Chapter Forty-Seven
March 6th, 1914
New York City, New York
It was a beautiful crisp spring afternoon. Jack and Rose found themselves in the office of their house, back-to-back, as Jack worked on a painting and Rose focused on writing. The one big window in the room was naturally open and the curtains waved gently in the breeze. Rose straightened her back and rubbed it sorely. Her stomach was becoming more noticeable these days and she had been forced recently to buy maternity dresses. Rose felt wide and cumbersome, but Jack insisted she was a petite cute pregnant woman. Rose had been working hard on her novel and regularly conversed with Thomas, who eagerly dug for updates. The excerpts she had sent him were met with shining praise and gave Rose the hope that maybe she was meant for this after all. Her eyes wandered towards the sparkling ring on her finger as she typed. She smiled to herself and cocked her head back towards her paper, squaring her shoulders as she continued.
Jack peaked over his shoulder at Rose when he heard the lull in her typing. But when she picked back up, he smiled and returned to his nearly finished painting. It depicted a scene of lush green rolling hills, littered in tulips, daffodils, and other foliage. Beyond the final hill was the beginning of a fresh pine forest. The sky was a radiant blue. He decided he was going to frame it and mount it on the wall in the baby's nursery.
In the next moment, Rose gasped sharply, her hands stopping abruptly and hovering over her keys. Her eyes widened and she looked down. Jack nearly dropped his palette as he whirled around and came to the back of chair, "What's wrong?" He asked.
Rose said nothing. She lowered her hands to her stomach slowly and sat there. After a few moments, she reached for Jack's hand and grinned, placing it against her stomach. That's when Jack felt a movement against his hand. He felt his eyes grow wide as saucers, too, as he rounded the chair and knelt beside Rose, staring at her stomach. He stared intently at her dress, as if trying to see through her. Slowly, his eyes wandered towards Rose and he grinned crookedly.
"I feel like there is a term for a moment like this," Rose said gently, watching his hands on her.
"Yeah," Jack smirked, "it's called the quickening."
"And I'm supposed to be the author," Rose chuckled. She paused, however, when she felt another kick, "They're really tossing about in there."
"Violet's gonna be a fighter."
"Oh, you're so sure," Rose teased, placing her hands over his, "I think a lanky little James would be more adequate."
"Well," Jack laughed haughtily, "you're wrong. It's a girl. I just know it."
"And how are you so certain of that?" Rose asked.
"If I believe hard enough, I think I'll be right," Jack told her, his grin never wavering. His boyish charm still made Rose's heart leap.
"What if I told you I believed twice as much as you that it was a boy?"
"You'd be nothin' but a daydream believer," Jack's eyes twinkled in the warm afternoon light.
...
March 10th, 1914
New York City, New York
Rose's cheeks were flushed from the rather warm walk to the café. When she entered, she was pleased to feel a fan nearby circulating cool air. Rose gazed around the café until she spotted Tim, who was tucked in a booth, hunched over some papers with a cup of coffee. She made her way down the aisle and paused at the vacant booth, setting her hand against the brown vinyl.
"Hello, Tim," She said.
He lifted his eyes and grinned, but paused, "Hi, Rose. Good to see you. You're looking well."
"I think the word you're looking for is large," Rose deadpanned, setting her satchel on the booth and hobbling into place, "I'm sure that's all Thomas will see, too."
"We all know what happens when a woman is pregnant," Tim raised his hand dismissively, "Thomas has four kids, any-how. He's been around the block, I think," Tim caught the attention of a waitress to order a fresh coffee and Rose ordered a lemon water with a bagel slathered in cream cheese, "So, what are you bringing to the check-in meeting today?" He asked, folding his hands over his papers.
"Well," Rose brushed a loose strand from her face and reached into her satchel. Tim gazed at her, nearly longingly, admiring her glowing porcelain skin in the light. Her rosy cheeks. Her soft pursed lips. He nearly shook as he recalled how much he missed her, how much he had stuck deep into the pits of his stomach. Even carrying another man's child, he desired her and wanted her for his own. He clung to any moments he got to spend with her, even if she was now only a client and friend. Rose lifted a stack of papers from her satchel that were tied together with brown parcel string, "I finished the first quarter of the book. Still a little rough around the edges," Rose slowly thumbed through the pages. Tim watched her slender fingers closely, "It's sixty-eight pages, so it probably needs to be cut down a little. I don't feel like I've made much headway in the plot. I seemingly get muddled in details and side stories."
The waitress set their new beverages and breakfast on the table. Tim grinned as he took his first fresh sip of coffee, "I'm sure it's amazing, Rose. I don't think Thomas will want to strike a single word. What you write is gold on a page, Thomas said it himself."
Rose laughed lightly, her bagel hovering in front of her lips. She flashed him a pearly smile and he felt his insides ooze, "Don't inflate my ego before the meeting!"
...
March 10th, 1914
New York City, New York
As they waited for the elevator to arrive in the lobby, Rose couldn't help but continually smooth her dress of non-existent creases over her swollen belly. She fluffed her hair, checking the strength of her bun and she whipped any strand of hair away from the frame of her face. She squared her shoulders and let out a huff. Tim watched with arched eyebrows.
"Hey, it's going to be fine," Tim told her, pressing his hand to her shoulder blade. He nearly trembled as he felt the cool fabric of her dress against his skin, "You've already impressed them, Rose. I'd say you nearly have them eating out of your hand."
"What did I say about ego inflation?" Rose replied, giving him a rather nervous smile, "It never hurts to continually strive to impress. They hold the future to my dream. In many ways, I'm not in control, so I'll bide my time as properly as I can."
Tim could almost sigh in adoration at her stubborn nature. He still admired her intelligence, her patience, and her determined mindset. Any betrayal or hurt he may have felt from Rose was completely dissipated from his mind. He still boundlessly loved her and wanted her. If she told him she wanted to be apart of his life in that way again, he wouldn't think twice about taking her back, picking up right where they left off. Tim knew, he was much self-aware, of the rather toxic nature it was to be with Rose in any physical way. He knew it was a bad idea to attempt to surround himself with Rose, but he couldn't help himself. He was addicted to her.
"Well," Tim finally cleared his throat and glanced to his briefcase at his side, rather sheepishly, "I think you look good. You don't even have to try."
"If there's one thing I know about society, Tim, it's that everyone pays a lot of attention to how you look on the outside," Rose turned her head to Tim as they heard the creak of the elevator lowering into the lobby, "But if you want their respect, you have to be better than that on the inside."
"You do get better," Tim replied, nearly falling head first into her deep green eyes, as beautiful as rolling lush hills in the countryside, "Each layer, there's something more exciting about you. You get more and more wonderful the more you uncover."
Rose blinked slowly, her peach colored eyeshadow sparkling in the skylight overhead of the lobby. The elevator attendant ripped the gate open, drawing her attention away from him. He felt a heat leave his body as her eyes no longer lingered on him. They were taken to the very top level of the building. The elevator was ridden in silence. The attendant stood straight as an arrow, his gloved hands folded in front of him. He pulled the gate open and bid them good day, and together, the lawyer and expecting author went through the tall and dark oak doors into the publishing company's office space. There was a constant hum of chatter, the rustling of papers, and the thunk of hurried feet weaving between the maze of desks laid out. Tim and Rose walked along the perimeter of the slush-diggers, gazing towards them as the agents read a page and either stamped it or threw it out in a bin beside the desk. Rose couldn't help but sigh in relief at being past that portion of the task.
Tim and Rose steered into the first conference room that Thomas preferred to use because it had the best view of New York City. They were there first, as usual. Thomas seemed to be a rather busy man, but always did everything with a great big smile, so it was easily forgiven that sometimes he arrived late for meetings. Tim was quick to pull a chair out for Rose to be sure she got off her feet. She thanked him quietly and seated herself, setting her satchel on the table. Tim slowly wandered towards the window, digging his hands into his pockets. He looked over the tall looming city, holding in a sigh. As time had waned on from January, his feelings had only intensified, and thoughts of Rose were all the more prevalent. He tapped his foot rather anxiously as he wondered how long he could remain her lawyer. How soon would it be until he had to helplessly refer her to a colleague? And then how would he deal with not seeing Rose anymore?
The door opened, drawing Tim away from his inner ruminations. He turned to see the wide and burly Thomas coming through the door with his briefcase at his side. He grinned widely when he spotted his awaiting company. He swung the door shut behind him, his thunderous voice ringing out, "Hello and good afternoon! Let me just put all this crap down. Sorry I'm late. We just had a meeting about the curving interests in the general public," Thomas slammed his briefcase onto the table, nearly spilling all the papers cluttered in his arms, "... and some airhead would just not shut up. He was saying the same thing over and over and over again. Only difference was the phrasing! That's why we keep him in a closet crunching numbers, am I right?" Thomas laughed haughtily and Rose suspected he was a lifelong chain smoker, "Anyway," Thomas clapped his hands together, "good to see you, Rose!" He came back around the table and Rose came to her feet to politely greet him. He stopped dead in his tracks, his bushy eyebrows arching, "Now hold on a minute… you didn't tell me you had a bun in the oven!"
Rose's cheeks grew warm and she glanced down at her bump, smoothing her dress again, "Oh, yes… It's becoming more and more apparent every day."
"Well, congratulations," Thomas beamed, reaching his hand out and tenderly taking hold of her's. He pat the top of her hand in a comforting way, "I have no doubt you'll be a fabulous mother. Tim, you quiet bastard, how are you?" Thomas brushed past Rose, giving Tim a pat on the arm, "Let's sit down. I was going to have my secretary order me lunch. Did you two want something?"
"A coffee would be nice," Tim replied, taking a seat beside Rose as Thomas sauntered towards the door, "One for Rose, too."
"Two coffees, got it," Thomas nodded. He opened the door and leaned into the hallway, "Deborah! Can you get three coffees and a cobb salad to conference room C, please? Stat!" Thomas closed the door and let out a long sigh, adjusting his coat on his shoulders, "Alright. Down to business. Never seems like there's enough hours in a day to get everything done," Thomas seated himself across the table from the duo. Tim swivelled his chair to gaze back out at the beautiful spring day. His knee bumped against Rose and he felt his blood pressure spike, "So, Rose, what do you have for me today?"
Tim watched the side of Rose's face as she grinned and placed her sixty-eight page packet on the table, "I have some rough work for the first part of the novel. And about another thirty pages on my desk at home, but I wasn't quite ready to present that yet. This is yours to keep and to provide feedback on," Rose told him, sliding it across the gleaming oak table.
"Wow, wow, wow! Look at all this text!" Thomas exclaimed, thumbing through the pages, "Listen to me when I say, Rose, you sure are something else!"
Yes, she is… Tim thought, still gazing at the side of her face, She really is…
…
"I'm home!" Rose's voice echoed through the quiet home. She hung her purse on the coat wrack and released her hair from it's bun, sighing as she fingered the kinks out of her curls. She massaged her scalp as she kicked her heels off carelessly and went to the kitchen, on the hunt for a sweet snack. When she opened the ice box, she smiled. Jack had bought a small personal serving of strawberry ice cream, her absolute favorite. Without a second thought, she pulled it out and grabbed a spoon. She hopped up onto the counter, her stocking feet dangling against the cupboards as she dug into the ice cream, relishing in the creamy texture and enjoying the small chunks of strawberries. She paused, her wild hair framing her face, "Jack?" She called again.
More silence. Rose knit her eyebrows together and decided to go exploring. She hopped down from the counter and, while still eating her ice cream, began climbing the stairs. She peeked into their bedroom, which was vacant. She then checked the office, but no one was there either. Rose turned on the balls of her feet and trekked to the other end of the hallway, stopping in the doorway to the future nursery. She lowered her ice cream and grinned. The windows in the room were open to allow the breeze in, but to also provide a draft. The room smelled heavily of different paints. Jack had his back to her and was in deep concentration.
"I thought we were going to just paint the nursery," Rose said. She startled him, obviously. He hunched his shoulders for a moment and gazed behind him. Rose grinned, sticking another spoonful of delicious ice cream into her mouth, "Did I sneak up on you?"
"How long have you been home?" Jack asked, turning towards her now and lowering his pallette.
"Long enough to find the ice cream," She laughed, digging another spoonful out.
"How'd the meeting go?" Jack grinned, dabbing his paintbrush and turning back toward the wall.
"Thomas liked what I had so far," Rose told him, leaning against an unpainted wall and continuing on her treat, "So, typing an entire extra copy wasn't entirely a waste of time."
"I knew it wouldn't be," Jack replied, glancing over his shoulder with a breath taking grin. He made a stroke of rich dark green paint across the wall.
"What's your plan, Mr. Artiste?" Rose asked, cocking an eyebrow up.
"Well," Jack paused now and set his supplies down. He then straightened up, placing his hands on his hips, "behind us you'll see I finished that painting I was working on in the office space," He gestured for Rose to see he had framed it, too, in a dark chestnut brown wood frame, "I decided to continue the scene into a mural across this wall, with the intention to frame this opposite of it. So," Jack turned towards the painting leaned up against the wall beneath it's future home, "when the baby see's this painting above their crib every morning, all they have to do is glance across the room to see they're also in the countryside. I'm going to paint hills and more pine trees beyond that. And the hills are going to roll down into a small river."
"Jack..." Rose lowered her ice cream, gazing towards the beginnings of his mural, "it's going to be beautiful. James is going to be so lucky to have a father like you."
"I think you meant Violet," Jack shot her a side eye.
"I know what I said," Rose grinned, lifting her chin up mockingly, "The baby's inside me, I should know, anyhow."
"Well, you're wrong," Jack shrugged, chuckling all the while.
"Oh, you're just so sure," Rose dug her spoon into her ice cream.
"I just know the next thing I'll be painting after this nursery are those paintings you've promised to me," Jack pointed a paint brush at her as he recollected his equipment to continue, "Trust me when I say, I know it's a girl," Jack paused and grinned, looking to her, "I can feel it, too."
Rose returned the smile as she put some more ice cream in her mouth, "We'll see about that."