping in, he had noticed. He had imagine it wasn't much tolerated where she grew up. Jack liked watching her sleep, though. He had laid in bed for hours beside her, simply watching. Observing her full fluttering eyelashes, watching those lips move ever so slightly. Her chest rising and falling rthymically, her hips swiveled beneath the quilt. She had always looked so peaceful. It was exactly how he wanted to imagine her.
He turned to look back at the necklace in the window, his cheeks flushed and his hair windblown, Rose deserves a real Christmas.
...
"... an excellent choice," A clerk told Jack as he bent under the glass counter and pulled a long rectangular velvet box out. He set it tenderly in front of Jack and grinned, adjusting his navy blue blazer, "A last-minute gift for your beloved, is that right?"
"It would really be the cherry on top," Jack replied, his eyes down as he opened the box and inspected the necklace closer, "How much is it?"
"Well, it's real silver," The clerk said, resting his elbows on the counter, "It's forty-two dollars."
"Forty-two, huh?" Jack looked up now, smiling, "Would you take forty?"
"I-uh-"
"Please," Jack leaned forward and lowered his voice, "I need the two dollars for one more errand," Jack continued to smile, his blue eyes illuminated by the brilliant lights of the casings displaying jewerly. The clerk stared at Jack, nearly flabberghasted, before he regained his composure and cleared his throat.
"Fine. Forty will do."
Jack placed the proper amount on the counter, "Thank you."
...
Jack had the velvet box tucked safe on an inside pocket of his coat as he continued to the top of a hill just a few blocks west of Rose's apartment. It overlooked the entirety of the low suburbs leading towards the river, neatly aligned in a grid-like pattern. He finished his cigarette and tossed it aside before entering a gated area that had a familiar scent.
Before him were several pine trees, neatly arranged. Taller ones that required an axe stood towards the back of the property. There were a few last minute buyers as well. Jack took his time strolling around many different kinds of trees. He smelled the bristles and touched the limbs. He glanced between the brush to look at the trunk. Jack paused for a moment as his hand glided over another limb of the fresh pine.
Jack hadn't shopped for a Christmas tree in nearly ten years. The last time had been with his father. They had chosen a tree that required an axe and Jack remembered complaining the whole time it was his turn to whack at the trunk. He could hear his father's chuckle as he effortlessly swung the axe. He was a tall and thick man, the strongest Jack had ever known. It was a shame, he thought, that he had inherited his mother's willowy frame.
Jack heaved a sigh and toyed with some bristles that had fallen into his palm. He twirled them between his fingers, watching each one fall to the ground. He then continued a few paces and laid his eyes on a rather bright pine tree that was just taller than him. Jack took a whiff of the pine and grinned. He then reached between the branches and gripped the trunk. He then saw the price tag dangling from a branch and gripped it, turning it to reveal it was two dollars; the only two he had left.
Yup, this is the one, Dad.
...
When Jack returned to the apartment, he quietly peaked his head through the door. It was silent. He glanced to the grandfather clock to see it was barely after nine in the morning. He grinned triumphantly as he hauled the Christmas tree through the door. He was rather winded from the walk of hauling that, plus two more bags worth of things to give Rose the Christmas he wanted. He laid the bags down carefully and grabbed a steel holder given by compliment of the farm he had gone to. Jack hauled the holder and tree to the spot he envisioned and he smiled when he saw it fit perfectly in the space he had wanted.
Deftly, he pulled the festive garlands he bought out and wrung them around the Christmas tree. They sparkled and glinted in the morning light. He hung some orb ornaments that were of fun colors. He reached up and set a golden star on top, precariously holding his hands out to be sure it found its balance. He stepped back and inspected the tree. It looked very similar to what he was used to seeing as a kid.
Jack got a pot of peppermint tea brewing. He began shrugging out of his coat when he remembered the velvet box in his pocket. He withdrew it slowly, tenderly running his thumb across the smooth texture. He crossed to the Christmas tree, glancing between all the ornaments before he knelt down and tucked the box against the trunk. Jack paused, sitting at the base of the tree.
Hm... pretty empty down here, He heaved a sigh, I wish I had more to give her. She deserves to have this apartment bursting with presents.
Jack stood back up and took more time to inspect the tree. He inhaled the scent of pine once more and grinned. The smell awakened new memories in him, however, and he found himself back in the kitchen, digging through Rose's rather well-stocked pantry. He inspected jar after jar, muttering to himself, as he disorganized the shelves in hopes of finding what he was looking for.
Finally, he pulled a can of cocoa powder down. It seemed Rose had never opened it. It was even the same brand his mother had bought. At the beginning of December, Jack remembered his mother used to rally him to find coins or earn coins to deposit into the "Hot Chocolate Fund". Together, he and his mother would drop pennies, nickels, and dimes into a jar on the kitchen counter, in hopes they could raise the funds for an expensive luxury like cocoa powder. They were always very good about reaching their goal and then some, in hopes of also being able to get marshmallows. Unfortunately, Rose had none of those in her pantry. He shrugged it off, however, and reached for the bag of sugar and for a small can of cinnanmon, just how his mom made it.
Rose had a carton of milk in a fridge and a small jar of cream. He gathered it into his arms and got a new kettle of milk over the flame. As the top of the milk began to foam, Jack added a few bits of cream. He leaned against the counter, waiting for the boil, as he held the can of cocoa powder in his hands, staring at the picture he had remembered seeing as a child. It was of an old woman, bathed in the light of what looked to be flames, while cradling a warm mug close to her cartoonishly round face. When Jack had come home from school closer to Christmas, his mom would place the can on the kitchen table, where it could be seen from where Jack entered. The picture of that old woman was a triumphant in Jack's childhood. Now, he looked at her and only felt remorse.
He carefully sifted some into the kettle bit by by, using a spoon to give stirs in between. Slowly, the milk darkened into the smooth consistency he was looking for. And ever so gently, he dashed some cinnanoman in, which tickled his nose. He grinned as he watched it continue to brew. He knew his mom would have been proud of this. She usually made it because none was to be wasted.
While that simmered, Jack made the typical breakfast of toast presented with butter, honey, and jams on a tray. Rose had been feeling better and seemed to have more energy, but she was still bogged down with a general malaise. He knew once the holidays passed, he would force her to the doctor. Jack wouldn't allow for Rose to simply accept that's pain she has to live with, that there's no remedy. But for now, he was resigned to making sure she was comfortable and taken care of.
The grandfather clock began to chime, drawing Jack's eyes upwards. It was ten in the morning. He figured it would probably rouse Rose from bed, especially when she noticed he was gone. Jack set the tray of breakfast up on the bar to greet her, along with a mug of piping hot peppermint tea. He left the hot chocolate on a low simmer to surprise her with.
Jack now leaned against the counter, sipping on his own peppermint tea. He listened carefully as he heard the familiar creak of the bed frame. He could hear her light footsteps around the room. Jack grinned to himself, blowing some steam away from his mug. Slowly, the bedroom door began to open and then, there was a pause. He knew she was probably standing in the doorway utterly confused. But her footsteps picked up again at a slow pace. Jack looked over his shoulder to see her slowly emerging from the hallway, her eyes locked on the tree in the living room. Her curls were wildly framing her face, a black cotton robe covering her slender body.
"Jack, did you-"
"Hey," Jack turned towards her now, setting his mug down on the counter, "Merry Christmas, Rose."
She licked her lips for a moment and gazed back towards the tree. She looked back to Jack and grinned, "Merry Christmas, Jack."
"Here, come sit down at the bar and eat," Jack gestured for her and she did as she was told. She grinned and began smothering butter on some toast, drizzling honey on top, "How are you feeling?" He asked, watching as she ate the toast and drank her tea without a second thought.
"Good, actually," Rose told him, smothering butter across another piece of toast, "Maybe it's just the Christmas Spirit, I don't know."
Jack laughed at this, "Well, good, because I'm treating you to a traditional Dawson Christmas," Rose paused and lifted her eyes from breakfast, "You wanna use my name, huh? Well, that means you'll have to abide by the traditions that come with it."
"Oh?" Rose cocked an eyebrow up, "Do tell, Mr. Dawson."
"Well, you're already doing the first one; having breakfast beside the Christmas tree," Jack grinned, gesturing towards the pine that was slowly diffusing itself in the apartment, "It was the only time of the year we were allowed to eat outside of the kitchen."
Rose grinned as she chewed on some toast, washing it down with peppermint tea.
"We also always went ice skating on a lake down the road from the farm," Jack told her. Rose glanced to the windows, making Jack copy. The snow was coming down quite heavily. Jack grinned, "Don't worry. There's a back-up for bad weather, you'll see."
"Oh, you're just prepared for everything," Rose couldn't help but laugh and Jack melted at the sight of her face so lit up, "What else must I do?"
"Well, you don't have a fireplace, so we will turn all the lights off and burn all the candles, and we will drink hot chocolate," Jack told her, "Already got some slow brewing on the burner."
"Really?" Rose arched her eyebrows and leaned around Jack to spy the kettle on the stove, "I had cocoa powder?"
"Yeah, in the pantry," Jack replied, nodding, "Same brand my mom bought, too."
Rose smiled, her eyes glittering, "I didn't realize your real name was Saint Nicholas. I could have sworn it was John Cole."
Jack wrinkled his nose at the thought, "Only my grandmother called me that."
"It's got a regal ring to it," Rose teased, pointing the butter knife at him before moving on to her third piece of toast, "John Cole, King."
Jack chuckled, drinking some warm tea, "I think their names are all William and Charles."
"Oh, there have been plenty of John's."
"Well, there ain't any Jack's," He grinned, "I'd be the first of my kind."
"And oh, what a difference you would make," Rose said softly, a coy smile on her lips.
...
After breakfast, Rose got dressed in a dark red long sleeve cotton dress with yellow threading. It was the closest thing she owned to anything resembling festivities. She took the time to brush and contain her wild curls to a rather messy bun. She sighed in resignation as a few curls refused to be pinned and dangled as a frame around her face. She dusted her cheeks lightly and applied a layer of dark lipstick. She adjusted the mound of hair on her head before deciding it was good enough and returned to the living room to find Jack adjusting the radio that was shoved into a free spot on one of her bookcases.
He glanced over his shoulder and paused for a moment, the knob in his fingers forgotten, "You look nice," He told her. Quickly, he regained his composure and cleared his throat, "I was just trying to find some Christmas music."
"Part of the tradition, as well?" Rose grinned, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Don't tell me you didn't listen to Christmas music on Christmas?" Jack furrowed his brow and turned back to the radio.
"My mother just hired a quartet," Rose shrugged, "And I certainly don't recall it being anything other than that stuffy dragged-out royal music that's no different from the piece before it or after it."
"So, your family threw a Christmas ball?" Jack asked.
"Yes, when my father's business was prosperous," Rose folded her hands behind her back and walked a few paces, "When he was wealthy and respected, he had the honor, as my mother called it, of having his party on Christmas Eve."
"What was it like after that ended?" Jack's eyes were trained down on the knobs of the radio.
"We didn't celebrate at all anymore," Rose replied after a moment, "It's as if the entire holiday had been forgotten."
Jack turned towards Rose now, "How long has it been since you've celebrated Christmas?"
Rose shrugged, "Maybe... five years? I've lost count, to be honest."
"That makes this even more important to me," Jack told her, "That's why I want to do this for you," Jack turned back to the radio and Rose grinned, lowering her eyes to the carpet. She thought about how easy it was to talk to Jack. She marveled at the idea that she didn't have to think twice about what she told him. He naturally made her feel comfortable.
After a bit more fumbling with the radio, finally he was able to get a jazzy Christmas station to come through. Jack laughed triumphantly, backing away from the device and putting his hands on his hips, "Ah-hah! I knew that thing wasn't busted. It's probably just the damn weather," He turned to Rose and smiled, "This is the part where we dance."
"What? Your family really danced on Christmas Eve?" Rose asked, unfolding her arms.
"Well," Jack grinned sheepishly, "I'm improvisin' a bit."
The wind howled against the window panes, momentarily drawing Rose away. She looked to Jack and finally nodded and smiled back. Jack pushed a few recliners to the wall and held his hand out to Rose, who gingerly slipped her slender fingers through his. They drew in close to each other, Rose's arm dangling around his shoulders while his snaked around her waist. They meerely turned in circles due to the enclosed dance floor of the apartment.
Rose held close to his sturdy body, relishing in being in his arms. The warm candle light bathed his face, which was looking down on her tenderly. Rose brought her hand up to rest on his neck, "You know what I just realized?" Rose whispered.
"Hm?"
"I didn't buy you a present," Rose frowned at the thought. Jack simply threw his head back and laughed, shuddering in her grip.
"I don't care about that. It's beside the point," He told her warmly.
"But isn't that the point of Christmas? Giving each other gifts?" Rose knit her eyebrows together.
"No," Jack shook his head. He brought his hand up and gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear, "Christmas is about being with those you love."
Rose looked to the tree, then back to him, "How come there's a present under the tree for me, then?"
"You wouldn't believe it," Jack gave her a goofy look, "but it came with the tree."
"Oh, does it fold up inside?" Rose grinned.
"It's the darndest thing, really," Jack told her. Rose giggled and fell against him.
"I'm sorry," She said into his shoulder. A gentle piano crooned behind them.
"You have nothin' to be sorry for," Jack wrapped his arms around her slim body, "Not a thing, Rose. This isn't even a fraction of what you deserve. Not even close to what I want to give you," He pressed his cheek into the top of her head and slowly, the couple stopped rocking, "I just want you to be happy. It's the only thing in the world I want."
Rose lifted her head to gaze into his eyes, "What about you, though? What do you want for yourself? It can't all just be about me, Jack."
"I just want you to be with me," He said after an extended silence.
"Well," Rose whispered, pressing her forehead against his chin, "I'd say your wish already came true."
...
The night drew in, though the snow continued at its steady pace. The lights in the apartment were off and only candles were lit. Jack and Rose sat on the floor of the disarranged living room, blankets draped over their shoulders. In between them was the kettle of hot chocolate and they each had their own mug of tradition. Rose took a sip of her hot chocolate and licked her lips, listening to the grandfather clock tick faithfully.
"What was your mother like?" Rose asked, pressing her back into the side of a chair. Jack lifted his eyes from his mug, leaning against the wall behind him.
"Generous," Jack replied after a moment, "We may have been poor, but that didn't stop her from helping other people. She kept a great home, made something from nothing. She spoiled me. She had wanted more children but apparently I was already a tough pregnancy and my dad... well, he was too afraid to lose her," Jack grinned crookedly, "For awhile, at least until I was eight or nine, she would sometimes call me Miracle Child. They didn't think I was goin' to survive infancy. But I made it. Somehow."
"The world is very cruel," Rose told him, fingering the lip of her mug, "My parents were money-hoarders and wouldn't glance the other way at people they considered outside their world. I couldn't even tell you the criteria. They could seem well-put together and my mother would already have her nose upturned," Rose shook her head at the thought, "They weren't warm. Or kind. Or loving. Nor did they pay me much attention. You were forced by this universe to lose your parents and yet... I got to keep mine."
"The universe didn't force me," Jack said, looking directly at Rose, "The universe was punishing me."
"What? Why would you say that?" Rose asked, a shadow from a candle falling across her face.
"My parents died at a very bad place in my life," Jack said very slowly. His eyes gradually dropped from her's, "I wasn't friends with the best of people. I guess you could even go as far to say they were hoodlums who ran amuck on innocent people simply because they were childish and found it humorous. I fit both of those criterias and was gettin' into a whole series of trouble. Stealing, destroying property..." Jack paused for a moment and gauged Rose's reaction. But she was simply listening to him, not an ounce of a flinch in her pupils, "We would ride our bikes and someone would stand on the pegs in the back with a baseball bat. And we'd just mow down a bunch of mailboxes. Breaking them entirely was even more amusing. I was stealing liquor and drinking like a fish in a field with these people. I'd be gone all afternoon and all night. I'd have my parents worried sick. And... feh, I was such a dick," He heaved a sigh, "I'd come home, like a little prick, wreaking of alcohol and cigarettes... and I'd have the audacity to fight with my parents, like I could justify my actions," Jack paused again and pressed his hand to his chin. Slowly, he looked to Rose, a gleam in his eyes, "Well, one night, I go out as normal. My mom made me promise to be home early. Someone snagged a bottle of their dad's whiskey and we were meeting up at our usual spot. Right beside a boulder in the fields, shaped kind of like a snail shell. We were drinking, shootin' the shit, all the normal things we'd normally do. Once we were good and drunk, we laid out in the fields and we saw smoke. We thought it was an odd time to do a bonfire, but we didn't do anything about it. Couple hours later, I finally manage to walk home. Took the long way, mostly cause I was lost, and even trailed through some other people's pastures and property. And when I finally stepped onto my road, I realized what all that smoke was. It was my home, burned to the ground. Nothin' but ashes. And no sign of my parents," He lowered his eyes and heaved a sigh, "The fire happened an hour after I was supposed to be home. And that last thing I ever said to my mom was, 'I promise'. And I didn't fulfill that promise. If I had been home, I would have died with them and for awhile... I wished that was what had happened."
Rose leaned forward and gripped his wrist, making him raise his eyes, "Nobody was punishing you. These things happen. It might feel like a coincidence but nothing in life is. It happens simply for a reason. And I think you found your wake up call in all those ashes, Jack. You've risen above what you chose to be before. I think it's noble and brave," She squeezed his wrist, "You have someone to live for. A reason to keep trying. And I think you're lucky to have that kind of drive behind you."
"The hot chocolate is my mom's way of doin' it," Jack told her, a small smile creeping along his lips, "She liked to pretend she had a secret ingredient... but my dad and I both knew it was just cinnanmon."
"We have to complete all the traditions for your mother," Rose insisted with a grin, "What else is left to do?"
Jack looked to Rose, nearly in a mischevious manner, "We still have to ice skate."
"And how will we do that?"
"Go put on a pair of woolen stockings. I'll show you."
...
When Rose returned to the living room in a pair of thick stockings, Jack had the Christmas music up louder and standing at the edge of the carpet by the kitchen. He looked rather excited and waved her over. Rose came to stand beside him, her eyebrows arched.
"Whenever the weather was too bad, we would skate in our socks on the tile. You have the perfect amount of space," Jack told her, his hands on his hips, "I know it sounds kind of lame, but just watch this; it'll have you excited."
Jack zipped out onto the tile and pressed his feet flat, leaning back at the same time and twisting. Rose smiled at the thought of young Jack doing that, as if he would have been more aero-dynamic. Jack slid across the tile rather quickly, bonking his hip against the counter. He laughed ferociously, his shoulders falling up and down.
"Come on," He waved to her.
"If I break my head open, you're paying for the stitches," Rose told him, sending him into another wave of cackles. Rose copied the same motion as Jack. It wasn't as slick and she was rather unsteady, but she slid into Jack, who wrapped his arms around her, "Okay," She giggled, "that is pretty fun."
"Ah, Rose, this is the simplest joy!" He told her, sliding around the tile again and doing a graceful little swirl, "You haven't lived until you've sock-slid on the tile."
"I guess not," Rose laughed, using the counter to propel herself across the kitchen. They darted between each other, watching as they came and went. The Christmas music lifted the atmosphere into something playful. Two grown adults whirled around on the tile floor in their stockings, laughing until they were wheezing. Finally they collided with each other in the center of the kitchen and nearly fell over laughing again. They panted as they draped their arms around each other, "Oooh... my stomach hurts from laughing so hard," Rose said, still in between chuckles.
"We should do it all year 'round, just for fun," Jack joked, adjusting her mound of hair that had fallen crooked on her head. Rose laughed at the gesture, "Okay, there's one last tradition we have to do now that it's dark."
"What's that?" Rose looked to him, her cheeks red with joy.
"You have one thing waiting for you under that tree."
Slowly, the duo went to go sit at the bottom. Rose carressed a branch, pressing the bristles to her nose and inhaling. She smiled pleasantly, her eyes gleaming in the glowing garlands. Jack reached under the tree for the one lone velvet box. He sighed, twisting it around in his fingers.
"What's wrong?" Rose asked.
"I just..." He looked to her, "I wish I had more to give you."
"Don't be silly," Rose shook her head, "You've given me enough."
Jack was silent for a few moments before he finally nodded and held the long rectangular box out to her. Gingerly, she gripped it between her fingers and peered at Jack. She grinned and slowly opened it. When she did, she froze. The silver glinted beautifully in the candle light. Tenderly, she grabbed hold of the necklace and lifted it from the box, watching it dangle before her wet eyes. Rose blinked rapidly as a few tears escaped down her cheeks.
"Jack, it's beautiful..." She told him, her throat nearly pinched, "I love it," She lowered the necklace and lunged towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He nearly tipped over as she situated herself in his lap, "Thank you," She whispered, lifting her palm to look at the simple yet significant necklace, "Will you put it on for me?"
Jack grinned and swept her fiery hair away from the nape of her neck, securing the necklace. It draped against her collarbone. Exactly how he imagined it. Gently, his hand came down and grazed where it dangled. Rose's skin tingled at his touch, "Merry Christmas, Rose," He said, their faces inches apart. Rose's hand tenderly stroked his jaw.
"Merry Christmas, Jack," She whispered before crushing her lips against his.