Hello everyone! Thank you for all the nice reviews! This chapter is not so long and special, but I hope you'll still enjoy it xoxo

Chapter 11

Hard Work and Clarity From The Past

1918

"Yes," Rose looked over her shoulder as she heard the front door open and close with force, "Is it all right if I call you back later today, Elizabeth? I think there is something with Cora." She put the phone back on the hook and tried to call for the girl. Waiting for a sign down the stairs, there was no reaction coming in any shape or form. Rose then walked up and knocked softly onto the door of Cora's bedroom.

"Cora? I've called for you several times."

Cora shrugged her shoulders as she was leaning over her desk, tapping her pencil on her homework, "I need to do my homework."

"I know. But you usually greet me when you come home and now you stormed up the stairs like a whirlwind. You can tell me when something is on your mind, darling." Rose sat down onto her bed and waited for a response.

Cora sighed before turning her chair around. "You know the school play we've been working on?"

Rose nodded her head, "Of course, I do."

"It got called off because, apparently, there isn't enough money."

"Oh Cora…"

"Like, why would they suddenly just say there isn't any money when we've been working on it for weeks!" She stood up and shuffled towards her window. A little bird sat on in the tree in front of the house. It looked at her, seemed to stare into her soul before it flew towards its new destination, "It has taken me so much time to write the script. I could have used that time to actually focus on my schoolwork."

Rose nodded again, lifted herself off the bed and placed a gentle hand on Cora's shoulder. "You are allowed to be disappointed, darling, and I am not trying to trivialize it, but maybe next year will be a new opportunity."

Cora sighed, not finding Rose's words to be that helpful. Moving back to her desk, she sat back down. "I really need to do my homework now."

"Of course, darling. I'll start preparing dinner." Rose gently left her room before descending towards the living room. She grabbed her purse and took out a packet of cigarettes before lighting one up. To have a smoke was Rose's guilty pleasure. Having been shamed for it by many, she liked to retrieve in her own home and relax with the smoke hanging around her as she stared at her painting and pictures at the wall. After Rose had successfully bought her own home two years ago, she slowly started to ease up on herself. Time and money had allowed her to tap into her desires and passions; art being perhaps one of the biggest of them. Theater and museum visits occupied her schedule during the weekends, dragging Cora along with them. One night, the two girls were watching a play about a eighteenth century farmer whose house was being burnt down after his daughter was being accused of witchcraft. Rose looked at Cora who was leaning forward, almost hanging over the chair in front of her.

Rose chuckled. "You like it?" she asked softly.

"Yes. I'm only wondering how they all know what to say to each other."

"It's called a script," Rose responded, "Someone writes them a script and all the actors have to study it. That's how they know what to say and do."

"So, the writer writers the whole play?"

"Most of it. Sometimes a writer gets some input from a director."

Something clicked inside Cora's mind that night; a new craft she needed to excel in. It was during moments like this, Rose found it difficult to believe they weren't related in any way. As Cora slowly grew up to be a young woman, there were many aspects Rose recognized within herself. Remembering the first time she went to the theater herself; she was mesmerized by the craft itself. In another life, she often thought, she would be dancing on stages, listening to the cheering audience.

….

The next morning, Cora had to be dragged out of her bed for school. Despite the sun shining through her window, it felt hard to let its warmth lighten her mood. Lucy, one of Cora's closest friends, ran up to her the minute she saw her enter the building. Her cheeks were burning red with her forehead shimmering from droplets of sweat.

"You will never believe it." Lucy breathed.

"What?"

"The school telling us that there isn't enough money for the play is complete rubbish. It so happens to be that Gwendoline Parker's mother has put up a petition for parents to sign because she finds theater inappropriate, and we 'children' shouldn't participate in such activities."

The news did not make only Cora furious, but it made Rose almost fly through the roof. Both of them marched through the living room, letting out words of hatred without even caring that the neighbors were most likely to hear them.

"You will have your play, Cora. I am not going to let some closeminded adults ruin this for you."

Catching her breath, Cora stopped and looked at Rose in silence for a few seconds. "Your almost as angry as me, Rose. Why?"

During this whole situation there was only one person that occupied every corner of Rose's mind. "My mother," she whispered, "But that is a story for another time."

"You never speak of your mother." Cora whispered back. She was now at an age she understood her relationship with Rose relatively well. She was the only person who knew the truth for Rose had to lie to the rest of the world. At times, the whole situation could be difficult to understand. Nevertheless, Cora was aware that Rose was not her cousin, but a stranger who gave her a new chance at life after her parents died in the biggest accident of the century. She was aware that Rose had to flee from her family. And in all this honesty, Cora had promised her not to speak about it to anyone. Ever.

"The only thing I am going to say about her is that she barely allowed me to do anything I truly wanted. I don't want anyone to do that to you."

With that thought, Rose managed to stoke up a discussion at school. A week later, parents had gathered in the community room. As she stood in the middle, in front of guardians and teachers, Rose's heart was pounding in her chest and for a moment she believed she was going to collapse onto the floor. She was aware of her reputation among the others; a young and fairly delusional woman who wasn't married and worked over four days a week. Therefore, her words did not seem to spark any form of compassion within the others.

"You are not even a parent, miss Cartmell. How do you know what is best for our children?" One of the mothers argued.

"I might not be Cora's parent, ma'am. But I do get to raise her and witness her development every single day. Not to forget I was once a child too," she looked around the room, "Do you want your children to look back on this time and think of this school as the place where all they were allowed to do is sit behind a desk and study? We can let them work on something they are passionate about." Rose held her breath for a moment, hoping for someone to respond with compassion. There were two mothers who stood up and left before a silence filled the room. Failure seemed the result of this moment before some dared to speak up.

"And what about supervision?"

"Of course, everything can be supervised."

"And by who? It's not as if the teachers haven't got anything to do."

Then Rose cleared her throat. "I will do it."

Some people found reason in the ideas whilst others let out a sound of pure mockery.

"And how are you going to do that as a working woman, miss Cartmell?"

Without a proper answer to that question, she did manage to convince majority of the parents to take on the roll. Arriving back home, after hours of discussions and negotiations, a sense of panic seemed to overtake her. How was she going to be in charge of over thirty children whilst working and running a household? Rose dropped her body onto the couch and buried her face into a pillow before letting out a grunt. Her excitement had gotten the better of her. Nonetheless, the thrill of creative expression had overtaken the whole group and Rose was being warmly welcomed like a hero. Now for over a month, everyone worked hard to put on a show good enough to impress the smallminded adults. Even at home, all Cora and Rose seemed to talk about was the production which was almost ready for its premiere.

"Do you think the décor will be finished in time?" Cora asked.

"If you have all the supplies then I think the boys will." Rose responded as she grabbed Cora's plate and filled it with potatoes and gravy.

"But that is the whole problem. We don't have all the supplies."

Dropping her cutlery on the table, Rose let out a deep sigh. Of course, it was now on her to fix this problem. The next afternoon, she was able to finish work on time to be able to rush to the stores half an hour before closing time. With the list that Cora had given her; Rose was determined the finish this week on a perfect note. It was a lot. Holding the bags above her head, she moved her body through the crowds like a child who had just learned how to walk.

"Excuse me." Rose held her bags up as she passed a group of people.

"Rose DeWitt Bukater?" The voice that spoke her name was closely behind her, making her body freeze into place.

"Molly Brown."

"Jesus Christ." Molly gasped for air as she believed she was going to faint. She grabbed her arm and Rose noticed she was starting to pinch her skin.

"You're not dreaming, Molly." Her voice was trembling as she tried her hardest not to sound distraught by the whole situation, "It really is me."

As traffic rushed through the street and passerby continued with their day, both women felt like time had stopped. Molly still looked the same since the last day Rose saw her. Her clothes luxurious and extravagant, yet her expression kind and genuine. For Molly it felt as if she was looking at a complete stranger. Not only her fashion had changed; from expensive fabrics to a simple brown woolen coat, but her expression had matured too. Rose's adulthood seemed to pair with a certain kind of softness which suited her well. Wanting to touch her, Molly took a step closer. "I think I need to sit down for a minute."

Gently, Rose took hold of her arm and walked her towards the park across the corner. She placed the woman down on one of the wooden benches, dropped her bags onto the ground and sat down as well. Rose had never seen Molly so quiet.

"What are you doing here in San Francisco, Molly?" she tried to break the silence.

"One of my nieces is getting married." Molly breathed.

Then words seemed to disappear once again.

"I can imagine it being quite a shock for you seeing me here like this." She pulled on the fabric of her skirt."

"A shock is an understatement. For a second, I believed I had died and gone to the other side."

Rose was only able to laugh nervously.

"The whole east coast was devastated by your loss, Rose. Your family even held a funeral. You have a tombstone at Philadelphia's cemetery."

Still holding her skirt, her feet tapped nervously on the grass. "I figured since I've read my obituary in the newspaper."

"Why Rose? Why didn't you let anyone know you were alive?"

Rose hoped Molly was smart enough to understand why she disappeared after the accident. But of course, she couldn't know everything that happened behind the scenes. Calm and collected, she tried to explain the situation as best as she could and why she eventually had to live a lie to protect herself.

Molly then sighed of relief after being told the truth. "We all thought you had died, but now I can understand it. Of course, you wouldn't be able to be together if your mother or Hockley knew about your survival."

"But Jack did die, Molly. I eventually lost him in the water."

"Oh Rose, darlin'. I am so sorry to hear that."

"It's fine, Molly. It's been a long time now, hasn't it?"

"I always thought he was a fine young man. I can still picture your mother's face when we met him for the first time. Remember with that spit on his chin." She laughed.

"Please, you cannot mention anything about me to my mother."

Molly placed her hand on top of Rose's "I have only seen your mother once after the sinking. What I know is that she did have to sell many of her belongings. She lives in Lancaster now and is married to a lawyer."

"I've read that Cal also married."

"To some Belgian heiress who fled to the States during the war. I often see them when I am in New York, but they never waste their energy on giving me a single glance."

With only that sentence, Rose imagined his presence in a room full of wealthy people. Cal had the tendency to make himself physically broader than the men around him as a way to show both his strength and wealth, or how his strength, both physical and mental, lead to his great fortune. To Rose's surprise, the mentioning of his name did not cause any slight reaction inside of her. She felt calm and collected as if she was talking about an outsider whom she had never met.

"But I told you why I am here, Rose DeWitt Bukater. What on earth makes you wander the streets of this city?"

"It's Rose Cartmell now and I live her."

"You're married?"

She shook her head. "After the sinking, I adopted a little girl who was on the ship as well. Her name is Cora Cartmell. I decided to take her name just so… you know…"

"I understand." Molly gave her a lopsided grin, "You look really well, darlin'."

"Thank you, Molly."

"Listen, I would love so stay much longer and listen to all your stories, but I unfortunately have people waiting for me," Molly opened her purse to take out a piece of paper and pen, "This is my address," She said as she handed Rose the note, "for if you would like to write me a Christmas card or something. Only if you please, because I don't want you to feel imposed."

"Not at all, Molly," Before Rose let the woman disappear from her sight, she stopped her, "As a matter of fact, Cora has written a play and is performing it at her school in two days. I just had to pick up some things. Would you like to come and see it?"

"Is a stranger like me allowed to see it?"

"As long as I am the supervisor, you are."

The shock in both women had slowly started to fade away. They embraced before Rose watched her silhouette disappear into the distance. Then that same silhouette appeared back among the other people a few days later. The moment had come for the children to shine and for Rose to prove she was capable to succeed in anything other than typing, planning appointments, and making phone calls.

Over an hour had passed and Rose stared straight in front of her how the last scene was beginning to unfold. The darkness of the room made it impossible to read any facial expressions and she was dying for answers. Answers soon came when the curtains fell, and everyone started cheering.

"And this is only the beginning, Rose." Molly Brown whispered in her ear as the sound of people clapping did not seem to stop. Molly's words felt both unusual and reassuring. How could this moment be the beginning of anything. For now, she could only let it slide as Cora rushed up to her and jumped in her arms.