Chapter Fifty-Two

April 4th, 1914
New York City, New York

Rose didn't stay on the grassy knoll for long. She felt the urge to get up and walk again. This time, she went the opposite direction of the Diamond Ballroom. She felt as if she could see hear the squealing of the string quartet and the brassy church bells in her ears as she ventured down to the piers reaching out into the river. A few of the boards creaked beneath her step as she eased herself down onto the pier. She set her sun hat on a bench and undid her the pins from her hair, allowing the salty breeze to fling her curls back. Rose tilted her head into the sunlight and took a deep breath.

I've done a very stupid thing, She thought to herself as seagulls squawked overhead, He saw me. What if he discusses this with my mother? They could try coming after me again. I've given them the hope that I really am alive and their's for the taking afterall.

Rose opened her eyes to watch a steamboat in the center of the wide river chug along the rather choppy waves. Gently, she tucked a curl behind her ear, her eyes following the black smoke billowing from the short stacks.

That's silly, though. For Cal, what would be the point? He's finally caught his break. And now, he's officially sealing his inheritance, as I stand here. I'm dead to him on many accounts... maybe just not physically, anymore. And besides... my mother would never be able to find me. Not in a city like this. She'd take a single glance at me and toss me aside like rubbish. She can't fix me now. I'm much too far gone by her standards.

Rose plopped down on the bench beside her hat and set her head against the metal railing poking up behind the bench. She laid her hands to rest on her belly and huffed, I'm going to have to tell Jack of the stupid things I did today. I couldn't possibly keep this from him. Especially after I made such a big deal about not popping by in the first place. God, I'm so stupid. Why did it matter he was getting married? What was I wanting to see? Everything I did see... it was unwanted. Has my brain turned to mush?

Rose closed her eyes again, the spring sun sinking into her skin. She heard the toot of the steamboat as it approached a bend in the river, disappearing from her sight. Rose smoothed some creases out in dress, keeping her eyes closed. After a few moments, she couldn't help but smirk to herself.

I'd never seen that man so confused in his entire life. Come to think of it, can he really conclude that I was there? He could probably convince himself, in his desperate efforts, to think I was meerly a ghost of the past, visiting him on an important day, one last time. His groomsmen most likely saw me, but you know confused men... they laugh and shrug it off. They chalk it up to something else entirely. Not enough sleep. Stress. Too much to drink the night before. And I know Cal... he'll do anything in his power to avoid having to interact with my mother...

Rose looked around her now. She was completely alone on the deserted pier. She smiled tot herself, I'm stupid, yes... but the timing was actually impeccable. I suppose I got to see what I wanted. All this time, I think I was worried I had thrown a cog into everyone's lives. But in fact, everyone looked fine. After all this time, I think we can all finally have what we wanted.

Rose grabbed her sun hat and marched off the pier. The studio was not a far walk at all and she found herself there within the next twenty minutes. She felt she had a renewed energy for the day and walked into the studio to find a big mess as three artists focused and painted. Iris and Frenchie had thrown themselves at art in a new energy, Jack had told her one evening. In the two days since their mother's death, they operated on a new level of passion. Almost as if they had seen their own lives pass before their eyes. Rose let the door swing shut heavily behind her. In a domino effect, Iris, Frenchie, and Jack all gazed towards the door.

"Oh, hey," Jack was the first to react. Quickly, he slid down the ladder and tossed his pallette onto the crinkled up floor mat they had gathered beneath their canvases, "Everything okay?" He asked as he hurried around the table towards her. Gently, he reached out and touched her arm.

"Do you have a moment to speak?" She asked quietly, though she was aware her voice echoed through the studio. Jack nodded without a second thought.

"Yeah, of course," He told her, "Let's go to the storage room in the back," Jack gestured and guided Rose into the backroom, filled with old useless or broken equipment. He flicked the light on and the lamps squealed before finally kicking on. Jack set his hands on his hips and turned to Rose expectantly, "So, what's going on?"

"Jack, I've done something rather stupid," Rose told him. She watched confusion ooze into his eyes, "But actually, I think it was a rather marvelous thing to do for myself."

"Okay... you have my attention," Jack's eyebrows knitted together and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Alright, the stupid part was that I went to go do a walk-by of Cal's wedding."

"Rose-"

"But," Rose interjected, lifting her hand, "I saw my mother. And she looked okay. I think that was important for me to see and know."

"Rose, that was a stupid thing to do," Jack shook his head, rustling his blond hair, "Someone could have seen you! You're the one who said it was best we remained dead to them. You're unmistakable. You're easy to spot from a mile away. Someone had to have seen you and you know the rumor mill, it never stops. Those people are so antsy to spill the juicy gossip, I'm sure they're doing it right now in hushed whispers during the ceremony. Why would you do that, Rose?"

"Like I said," Rose nodded, "It was stupid."

"What made you do it?" Jack asked, rather seriously, "After everything that Cal has done to you, what he put you through, what he made you feel like... why would you go seeking him out?"

"I wanted to know... if they were happy," Rose replied slowly. Jack's face softened.

"What does it matter if they're happy?" Jack asked quietly, "They didn't give a damn if you were happy or not, as long as you were playing their game. Why do you do this to yourself? You feel the need to take on everyone's burden and shoulder it for yourself. It's not good for you, Rose. All that should matter now is if you're happy," Jack paused for a moment, never breaking eye contact with her, "Are you happy, Rose?"

"Yes... I am," Rose told him, "I'm sorry, Jack... I just had to know. Sure, they may have done cruel things to me, plagued me in self-doubt and nearly self-hate, but those were the only people I knew before this. Whether I like to accept it or not, they impacted me. They molded me. They're the reason I am the person I am today. And when those people showed up on the fringe of my life again... well, I just couldn't help myself. Curiosity killed the cat, right?"

"What did you see?"

"My mother. She was with a gentleman I'd never seen before. I suppose maybe my own mother remarried. It must have been her only option after I was gone," Rose replied, "I saw some of my family's old friends. And I saw Cal. He saw me, too."

"You're joking, right?"

"No," Rose shook her head, "He saw me."

"Did he talk to you?" Jack asked.

"I don't think he really thought I was there."

...

After Rose left, the trio continued to paint for the next four hours. Jack was completely absorbed into his mind, left stewing over what Rose had said to him. He was surprised by Rose's rather reckless decision. He still couldn't decide what truly made her do it. As he recalled what she had told him, he panged in hurt to know she absorbed everyone's despair for her own. Rose was too empathetic. And it was nearly a miraculous thing to him, seeing as the people she claimed molded her, were too focused on themselves to see beyond the tip of their nose.

When Frenchie, Iris, and Jack finally decided to call it today, Jack cleaned his supplies up quickly and left before the siblings. Instead of taking his normal left to head towards his neighborhood, Jack continued straight. Ahead of him, he kept his eyes trained on the tall cluster of skyscrapers marking New York City's bustling downtown. He walked briskly and with purpose. The streets were filled with people going home, their ties let loose, and a tired motion in their step. But Jack walked against them, a purpose in his stride, as he crossed the streets and wound through the back alleyways of the city.

He turned the corner in a tight alleyway, carelessly splashing through a murkey puddle. Up ahead, just before the narrow way spilled onto the street, Jack spied a black sleek car. He glanced towards the building it was parked up against and recognized it as the Diamond Ballroom. He paused, sticking his hands in his trouser's pockets. He could hear the distant noise of people and music through some open windows above. Jack pulled his cigarettes out and lit one, leaning against the wall. After a few moments of him standing there alone, wondering why he was even there, the back entry of the ballroom opened and two line cooks stepped out, their coats draped over their shoulders. It was obvious they were taking off for the afternoon.

Curiosity killed the cat, right, Rose? Jack thought to himself. He watched the men carelessly wind around the car, leaving the back door ajar. Jack could see through to a kitchen where a number of employees were bustling about. Jack flung his cigarette to the ground and nearly leapt across the alleyway. He bounded through the door and shut it, quickly hurrying down the narrow hallway that lead around the kitchen. He brushed past waiters carrying trays of discarded dishes and glasses. Jack kept his head down and walked fast. None of the employees questioned him, however.

Up ahead, Jack saw two black swinging doors with circular windows. Just through them, he could see a low-lit room with high vaulted ceilings. He slowed his pace for a moment and adjusted his suspenders on his shoulder and raked his fingers through his hair. Jack took in a deep breath before he urged himself to barge through the doors. The ballroom was filled with over two-hundred people. All the large circular tables were filled with people laughing, chatting, and dining. The dance floor was filled with dozens of people gracefully sweeping in circles around each other. A full band, complete with brass and woodwind instruments, covered the stage with endless music. Jack was nearly overwhelmed at first and he spun around, taking his new environment in.

"Excuse me, sir!" A woman raised a gloved hand. Jack stayed in place for a moment, before she waved at him again, "Yoo-hoo, sir," Jack finally found his muscles and crossed to her, leaning down, "Could you bring us another round of moscato? The good brand, not that supermarket stuff that Mrs. Elizabeth Fullton's mother requested."

Jack looked to the woman for a moment and then glanced around the table. He supposed he was dressed shabby enough to look like the help. He nodded awkwardly and walked away, wandering towards the bar as to not draw attention to himself as an unwanted guest. A few clusters of people lingered close to the open bar. Not many were seated at it. Jack approached a stool and seated himself, hoping he was out of view of that table. He accidentally bumped elbows against the man sitting beside him. He turned to apologized and felt as if all the air had been squeezed out of him. It was Cal.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, what is wrong with me," Cal ground his teeth together and downed his whiskey. Automatically, the bartender refilled his drink, "It's supposed to be the best day of my life and yet I'm being haunted. What did I do to deserve this?"

Jack folded his hands on top of the bar. The bartender served him his own glass of whiskey. Jack decided to drink it, to give himself some liquid courage for the situation he just found himself in. Slowly, he licked his lips and looked to Cal, "Isn't the groom supposed to be one of the guests of honor?" Jack asked, "Why are you sitting at the bar?"

"Even as a ghost, your annoying wit never ceases," Cal shook his head, grasping his glass tightly, "Why are you here, Dawson?"

"I heard that you were in town," Jack shrugged, drinking more of his whiskey.

"Oh, is the newspaper delivered to the bottom of the ocean?" Cal asked, rather snottily. Jack smirked to himself behind his glass. It was obvious Cal was drunk and extremely frustrated, "First, Rose, now you. What do you two want from me?"

"Nothin'," Jack shook his head, "We don't want anything at all."

"Then why have you both come to me on my wedding day?"

"I dunno... seemed symbolic," Jack said, rolling his shoulders.

"You two have been living in New York City this entire time?" Cal turned his bloodshot eyes on Jack, "You two have been under the radar for this long. Why come out and blow it now? You know Ruth is here, right?"

"We're not blowing anything," Jack replied, "Ruth will never believe you saw us. Especially when she sees how much you've drank," Jack grinned and raised his glass to him before taking another drink, "Congrats on the marriage, by the way."

"You haven't changed, Dawson," Cal stared forward again, "Whether you're real or a figment of my past, you're still that annoying little rat you were on the Titanic."

"You know, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Cal."

"How lucky am I to have a drinking mate like you at my own wedding," Cal muttered, "How did you get in here, anyway?"

"I have my ways," Jack said, calling the bartender for a refill, "So, where's the lucky lady?"

"Probably with her entourage," Cal replied, drowning himself in whiskey.

"Hmm, you don't sound too pleased. You should be on top of the moon. Aren't you now the sole person to inherit Hockley Stocks and Consulting?"

The bartender refilled Cal's drink and he took a long sip before looking to Jack, "I don't know why I'm telling you, Dawson, but she wouldn't be my first pick."

"And you're suggesting Rose was?" Jack cocked an eyebrow up.

Cal ground his teeth together for a moment and Jack relished in his frustration, "She's carrying your child, isn't she?"

"I'm pretty sure it's mine."

Cal gripped his crystal tumbler tightly in his hand, "You're much more clever than you look."

"I don't think I'm clever," Jack shook his head and set his drink on the bar, "I just think I'm the first person who's ever beaten you, Cal. You say you always win. Well, I'd go back and double check that streak of yours," Jack smiled again, toasted his glass to Cal, and threw back the rest of his whiskey. He stood and stretched for a moment, patting Cal roughly on the shoulder, "Congratulations, bud. I'm glad we could have this little chat. I gotta get home; I'm pretty sure your wife is looking for you, anyway."

Jack brushed past Cal and headed for the exit just as Elizabeth swung in, wearing a large decadent white gown. She was surrounding by over a dozen girls whose job were to fawn over the beautiful lady. Excitedly, Elizabeth tugged at the drunken Cal's arm. He looked over his shoulder one last time to see Jack slip out the door, allowing the evening light to bleed into the dark ballroom. As Elizabeth peeled him off his stool, he wondered if that really had just happened.