Rose looked around the room, dinner was winding down, people were making their way to the promenade, the smoking room or wherever they wanted. For their after-dinner proceedings. Captain Smith stood up stood up with his cigar.
"Well ladies and gentlemen, anyone care to join me for a cigar in the smoking room?" Tommy stood up, as did Mr. Andrews. Captain Smith smiled, "Surely you know everything about how this ship runs Mr. Ryan, and wouldn't you rather do something more, exciting then talk with a few old men?"
"Aye captain" he said. "Your right, but I don't know how everything on the Olympic works yet, care to tell."
"All right Mr. Ryan, come." He said, gesturing towards the smoking room.
"I would just like to say, and I speak on behalf of all of us." Smith said, being serious for a moment. "It is good to see you Rose; we had an empty seat at the table for a long time."
"Care for a dance Rose?" Jack asked.
"I think you know Mr. Artist" Rose said with a smile. She truly could not be happier. They danced all night, switching between the subdued music of the first class band and the energetic music of the Ceili. Rose was happy, she was happy to see everyone relaxed and cheerful. Molly was talking gossip with the Countess and Lady Gordon. Smith and Mr. Andrews had a blueprint of a ship rolled out on a smoking room table, explaining to Tommy every rivet of its construction, not bothered by his amateurish questions at all. Fabrizio and Helga could understand each other, and simply danced the night away with Jack and Rose.
Rose was utterly exhausted by the end of the evening, but a good fatigue, like one that makes the bed and sleep inviting and soothing. The dancing wound down slowly as the night went on. People left in a trickle from the dancing and the cigars and conversations. Jack sensed Rose was exhausted.
"Come on, I'll take you back to our room." Rose liked the sound of that, her and Jack, finally living together, sharing a space they could truly call their own. They made their way up to B-Deck, where there room was located. They said their goodnights to the few people still left awake, the bands, and Fabrizio and Helga.
As they made their way down the first class hallway (which seemed a lot larger then it had the last time Rose remembered it). Rose saw someone round a corner just ahead, someone she did not expect to see here. It was her mother, Ruth Dewitt Bukater, dressed in all her finery, looking like she came back from a similar night; Rose however did not recall seeing her at dinner.
"Hello Rose." She said softly, a blank look on her face. Jack let go of Rose's arm and whispered into her ear.
"I'll leave you two alone." And they kissed before Jack moved down the hall past Ruth and into his room, disappearing from sight.
"Hello mother." Rose said, it was an incredibly awkward situation.
"It's been a long long time Rose." Ruth said. Rose felt her chin quivering, despite it all, this was her mother, the women who raised her and would have always given her unconditional love. She burst forward towards her mother's form, the same as it was when she got on that lifeboat on the doomed ship. She embraced her mother, tightly wrapping her arms around her and hugging, letting her tears come freely.
"I'm sorry mother; I said awful things to you."
Ruth pulled away.
"There is nothing to be sorry for, I'm proud of you Rose, I'm proud of what you made for yourself, but no tears here okay." "I've always thought about you Rose, there wasn't a day when I didn't wonder what you might have been." She paused smiling. "I'm happy for you; you led a wonderful life, better than anything I planned for you."
No more words were spoken they simply looked into each others eyes, a mother and a daughter. Ruth eventually walked past Rose, gave a look back, and the next time Rose looked back as she was opening her door, her mother was gone, she seemed to fade from view like a cloud of dust caught by wind.
The room took Rose aback. It was gorgeous, incredible, stunning all these things. It was also quintessentially Jack. The furniture was simple, stylish and incredibly inviting. The walls weren't visible, instead covered by dozens of paintings, drawings, and photographs. Rose recognized many of them, Monet's water lilies. Winslow Homer's harbor scenes and ships. There were several incredibly large and detailed drawings of the Titanic herself, clearly works of Jack's, Rose would recognize one of his drawings anywhere. There were also quite a few smaller works, sunsets, whales, dolphins, all the wonders of the sea caught in pencil by Jack.
Rose was absorbed by the artwork on the wall; she didn't notice Jack come into the room behind her. She also didn't notice her own items, her pictures, her fish, and a small dog where also in the room now. It was as much her home now as it was Jack's.
"I have sketchbooks full too, I've had a lot of free time."
"They're beautiful Jack." He came up next to her, putting his arm around her waist. He pointed to the giant profile of the ship, smoke gently pouring from the funnels as the sun sank off the bow into the sea.
"That took me almost a year to do; I redid the ship itself a hundred times probably."
"It's incredible; it's like a black and white photograph." Rose said in awe.
"You must have been lonely all these years…." She was hushed by Jack before she could finish.
"Don't you do that Rose, don't say you're sorry for living, I've been fine, and you led an incredible, and I mean that, an INCREDIBLE life."
Rose pushed her lips into Jack's, and he did the same, soon they were making out passionately on the thick, soft, black leather sofa. They eventually stumbled into the bedroom in a heat of wild passion as their clothes were removed one article after another. Rose stopped in the heat of the moment, suddenly full of hesitation.
"It's been a long time Jack." She said breathlessly.
"Nothing's changed Rose, we're the same, just come back, no doubts."
Rose understood what Jack was saying, and let the passion flow back into her, like the young woman she was again. Simple, powerful love flooded her.
They made love, just as they did in the Renault all those years ago. They curled into each other and slept dreamlessly through the dark, sacred night. The ship was rocking just enough under them to rock them to sleep like babies in a cradle, but not enough to cause any concern or discomfort.