Chapter Fifty-Four
June 14th, 1914
New York City, New York
Rose carefully set a large stack of papers, tied together by white parcel string, on the side of her writing desk. She remained perfectly still in her seat as she stared at it. The corners of the pages curled as a warm breeze came through her open window. Rose lowered her hands to her lap, her eyes trained on the papers. She almost shook as she stared, in an absolute trance. Her novel was finished. There it was, in it's entirety, sitting right before her. Rose nearly couldn't believe it. After so many months, so many distractions, so many nights wondering about the timeline, there it was, completed in front of her, ready to put into Thomas' hands. So many possibilities ran through Rose's mind as she wondered what the next step for her was.
Rose ran her hand over her belly before reaching for a fresh sheet, tucking it into her typewriter. She let out a huff and lowered her hands to the keys. She paused for the slightest moment before her hands began running along the familiar board she had spent the past half year hunched over. Rose typed with confidence, shutting down any second thoughts she may have had about the letter she was composing. The clacking of the keys was the only thing to be heard in the house and Rose grew acutely aware of it. She paused, turning her head towards the ajar door. She watched streams of light fall across the hallway. In just two months, she knew she'd be hearing the sounds of a wailing baby.
Rose stood up abruptly from her writing desk, leaving the letter half-finished in the typewriter. She wandered away from it, in the mood for some tea and a break. As she began towards the stairs, she paused, when she passed another open door. Slowly, she approached the doorway of the nursery and gazed around. Jack had completed his large mural that spanned the entirety of the four walls enclosing the room. They had finished the crib, acccumulated a rocking chair, and a powder table. Next, they would just need to fill the closet and bring an overflowing toy hamper into the room to complete it. Rose leaned against the doorway, looking around the quiet empty room. After a few moments, she slowly entered, her stocking feet padding on the soft carpet. She opened the curtains and looked down into the empty backyard. Her hand gently rest on the back of the stained brown rocking chair. She turned to look into the crib. Then turned her eyes on the powder station.
In just two months... I'll have you in my arms, Rose thought, glancing to her large belly. Rose followed the brush strokes on the walls, imagining Jack's magical touch, every streak he made on the wall full of meaning. Rose approached the changing station, gently touching the few cloth diapers they had collected in preparation for the baby's first week at home, I'm so ready to have you here... but am I ready to give birth? As her due date grew near, Rose felt an uproar of anxiety plague her insides, turning her intestines into knots. She had made the mistake of reading a magazine aimed towards mother's and she had come across many horror stories during birth. Bleeding to the point of being rendered unconscious. A pain so intense, it left women bedridden for weeks. The terrifying possibility of being left full of undying sorrow, that for no reason ruins a woman's outlook on any future for herself. The thought of something going wrong rained down on Rose. She worried about losing the baby. Sometimes, she worried about her own well being. What if something happened to her? She allowed herself to be nervous over the thought of her baby not having a mother. She wondered how Jack would cope.
Rose shook her head and blinked rapidly. She gripped the top of the crib and looked out the window again, Nonsense. Jack would never let anything happen to me or the baby. I have to be brave and strong for Jack, like he is for me. Nothing is going to go wrong. The baby will arrive and do nothing but make us happy. Nothing bad will happen... Rose left the nursery and went down to the kitchen, making herself a cup of mint tea. She dropped a sugar cube into the glass and watched it slowly dissolve into the steamy drink, Just to think... I'll be a mother in a few weeks...
Rose stared at the marble countertop for a moment before sighing and setting her tea spoon down. She took a slow sip of her tea, testing the sweetness. She licked her lips and gazed into the backyard again, watching their one lone tree sway in the wind, I wonder what occupied my mother in the weeks leading to my birth. I wonder what she felt, what she worried about, what she hoped for. I'm sure she prayed day and night for a boy. I wonder how disappointed everyone was in that room when I came out as a girl... Rose paused, her tea cup hovering in front of her lips, She went through all that trouble, suffered all those nine months, to only deliver a disappointment.
She pressed her palm to her belly, I won't be disappointed, whether you're a boy or a girl, I promise, baby. I want things to be different. So different. I never want you to lie awake at night wondering what's wrong with you. I never want you to feel like you cannot talk to me or confide in me. I don't want you to think you're walking on egg shells, condemned to playing a guessing-game. You'll never feel ashamed of yourself, no matter what you want to do. I promise, baby, I will break all the molds that have followed my bloodline for centuries. Things will be different for you and I. The DeWitt Bukater's won't be able to touch you, baby. They won't be able to touch any of us.
On that note, Rose gathered her tea into her hands and returned to her writing desk. She took a deep breath before gently laying her fingers to poise over the keys. Her eyes slowly wandered down the few lines she had already written. She nodded to herself and began the next line, the typewriter slowly stamping out in front of her eyes Tim.
...
June 18th, 1914
Manhattan, New York
Jack took off work that day to accompany Rose to her monumentous meeting at the publishing company. The entire morning while Rose got ready, Jack followed at her heels, reading her manuscript and exclaiming lines out loud that he considered were pure gold. Rose peered at him in the reflection of her vanity mirror at him, as he sat, half-dressed, on the foot of their bed.
"Some of those lines might not even make it to the final cut," Rose had told him with a laugh.
They were directed towards the typical conference room. Rose grinned as she guided Jack around the outskirts of the typical mayhem. He raked his hair from his eyes and watched the commotion. Rose paused at the door.
"Are you ready for this view?" She asked him before opening the door without waiting for an answer. Rose found herself mesmerized by the view, as usual. Everything seemed especially bright and cheery that day, as if it was her oyster to scavenge. She tore her eyes away prematurely, however, to watch Jack. He was very slowly wandering towards the wide picture window spanning across the wall. He pressed his hand to the smudgeless window and simply stared, his mouth agape. Rose came to stand beside him, smiling as she gazed at his wordless face, "Is it an inspiring view, Mr. Artiste?"
"You have no idea," Jack simply breathed, his eyes still soaking in everything they could. Rose laced her fingers through his, "You did it, Rose," He said, tearing his eyes away from the view moments later, "Without anyone's help, guidance, unnecessary coercing, you made it to the top. Here you are, on top of Manhattan, all on your own accord. You did it, Rose. You always could," He gently cusped her cheek with his palm, "I believed in you, even when we were separated. I never stopped believing in you. Even in death, I knew you'd still find a way to go on."
Rose melted into his words and touch. She pressed her hip against him and sighed, "Probably not what you want to hear... but I couldn't have done this without you, Jack. Plain and simple."
"That's a lie," Jack shook his head, "The first story they accepted from you was one that you wrote before we met again. You did it all on your own, darlin'."
"At least take some credit."
"I did provide pizza, which is a known-benefactor on progress," Jack laughed.
"I never thought this day would come," Rose sighed, glancing towards the finishing manuscript sitting lonesomely on the large conference table, "So much blood, sweat, and tears went into that, Jack. What if they actually end up hating it? What if they just rip my contract up in front of me?"
"Hey, we both know that ain't gonna happen," Jack turned fully to her, gripping her arms, "They're going to love it. They'll want to plaster your name on every market window, sign, and sandwich board in the state. Hell, even the country! You'll be among the remembered contributors to literature in a hundred years, Rose."
"You just sound so sure about everything," Rose huffed melodramatically, caressing his fingers gently, "We don't know what's going to come of this."
"Oh, I'm sure about this," Jack insisted, "Just like I'm sure we're having a girl."
"Look how big I am!" Rose gestured to the large bump that kept them apart, "This is surely a boy. You cannot deny it, Jack."
"You're not big at all," Jack chuckled, pressing his hands to either side of her belly, "Just more of you to love, anyway. I'm feelin' lucky. It's Violet, I know it is."
Just as Rose was about to reply, the conference doors flew open and Thomas marched in, followed by a trail of well-dressed employees Rose had never seen again. She felt her stomach drop through her body and she nearly gulped audibly. She turned towards them, folding her hands in front of her. Thomas grinned, crossing the room.
"Rose, honey, good to see you! Whose this charming chap?"
"This is my husband, Jack," Rose grinned, gently touching his arm.
"Pleased to meet you," Thomas gave him an energetic handshake, "Impeccable timing, Mr. Dawson. Rose, on behalf of Iron and Tooth Publishing Company, I'd like to officially congratulate and accept you as an author represented by our expertise. We're ready to begin printing and distributing your novel The Greater Heights by the end of the summer, perfect-timing for back to school readers."
As Thomas finished his words, a pop echoed through the conference room, followed by the howls and cheers of the employees blocking the entryway. They clapped as an agent stepped forward, pouring champagne into flute glasses. Rose felt her cheeks grow warm as he held the glass out to her, which she gingerly accepted. Her heart beat thunderously in her chest as Thomas wrapped his arm around Rose's shoulders.
"You're going to do great things, I can tell," He said quietly, beneath the ruckus of celebrating. Rose looked to him for a moment before slowly looking at Jack, whose eyes had never left her. He was already grinning, holding his flute glass nonchalant by his side. She felt her body temperature rise just by looking at him.
...
Soon enough, all the paperwork was signed and Rose shook hands with people she had already forgotten the names of. Slowly, the conference room deflated and the sounds of roaring typewriters, hurried footsteps, and impatient shouts made it to her ears again, returning Rose to reality. She adjusted the strap on her satchel as she and Jack walked back towards the door.
"I'll meet you at the elevator," Rose said gently, touching Jack's arm, "I need to speak with Thomas."
"Okay," Jack nodded, "I'm gonna go eavesdrop on the office gossip."
Rose grinned weakly and watched as he left. She then took a deep breath and turned towards Thomas, who was busy collecting all his paperwork for his inevitable next meeting. Rose gripped the strap of her satchel tightly and approached the side of Thomas. She reached into her bag and withdrew an envelope. Tim was written neatly across the front.
"Is there any chance I can leave this with you to give Tim the next time you see him?" Rose asked, "His eyes only. Official business, you know."
"Well," Thomas straightened up and paused from his task, "I'd love to do that for you, Rose, but actually, Tim resigned about a week and a half ago."
"Resigned?" Rose echoed, obviously caught off guard, "What do you mean?"
"He told me he was moving his practice to Maryland. Baltimore, to be exact," Thomas replied, "You're telling me he hasn't told you? He's your lawyer!"
"Well... no, not really," Rose shook her head, "In a way, he never was my lawyer. He never charged me a dime. He just did it all for me. Whether it was purely a pro-bono motive or him just being kind, he wasn't ever really my lawyer, Thomas."
"Hmph... I kind of figured," Thomas nodded, shifting his weight between his feet, "I knew he was sweet on you. Just by the way he looked at you and talked about you. Tim's a smart fellow, I've worked with him for years... but boy, sometimes his heart just really gets in the way. I don't know if it's from that maiden sanctuary he was brought up in or what. It's a shame he was in love with a married lady."
Rose bit down on her lip for a moment, lowering the envelope to her side, "Do you know if he's left yet?"
"Can't say," Thomas shrugged, "I haven't seen or talked to him in those two weeks."
"Okay," Rose nodded, glancing out the window, "Thank you, Thomas."
...
New York City, New York
When Jack and Rose arrived at the train station back home, Rose told Jack she had errands to run. He was adamant about the fact that she needed to go home and rest, but Rose insisted she wouldn't be long. Jack hesistantly let her go with a kiss and decided to stop by the studio on his way home. Rose was dearly tired, she noticed, as she began her up-town march. After a bit of walking in the hot afternoon sun, Rose came upon the building that held Tim's office. Immediately, she peeled herself to the directory and noticed she couldn't find his name. She hurried through the doors and took the elevator to floor twelve. She ripped open the gates herself before the attendant could, who seemed rather bewildered by the rider operating the lift themselves.
Rose rushed down the hallway to his office door. His name was still embossed over the glass. Rose knocked hesitantly, but there was no noise on the other side of the door. She glanced up and down the quiet and vacant hallway before letting herself into the unlocked office. It was dark when she entered, which was out of place since it was a week day. Rose flicked the light on and gazed around to notice many pieces of furniture and all the filing cases missing. She rounded the large oak desk, noting the top had been completely cleared of any personal items. She ran her hand along the empty top before opening a few drawers. They had all been completely cleaned out.
Rose slowly lifted her head and gazed over the shelled-out office from behind the desk. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest as she lowered herself into the large leather chair, bumping it against the empty bookshelves built into the walls. She folded her hands into her lap, simply staring at nothing in particular.
He's leaving because of me, isn't he? Rose asked herself. She dreaded the answer, but it loomed on the forefront of her mind, I've chased him entirely out of New York City. He's called this place home for decades and I've come along, and as usual, caused my natural destruction. What could there possibly be for him in Baltimore? This city is large enough to split between us. I never wanted to do this to him. How could this be the right choice for him?
Rose became acutely aware of the clock ticking on the wall. She left the office, quietly closing the door after her. She didn't have the patience to wait for the elevator, so instead, she took the vacant staircase. She was winded after just a few flights down but continued. She felt a slight cramp in the abdomen and paused, taking a deep breath and pressing her hand to her belly.
Come on, Rose told herself, flaring her nostrils as the cramp intensified, I can do this. I'm not so helpless that I can't even take the stairs.
After a few moments, she felt well enough to continue and she burst from the lobby of the building back into the hot afternoon sun. She marched with certainty up-town again, not even looking to anybody she passed. Rose walked with purpose, ignoring street crossing signs and jay-walking in front of oncoming traffic. Any beeps she received were not recognized by her. She came upon a familiar sight of a playground, which was populated by dozens of children swinging on monkey bars, climbing jungle gyms, and swinging into the sky on creaky chains. Rose paused and gripped the top of the stone half-wall dividing the park from the street. She watched the children play chase and hide behind trees. She grinned as she watched two children dig deep holes in the sandbox. She almost laughed as a little girl was scared away from a tree by a quirky squirrel.
Rose then slowly lost her grin as just beyond some children, stood the tall townhouses just across the street. The second from the left. Her eyes lingered on the windows which glinted in the afternoon sun. Her eyes scanned down the well-painted shutters, across the intricate carvings in the moldings, and came to rest on his front door. Rose rounded the playground, the children now completely forgotten to her. Without looking, Rose crossed the street and found herself on his front step. Her heels crunched onto something and she looked down to see a mat that said 'Welcome' beneath her. She took a deep breath, hunching her shoulders for a moment. After what seemed an eternity, she knocked on the door, causing her heart rate to spike.
Rose counted the beats slowly. She began to think maybe he really wasn't there anymore. That in the span of fourteen days, Tim had been able to collect himself into a backpack and book it to Baltimore. It was as if he had effectively thrown a match to his old life and left without looking back. But suddenly, Rose heard shifting, and she stopped breathing. The door swung open and there was Tim, looking much different than how she'd ever seen him. He was wearing just a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. It was tucked into black slacks. She had never seen him dressed so lightly before. Tim seemed rather surprised to see Rose on his door step. His face didn't mask what he felt at all. Just beyond him, Rose could see disorganization, slowly gravitating towards open boxes scattered across the floor of his living room.
"So it's true," Rose said quietly, slowly meeting his eyes, "You really are moving to Baltimore."
Tim nodded at first before he finally found his voice, "Yes, I am. I'm... I'm changing my speciality in practice. I don't want to do business and banking anymore. I've decided I want to try family and civil law."
"Why the sudden change?" Rose asked.
Tim leaned his arm up against the doorway and sighed, raking his hands through his dark hair, "I've just come to realize, Rose, that I really need a change."
"A change so drastic, you're moving away from everyone you know and love?"
"Maryland isn't a far throw from here," Tim shrugged, "I'm closer to DC, anyway. It will be better for me and my career."
"Are you moving because of what's happened between you and I?" Rose asked, turning her head, "You're willing to move away just to get some space between you and the facts?"
Tim was quiet for a few moments and lowered his eyes. The sun reflected brightly off the lens of his glasses as he mulled over what he would say next. After a few beats, he licked his lips and looked back to Rose, "What happened between us last time really opened my eyes to some things, Rose. I've lost myself. I've lost everything I ever stood for. I've fixated on you. It's not healthy and it's not fair to anybody, especially you, Rose. I realized in that moment, that I still hadn't accepted what I had learned in January. I hadn't accepted what the new reality was. And it made me realize..." Tim paused for a moment, simply studying Rose's face in the sunlight, "I'm missing out on a lot in life. I'm missing so many connections, so many opportunities, so many memories. I've been rooted in spot, complacent, for far too long. I think moving to Maryland will be a good thing for me. I'll meet new people, be in a new envrionment. I can clear my mind and start fresh again. And now, I can make some new headway on my life. Maybe finally start that family I've always wanted. Be the lawyer I've always wanted to be."
Rose found herself smiling weakly at him, "That's... what I wanted to hear, Tim. All I want is for you to be happy. If you're really walking into Baltimore with the drive you say you are... well, I think that's good and I think you will go far with those goals. I want what's best for you, Tim."
"I still care for you tremendously," Tim said, "And I'll probably never stop thinking about you, Rose Dawson."
Rose nodded, "I'll never forget what you did for me, Tim Calvert."
They stood in silence for a few moments, fleetingly meeting eyes. Rose reached into her bag and withdrew the envelope, slowly holding it out towards him. Tim gingerly took it into his hands and she felt a rush of déjá vu, remembering when he tenderly accepted the first note with her address on it well over a year ago.
"What's this?" Tim asked, turning the envelope between his fingers.
"It's kind of a mix between goodbye, good luck, and you're fired," Rose grinned. Tim chuckled at this and lowered the envelope to his side, "I guess this is it."
"Looks like it," Tim nodded stiffly, "I'll be gone by the end of the week."
Rose waited for just a beat before she reached forward, linking her arms around his neck. He was surprised at first, but gracefully swooped into completing the hug, pressing his palms flat to her back. They hugged tightly for a few moments in silence, the howls of the playing children distantly making it to their ears. When they finally parted, Rose caught his hand, giving it a final squeeze.
"Good luck, Tim," She said quietly, before turning and descended his stoop. Tim watched her disappear around the corner before sighing. He closed the door behind him and pressed the envelope to his forehead, closing his eyes and relishing in the silence. In the next moment, a familiar scent reached his nose. He inspected the envelope slowly before realizing it smelled like lavender and potpourri.