New York City
Autumn, 1914
Rose
She's not quite sure what to think of Jack's revelation– his newfound wealth. The idea of him being concerned with something like the stock market seems completely parallel to everything she has known about him up until this point, but then again, she supposes that she has a rather limited scope of his depths. After all, they had only gotten a handful of days together, before everything, and most of that time was spent dodging the watchful gaze of her mother, Cal, or his dreadful valet, Lovejoy. The only insights she was able to glean into Jack's ambitions had been directly from the conversations they'd been able to have, and had mostly included the desire for more travel; more adventures.
Still though, this man in front of her isn't very different at all from the one she had known, and so, so what if he's got some manner of wealth now? He's still the same kind hearted, caring artist's soul, who's always been conscious of her ideas and her opinions. He still seems just as steadfast in his ideals now as he was then, if the way he hadn't tolerated Mr. Gimbel's views on women is anything to go by, and he had just finished saying he didn't want his art to be judged based on his reputation, but on its own merit, which suggests to her that he's still as modest and humble about his talent and his charisma as he had been back then.
He's still as spontaneous as he had been, too. He had just all but scaled a wall to climb through her window, for heaven's sake! And just like back then, he hasn't been shy at all about how he feels, but he also hasn't tried to push her into anything, or into having to make any decisions that she doesn't want to.
She can't deny anymore that she's out of her depth. Without this job, she really doesn't know what choices there are, though it would be a lie to say its the loss of her job that's been upsetting her. She's not particularly upset about losing a job she hated needing, but she's definitely overwhelmed by the prospect of finding another one, and of being turned out of her little room– the tiny sliver of safety she's carved for herself. Without references she's not likely to find anything else very soon, without lying once again, and she'd have to go further into the city to avoid being caught at it. Without finding something else, she has a month in this apartment, maybe two at best if she can be extra frugal. After everything, being this close to the brink of losing it all again has her feeling like a failure, too. Regardless of trying her best, it hasn't been enough, and the fact that Jack is witnessing her failure makes it sting all the more, even when she knows he'd never judge her.
And yet here's Jack right in front of her, wanting to help, and would it be so bad to let him?
"How?" she asks, skeptical. "I won't accept your charity, Jack. I won't take any money from you. I can't. I'd never be able to live with myself."
"So don't," Jack shrugs, brushing off her assertion. "Come live with me. It wouldn't be charity. I've got so much room, Rose, I don't know what to do with it. Honestly you'd be doing me a favor by taking up some of the space. The quiet kind of drives me nuts."
She has a feeling that he's putting this all more plainly than how he actually feels about it, but he's also being so earnest she can't help but consider the offer.
"I wouldn't be expecting anything of you," he continues. "I own the building outright, so there's no rent or mortgage to pay anyway. If anything, I'd just appreciate the company."
"But what would I do?" She asks, crossing her arms over her body again. She feels inexplicably mortified by this whole situation. Even with the way he's proposing it as if it would be a favor to him, it still feels an awful lot like charity, and after two years of living so hand-to-mouth and needing to provide everything for herself, she's not sure she can go back to a life lived in the manner she grew up with. She's afraid that anywhere too grand will automatically feel like a cage and have her shaking at the bars.
"You can do whatever you want to do," Jack assures her. "If you still wanna work— to find a new job that you like, then you can, and it will give you time to do that without any pressure. If you want to do something else— pursue education or volunteer, or I don't know… start making art of your own, or begin acting like you mentioned once, you could. You could do whatever you want to do, Rose. You have to know I'd never stop you from doing whatever it is that you want."
It's such an enticing offer. The idea that she could have the space and time to figure out what she wants… It feels too good to be true: like there should be some caveat, though she tries to tell herself that this is Jack. He wouldn't impose any stipulations. Not like Cal would have. Not like the innkeeper had.
As if he's reading her mind, he clarifies.
"There are no strings attached, Rose. I wouldn't expect anything of you. I just want to know that you're someplace safe, and warm, and that you're doing okay. After so long searching for you, I'm terrified of losing you again; that if I'm not careful you'll just disappear back into the city. I don't want to pressure you. Truly, that's not it. I know you're not in a place right now where you want anything romantic. You know how I feel, and that's not going to change, but I'd be offering you the same thing, even if you never want to take things further with me again. Even if you met and fell in love with someone else, I'd be okay just knowing that you were happy, as long as I also know that you're safe and taken care of, and I'd love for that to be with me, but I'd understand if you can't do that. When we knew each other before, I had nothing to offer you, but I do now. I've been working hard to make sure that I do. My home is yours if you want it."
She can see the earnest desperation in his eyes. She can feel his sincerity. She still has no clue what she's doing, or what she wants, or even if she feels capable of wanting, anymore, but she tries to be brave in the way that she thinks he would. The echo of his voice an age ago, urging don't think, just go with it! Flits through her mind.
"Okay, Jack."
"Okay?" He asks, surprised. His elation is tempered by disbelief.
"Yes, okay. I'll move in with you."
Jack gives a joyful whoop, that makes her laugh. He seems to be all motion, as he stands, looking for all the world like he wants to sweep her into a hug, and then he thinks the better of it, instead kind of shuffling in place.
"Are you sure, though, Jack?" She asks, feeling like she needs to. "You might regret it. I don't have any reputation left to damage at this point, but it sounds like you do. People will talk."
He shakes his head. "I don't care at all what anyone thinks, Rose. You know that."
"Well, if you're sure," she says, still a bit surprised at herself.
"I'm the one who asked you, remember," he tells her, laughing again. He seems excited like a little kid and it's a bit infectious. Her nerves about the whole thing haven't settled– probably won't until she's there, but already she can feel her mood lightening a little and some of her crushing anxiety over how she'll make it through the winter start to ebb away.
She looks around herself at her tiny little room, taking inventory. Really, there's not a lot here that she could care about parting with. She'll be happy never to see the tiny one burner wood stove again, if she can help it. What clothing she has she can fit into one grocery tote, her only shoes on her feet. She has a hair brush and a toothbrush, and a cracked little hand mirror from a flea market in the Bowery. The only thing of any real value to her is her diary.
While she has been proud of rising from absolutely nothing in her pockets to being able to stay afloat on her own, no matter how harrowing the journey to get here had been, she has no attachment to this building and its drafty windows and moldy walls, or the loud pipes and louder tenants, or the row of outdoor latrines that are miserable in the winter and even worse in the summer heat.
She looks at Jack again, who's watching her patiently, seeming to understand that she needs a moment. He's offering her a lifeline, she thinks; another life-preserver like the one he had once pushed over her shoulders and secured around her waist. He's offering her warmth, and freedom, and a home; all of the things that when she has thought of him over the past few years are the things that he possesses incarnate.
"Hand me my skirt and blouse, Jack. Over there from that pile." she points to where she had draped her clothing from the day across the back of her single chair, and he obliges. "Now turn your back whilst I dress. If I'm actually going to do this, we'd better leave before I chicken out."
He gives a huff of amusement through his nose, but follows her directions, turning the other way and making a show of becoming preoccupied with the cooking utensils near the stove.
"Anything here you wanna bring with you?" he asks.
She stands, tucking her blouse into her skirt before grabbing her belt from where it hangs on her metal bed post, fastening that. Her hair is down, unpinned in her frustration the moment she had crossed her threshold earlier, but there's nothing for that now.
"You can look," she says, as she moves to put her coat back on over her clothing. "And not a lot." She grabs the single canvas bag she uses for themarket from its place hanging from a nail in the wall by the door, and moves to gather the rest of her clothing– another skirt, two blouses, and a few bloomers and chemise, before sweeping her toiletries, mirror and little notebook into the bag as well.
"Let's go before I lose my nerve," she tells Jack, finishing up.
He raises an eyebrow at her. "Are we walking out the front door, then?" he asks.
She pauses, realizing he's right. In order to leave together they'll have to be seen. She's not sure if coming back would be an option after that.
I'm certainly not climbing out that window," she points out. "If you want to, be my guest."
His lips tug with amusement. "No, I wasn't really looking forward to going out the way I came in. If you're sure, we'll do it your way. It'll give them something to talk about in your absence, anyhow."