Chapter Thirty-Seven

January 13th, 1914
New York City, New York

When Rose walked into the diner just as the sun broke through the nocturnal cloud cover, Winston had to do a double-take from the bar. He came hustling around, getting into her path as she strode towards the kitchen, shrugging out of her coat. Her bruise was still dark and had even grown a green ring to it. Winston winced upon seeing it.

"Doll, you're not on the schedule this entire week! Look at that bruise, you should be at home, resting," Winston told her, holding his hands up, "I can't have the same thing happening to you."

"It won't," Rose assured him, brushing past him behind the bar and tucking her purse and coat away, "The doctor was able to help me."

"Oh, thank God," Winston sighed, coming to the edge of the bar, "What was wrong with you?"

"Turns out, I'm pregnant," Rose told him, pouring herself some tea.

"Rose, doll, congratulations," Winston came down the bar and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She wasn't expecting the warmness of his gesture and she grinned as he pulled her against the side of him, "I love babies. My wife and I always wanted one, but it never happened. I'm happy for you, doll."

Rose grinned weakly and gazed up at him, "Thanks, Winston."

"If you don't mind me asking..."

Rose was silent for a moment. She cradled her tea against her chest and licked her lips, lifting her eyes to Winston, "Tim is not the father."

...

Jack hauled a canvas in to the community room, leaning it up against the wall with three others. He put his hands on his hips and wandered down the line, inspecting each one for signs of stress, wear and tear, or discoloration. His train of thought, however, was continually intercepted by other thoughts on his mind. Jack stared very intently at the familar canvases, but still, the thought of a baby came to the forefront of his mind.

Jack paused and lowered his eyes to his feet where he shuffled them along the studio floor. A baby. Jack nearly couldn't believe it. A child of his own. He felt nearly petrified at the thought of being in charge of another life. What if he messed it up? He considered there was a fine line in child-rearing and he worried he couldn't be consistent or give them what they wanted. Jack fidgeted with the cuff of the pockets on his pants. What if something went wrong with Rose and he lost her? What if they lost the baby?

Jack shook his head and cleared his throat, directing his eyes towards the skylight now. Nothing like that was going to happen, he assured himself. Rose was healthy. She was meerly facing known side effects. Jack paced a few steps and froze, a light going off in his mind. In the next moment, his head snapped towards the stairwell leading to his attic room and he took off, his feet clunking up the steps. When he entered his room, he went directly to his wardrobe, opening the fourth drawer on the left and lifting up a carton of cigarettes. Beneath that, he pulled out a black velvet bag with gold trim and unraveled the string.

Slowly, Jack set bill after bill in front of him on the floor, muttering under his breath. His entire life's savings, his only nest egg, was sat before him. It was a little over six-hundred dollars, which was more than enough. Jack even had a few bills in his wallet that he set amongst the collection. Jack sat there, his palms planted into his knees, as he gazed down on the money, mentally sectioning off what would be used for what.

Jack collected a stack into his hand, This is for a deposit and a month of rent, He told himself, folding it up into its own neat stack, Rose and I need a bigger apartment. We have to prepare now, Jack's hand grazed against another set of bills, pulling them into his hands, This money is for Rose's health bills. This should be more than enough to ensure her and the baby's health, Jack nodded to himself, setting the money back down. He grabbed the next stack in the line, And this... will be for the baby. Making sure we have everything we need before they arrive.

Jack took a deep breath and looked between his separated money. He raked his hands through his hair and gazed around his quiet room. He hadn't slept here in weeks. The space was simply going to waste when things were stacked on top of each other in the backroom. Jack eyed the money for the apartment, licking his lips pensively, That's step number one.

...

Tim hadn't come for breakfast, but Rose tried not to notice too much. She stood at the bar, stirring her tea, as there was a loll between the breakfast crowd and the lunch crowd. The sun was beaming through the large picture windows lining the walls of the diner. She watched the people on the street scurry between the mounds of snow thwarted off the path. Rose let out a long sigh and lowered her eyes to her tea. Her eyes swirled in circles with the ginger root leaf that bobbed through her drink. She took a slow sip and paced up and down the bar, tapping her fingernails against the countertop. Her mind wandered away from her in that moment.

I wonder what kind of life awaits this baby, Rose thought to herself, absent mindedly placing her hand to her stomach, Will I be able to give them what they want? What they need? Am I equipped to have a child right now? Rose pressed her hip into the counter and took a pensive sip of her tea, Going through with this will change my entire life as I know it. Jack's, too... Her lips hovered just above her lipstick stained mug, We will be eternally bonded to each other. Our love mixed together, portrayed through another human life. The possibilities are limitless as to what kind of life awaits this baby. But what kind of life awaits Jack and I with this child?

Just then, the front door jingled and Rose was roused from her thoughts. She dabbed her lips gingerly and set her mug down, turning around to serve the first lunch of the day. She paused, however, upon seeing it was Tim. He wasn't dressed up. He wore simply a white button up tucked into black slacks with faint navy pinstripes. Tim gazed across the diner and began straight towards her, walking past his usual booth. Cooly, he seated himself in a barstool, right in front of Rose.

"Good morning," Tim said, rather huskily.

"It's the afternoon," Rose told him, doing her best to grin.

"Is it?" Tim glanced towards the clock on the wall, adjusting his glasses, "I slept in this morning and still have no concept of what time it is."

"You didn't have to work today?" Rose asked as she dipped under the bar and grabbed a mug, making his coffee right in front of him. She glanced to him between a stray curl fallen from her bun. His eyes were on her hands, watching her mix the coffee.

"No, I cancelled my appointments," Tim finally replied as Rose slid the mug towards him.

"Why did you do that?" Rose asked as she scribbled his normal order down on a ticket and stuck it through the window. Winston retrieved it from her out stretched arm and was about to protest breakfast was off the menu, when he saw Tim sitting at the bar.

Tim took his time drinking coffee, "Well, I have a standard to uphold for the State of New York," Tim told her, "And if I can't perform to that standard, then it's best to press pause on the business of law for the time being."

"Oh..." Rose said softly, clearly thrown off-guard. She lowered her eyes to the gleaming counter top before looking back to Tim, "I've thrown an entire wrench into your life, haven't I, Tim?"

Tim's hazel eyes were bright in the brilliant afternoon light, "You just have no idea how much you mean to me. I could never express it in a million years. I may be old-fashioned, slow and steady like a turtle, but my feelings for you were strong. And maybe I am stupid for thinking everything has a solution, but to me Rose, you were different. You were special."

"I should have told you about Jack," Rose said quietly, leaning her elbows on the bar. Their faces were only inches apart, "I had so many opportunities to tell you when I thought he was dead. And I had so many opportunities to tell you when I found out he was alive. My mistakes are eating me alive, Tim. This isn't how I wanted any of this to go. I don't want to be the girl who brings nothing but misery and dread. It's just not who I want to be. For awhile... I was simply scared of losing you. I did a cowardly thing, holding my tongue. But now, in the end, I think the silence is what will be my downfall. Not the things I actually needed to say."

"Do you think... if Jack and I's roles were reversed, he would be sitting here having this conversation with you instead of me?" Tim asked quietly.

Rose held her breath for a moment. The entirety of her field of view was nothing but Tim's eyes, his oliver skin, his bold brow, and his look of hurt. Rose's body shuddered for a moment and she dug her nails into her arms, "I don't know, Tim."

Tim lowered his eyes and nodded, "Part of me thinks you would still choose him."

The bell for Tim's hot and ready plate rang out and Rose stood up straight. She made no move to retrieve the food from the window. Her eyes were locked on Tim, her shoulders rising and fall, "We will never know, Tim, because that's not what's happening."

...

Frenchie eventually came in closer to lunch, citing his mother was feeling unwell. Iris had stayed home to be with her. The men got straight to work on a commissioned painting of a wealthy couples daughter, who was due to be a debutaunte in the coming year. Jack painted a base on the lower half of the canvas while Frenchie climbed the ladder and tackled the top half of the canvas.

One thing Jack liked about his line of work is that sometimes it was rather mindless. He could wander off into his thoughts while only having to remember to dip the paint brush and stroked up and down to his hearts content. Jack's mind wandered away to the only thing that had been present all morning. Rose's pregnancy. He waxed and waned between being frivously excited for a new chapter in his life and being desperately afraid that something would go wrong or not work out. He wondered what the gender of the baby would be. Whose eyes it would have. He wondered if the baby would cry a lot or simply be mesmerized by everything.

The scariest thing about having a baby is that he felt like he was going in entirely blind. Jack had no idea what to expect. In his days of travelling, he had taken bold risks or done daring things to get to where he wanted. But in that moment, he worried about how he would handle having a child. How would he know if they were crying because they were hungry? Or because they were too hot? Too cold? How would he know what the child needed?

Can I really be a good father? Jack asked himself as he dipped his paint brush in the white paint and pressed it to the canvas, Do I have what it takes to be the proper partner for Rose? Can I provide a good life for her and our child? Jack paused for the slightest moment, staring at the white canvas in front of him, Will I have to quit art to provide for this child?

"Jack, you've been quiet," Frenchie said, startling Jack. The man gazed up with his wide blue eyes at his boss, who dangled against the ladder, pressing his cheek to the wood, "Got a lot on your mind? I imagine you have a full plate right now."

"What do you mean by that?" Jack asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

"Balancing work and a love life," Frenchie said, "Can't be easy. Especially with a turbulent schedule, such as an artist."

"I manage just fine," Jack replied, returning to painting the canvas, "I imagine you wanted to exchange some words with me over what happened with Iris?" He paused and looked back to Frenchie. Frenchie shifted back and forth on the ladder for a moment and sighed.

"You know... you were right about the whole thing," Frenchie told him, "I shouldn't have forced you to bond with her. Now it's only caused a whole mess. She got much more invested than I expected Jack. I honestly didn't think she liked you that much. I thought it was meerly a little school yard crush, that's all. I thought it would be good for her."

Jack licked his lips and sighed, "Yeah. We fucked that one up," Jack lifted his eyes, "Problem is, I don't know how to fix it. I don't think anything is going to make her happy in the coming future."

"Why's that?" Frenchie eyed him.

"I'm officially moving out, Frenchie," Jack said, taking a few steps back from the canvas, "I still want to work for you. I'll still be here, doin' my usual thing, but it's time. I have to."

"So, just like that, after a few weeks?" Frenchie asked, rather stunned. He climbed down the ladder and stood before Jack, "You're marrying her?"

"No," Jack shook his head. He looked away for a moment and sighed, carelessly tossing his paint brush beside the can, "Frenchie, I..." He bit down on his lip for a moment and looked to his boss, who he liked to consider was a close friend, "I got Rose pregnant."

"You're having a baby?" Frenchie's eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Yes, it's completely unexpected," Jack ran his hands through his hair, "I still don't know how I feel about it, but I can tell you one thing: I'm scared, Frenchie."

"Scared?" Frenchie couldn't help but laugh, surprising Jack, "Babies are a blessing, Jack! New life is so comforting. I'm happy for you, brother!"

"You are? But, what about-"

Frenchie waved his hand, silencing Jack, "You can't force love, Jack. I know that. And I'm sorry for the mess I've brought about. We will fix this, I promise. I won't let anything compromise the joy you're supposed to be experiencing during this time."

"Frenchie," Jack said, rather breathily. His eyes became glassy and he sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck, "I don't know what to say. Just... thank you, for understanding. It's just all happened so fast and-"

"Jack," Frenchie set his hand on Jack's shoulder, making him pause, "Everything is going to be alright."