Chapter 20
The train platform was alive with the usual hustle and bustle—porters calling out destinations, steam hissing from the great iron beast, and the murmurs of families saying their goodbyes. But amidst the noise, the sharp cries of a little girl cut through like a blade. Evelyn clung to Rose's dress with all the strength her tiny hands could muster, her face pressed into the fabric, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Don't go, Rose!" Evelyn wailed, her voice cracking as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.
Rose knelt, her heart breaking as she gathered the child into her arms. Evelyn's small body trembled against her. "Oh, sweetheart," Rose whispered, her own tears threatening to fall. "You have to be brave for me, okay? I promise, I'll write to you. This isn't a goodbye, we will see each other very soon."
"No! Stay here!" Evelyn cried, her fists clutching at Rose's dress as if letting go would make her vanish forever.
Jack stood nearby, his face taut with a mixture of helplessness and sorrow. He reached out a hand toward Rose, but hesitated, respecting the fragile moment between her and the little girl. Behind them, Mark stepped forward, his jaw tight as he crouched down to gently pry his daughter away.
"Evelyn," Mark said softly, his hands firm but kind as he worked to loosen her grip. "Sweetheart, you have to let go now. Rose needs to catch her train."
"No!" Evelyn screamed, twisting and kicking. "She's my Rosie!"
Rose's tears spilled over as she kissed the top of Evelyn's head. "And you'll always be my Evelyn," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You've made my heart so full, my darling girl. I'll carry you with me wherever I go."
Mark finally managed to release Evelyn's fingers from Rose's dress, lifting the sobbing child into his arms. Evelyn reached out toward Rose, her tiny fingers grasping the air as if she could pull her back.
Rose stood slowly, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs. She turned to Mark and Sarah, who had tears in their own eyes. "Thank you," she said once again, her voice trembling. "For everything. For giving me a home. For giving me a second chance."
Mark nodded, his own voice rough as he muttered, "You have to go."
Jack placed a gentle hand on the small of Rose's back, guiding her toward the train. But as they boarded, Rose couldn't resist turning back one last time. Evelyn was still crying in Mark's arms, her small face buried in his shoulder. Sarah stood beside them, her hand over her mouth, watching Rose with an expression of quiet devastation.
Rose couldn't hold back her tears any longer. They fell freely as the train whistle blew, and she and Jack found their seats. From the window, she saw the family that had given her a second chance at life.
As the train lurched forward, Rose pressed her hand to the glass, her heart aching with every inch that carried her further away. Evelyn's cries faded into the distance, but they lingered in Rose's ears, a bittersweet reminder of the love she was leaving behind.
The rhythmic clatter of the train on its tracks lulled Jack and Rose into a long, deep sleep. Rose's head rested on Jack's shoulder, her fingers loosely curled in his lap. Outside, the changing landscape gave way to the sprawling outskirts of Los Angeles, but neither noticed, lost in the haze of exhaustion and emotion.
It wasn't until the conductor gently shook Jack's shoulder that they stirred. "Los Angeles," the man said kindly. "We'll be there in fifteen minutes."
Jack blinked awake, his gaze falling to Rose, who was still nestled against him. He didn't want to wake her yet—she looked so peaceful, her face soft in sleep—but the announcement filled him with a quiet sense of urgency.
He turned his attention to the window. The city sprawled before him, familiar and yet distant, a tapestry of memories stitched with hope and heartbreak. The golden haze of the late afternoon sun bathed the buildings, casting long shadows over streets bustling with life. Jack exhaled, his breath fogging the glass for a moment.
The bittersweetness of being back in Los Angeles gnawed at him. He remembered the years he'd spent here after the Titanic—young, hungry, desperate to find his place in the world. This city had shaped him, filled him with dreams, and yet, he knew he wouldn't stay. This time, he wasn't here to chase something for himself. He was here for Rose.
The train hissed as it began to slow, and Jack glanced down at her again. Gently, he touched her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. "Rose," he whispered.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked at him with confusion, then realization, and finally, a flicker of sadness. "We're here?"
Jack nodded. "Almost."
Rose sat up, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes drifted to the window, taking in the sight of the city. It was vibrant and alive, everything she had imagined when she first dreamed of coming west. But now that she was here, it felt heavy, a place of endings and unknown beginnings.
Jack reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "We'll get you settled," he said softly. "Make sure you're safe."
She turned to him, her lips trembling with an unspoken question. She wanted to ask how long he'd stay, but she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud. Instead, she nodded, her grip tightening on his. The train pulled into the station with a groan of brakes and a rush of steam. People bustled around them as they stepped onto the platform, the weight of their journey lingering in the air between them.
Jack hoisted Rose's suitcase onto his shoulder, his other hand holding hers as they walked toward the exit. The station was loud and chaotic, but Jack's presence grounded her, his fingers warm and steady against hers.
As they stepped out into the city, the glow of Los Angeles seemed almost overwhelming. Rose paused, taking it all in, her heart heavy with the knowledge that Jack wouldn't stay forever.
"Welcome to Los Angeles," Jack said, his voice laced with both fondness and restraint.
Rose turned to him, her heart aching. She tried to smile. "It's quite something, isn't it?"
Jack nodded, though his gaze lingered on her more than the city. "It'll take good care of you, Rose," he said. But his tone carried an unspoken truth—he wished he could stay to take care of her himself.
…
Jack pushed open the door to the inn, holding it for Rose as they stepped inside. The familiar scent of lavender polish and wood smoke filled the air, wrapping him in a sense of nostalgia he hadn't felt in years. The reception area was empty, the desk neatly organized with a brass bell sitting in the center. Jack walked up to it and gave it a firm ring.
"Just a minute!" Lucinda's familiar voice called from behind a door.
Rose glanced around, taking in the quaint charm of the inn. The walls were adorned with photographs, and a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room. Jack's heart tightened as he recognized a few of the photos—some were the same from years ago when he'd stayed here.
A door creaked open, and Lucinda stepped out, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Now, what can I do for—" Her words died on her lips as her eyes fell on Jack. For a moment, she froze, her face a mixture of disbelief and joy. Then she let out a gasp, rushing toward him with arms wide open.
"My good Lord in heaven!" she cried, enveloping him in a tight embrace. "It feels like I'm dreaming. Is it you? Is it really you?"
Jack hugged her back, laughing softly. "It's me, Lucinda. Still kicking."
Lucinda pulled back from the embrace, holding Jack at arm's length as her eyes roamed over him, searching his face as if to confirm he was real. Her voice quivered with disbelief and joy. "It is you. After all these years. Look at you, Jack! You haven't changed a bit."
Jack chuckled, his eyes warm. "I wouldn't go that far. Life's been knocking me around some."
Lucinda shook her head fiercely, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand. "No, you look wonderful. And I can see it in your eyes—you've found your way, haven't you?"
Jack glanced over his shoulder at Rose, who stood quietly by the doorway, watching the reunion unfold. There was a small smile on her lips, but her eyes were misty. Jack gestured toward her. "Lucinda, I want you to meet someone. This is Rose."
Lucinda's gaze shifted to Rose, her expression softening into curiosity and warmth. She moved toward her with open arms, her maternal instincts kicking in immediately. "Rose, my dear, it's a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Jack's is family to me."
Rose hesitated for a moment, overwhelmed by the exuberance of Lucinda's welcome, but then she allowed herself to be embraced. Lucinda pulled back and cupped Rose's face, examining her with a keen eye. "Oh, you're a beauty, aren't you? And you've got the look of someone with a story to tell."
Rose blushed, glancing at Jack, who gave her a reassuring nod. "It's lovely to meet you, Lucinda," she managed.
Lucinda stepped back, clapping her hands together. "Well, don't just stand there, you two. Come in, come in! You must be tired from your travels. Let me get you something to eat."
The kitchen was warm and smelled of freshly baked bread. Jack and Rose sat at the wooden table, their plates piled with hearty stew and thick slices of buttered bread. Both ate ravenously, the exhaustion of their journey catching up with them. Across from them, Lucinda sat with her hands folded on the table, watching them with a mix of curiosity and affection.
After a while, Lucinda cleared her throat. "So," she said, her eyes flicking between Jack and Rose, "I don't mean to pry, but I can't help wondering—why are you both here? What's brought you to my doorstep after all this time, Jack? And you, Rose?"
Jack hesitated, glancing at Rose. She wiped her hands on a napkin and met Lucinda's gaze with a tentative smile. "I suppose it's my turn to explain," she said softly, setting her utensils down. "The truth is, I've been staying with Jack's family for a while. They took me in when I had nowhere else to go. But…" Her voice faltered briefly. "But I can't stay there anymore. It's complicated."
Lucinda's brows furrowed, but she didn't interrupt.
She took a deep breath. "Jack offered to bring me here because he knew you and thought you might be able to help."
Lucinda's eyes flicked between the two of them. Her gaze softened as she looked at Rose, then sharpened slightly as it landed on Jack. "You brought her all this way," she said, her voice steady but curious. "Does that mean you're staying too?"
Jack shook his head, setting down his fork. "No, I'm not staying," he said quietly. "I'm only here to make sure Rose is settled."
Lucinda frowned, leaning back in her chair. "You mean to tell me you brought this lovely young woman all the way here just to leave her behind?"
"It's not like that," Jack replied, his voice steady but quiet. "I've got things I need to do. But I couldn't just leave her to figure it out alone."
Lucinda studied him for a long moment, then sighed and crossed her arms. "Always the selfless one, aren't you? Well, I hope you know what you're doing."
Jack didn't respond immediately, focusing instead on finishing his plate. Rose glanced at him, sensing the tension in his silence.
Lucinda turned her attention back to Rose. "And you, my dear," she said, her tone warm again, "you're welcome here as long as you need. I've got a piano in the parlor and a spare room on the second floor."
Rose smiled, the tension in her chest easing slightly. "Thank you, Lucinda," she said softly.
Jack set his fork down again, leaning back in his chair as if trying to make sense of something swirling in his thoughts. His eyes softened as he looked at Lucinda. "And Herbert?" he asked gently, his voice laced with cautious hope. "Is he around somewhere? I'd love to see him again."
Lucinda froze for a moment, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for her cup of tea. She took a deep breath, biting her lip before speaking. "Herbert won't be coming," she said softly, her eyes downcast. "He passed away last year. Heart attack."
Jack's expression crumbled, and he leaned forward, his hand instinctively reaching across the table to cover Lucinda's. "Lucinda... I'm so sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His face was a mix of shock and grief, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor. "I had no idea."
Lucinda nodded, her fingers tightening around Jack's hand. "It's been... hard," she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. "But the inn keeps me busy, and that helps. I've been running it on my own since. It's not the same without him, though." She gave a watery smile, her free hand dabbing at the corner of her eye. "He always did have a way with people."
Rose sat quietly, the weight of Lucinda's loss settling over her. She didn't know Herbert, but she could feel the pain in Lucinda's words. Swallowing hard, she glanced at Jack, who was struggling to find words.
"I'll help," Rose said softly, her voice steady but filled with conviction. Both Jack and Lucinda turned to her, surprised by her sudden assertion. "I'll help with the inn however I can. Cooking, cleaning, entertaining the guests—whatever you need."
Lucinda smiled warmly at Rose, her gratitude evident in her eyes. "You're a kind soul, Rose," she said. "Herbert would've liked you."
Jack squeezed Lucinda's hand, nodding in agreement. "You know you're not alone, right?" he said firmly. "If there's anything you need, you just have to say the word."
Lucinda let out a shaky laugh, brushing away a tear. "It's good to have you here, Jack," she said. "Even if it's just for a little while. It feels like... like I've got a piece of the past back for a moment."
Jack smiled, though his eyes were still heavy with sorrow. "Herbert was one of the good ones," he said quietly, his gaze distant as he remembered. "The kind of man you don't forget."
Days later, the salty air brushed against Rose's cheeks as she clung to Jack's arm, her fingers laced tightly with his as if to anchor him to her. The beach was quiet except for the rhythmic crashing of waves, a peaceful contrast to the turmoil in her heart. Jack was speaking, his voice light as he recounted stories from years ago—how he had once sketched on this very shore, drawing portraits for anyone willing to spare ten cents. His words painted vivid pictures of his younger, hungrier days, but Rose barely heard them. She was too focused on the warmth of his body next to hers, the sound of his voice, the way his laughter carried over the waves.
Afraid to let go. Afraid he would slip through her fingers like the grains of sand beneath her boots.
"...and there was this one woman," Jack was saying, gesturing toward the water with a grin. "She wanted me to draw her dog, but the thing wouldn't sit still. I ended up sketching a loaf of bread and just added ears. She loved it." His laugh was genuine, full of life, but when he looked at Rose, his expression softened. "What's on your mind?"
She blinked, startled by his question. "Nothing," she lied, her voice a little too soft. "Just... listening."
Jack tilted his head, unconvinced but unwilling to push. "Come on," he said, leading her to a spot closer to the waves. He sat on the sand and patted the space beside him. "Let's just enjoy this for a while."
Rose sat beside him, her heart heavy. She reached into her purse, her fingers brushing against the small package she'd tucked away that morning. Taking a deep breath, she pulled it out and held it in her lap.
"I have something for you," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "For me?"
She nodded, handing it to him. The package was neatly wrapped, tied with a simple ribbon. Jack undid it carefully, revealing a pristine set of drawing pencils nestled in a small wooden box. His fingers brushed over the smooth surfaces of the pencils, his expression a mix of surprise and gratitude.
"I thought it would be nice to start your new studies with some fresh pencils," Rose said, her voice firmer now, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Jack chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that?" He looked up at her, his eyes shimmering in the sunlight. "It's not even certain I'll get in."
"You will, Jack," she said firmly, her conviction unwavering. "I just know you will."
Jack's hand moved to her cheek, his touch tender, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. "You believe in me so much," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's hard not to believe in myself when I'm with you."
He leaned in, kissing her deeply, pouring everything he couldn't put into words into that kiss. Rose melted into him, her arms winding around his neck as if to tether him to her for just a little longer.
When they pulled apart, Jack looked down at the pencils again, a soft smile playing on his lips. "They're beautiful," he said. "Thank you."
Rose smiled through her tears, leaning her forehead against his. "Just promise me," she whispered, "that no matter where you go, no matter what happens... you'll write to me."
Jack's smile faltered for a moment, and he nodded, his voice quiet but sure. "Always."
The waves rolled in, the sun dipped lower on the horizon, and the two of them sat together in the sand, holding onto each other as if the moment would never end.
….
"It's time," Jack said softly, his voice heavy with reluctance.
Their fingers were intertwined, holding on tightly as if sheer willpower could stop the inevitable. Jack's thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand, a comforting gesture that did little to calm the storm in her heart.
Rose's breath hitched, but she nodded. "I know."
"I'll write to you as soon as I'm settled," he promised, his voice firm, as if saying it aloud made it more real.
Rose managed a wobbly smile, her tears threatening to spill over. "It better be long letters."
Jack chuckled, his own emotions shining through. "As long as possible."
She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment before looking back at him. "Go drive them crazy, Dawson."
He grinned despite the tears brimming in his eyes. "Of course I will."
Without another word, he leaned down and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, pouring all his love, his hope, and his sorrow into it. Rose clung to him, her fingers digging into his coat as if she could hold onto him forever. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers.
"I love you, Rose," he murmured.
"I love you, too," she replied, her voice breaking.
They kissed one last time, a kiss that felt like goodbye and forever all at once. Jack reluctantly pulled away, his fingers slipping from hers as he turned and boarded the train. Rose stood frozen on the platform, her arms wrapped around herself as the train hissed and groaned, beginning its slow departure. As it disappeared down the tracks, Rose wiped at her cheeks, her heart aching. A woman standing beside her, likely another passenger's loved one, glanced at her sympathetically.
"Is your husband going away for a long time?" the woman asked gently.
The word husband made Rose pause, her lips trembling. Then, through her tears, a small chuckle escaped her. She turned to the woman and whispered a soft, "Yes."
The woman gave her a kind smile before walking away, leaving Rose alone on the platform, the echo of the train's whistle fading into the distance.
Rose stood there a moment longer, her hand pressed to her chest as if to hold the memory of him close. Then, with a deep breath, she turned and walked away, carrying the weight of their love in her heart.