Chapter 6

The warm chatter of townsfolk and the occasional call of a vendor filled the air, but Rose hardly noticed any of it. She walked beside Betty, her mind far away, still wrapped in the awkward tension that had taken over the farmhouse since Jack's return.

Jack and Rose hadn't spoken a word to each other since their heated exchange in the kitchen. Every interaction had been carefully avoided, with stolen glances that neither wanted to acknowledge. Meals were eaten in silence when the two of them were in the same room, and whenever Jack entered, Rose found an excuse to leave. The atmosphere between them had grown cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the farm that Rose had come to cherish.

Today, however, Rose was with her new friend. Betty's presence was a welcome distraction, and Rose found herself more at ease walking through the market with her, even though the tension from the farm lingered in the back of her mind. As they moved between stalls, Rose found herself mulling over a conversation she had had with Betty weeks ago. The mention of a man Betty had fancied, the one who had left to travel, now took on new significance in Rose's mind. She hadn't thought much of it before, but with Jack's unexpected return, a connection formed that she couldn't shake.

Finally, unable to hold back her curiosity any longer, Rose turned to Betty, her voice casual but her question pointed. "Betty, why didn't you tell me that the man you fancied was Sarah's brother?"

Betty, who had been looking over some apples, froze for a moment, her hand pausing mid-reach. Her face turned a deep shade of red, and she looked away, embarrassed. "I didn't want Sarah—or anyone—to know," she admitted quietly, focusing on the fruit before her. "I didn't even think you'd guess it was him."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "And why wouldn't you want Sarah to know?."

Betty sighed, picking up an apple and turning it over in her hands. "It's... complicated. Sarah and I have known each other for years. If I'd told her I fancied her brother and nothing ever came of it, it would've been awkward. And besides... Jack never knew how I felt, and he was always so... free-spirited. I knew he'd leave one day. I didn't want anyone making a fuss over it."

Rose nodded, understanding. Betty had kept her feelings secret to protect herself from disappointment, to avoid being hurt by something that was never going to happen. But Rose couldn't ignore the fact that, despite Betty's quiet heartbreak, Jack was back now, and that changed things.

"How did you find out it's him?"

"You never mentioned his name," Rose said, her tone soft but direct. "But you spoke of a man who left a few years ago to travel. Guess who came back from a two-year trip from Europe."

Betty stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide with surprise as she turned to face Rose. "He came back?"

Rose nodded, watching Betty's reaction carefully. "Yes. A few days ago."

Betty's face softened with a mix of emotions—hope, confusion, and perhaps a touch of anxiety. "Jack's back?" she repeated, almost as if she couldn't believe it.

"He is," Rose confirmed. "He's staying at the farm with Sarah and Mark."

Betty looked away, her mind clearly racing with the news. Rose could see the conflict in her friend's face, the way the mention of Jack's return stirred old feelings that Betty had probably tried to bury.

"I didn't think he'd come back," Betty whispered, almost to herself. "He always seemed so restless, like he was looking for something out there in the world. I thought once he left, he'd never return."

Rose didn't know what to say to that. Jack did seem restless, even now that he was back, as if there was something unsettled in him that the trip to Europe hadn't satisfied. But she also saw how his presence had shaken Betty, bringing back emotions she clearly hadn't dealt with.

The two stood there in the middle of the market, the noise of the crowd around them seeming to fade into the background. Betty's expression was a mixture of hope and uncertainty, and Rose couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her friend. It wasn't easy when the person you cared for was so close, yet still felt so far away. As they continued to stroll through the busy marketplace, the scent of freshly baked bread and the hum of people's conversations filling the air, Rose glanced sideways at Betty. She couldn't shake her own frustration with Jack, nor the tension that seemed to rise every time they crossed paths.

"He'll be joining us for church tomorrow," Rose said, her voice casual but laced with the simmering annoyance she felt. "You'll see him there."

Betty gave her a curious look, but before she could respond, Rose continued, her frustration spilling over. "But honestly, I don't know what it is you even like about him. He seems rude, uncouth, and presumptuous."

Her friend blinked, surprised by the sudden harshness in Rose's tone. Then, to Rose's annoyance, she laughed—a soft, knowing laugh that only served to irritate Rose further.

"Are you saying you truly don't like him?" Betty asked surprised.

Rose rolled her eyes, tugging her shawl closer around her shoulders as the wind picked up slightly. "He's unbearable," she muttered. "I don't understand why anyone would find him charming."

Betty just shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. "You're in the minority there, Rose. I don't know anyone who doesn't like Jack Dawson. He's always been... well, charismatic."

"Charismatic?" Rose echoed, her voice incredulous. "There's a difference between charismatic and arrogant, Betty. He talks as if he's the first man to ever set foot in Europe, like he's seen the world and now he knows everything. It's starting to become incredibly annoying."

Betty chuckled, now clearly amused by Rose's irritation. "Well that does sound somewhat like Jack," she admitted. "He's always been full of stories, full of life. That's part of what makes him so... captivating. He doesn't just see the world—he throws himself into it, completely. That's what I like about him. He's never been afraid of anything."

Rose couldn't help but scoff. "I think there's a difference between being brave and being reckless. And I'd say Jack leans more toward the latter."

Betty shrugged, still smiling softly. "Maybe. But sometimes it's that recklessness that makes people stand out, makes them memorable. He has this way of drawing people in without even trying."

Rose didn't respond right away, the frustration still bubbling in her chest. She couldn't understand how someone like Betty could look at Jack and see anything but arrogance. To Rose, Jack was nothing more than an intrusion into the quiet life she had begun to build at the farm. Every time she saw him, it felt like he was challenging her, pushing at boundaries she had carefully set for herself.

But as they walked, Rose also noticed the fondness in Betty's voice, the way her eyes softened when she spoke of Jack. It was clear that, whatever Rose thought of him, Jack had left a mark on Betty's heart.

The next day at church, the energy was palpable. The usually quiet Sunday service felt more like a social event, and it all centred around one person—Jack Dawson. He had always been well-liked, but his return after two years seemed to elevate him to something of a local legend. Rose stood in the back, tucked into a corner, watching as people swarmed around Jack like moths to a flame. She had kept her distance for days and even now, she felt a pang of irritation watching him soak in all the attention with that easy, confident smile of his.

Her eyes shifted to Betty, who was standing nearby. She was beaming as she greeted Jack, her face lighting up in a way Rose had never quite seen before. There was no mistaking the happiness in Betty's expression as she interacted with him. Rose watched as Jack greeted her with a hug, lifting her slightly off her feet in a way that made her laugh. Betty's laughter filled the space, and for a brief moment, Rose felt an odd, uncomfortable knot form in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was jealousy or something else, but watching the two of them together felt... strange.

Rose shifted her weight, crossing her arms tighter as she watched them interact. There was something so natural about the way Betty spoke to him, the way she smiled up at him with admiration. Rose had seen the same look in the eyes of many people in this town over the past few days. It was hard not to be drawn to Jack's magnetic charm—his carefree nature, his adventurous stories. But there was something about the ease with which he carried himself, about the way he just fit into every space, that just irked her.

As Betty and Jack chatted, their conversation punctuated with laughter, Rose couldn't help but feel a strange detachment from it all. She was an observer in this scene, someone watching from the outside. She wasn't part of this world, not in the same way Betty or Jack was.

From her vantage point, she could see Jack move effortlessly through the crowd, greeting old friends and familiar faces. Women smiled at him, some blushing as they exchanged pleasantries. Children tugged at their mothers' skirts, pointing at the man they'd heard stories about. Even the pastor came over to greet him, giving Jack a firm handshake and a warm smile.

"Jack, my boy! Welcome back," the pastor said, his voice booming. "You've been missed, son. Tell us, how was Europe? You must have stories."

Jack laughed, a light, easy sound that Rose had heard before and had come to resent. He spoke with an air of confidence, but with just enough humility to make him seem approachable. "Oh, plenty of stories, but none as important as just being back here with all of you," he said smoothly, making the crowd around him chuckle and nod in approval.

Rose rolled her eyes. He was laying it on thick, she thought. He knew exactly how to play these people, and it irritated her to no end. She didn't understand how they could all be so taken with him. He was just a man, after all—one who had left and come back as if he had conquered the world.

As the service ended, the same scene played out once more. Jack was immediately surrounded by well-wishers, all eager to speak with him. Betty stayed close by his side, laughing and chatting with him as if they had never been apart. She walked toward the edge of the small churchyard, her mind a whirl of confusion. The more she tried to distance herself from Jack, the more he seemed to occupy her thoughts. And now, seeing the way Betty and the others looked at him, Rose couldn't help but feel an ache—a loneliness she didn't fully understand.

As she stood at the edge of the churchyard, watching the people slowly file out, laughing and chatting together, Rose realized just how much of an outsider she still was. Even after all this time on the farm, surrounded by kind people like Sarah and Betty, she didn't truly belong. And Jack Dawson, with his charm and easy laughter, was a reminder of everything she could never have. A life of belonging, of ease, of being loved without conditions.

Rose stayed there, silent and still, until the church emptied, and the last of the townspeople headed home. She knew she would have to face them all again soon enough, but for now, she let herself disappear into the quiet, letting the sound of the birds in the trees drown out the thoughts that troubled her heart.

She remembered walking on the decks of the ship, her mother walking arm in arm with Cal, herself walking just slightly behind them and she watched them speaking animatedly with Mr. Andrews. The service that morning had been a blur. She'd barely registered the words of the reverend, lost in her own thoughts, her mind spiraling in a whirlpool of confusion and suffocation. Her future loomed ahead like a great, dark cloud—her engagement to Cal sealing her fate in a life she felt powerless to escape.

As they strolled, Cal spoke about their life to come, making vague mentions of estates and businesses, but Rose barely heard him. Her eyes were fixed on the distant horizon, where the ocean met the sky. It felt endless, like the life she longed for but couldn't quite grasp.

Then, a hand rested gently on her shoulder, pulling her abruptly from her reverie. She turned to find Maureen standing there, a look of determination in her eyes.

"Rose, come with me," Maureen whispered urgently.

Before Rose could protest, Maureen had pulled her into the ship's gymnasium, away from the prying eyes of her mother and Cal. The sound of the weights clinking and the smell of leather filled the room, but all Rose could focus on was the tension in Maureen's expression.

"Maureen, what are you doing? You can't just—"

"My mother doesn't allow me to see you anymore, Maureen," Rose said, her voice faltering. "I'm sorry, but this has to end."

Maureen scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her. "The past few days you seemed a lot more determined to change your life, and now you're scared of your own mother?"

"I'm not scared of her," Rose retorted, though the tremble in her voice betrayed her. "You're being mean."

"I'm just being realistic," Maureen said, her voice softening only slightly. "I don't care what your mother says, Rose. This isn't about her."

"Then why are you here?" Rose's frustration grew, but beneath it was fear. Maureen had a look in her eyes she had never seen before. Wild, desperate.

"I came to warn you."

"Warn me? About what?"

Maureen looked around, as if to make sure they were truly alone, before stepping closer. "I've been listening. The officers—they've been talking about icebergs. And I don't know, I just have this feeling, Rose. Something bad is going to happen. I didn't sleep at all last night. There's something... something wrong."

Rose's heart raced. "You're scaring me."

"Good," Maureen replied, her voice barely a whisper now. "Because you should be scared. I... I don't think I'm going to survive this."

Rose's breath caught in her throat, and the tears that had been threatening to fall stung her eyes. "Don't say that," she said, shaking her head. "Nothing is going to happen. We're safe. This is the Titanic."

"Rose, listen to me," Maureen pleaded, her grip tightening on Rose's arms. "It's not just about the ship. I feel like I'm running out of time, like I don't have much left. And I care about you too much not to say this—you have to take control of your life. If you marry that man... it'll kill you. Maybe not in the same way, but it will destroy everything about you that's real. Don't you see?"

Rose's lip trembled, and she felt utterly helpless, torn between the safe, suffocating future laid out for her and the terrifying, unknown path Maureen was urging her to take.

"Rose!" Her mother's voice called from outside the gymnasium, sharp and impatient.

Maureen's eyes darted toward the door, then back at Rose. Without warning, she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Rose's cheek. "Please," she whispered, her breath warm against Rose's skin. "Don't let them take your life from you."

Before Rose could respond, Maureen was gone, disappearing through the side door of the gymnasium, her footsteps light and hurried. Rose stood frozen, her heart pounding, her mind spinning with fear and confusion. She barely had time to gather herself before her mother appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowing at the sight of her daughter standing alone.

"Rose, what are you doing in here? Come along, dear, we're waiting."

Rose nodded, her throat tight with unspoken words. As she followed her mother back onto the deck, the weight of Maureen's warning hung over her like a shadow, and for the first time, the thought that something terrible might actually happen crept into her heart.

A sudden, childish voice broke through the fog of her thoughts.

"Rose, come play!" Evelyn's bright voice rang out from across the churchyard, pulling her back to the present, back to the warmth of the spring day and the life she had now.

Rose blinked, looking over at the little girl who was beckoning her with eager eyes. She managed a small smile and nodded, stepping away from the edge of the churchyard and toward Evelyn. As she walked, she glanced once more at the church, where Jack was still surrounded by people, laughing and talking like he'd never left.

The ghost of her old friend did not seem to leave her alone that day. The night air heavy with an impending sense of doom. Then, in a blink, she was plunged into icy waters, and her heart raced as she saw Maureen's lifeless body floating just out of reach. Rose reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold water, but it felt like trying to grasp smoke. She screamed, but no sound came out, only bubbles rising to the surface as Maureen slipped further away, swallowed by the depths.

"Maureen!" she cried, desperation clawing at her throat. But it was too late; she was too late. The weight of loss settled heavily on her chest as she felt herself sinking into the abyss, the darkness wrapping around her like a shroud.

Suddenly, she shot up in bed, gasping for breath, the sheets tangled around her legs. Sweat clung to her skin, and her heart thundered in her chest.

"No, no, no," she whispered to herself, trembling as she pulled the damp hair from her face. Shaking off the remnants of the nightmare, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the cool floor. She needed to escape the suffocating memories that clung to her.

Opening the door to her bedroom, she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The house was quiet, but as she approached the stairs, she heard another door creak open.

Jack's face appeared in the dark, his features barely illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through a window. "I heard a scream," he said, concern etched across his face.

"I didn't hear a thing," she replied quickly, a bit too defensively. "I was just getting up to get some water." She rushed past him, not wanting to linger or explain. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, but she didn't turn around.