Note: This chapter contains a derogatory ethnic slur. It is not meant to
offend, but used in dialogue to portray a character. In my defense, it's an
attack on an ethnicity that's in my own blood.
Montmartre, June 1911
Jack concentrated hard. He was nearly finished with Simone's gorgeous hands. Which was even more of a blessing considering Simone had the average attention span of a toddler. He glanced up again. He was almost done.
To his dismay Simone's hands had moved. No longer spread out and beautiful but both flipping him off.
"Simone!"
"Quoi? It looks finished to me!"
"It's not. I need to add more."
"You have both my hands in there."
"There's all sorts of stuff I can't quite explain," he got up, "you know, shadows, lighting, it's got to look and feel perfect. It's got to be right."
"What ever you say, Monet."
"You know I saw him through a fence at Giverny once. It was a week before we came here and met all of you. But at the time we were trespassing on the property next door. I couldn't take my eyes off of him! I mean, it was Monet! So Fabri's pulling my legs and I'm holding on this white picket fence and I'm gripping and he's yanking so much that's he got me stretched out a foot above the ground, and he's yelling 'Jack! Jack! We gotta go-" He looked at Simone. She was staring at the table, looking distant. "Simone." she had no response, "you alright there? You don't look yourself."
"Mais si. I'm fine."
"Are not. You're never quiet."
"I'm going to sleep now. Go home."
"Aren't you working tonight?"
"No."
"When was the last time you worked?" Jack knew the other prostitutes were almost ready to oust their own resident matron. Simone hadn't seen a customer or brought in any money in close to a month.
"Kid, go home." She said throwing on an extra jacket.
"Did somebody give you something? Are you sick? Is that why you haven't been working?"
"I don't have time for this.and I'm perfectly clean."
Jack kept staring at her. Last fall Jack had practically started on business with drawing whores. Everyone wanted to be drawn by the cute American boy. But lately, Simone had only let him draw her hands and face.
Jack was always strictly professional with the girls. And he never felt a real attraction to Simone, but he had to admit she was nice to look at. Mature artist or not he was an eighteen year-old boy.
Unfortunately, he was a very perceptive boy. He was almost sure he knew what was wrong with Simone. Either way, there was something wrong and he was going to weed it out. But this, he didn't think it was possible.
"What's with all the clothes, it's pretty hot out, Simone."
He was talking down to her. Simone hated being patronized.
"Leave me alone. I lived my whole life without a father. Don't try now."
"Tell me what's wrong." He grabbed her arm as she went through the doorway. She pulled away violently slamming her back into the mirror that stretched the wall of the room.
"Fine.it won't do you any good. You can't help."
She stepped back slowly. First, pulling off her shawl. Then undoing her dress never breaking eye contact. She stripped herself naked. Now Jack saw.
Her stomach was bulging, it was small enough to be hidden but not for long. She looked at him and tried to stare him down, but her lip started to quiver.
Jack ran over to her and draped her shawl around her.
"Everything's going to be just fine." he said, hugging her.
"It's too late to get rid of it!" she cried, "I didn't want to go to one of those butchers! I know what happens to girls who get abortions. I've seen it, it's so terrible."
"You're tough. You're gonna get through this."
"I thought it wasn't possible, nearly twenty years and not once! Of course I took measures, but I always thought I was barren.and I think I didn't go because I thought I wanted it.oh, I don't know anymore!"
"So you're having the baby?"
"I don't have a choice now."
"How far along are you?"
"About five months." She whispered. Jack waited a moment to think of his next question.
"And do you have an idea of who the father is?"
"Ugh!" she wailed, "it could have been anybody! Anybody! Sometimes I see three men a night!"
"Okay, okay." He rubbed her back. Are you keeping it?"
"No child deserves me as a mother, not with what I do, not with where I live. But an orphanage? I'll tell you what those are like, what happens to those children.I should know."
Jack thought for a moment. Simone was thirty-one, or at least they estimated so, she wasn't old, but she was getting older. She had maybe a decade or so. After that, no one would want a washed up, old whore. No one would pay for that. Perhaps she'd just fade away and find some other form menial work that was not so demeaning. He always thought she was better than it all anyway. It was time he told her.
"What if you didn't live here anymore or weren't a prostitute?"
"What?"
"What if you moved away and started a new life?"
"What if I said I think you've been drinking?" She smiled weakly. She didn't want to admit but the idea seemed wonderful. Hope for the first time in her life. But it was unrealistic. But then again.who was she looking at. The boy had lived such a different from what he first knew and he traveled so far from America.but a child? Another person's life? Who would put that in the hands of Simone LeClerc?
***
Meanwhile across the Atlantic.
Miss Clement's Academy for Ladies Albany, New York
The Academy had newly passed sport requirements much to the dismay of some of the girls and the more reserved families. Despite the improperness and young ladies engaged in extensive exercise all they were all thankful to be outside on such a beautiful spring day. Well, most of them were thankful.
"I can't believe we have to do this! I'll cut my hands to bits!" Victoria Sinclair looked down mournfully at her bow and arrow.
"A modern lady is well versed in sports as well as literature and manners." said Samantha Parkington, who mournfully repeated her knowledge of the system.
"Anyway, I can't believe we're graduating in two weeks. I'm so excited!" Vickie squealed.
"Yes, then we get to sit pretty until out knight in shining armor sweeps us off our feet." I said sardonically.
"Only you can be cynical about such things, Rose." Vickie shook her head.
"I'm exceptional that way." I answered.
Sam shrugged. She grew up in a well to do, but liberal family. Her aunt was a suffragette. For that, and the fact that her family was not a big name and she didn't have the endless wealth as most of the other girls she was slightly alienated.
"Why so glum about graduation? We're moving on." said Sam.
"If we were boys we'd be going off to bigger and better things maybe, unless we were just expected to do what our fathers had already done.but us, we'll get married, host parties and punch out babies-"
"You don't have to be so graphic." Vickie said. I knew the phrase 'punch out babies' would make her uncomfortable-that's why I used it.
"Like I said, we don't have anything to look forward to except no more endless boredom in classrooms."
"What do you care? One of us is going Radcliffe." Vicky glared at me.
"I think it's doubtful."
"I thought you got in." Sam raised an eyebrow.
"That isn't the only factor in my going." I wasn't stupid, as much as they tried to keep it from me, I knew about the company. College wasn't in my future.
"Yes, we know about your father and Nathan Hockley. What a great looking couple of sons!" Vicky giggled.
"Holden is my best friend and I've never met Cal. Where do you get your ideas?"
"Holden is terrible. He's so.offensive." Vickie sneered. "Cute but so offensive."
"Why do you think he's my best friend?"
"You'll marry Cal. I know your parents." Vickie said. "Besides he's quite a catch."
"He's quite a looker, but he and Holden don't get along."
"Stop siding with Holden," she said 'Holden' with disgust as if the word tasted bad, "I think you're in love with him."
"I'll have you know-"
"Are you ever going to shoot that thing?" Sam interjected before something started.
"I'm trying to concentrate, but I can't with Vickie's jabbering." I glared at my cousin. She could be such a ditzy little blonde sometimes.
"Sorry!" I released my arrow and missed the target. Not only did I miss it, but it hit a tree ten feet away. When I went to retrieve it we found it embedded in the trunk. It was so far in there was no pulling it out.
"That's impossible!" Vickie gasped.
"So much strength, but no direction. Sometimes I wonder if it's a metaphor for something." Sam tapped me with her arrow.
"It just means I'm not cut out to be an archer." I said resentfully.
I hated her sometimes. I wasn't used to people like Samantha Parkington when I was sixteen and angry. She believed in me.
***
France
"So what are you going to do?" Marie, now officially engaged, asked her pregnant friend.
Simone looked at Jack. They hadn't discussed anything since the day she told him in the brothel studio.
"I'm leaving."
"Leaving what?" asked Pierre, "the business? Montmatre?"
"Paris."
"What? Where will you go? What?" Jean was bewildered.
"One day soon the lot of you will grow up. I need to as well."
"You talked her into this, no Jack?" Fabrizio knew him too well.
"I just said what I thought was right."
"I wouldn't sell my child.and I'm not going to sell myself anymore."
Pierre spit his drink back his into his glass.
"You're keeping it?!"
"I dream of the day you say that about our first born." Marie looked out into the distance. Everyone looked at Marie, distracted for a moment by the predicament of the mother whore. She never made a cynical comment in her life. "You stay with him for long enough," she nudged Pierre, "it rubs off."
"I bought a wedding ring and after the baby is born I'm leaving on the cheapest ticket to a countryside ville. I'll change from Mademoiselle to Madame. I'll be a poor, respectable widow. No more sleeping with strange men for money. It's no life I would give to anyone else. It's amazing what people will tolerate to live. I started selling my body and love when I was twelve because I was starving. I should have been outside playing, barely evening thinking of boys. I'm done with it all. I'm not quite used to it, but I don't miss it.and I don't walk away from my life. Now I've got to give my life to someone else and I'm fine with that.so Pierre, you asked me if I was keeping it."
"We're all with you." Jack nodded.
"You'd all better be," Simone smiled, "I'm not one to cross lightly." She put her hand in the center of the table. Everyone joined her.
"One for all and all for one, eh?" Fabri laughed.
"We're like the six musketeers!" added Jean.
"Seven!" Jack winked at Simone.
***
Philadelphia, October 1911
"The Earl of Leicester, I presume." I strutted out in full Elizabethan garb, actually in full Elizabeth garb, ready for a grand costume party on All Hollow's Eve.
"Your Majesty." said my partner in crime, the young Mr. Hockley held out his hand.
"I think the others will be a little put off that we have such complicated costumes.and not fancy masks or stupid little peacock headdresses?"
"You've got the hair, you've got the attitude, your father's name is Henry and your mother's like Anne Boleyn. Go wild, Queen Elizabeth!"
I couldn't help but smile at him. Unfortunately, this wasn't the young Mr. Hockley who was courting me.
"I think we also may be in trouble for dressing up as Elizabeth Tudor and Robert Dudley. It's a little suggestive, don't you think?"
"Why we look like them, act like them, know each other under similar circumstances." He sat next me. I knew he might try to kiss me. I didn't want to admit I wanted him too. I also didn't want to admit I might be developing a soft spot for his older brother-something he'd never forgive me for.something he didn't forgive for. But it was also something I couldn't help and something that needed to happen if I was going to survive my inevitable marriage to him.
"We're going to be late," I said breaking the intimate moment, "they're expecting us." I gathered up my things and Holden's arm and went out the door.
Everyone looked a little offended at our blatant eccentricity. I thought I hear my mother curse under her breath.
"Took you two long enough." Cal smiled as we came sweeping down the stairs. It was a little patronizing, but I ignored it and took his arm. "Your Majesty." He bowed low and laughed.
Holden silently fumed.he stole his line. I pretended to notice. For once in my life I had regularly been avoiding starting trouble. Holden flashed me a dirty look.
My mother sneered and my father didn't notice a blessed thing as usual. I pulled myself tighter around Cal. Sometimes he was my only ally.
***
Simone walked home holding her generous stomach. It had started to rain pretty hard a few minutes earlier and now it was thundering with lightening. She wiped her brow and cursed. It was a little warm for October, but she was starting to get cold and home was a few blocks away.
She had been at work all day in a terrible little bar populated by sailors to make ends meet. Not too many people knew she had been a pro. But she was harassed all the same because she was a woman.and an unwed mother at that.
She didn't know what to do anymore. The baby was due soon, but there was no way to tell exactly when it was conceived. She never saw a doctor. Money was running out; Simone was burning out.
Then pain. A terrible pain. She looked for a place to sit down but couldn't see through a few violent flashes of lightening.
"Ah!" She winced and grabbed her middle. "Sacred Bleu! Merde, merde! Non, non!"
It was happening and there was no one there to help. There was no one. She had to get back to home. She couldn't have the baby alone in the street. She thought she was going to die.
It was only four more blocks to home; she could make it. The contractions weren't very close together. It would be hours until the baby came. She groaned at the thought of hours of labor.
She made it another block without further contractions. By the time she got to the post office she felt a warm flow between her thighs. Great, as if she wasn't soaked enough her water broke.
She rested for a moment, leaning up against the Poste Montmatre building. From her standpoint she could see the Moulin Rouge through the rain. She had a many a time snuck in there, both when it was nightclub and recently after it had converted into an opera house. She took 'her boys' Jack and Fabrizio to see a few shows.sneaking themselves in of course.
But now everything seemed to be ending. She pushed herself off of the wall and continued down the street. It was become painful to walk to extra, awkward weight had been a strain on the wooden, now it was becoming unbearable. It hurt so bad.
Suddenly she heard footsteps and splashing puddles. People! Was she saved?
Faces came out of the rain. They studied her for a moment. Her brown hair was matted against her faced and her clothes soaked to the bone. Her expression was that of a permanent wince.
"Hey, it's us! Hey, Simone!" Jack grabbed her arms.
"Che? Where were you? It's almost three!" Fabrizio threw her arm over his shoulder.
"Just get me back home! A-ah!" she cried. After it was over she straightened herself out.
There was another great flash of lightening in the sky and the three of them looked up.
"Some night, eh?" said Fabrizio softly.
Jack got under her other arm and helped her back home, which took another twenty minutes. They walked up the narrow steps of the brothel to which a few whores and customers grew angry at the unpleasant cries of pain. One such girl, Françoise came out with miserable looking young sailor.
"Hey, you can't do that here! There are few things I won't listen to and this-"
"Go to hell, Françoise." Jack said as he and Fabri carried past her a very flustered Simone. Françoise closed her mouth and grabbed her sailor's arm and hid back in the room. No prostitute in the brothel of the Putain Belle challenged Simone. She was the matron and tough as nails. Although now she'd been reduced a screaming wretch.
Fabri and Jack carried her through the tiny hallway of the corner room and placed her on the bed. She leaned her head against the wall. For the first time she thought how she hated the color on the walls, sort of a dingy blue, similar to how her dress looked now only darker.
"Arg!" she growled, "get this thing off me!" She wiggled her right leg. Fabrizio climbed over to unscrew the wooden leg, trying not to hurt her as he reached over, the right side of the bed was up against the wall.
Jack went to close the door when he saw another one the pros walk by. She was a little fat, pulling off a bouffant wig.
"Alo, Claude!" he whispered urgently. "Are you busy?"
"Non." She sensed Simone was in labor.
"Get Pierre, Marie, and Jean, sil vous plaît!"
"Oui, tout de suite, Jacques." She patted him on the shoulder and scampered down the stairs.
Jack closed the door and came to check on things. Fabri was crawling around and tearing apart the armoire looking for extra pillows.
"How we doin'?" Jack asked.
"We're fine, where are the others?"
"Coming."
"Oh, why does this hurt, you think of all things that have been put up the hole, the baby would've just slipped right out months ago."
Jack and Fabri just stared. Simone shrugged. You can take Simone out of the brothel, but you couldn't take the brothel out of Simone.
The others came faster than the lightening outside. Within five minutes they were standing in the room-with extra pillows.
"Where did you get those from?" Simone asked as they placed them behind her back.
"Claude stole them from Françoise." explained Jean. Simone grinned, she hated the sniveling little waif.
"Good old Claude." Simone smiled.then winced. "Ah! Another one!"
Marie moved in front of the bed and began to free Simone of her pantyhose and underwear, and pealed back her sodden dress from her legs.
"What are you doing?!" Jean shrieked in disgust.
"How is the baby going to come out?" Marie turned around. "My mother's mid- wife, M. Millet, I know what am I doing. Jack, get a tub and fill it water. Jean, go find some dry clothes, Fabrizio stay here for a moment, everyone wash your hands!" She leaned over to her fiancé, "we need to keep Jean out as much as possible. Poor boy will be traumatized."
"Oui, amoureuse." He kissed her on the cheek.
***
They had been there for hours. The rain had stopped at around 6:30. It was nearly 8:00 now. Simone let out another incredible wail.
"Just keep breathing, you are doing great." Marie felt as if her legs were going to detach. She had been crouched there for the better part of an hour holding Simone's knees. Jack and Fabrizio were sitting on either side of her on the bed, holding her up, and holding her hands.
"So much pain! Make it stop!" Simone cried.
Pierre stood around pacing. Jean was outside on guard, Marie thought it better that he stay outside and not be afraid of females for the rest of his life. As the group stood now he was the only virgin. He hadn't gone beyond kissing a girl. Marie was not about to let his watch a birth.
"When?! I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE!!!" Simone screeched. Jack suddenly had a really good idea of why he stayed at Milo's house when Emily was born.
"Very soon! Push harder!" Marie shouted.
"Non! Je ne peux pas!" she sobbed. "Wait till it's your turn, you'll see!"
From working with her mother so much Marie had seen enough so that she was not easily wavered. She ignored the idea about her own future labor, even though she knew she might already be pregnant.
"You just push, amie! Very hard!"
"Arg-ah!" She looked up at the ceiling and howled. Jack and Fabri didn't think they were going to be able to use their hands after this.
"Push! Push now it's coming! PUSH!" Marie's voice jumped several octaves on the last 'push.'
Jean stood outside shaking while Claude held his hand. He was more upset than Simone.
Simone let out another painful scream, but before she finished a baby's voice wailed as it slipped into Marie's arms. Simone collapsed back onto the bed.
Marie pulled the baby close and wiped the blood and muck from the little cheeks as she stood up and came around the bed.
"Simone, it's a girl!" Marie smiled, half-laughing and half-crying.
Simone pushed her self up with the help of Fabri and Jack, and reached out her arms.
"And she's got two legs!" Pierre cheered. "Two beautiful legs!"
"Ma enfante." She smiled big.
Pierre came close to the bed and Jean and Claude opened the door and squeezed through the little hall.
"She got a name?" asked Jack for the last time. Everyone had been curious for months but Simone would change her mind every day.
"Yes, I know her name now. Evelyne" she touched the baby's nose gently. "Bonjour, Evelyne. Je suis tu maman, ma cherié."
"Alright, everybody out." Marie piped cheerfully despite her exhaustion. "Give them some room."
"I hope she isn't this much trouble now that she's out." Simone laughed weakly.
"If she is, she's no different than her mama." Fabrizio smiled.
***
November 1911
Pierre and Marie had married the week before and Jean had finally found a girl. A nice girl named Michelle that was about four inches taller than him, but he'd found a girl that was really worth his time and thought he was well worth hers. They were in love.
Simone bought the cheapest ticket out of Paris and the dynamic duo was headed to Cherbourg en route to England.
Simone checked her single suitcase once more. Most of things inside belonged to her little Evelyne who was asleep at her breast. This tiny little thing had changed her so much. She twisted her ring around her finger. Tomorrow she would arrive in town as widow. In truth she was leaving the only husband she ever knew: Paris.
Jack and Fabrizio sat with them, waiting for the others.
"Where are my boys? There you are!"
"Does nothing wake her?" Fabri asked, gesturing to Evelyne.
"Non." Simone shook her head.
"Give me hug, I'm going to miss my boys when I'm gone.ah, you look like men today, all of you looked like men and woman at the wedding. I was in awe."
"In awe of everyone but scruffy Fabri." Jack teased.
"Shut up, you skinny bastard." He jabbed him.
"Salut!" she stood up slowly to see her teenage friends and Claude. "Oh, how I'm going to miss all of you, even you new girl!" She winked at Michelle.
"Merci, Simone."
"Where are you going?" Marie pealed the ticket from her hand.
"Bazoilles, Mme. Bonaparte." Marie blushed.
"We'll miss you. And you'd better write or we're coming after you. Maybe we come visit if we ever get any money." Pierre teased.
"I will write. And I'll be expecting to see all of you before I die." She pointed.
"I wasn't talking to you," said Pierre, "I was talking to Mademoiselle Evelyne." He touched her hand with his finger and Evelyne gripped it.
"I see who's the favorite now."
"Need any help with that?" Jack looked down at her suitcase.
"I carried it and Evelyne all the way from the Putain Belle. Don't worry about Simone LeClerc."
Simone and Evelyne left boarded the train a half hour later. Jean wiped the tears from his face.
"I told myself I wasn't going to cry!" he sniffled and turned to see the other tearing; even Michelle was a little misty-eyed.
"Au revoir, Simone! Au revoir, Evelyne!" They shouted as the train pulled away.
"Oh, come on!" Pierre grabbed Marie's hand and ran with the train, the others followed.
"Bye!" shouted Jack, jumping and waving.
"Ciao!" yelled Fabrizio.
"Miss you!" Everyone called to her as she waved.
Simone might just have been crazy. She left home with one leg and a baby to raise all by herself. But if anyone could take a challenge it was Simone LeClerc.
Jean married Michelle that winter. They had two children, Jean-Luc and Juliette. Marie and Pierre had many children; the first one, René, came that summer, followed by Paul, Tristan, Nathalie, Zoé, and Danielle.
The Bonapartes and the Millets lived raised their families in Paris and each survived both world wars.
Simone lived in Bazoilles till the end of her days and never married. Evelyne grew up there, and got into trouble like her mother before her. And was always enchanted by the story of her birth and her mother's friends in Paris. They went through a rift when Evelyne married a Jewish student from Poland by the name of Abe Meisels and Evelyne learned of her mother's past. But they forgave each other with the birth of Evelyne's daughter, Ester, in 1932. Evelyne's husband was always proud to agree with the young Pierre, Evelyne had two beautiful legs.
As for Jack Dawson and Fabrizio De Rossi, who left Paris two days after Simone and Evelyne.they're stories are somewhat different.
***
After the boys got into Southampton they went straight to London, up to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see Shakespeare's birthplace, to Ireland and traveled up and down the island for a month, then to Scotland through Northern England and Wales, and they eventually found themselves back in London come March.
It felt good for Jack to have the wind back in his hair, despite leaving Paris, which came to be home, and his other friends, who came to be family. But this vagabond was ready for home. He had been wandering for over three years now.
On the train back to London, he suddenly felt inspiring and whipped out a sheet a paper and began madly drawing. He remembered being home again in Wisconsin, watching his parents dance in the rain. He saw his mother smiling. He loved how she smiled; it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He was finally ready to draw it. Their deaths would always hurt, but he would no longer be haunted. He closed his eyes and thought.
It was the second and last time he had matched words or fists with Adolf.
"Poor, stupid orphan," Adolf mumbled in rebuttle.
Those words cut through Jack like blade. He was no orphan.
"My parents raised me, bastard!" He lunged for him, losing all sense of control. "I knew my parents!" he became wild now, "my parents loved me and brought me up, don't you forget it." he gripped his collar.
"Get off, you'll kill him!" someone shouted.
Those days were over now. No one would shake him with that. He wasn't sure what did it. Simone becoming a mother. Knowing he'd be home soon? Time, perhaps?
The sleeping Fabrizio woke to discover a fresh drawing of a couple beaming like newlyweds and dancing in the rain. He recognized them from other drawings. They were Jack's parents.
Fabrizio had a feeling Jack was itching for home. Save for their time in Montmatre, they never knew what came next in their travels. Would they stay in a home or a hotel? In an alley or under a bridge? What city would they be in the next day?
But Fabri could sense it. When they left England it would be a ship pointing west. Jack would be going home. Fabrizio would finally reach the fabled L'America. His American friend, Jack Dawson, seemed like a bit of a fable himself.
Before they left London they'd made their mark stirring up trouble as usual. Thirty some odd years later the 101st Airborne was made up of young men just like these two, but Jack and Fabrizio were never completely barred from the city of London.at least not the entire city.
They danced and caroused, although Jack may have discovered sex first, at that point he had never made a repeat performance since Vianne. Fabrizio made his rounds though. Jack just kept it to fooling around and going home before sunrise. If he wasn't staying any place in particular that night he would take walks by himself at dawn while the streets were quiet and peaceful. Then he'd go find Fabrizio where he'd left him. And just in case he couldn't, the boys had a plan for anytime they lost each other to meet at Tower Bridge.
One day the two stayed at a pub with a telephone and decided to have a little fun.
March 1912
"Hold this for a second, son." The bartender handed Jack the mouthpiece. "I'm calling cousins in Ireland, don't hang up. If you get through ask for a Frank Ryan." He walked away to address some trivial problem. Jack put his ear to the receiver.
"Frank Ryan.gotcha." he waved to the bartender, "Hey, Fabri, we got through!" Fabri inched his ear closer to the receiver.
"Hello!" shouted a drunken voice. It was definitely a pub. They had been in and out of plenty of pubs in Ireland. They would usually find themselves drinking and singing folk songs till they passed out. Once during "Wild Irish Rose" they fell back at the same time with their pints waving in the air. They woke up the next morning on the sidewalk with terrible hangovers.
"Yeah, Frank Ryan?"
"What!" shouted the voice. "No Frank!"
"I think this one had too much, eh?" Fabrizio nudged his best friend.
"He's Irish, there's no such thing as too much to drink."
"You're half Irish, you've had too much before." He flicked Jack's ear. Jack smirked at him.
"Frank Ryan, we want to speak to Frank Ryan please." Jack annunciated slowly.
"No, it's his brother!"
"Where's Frank?"
"It's Tommy!"
Jack turned to Fabrizio and shrugged.
"If Frank's his cousin so is Tommy," Fabri suggested, "good enough."
"Where did he go?" Jack looked around for the bartender. He looked around again with no further sign of him. "Wanna have some fun?" Fabri grinned evilly. Jack thought for a moment.
"We wish to present a challenge." Jack said in a British accent.
"What!" shouted Tommy again.
"We have now declared war on your people."
"Heh!"
"Please organize all your local football teams and prepare for battle."
Fabrizio was trying so hard to contain laughter he was hitting the bar.
"BASTARDS!" shouted the other end of the telephone.
"Forget it, call him later!" the bartender shouted from the other side of the room.
"Limey bas-" Jack hung up. He thought for a moment after catching his breath from laughter, and pulled a recent letter from his Uncle Joe out of his pocket. McBride's Grocery Store had recently gotten a telephone. Joe was so excited he wrote down the number.
It took a good while of waiting and talking to operators but they finally got through to the United States. Jack couldn't contain himself. In a few moments he might actually be speaking to his family for the first time in close to four years.
"McBride's" said a girl's voice on the other end. He couldn't tell if it was Emily or not. Her voice had to have changed. Maybe it was his distant cousin Mary.
"Uh, hi.are any of the Dawsons in?"
"Yes." It was a strange question, no one ever asked for them. "Who is this.?"
"Jack Dawson. I'm calling from London." There was a gasp on the other end of the phone.
"For real?! Emily! Maggie! Joe!" she shouted.
"Are they all there!?" Jack was almost jumped out of his skin.
"Yes! Last time I checked! I'm Mary!"
"Well, hello, Mary!"
"Hello?" the voice on the other end was new, it was still a girl, but it sounded very young.
"It's Jack-"
"It's me! Jack! It's Em! Where are you calling from?! Are you coming home?! Did you get the last letter I sent you?!"
"How do I answer all those at once?" He laughed, uncontrollably smiling.
"You can't, that's the catch!" It was definitely Emily Dawson on the other end of that phone.
"I'm in London, kid! I wanna come home real soon. We can catch a cheap ride from Southampton maybe."
"Oh boy! Holy shit!" And she hadn't changed a bit.
"That's the same language that gets you kicked out of the Polar Grounds, young lady" said a man's voice in the background. "What?" he said as the voice got louder. "Hello?"
"Joe!" Jack cheered. The bartender, getting annoyed tried to approach Jack but Fabrizio stopped him.
"Jack?!"
"Yeah! I'm in London!"
"How are you, boy?!"
"I'm great, Joey! How's by you?"
"Fantastic now that I hear your voice!"
"Gimme!" yelled another voice. "Jackie, honey?"
"Maggs, it's me!"
"I know, baby boy! When are you coming to New York?"
"Not sure! Soon!"
Jack stayed on the phone with his family for a further hour until the bartender kicked him off and Mr. and Mrs. McBride kicked off the Dawsons. Jack and his family across the ocean were walking on air for days afterward.
A week later Jack and Fabrizio hopped on a train to Southampton. They figured if luck came their way they'd find themselves in America in just a few short weeks. Something great was on the horizon. Jack could feel it.
***
April 3, 1912
Now that's what I call mammoth." Jack shielded his eyes from the sun, looking up at the massive leviathan.
"I'll say. They launch soon, no?"
"Yeah, next week I think. What do they call it?"
"Titanic." said Fabrizio.
"They ain't kiddin'." Jack whistled with awe.
A week later Jack and Fabrizio came to the very same dock and walked into a pub and sat down with a couple Swedes. Jack, who was a bit of card shark, turned to his comrade, and asked, "Up for a game?" And the rest, as they say, was history.
Meanwhile back in the States.
April 12, 1912, Central Park
It was Friday afternoon and the children were thankful to be out of school for the weekend.
"Alright," said Mary McBride, "racing, hopscotch, or baseball?"
"Let's play capture the flag!" Sonny Andolini jumped up.
"Baseball." Emily said with conviction.
"Never mind, I want baseball." Sonny sat down.
"Capture the flag." Emily changed her mind and looked at Sonny suspiciously.
"Yeah, capture the flag!" Sonny looked at Em for approval.
Mary looked over at her best friend. She'd told a thousand times Sonny was sweet on her. But she was always testing to make sure then torturing him for which Mary always scolded her. She was almost thirteen; she needed to stop beating on Sonny.sometimes literally.
"Stop acting so spineless, go away you stupid guinea!"
Sonny got up to leave.
"Em, take that back! Sonny get back over here!" Mary demanded. Everyone else shook their heads. It was always the same with those two.
Emily sighed and decided to give him a break.
"Fine, Mare.Okay, Sonny. We'll play capture the flag. It's your choice.and I'm sorry I called a stupid guinea." She mumbled.
"I want whatever you want, Emily.and you can call me whatever you want." His eyes brightened at the unusual kind gesture. Emily gave Mary a dirty look.
One Hour Later
Mary and Emily sat on a rock watching the girls in Mary's grade flirt with boys. They were so coy, but in a way that made onlookers want to smack them.
"I wish we were those girls sometimes.nobody likes a tomboy." Emily sighed.
"Sonny does." Mary teased.
"Ew! Shut up, Mary!"
"Besides, you don't ever want to be those girls. We're better than those hussy snobs." Mary shook her head. But by now men were beginning to notice Mary. She was fifteen and quickly growing into a beautiful woman.
"Yeah." she agreed, "I think my cousin fell for one of those girls once, he talked about some girl named Vianne a little.I think he really regretted it though." she paused. "My only interest in Jack's love life is that he better damn well find someone I like or it's over."
"It's good to see you give him standards. I think he'll find a great girl. He's just the type." Mary assured her. "Maybe he's finding her right now." she teased.
"No, he might be coming home soon.and I want him paying attention to me!"
"You want everyone paying attention to you!" Mary pushed her off the rock.
"I knew you'd figure me out, McBride!" Emily pulled her friend off the rock and she let out a yelp.
***
April 18, 1912, Pier 54, Manhattan
It was raining out that night as the survivors of what the paper was calling the worst maritime disaster ever. An expectant crowd waited for them as they left the Carpathia.
Emily Dawson held out an empty Coke bottle, waiting for it to fill up with water again. She and Mary McBride covered her head with newspapers.
"I think the ink is leaking into my hair." The newspapers had gotten soaked through a while ago. "Jesus.I wonder what happened.look at all of them." Mary watched the last of the survivors go by.
"Well, the boat sank." Emily said sarcastically.
"Emily, show a little respect! What if it was you or someone you loved?"
"You think I don't know about stuff like that." She thought about her Aunt Hannah and Uncle Peter, but she shook it off. Her blinding curiosity and occasionally morbid personality led her all the way down here. She had dragged an unwilling Mary with her.
"I'm want to go home." said Mary, "this really unsettling the hell out of me."
"Alright, fine." Emily groaned. "We won't be home till one anyway at this rate."
The girls pushed through the thinning crowd. Emily jostled a young woman in a man's coat and bedraggled chiffon dress. The older girl didn't notice them. But Emily and Mary caught just a glimpse of the pale face and strange expression.
"I told you, Em, something very unsettling."
"Hey, she's just tired quit lookin' at her." Emily grabbed Mary's hand almost running from the ghostly figure. She pulled Mary blindly through the people, and the dark, and the pouring rain.
In truth something about it really bothered Emily. Something really bothered her.
Montmartre, June 1911
Jack concentrated hard. He was nearly finished with Simone's gorgeous hands. Which was even more of a blessing considering Simone had the average attention span of a toddler. He glanced up again. He was almost done.
To his dismay Simone's hands had moved. No longer spread out and beautiful but both flipping him off.
"Simone!"
"Quoi? It looks finished to me!"
"It's not. I need to add more."
"You have both my hands in there."
"There's all sorts of stuff I can't quite explain," he got up, "you know, shadows, lighting, it's got to look and feel perfect. It's got to be right."
"What ever you say, Monet."
"You know I saw him through a fence at Giverny once. It was a week before we came here and met all of you. But at the time we were trespassing on the property next door. I couldn't take my eyes off of him! I mean, it was Monet! So Fabri's pulling my legs and I'm holding on this white picket fence and I'm gripping and he's yanking so much that's he got me stretched out a foot above the ground, and he's yelling 'Jack! Jack! We gotta go-" He looked at Simone. She was staring at the table, looking distant. "Simone." she had no response, "you alright there? You don't look yourself."
"Mais si. I'm fine."
"Are not. You're never quiet."
"I'm going to sleep now. Go home."
"Aren't you working tonight?"
"No."
"When was the last time you worked?" Jack knew the other prostitutes were almost ready to oust their own resident matron. Simone hadn't seen a customer or brought in any money in close to a month.
"Kid, go home." She said throwing on an extra jacket.
"Did somebody give you something? Are you sick? Is that why you haven't been working?"
"I don't have time for this.and I'm perfectly clean."
Jack kept staring at her. Last fall Jack had practically started on business with drawing whores. Everyone wanted to be drawn by the cute American boy. But lately, Simone had only let him draw her hands and face.
Jack was always strictly professional with the girls. And he never felt a real attraction to Simone, but he had to admit she was nice to look at. Mature artist or not he was an eighteen year-old boy.
Unfortunately, he was a very perceptive boy. He was almost sure he knew what was wrong with Simone. Either way, there was something wrong and he was going to weed it out. But this, he didn't think it was possible.
"What's with all the clothes, it's pretty hot out, Simone."
He was talking down to her. Simone hated being patronized.
"Leave me alone. I lived my whole life without a father. Don't try now."
"Tell me what's wrong." He grabbed her arm as she went through the doorway. She pulled away violently slamming her back into the mirror that stretched the wall of the room.
"Fine.it won't do you any good. You can't help."
She stepped back slowly. First, pulling off her shawl. Then undoing her dress never breaking eye contact. She stripped herself naked. Now Jack saw.
Her stomach was bulging, it was small enough to be hidden but not for long. She looked at him and tried to stare him down, but her lip started to quiver.
Jack ran over to her and draped her shawl around her.
"Everything's going to be just fine." he said, hugging her.
"It's too late to get rid of it!" she cried, "I didn't want to go to one of those butchers! I know what happens to girls who get abortions. I've seen it, it's so terrible."
"You're tough. You're gonna get through this."
"I thought it wasn't possible, nearly twenty years and not once! Of course I took measures, but I always thought I was barren.and I think I didn't go because I thought I wanted it.oh, I don't know anymore!"
"So you're having the baby?"
"I don't have a choice now."
"How far along are you?"
"About five months." She whispered. Jack waited a moment to think of his next question.
"And do you have an idea of who the father is?"
"Ugh!" she wailed, "it could have been anybody! Anybody! Sometimes I see three men a night!"
"Okay, okay." He rubbed her back. Are you keeping it?"
"No child deserves me as a mother, not with what I do, not with where I live. But an orphanage? I'll tell you what those are like, what happens to those children.I should know."
Jack thought for a moment. Simone was thirty-one, or at least they estimated so, she wasn't old, but she was getting older. She had maybe a decade or so. After that, no one would want a washed up, old whore. No one would pay for that. Perhaps she'd just fade away and find some other form menial work that was not so demeaning. He always thought she was better than it all anyway. It was time he told her.
"What if you didn't live here anymore or weren't a prostitute?"
"What?"
"What if you moved away and started a new life?"
"What if I said I think you've been drinking?" She smiled weakly. She didn't want to admit but the idea seemed wonderful. Hope for the first time in her life. But it was unrealistic. But then again.who was she looking at. The boy had lived such a different from what he first knew and he traveled so far from America.but a child? Another person's life? Who would put that in the hands of Simone LeClerc?
***
Meanwhile across the Atlantic.
Miss Clement's Academy for Ladies Albany, New York
The Academy had newly passed sport requirements much to the dismay of some of the girls and the more reserved families. Despite the improperness and young ladies engaged in extensive exercise all they were all thankful to be outside on such a beautiful spring day. Well, most of them were thankful.
"I can't believe we have to do this! I'll cut my hands to bits!" Victoria Sinclair looked down mournfully at her bow and arrow.
"A modern lady is well versed in sports as well as literature and manners." said Samantha Parkington, who mournfully repeated her knowledge of the system.
"Anyway, I can't believe we're graduating in two weeks. I'm so excited!" Vickie squealed.
"Yes, then we get to sit pretty until out knight in shining armor sweeps us off our feet." I said sardonically.
"Only you can be cynical about such things, Rose." Vickie shook her head.
"I'm exceptional that way." I answered.
Sam shrugged. She grew up in a well to do, but liberal family. Her aunt was a suffragette. For that, and the fact that her family was not a big name and she didn't have the endless wealth as most of the other girls she was slightly alienated.
"Why so glum about graduation? We're moving on." said Sam.
"If we were boys we'd be going off to bigger and better things maybe, unless we were just expected to do what our fathers had already done.but us, we'll get married, host parties and punch out babies-"
"You don't have to be so graphic." Vickie said. I knew the phrase 'punch out babies' would make her uncomfortable-that's why I used it.
"Like I said, we don't have anything to look forward to except no more endless boredom in classrooms."
"What do you care? One of us is going Radcliffe." Vicky glared at me.
"I think it's doubtful."
"I thought you got in." Sam raised an eyebrow.
"That isn't the only factor in my going." I wasn't stupid, as much as they tried to keep it from me, I knew about the company. College wasn't in my future.
"Yes, we know about your father and Nathan Hockley. What a great looking couple of sons!" Vicky giggled.
"Holden is my best friend and I've never met Cal. Where do you get your ideas?"
"Holden is terrible. He's so.offensive." Vickie sneered. "Cute but so offensive."
"Why do you think he's my best friend?"
"You'll marry Cal. I know your parents." Vickie said. "Besides he's quite a catch."
"He's quite a looker, but he and Holden don't get along."
"Stop siding with Holden," she said 'Holden' with disgust as if the word tasted bad, "I think you're in love with him."
"I'll have you know-"
"Are you ever going to shoot that thing?" Sam interjected before something started.
"I'm trying to concentrate, but I can't with Vickie's jabbering." I glared at my cousin. She could be such a ditzy little blonde sometimes.
"Sorry!" I released my arrow and missed the target. Not only did I miss it, but it hit a tree ten feet away. When I went to retrieve it we found it embedded in the trunk. It was so far in there was no pulling it out.
"That's impossible!" Vickie gasped.
"So much strength, but no direction. Sometimes I wonder if it's a metaphor for something." Sam tapped me with her arrow.
"It just means I'm not cut out to be an archer." I said resentfully.
I hated her sometimes. I wasn't used to people like Samantha Parkington when I was sixteen and angry. She believed in me.
***
France
"So what are you going to do?" Marie, now officially engaged, asked her pregnant friend.
Simone looked at Jack. They hadn't discussed anything since the day she told him in the brothel studio.
"I'm leaving."
"Leaving what?" asked Pierre, "the business? Montmatre?"
"Paris."
"What? Where will you go? What?" Jean was bewildered.
"One day soon the lot of you will grow up. I need to as well."
"You talked her into this, no Jack?" Fabrizio knew him too well.
"I just said what I thought was right."
"I wouldn't sell my child.and I'm not going to sell myself anymore."
Pierre spit his drink back his into his glass.
"You're keeping it?!"
"I dream of the day you say that about our first born." Marie looked out into the distance. Everyone looked at Marie, distracted for a moment by the predicament of the mother whore. She never made a cynical comment in her life. "You stay with him for long enough," she nudged Pierre, "it rubs off."
"I bought a wedding ring and after the baby is born I'm leaving on the cheapest ticket to a countryside ville. I'll change from Mademoiselle to Madame. I'll be a poor, respectable widow. No more sleeping with strange men for money. It's no life I would give to anyone else. It's amazing what people will tolerate to live. I started selling my body and love when I was twelve because I was starving. I should have been outside playing, barely evening thinking of boys. I'm done with it all. I'm not quite used to it, but I don't miss it.and I don't walk away from my life. Now I've got to give my life to someone else and I'm fine with that.so Pierre, you asked me if I was keeping it."
"We're all with you." Jack nodded.
"You'd all better be," Simone smiled, "I'm not one to cross lightly." She put her hand in the center of the table. Everyone joined her.
"One for all and all for one, eh?" Fabri laughed.
"We're like the six musketeers!" added Jean.
"Seven!" Jack winked at Simone.
***
Philadelphia, October 1911
"The Earl of Leicester, I presume." I strutted out in full Elizabethan garb, actually in full Elizabeth garb, ready for a grand costume party on All Hollow's Eve.
"Your Majesty." said my partner in crime, the young Mr. Hockley held out his hand.
"I think the others will be a little put off that we have such complicated costumes.and not fancy masks or stupid little peacock headdresses?"
"You've got the hair, you've got the attitude, your father's name is Henry and your mother's like Anne Boleyn. Go wild, Queen Elizabeth!"
I couldn't help but smile at him. Unfortunately, this wasn't the young Mr. Hockley who was courting me.
"I think we also may be in trouble for dressing up as Elizabeth Tudor and Robert Dudley. It's a little suggestive, don't you think?"
"Why we look like them, act like them, know each other under similar circumstances." He sat next me. I knew he might try to kiss me. I didn't want to admit I wanted him too. I also didn't want to admit I might be developing a soft spot for his older brother-something he'd never forgive me for.something he didn't forgive for. But it was also something I couldn't help and something that needed to happen if I was going to survive my inevitable marriage to him.
"We're going to be late," I said breaking the intimate moment, "they're expecting us." I gathered up my things and Holden's arm and went out the door.
Everyone looked a little offended at our blatant eccentricity. I thought I hear my mother curse under her breath.
"Took you two long enough." Cal smiled as we came sweeping down the stairs. It was a little patronizing, but I ignored it and took his arm. "Your Majesty." He bowed low and laughed.
Holden silently fumed.he stole his line. I pretended to notice. For once in my life I had regularly been avoiding starting trouble. Holden flashed me a dirty look.
My mother sneered and my father didn't notice a blessed thing as usual. I pulled myself tighter around Cal. Sometimes he was my only ally.
***
Simone walked home holding her generous stomach. It had started to rain pretty hard a few minutes earlier and now it was thundering with lightening. She wiped her brow and cursed. It was a little warm for October, but she was starting to get cold and home was a few blocks away.
She had been at work all day in a terrible little bar populated by sailors to make ends meet. Not too many people knew she had been a pro. But she was harassed all the same because she was a woman.and an unwed mother at that.
She didn't know what to do anymore. The baby was due soon, but there was no way to tell exactly when it was conceived. She never saw a doctor. Money was running out; Simone was burning out.
Then pain. A terrible pain. She looked for a place to sit down but couldn't see through a few violent flashes of lightening.
"Ah!" She winced and grabbed her middle. "Sacred Bleu! Merde, merde! Non, non!"
It was happening and there was no one there to help. There was no one. She had to get back to home. She couldn't have the baby alone in the street. She thought she was going to die.
It was only four more blocks to home; she could make it. The contractions weren't very close together. It would be hours until the baby came. She groaned at the thought of hours of labor.
She made it another block without further contractions. By the time she got to the post office she felt a warm flow between her thighs. Great, as if she wasn't soaked enough her water broke.
She rested for a moment, leaning up against the Poste Montmatre building. From her standpoint she could see the Moulin Rouge through the rain. She had a many a time snuck in there, both when it was nightclub and recently after it had converted into an opera house. She took 'her boys' Jack and Fabrizio to see a few shows.sneaking themselves in of course.
But now everything seemed to be ending. She pushed herself off of the wall and continued down the street. It was become painful to walk to extra, awkward weight had been a strain on the wooden, now it was becoming unbearable. It hurt so bad.
Suddenly she heard footsteps and splashing puddles. People! Was she saved?
Faces came out of the rain. They studied her for a moment. Her brown hair was matted against her faced and her clothes soaked to the bone. Her expression was that of a permanent wince.
"Hey, it's us! Hey, Simone!" Jack grabbed her arms.
"Che? Where were you? It's almost three!" Fabrizio threw her arm over his shoulder.
"Just get me back home! A-ah!" she cried. After it was over she straightened herself out.
There was another great flash of lightening in the sky and the three of them looked up.
"Some night, eh?" said Fabrizio softly.
Jack got under her other arm and helped her back home, which took another twenty minutes. They walked up the narrow steps of the brothel to which a few whores and customers grew angry at the unpleasant cries of pain. One such girl, Françoise came out with miserable looking young sailor.
"Hey, you can't do that here! There are few things I won't listen to and this-"
"Go to hell, Françoise." Jack said as he and Fabri carried past her a very flustered Simone. Françoise closed her mouth and grabbed her sailor's arm and hid back in the room. No prostitute in the brothel of the Putain Belle challenged Simone. She was the matron and tough as nails. Although now she'd been reduced a screaming wretch.
Fabri and Jack carried her through the tiny hallway of the corner room and placed her on the bed. She leaned her head against the wall. For the first time she thought how she hated the color on the walls, sort of a dingy blue, similar to how her dress looked now only darker.
"Arg!" she growled, "get this thing off me!" She wiggled her right leg. Fabrizio climbed over to unscrew the wooden leg, trying not to hurt her as he reached over, the right side of the bed was up against the wall.
Jack went to close the door when he saw another one the pros walk by. She was a little fat, pulling off a bouffant wig.
"Alo, Claude!" he whispered urgently. "Are you busy?"
"Non." She sensed Simone was in labor.
"Get Pierre, Marie, and Jean, sil vous plaît!"
"Oui, tout de suite, Jacques." She patted him on the shoulder and scampered down the stairs.
Jack closed the door and came to check on things. Fabri was crawling around and tearing apart the armoire looking for extra pillows.
"How we doin'?" Jack asked.
"We're fine, where are the others?"
"Coming."
"Oh, why does this hurt, you think of all things that have been put up the hole, the baby would've just slipped right out months ago."
Jack and Fabri just stared. Simone shrugged. You can take Simone out of the brothel, but you couldn't take the brothel out of Simone.
The others came faster than the lightening outside. Within five minutes they were standing in the room-with extra pillows.
"Where did you get those from?" Simone asked as they placed them behind her back.
"Claude stole them from Françoise." explained Jean. Simone grinned, she hated the sniveling little waif.
"Good old Claude." Simone smiled.then winced. "Ah! Another one!"
Marie moved in front of the bed and began to free Simone of her pantyhose and underwear, and pealed back her sodden dress from her legs.
"What are you doing?!" Jean shrieked in disgust.
"How is the baby going to come out?" Marie turned around. "My mother's mid- wife, M. Millet, I know what am I doing. Jack, get a tub and fill it water. Jean, go find some dry clothes, Fabrizio stay here for a moment, everyone wash your hands!" She leaned over to her fiancé, "we need to keep Jean out as much as possible. Poor boy will be traumatized."
"Oui, amoureuse." He kissed her on the cheek.
***
They had been there for hours. The rain had stopped at around 6:30. It was nearly 8:00 now. Simone let out another incredible wail.
"Just keep breathing, you are doing great." Marie felt as if her legs were going to detach. She had been crouched there for the better part of an hour holding Simone's knees. Jack and Fabrizio were sitting on either side of her on the bed, holding her up, and holding her hands.
"So much pain! Make it stop!" Simone cried.
Pierre stood around pacing. Jean was outside on guard, Marie thought it better that he stay outside and not be afraid of females for the rest of his life. As the group stood now he was the only virgin. He hadn't gone beyond kissing a girl. Marie was not about to let his watch a birth.
"When?! I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE!!!" Simone screeched. Jack suddenly had a really good idea of why he stayed at Milo's house when Emily was born.
"Very soon! Push harder!" Marie shouted.
"Non! Je ne peux pas!" she sobbed. "Wait till it's your turn, you'll see!"
From working with her mother so much Marie had seen enough so that she was not easily wavered. She ignored the idea about her own future labor, even though she knew she might already be pregnant.
"You just push, amie! Very hard!"
"Arg-ah!" She looked up at the ceiling and howled. Jack and Fabri didn't think they were going to be able to use their hands after this.
"Push! Push now it's coming! PUSH!" Marie's voice jumped several octaves on the last 'push.'
Jean stood outside shaking while Claude held his hand. He was more upset than Simone.
Simone let out another painful scream, but before she finished a baby's voice wailed as it slipped into Marie's arms. Simone collapsed back onto the bed.
Marie pulled the baby close and wiped the blood and muck from the little cheeks as she stood up and came around the bed.
"Simone, it's a girl!" Marie smiled, half-laughing and half-crying.
Simone pushed her self up with the help of Fabri and Jack, and reached out her arms.
"And she's got two legs!" Pierre cheered. "Two beautiful legs!"
"Ma enfante." She smiled big.
Pierre came close to the bed and Jean and Claude opened the door and squeezed through the little hall.
"She got a name?" asked Jack for the last time. Everyone had been curious for months but Simone would change her mind every day.
"Yes, I know her name now. Evelyne" she touched the baby's nose gently. "Bonjour, Evelyne. Je suis tu maman, ma cherié."
"Alright, everybody out." Marie piped cheerfully despite her exhaustion. "Give them some room."
"I hope she isn't this much trouble now that she's out." Simone laughed weakly.
"If she is, she's no different than her mama." Fabrizio smiled.
***
November 1911
Pierre and Marie had married the week before and Jean had finally found a girl. A nice girl named Michelle that was about four inches taller than him, but he'd found a girl that was really worth his time and thought he was well worth hers. They were in love.
Simone bought the cheapest ticket out of Paris and the dynamic duo was headed to Cherbourg en route to England.
Simone checked her single suitcase once more. Most of things inside belonged to her little Evelyne who was asleep at her breast. This tiny little thing had changed her so much. She twisted her ring around her finger. Tomorrow she would arrive in town as widow. In truth she was leaving the only husband she ever knew: Paris.
Jack and Fabrizio sat with them, waiting for the others.
"Where are my boys? There you are!"
"Does nothing wake her?" Fabri asked, gesturing to Evelyne.
"Non." Simone shook her head.
"Give me hug, I'm going to miss my boys when I'm gone.ah, you look like men today, all of you looked like men and woman at the wedding. I was in awe."
"In awe of everyone but scruffy Fabri." Jack teased.
"Shut up, you skinny bastard." He jabbed him.
"Salut!" she stood up slowly to see her teenage friends and Claude. "Oh, how I'm going to miss all of you, even you new girl!" She winked at Michelle.
"Merci, Simone."
"Where are you going?" Marie pealed the ticket from her hand.
"Bazoilles, Mme. Bonaparte." Marie blushed.
"We'll miss you. And you'd better write or we're coming after you. Maybe we come visit if we ever get any money." Pierre teased.
"I will write. And I'll be expecting to see all of you before I die." She pointed.
"I wasn't talking to you," said Pierre, "I was talking to Mademoiselle Evelyne." He touched her hand with his finger and Evelyne gripped it.
"I see who's the favorite now."
"Need any help with that?" Jack looked down at her suitcase.
"I carried it and Evelyne all the way from the Putain Belle. Don't worry about Simone LeClerc."
Simone and Evelyne left boarded the train a half hour later. Jean wiped the tears from his face.
"I told myself I wasn't going to cry!" he sniffled and turned to see the other tearing; even Michelle was a little misty-eyed.
"Au revoir, Simone! Au revoir, Evelyne!" They shouted as the train pulled away.
"Oh, come on!" Pierre grabbed Marie's hand and ran with the train, the others followed.
"Bye!" shouted Jack, jumping and waving.
"Ciao!" yelled Fabrizio.
"Miss you!" Everyone called to her as she waved.
Simone might just have been crazy. She left home with one leg and a baby to raise all by herself. But if anyone could take a challenge it was Simone LeClerc.
Jean married Michelle that winter. They had two children, Jean-Luc and Juliette. Marie and Pierre had many children; the first one, René, came that summer, followed by Paul, Tristan, Nathalie, Zoé, and Danielle.
The Bonapartes and the Millets lived raised their families in Paris and each survived both world wars.
Simone lived in Bazoilles till the end of her days and never married. Evelyne grew up there, and got into trouble like her mother before her. And was always enchanted by the story of her birth and her mother's friends in Paris. They went through a rift when Evelyne married a Jewish student from Poland by the name of Abe Meisels and Evelyne learned of her mother's past. But they forgave each other with the birth of Evelyne's daughter, Ester, in 1932. Evelyne's husband was always proud to agree with the young Pierre, Evelyne had two beautiful legs.
As for Jack Dawson and Fabrizio De Rossi, who left Paris two days after Simone and Evelyne.they're stories are somewhat different.
***
After the boys got into Southampton they went straight to London, up to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see Shakespeare's birthplace, to Ireland and traveled up and down the island for a month, then to Scotland through Northern England and Wales, and they eventually found themselves back in London come March.
It felt good for Jack to have the wind back in his hair, despite leaving Paris, which came to be home, and his other friends, who came to be family. But this vagabond was ready for home. He had been wandering for over three years now.
On the train back to London, he suddenly felt inspiring and whipped out a sheet a paper and began madly drawing. He remembered being home again in Wisconsin, watching his parents dance in the rain. He saw his mother smiling. He loved how she smiled; it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He was finally ready to draw it. Their deaths would always hurt, but he would no longer be haunted. He closed his eyes and thought.
It was the second and last time he had matched words or fists with Adolf.
"Poor, stupid orphan," Adolf mumbled in rebuttle.
Those words cut through Jack like blade. He was no orphan.
"My parents raised me, bastard!" He lunged for him, losing all sense of control. "I knew my parents!" he became wild now, "my parents loved me and brought me up, don't you forget it." he gripped his collar.
"Get off, you'll kill him!" someone shouted.
Those days were over now. No one would shake him with that. He wasn't sure what did it. Simone becoming a mother. Knowing he'd be home soon? Time, perhaps?
The sleeping Fabrizio woke to discover a fresh drawing of a couple beaming like newlyweds and dancing in the rain. He recognized them from other drawings. They were Jack's parents.
Fabrizio had a feeling Jack was itching for home. Save for their time in Montmatre, they never knew what came next in their travels. Would they stay in a home or a hotel? In an alley or under a bridge? What city would they be in the next day?
But Fabri could sense it. When they left England it would be a ship pointing west. Jack would be going home. Fabrizio would finally reach the fabled L'America. His American friend, Jack Dawson, seemed like a bit of a fable himself.
Before they left London they'd made their mark stirring up trouble as usual. Thirty some odd years later the 101st Airborne was made up of young men just like these two, but Jack and Fabrizio were never completely barred from the city of London.at least not the entire city.
They danced and caroused, although Jack may have discovered sex first, at that point he had never made a repeat performance since Vianne. Fabrizio made his rounds though. Jack just kept it to fooling around and going home before sunrise. If he wasn't staying any place in particular that night he would take walks by himself at dawn while the streets were quiet and peaceful. Then he'd go find Fabrizio where he'd left him. And just in case he couldn't, the boys had a plan for anytime they lost each other to meet at Tower Bridge.
One day the two stayed at a pub with a telephone and decided to have a little fun.
March 1912
"Hold this for a second, son." The bartender handed Jack the mouthpiece. "I'm calling cousins in Ireland, don't hang up. If you get through ask for a Frank Ryan." He walked away to address some trivial problem. Jack put his ear to the receiver.
"Frank Ryan.gotcha." he waved to the bartender, "Hey, Fabri, we got through!" Fabri inched his ear closer to the receiver.
"Hello!" shouted a drunken voice. It was definitely a pub. They had been in and out of plenty of pubs in Ireland. They would usually find themselves drinking and singing folk songs till they passed out. Once during "Wild Irish Rose" they fell back at the same time with their pints waving in the air. They woke up the next morning on the sidewalk with terrible hangovers.
"Yeah, Frank Ryan?"
"What!" shouted the voice. "No Frank!"
"I think this one had too much, eh?" Fabrizio nudged his best friend.
"He's Irish, there's no such thing as too much to drink."
"You're half Irish, you've had too much before." He flicked Jack's ear. Jack smirked at him.
"Frank Ryan, we want to speak to Frank Ryan please." Jack annunciated slowly.
"No, it's his brother!"
"Where's Frank?"
"It's Tommy!"
Jack turned to Fabrizio and shrugged.
"If Frank's his cousin so is Tommy," Fabri suggested, "good enough."
"Where did he go?" Jack looked around for the bartender. He looked around again with no further sign of him. "Wanna have some fun?" Fabri grinned evilly. Jack thought for a moment.
"We wish to present a challenge." Jack said in a British accent.
"What!" shouted Tommy again.
"We have now declared war on your people."
"Heh!"
"Please organize all your local football teams and prepare for battle."
Fabrizio was trying so hard to contain laughter he was hitting the bar.
"BASTARDS!" shouted the other end of the telephone.
"Forget it, call him later!" the bartender shouted from the other side of the room.
"Limey bas-" Jack hung up. He thought for a moment after catching his breath from laughter, and pulled a recent letter from his Uncle Joe out of his pocket. McBride's Grocery Store had recently gotten a telephone. Joe was so excited he wrote down the number.
It took a good while of waiting and talking to operators but they finally got through to the United States. Jack couldn't contain himself. In a few moments he might actually be speaking to his family for the first time in close to four years.
"McBride's" said a girl's voice on the other end. He couldn't tell if it was Emily or not. Her voice had to have changed. Maybe it was his distant cousin Mary.
"Uh, hi.are any of the Dawsons in?"
"Yes." It was a strange question, no one ever asked for them. "Who is this.?"
"Jack Dawson. I'm calling from London." There was a gasp on the other end of the phone.
"For real?! Emily! Maggie! Joe!" she shouted.
"Are they all there!?" Jack was almost jumped out of his skin.
"Yes! Last time I checked! I'm Mary!"
"Well, hello, Mary!"
"Hello?" the voice on the other end was new, it was still a girl, but it sounded very young.
"It's Jack-"
"It's me! Jack! It's Em! Where are you calling from?! Are you coming home?! Did you get the last letter I sent you?!"
"How do I answer all those at once?" He laughed, uncontrollably smiling.
"You can't, that's the catch!" It was definitely Emily Dawson on the other end of that phone.
"I'm in London, kid! I wanna come home real soon. We can catch a cheap ride from Southampton maybe."
"Oh boy! Holy shit!" And she hadn't changed a bit.
"That's the same language that gets you kicked out of the Polar Grounds, young lady" said a man's voice in the background. "What?" he said as the voice got louder. "Hello?"
"Joe!" Jack cheered. The bartender, getting annoyed tried to approach Jack but Fabrizio stopped him.
"Jack?!"
"Yeah! I'm in London!"
"How are you, boy?!"
"I'm great, Joey! How's by you?"
"Fantastic now that I hear your voice!"
"Gimme!" yelled another voice. "Jackie, honey?"
"Maggs, it's me!"
"I know, baby boy! When are you coming to New York?"
"Not sure! Soon!"
Jack stayed on the phone with his family for a further hour until the bartender kicked him off and Mr. and Mrs. McBride kicked off the Dawsons. Jack and his family across the ocean were walking on air for days afterward.
A week later Jack and Fabrizio hopped on a train to Southampton. They figured if luck came their way they'd find themselves in America in just a few short weeks. Something great was on the horizon. Jack could feel it.
***
April 3, 1912
Now that's what I call mammoth." Jack shielded his eyes from the sun, looking up at the massive leviathan.
"I'll say. They launch soon, no?"
"Yeah, next week I think. What do they call it?"
"Titanic." said Fabrizio.
"They ain't kiddin'." Jack whistled with awe.
A week later Jack and Fabrizio came to the very same dock and walked into a pub and sat down with a couple Swedes. Jack, who was a bit of card shark, turned to his comrade, and asked, "Up for a game?" And the rest, as they say, was history.
Meanwhile back in the States.
April 12, 1912, Central Park
It was Friday afternoon and the children were thankful to be out of school for the weekend.
"Alright," said Mary McBride, "racing, hopscotch, or baseball?"
"Let's play capture the flag!" Sonny Andolini jumped up.
"Baseball." Emily said with conviction.
"Never mind, I want baseball." Sonny sat down.
"Capture the flag." Emily changed her mind and looked at Sonny suspiciously.
"Yeah, capture the flag!" Sonny looked at Em for approval.
Mary looked over at her best friend. She'd told a thousand times Sonny was sweet on her. But she was always testing to make sure then torturing him for which Mary always scolded her. She was almost thirteen; she needed to stop beating on Sonny.sometimes literally.
"Stop acting so spineless, go away you stupid guinea!"
Sonny got up to leave.
"Em, take that back! Sonny get back over here!" Mary demanded. Everyone else shook their heads. It was always the same with those two.
Emily sighed and decided to give him a break.
"Fine, Mare.Okay, Sonny. We'll play capture the flag. It's your choice.and I'm sorry I called a stupid guinea." She mumbled.
"I want whatever you want, Emily.and you can call me whatever you want." His eyes brightened at the unusual kind gesture. Emily gave Mary a dirty look.
One Hour Later
Mary and Emily sat on a rock watching the girls in Mary's grade flirt with boys. They were so coy, but in a way that made onlookers want to smack them.
"I wish we were those girls sometimes.nobody likes a tomboy." Emily sighed.
"Sonny does." Mary teased.
"Ew! Shut up, Mary!"
"Besides, you don't ever want to be those girls. We're better than those hussy snobs." Mary shook her head. But by now men were beginning to notice Mary. She was fifteen and quickly growing into a beautiful woman.
"Yeah." she agreed, "I think my cousin fell for one of those girls once, he talked about some girl named Vianne a little.I think he really regretted it though." she paused. "My only interest in Jack's love life is that he better damn well find someone I like or it's over."
"It's good to see you give him standards. I think he'll find a great girl. He's just the type." Mary assured her. "Maybe he's finding her right now." she teased.
"No, he might be coming home soon.and I want him paying attention to me!"
"You want everyone paying attention to you!" Mary pushed her off the rock.
"I knew you'd figure me out, McBride!" Emily pulled her friend off the rock and she let out a yelp.
***
April 18, 1912, Pier 54, Manhattan
It was raining out that night as the survivors of what the paper was calling the worst maritime disaster ever. An expectant crowd waited for them as they left the Carpathia.
Emily Dawson held out an empty Coke bottle, waiting for it to fill up with water again. She and Mary McBride covered her head with newspapers.
"I think the ink is leaking into my hair." The newspapers had gotten soaked through a while ago. "Jesus.I wonder what happened.look at all of them." Mary watched the last of the survivors go by.
"Well, the boat sank." Emily said sarcastically.
"Emily, show a little respect! What if it was you or someone you loved?"
"You think I don't know about stuff like that." She thought about her Aunt Hannah and Uncle Peter, but she shook it off. Her blinding curiosity and occasionally morbid personality led her all the way down here. She had dragged an unwilling Mary with her.
"I'm want to go home." said Mary, "this really unsettling the hell out of me."
"Alright, fine." Emily groaned. "We won't be home till one anyway at this rate."
The girls pushed through the thinning crowd. Emily jostled a young woman in a man's coat and bedraggled chiffon dress. The older girl didn't notice them. But Emily and Mary caught just a glimpse of the pale face and strange expression.
"I told you, Em, something very unsettling."
"Hey, she's just tired quit lookin' at her." Emily grabbed Mary's hand almost running from the ghostly figure. She pulled Mary blindly through the people, and the dark, and the pouring rain.
In truth something about it really bothered Emily. Something really bothered her.