I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of footsteps and hushed voices coming from downstairs. It took a moment for my groggy mind to register the situation, but soon I could make out Kelly's unmistakable voice, tinged with irritation. "I don't care if you're with the newspaper, you ain't bothering this girl, now get out!" Kelly's voice carried through the quiet house, firm and unwavering. "Please, ma'am," the reporter pleaded, holding up his hands defensively. "I just need a few quotes for my article. The public wants to know what really happened on the Titanic. This could be a major story!"
Curiosity got the better of me, and I quietly slipped out of bed, tiptoeing to the door to peek outside. From the shadows, I could see Kelly in the foyer, confronting a young reporter. He was holding a notepad and pen, his face flushed with determination. Despite his handsome appearance, Kelly was having none of it. She pointed forcefully to the door, her frustration palpable. "You see this?" Kelly balled her palm into a fist, shaking it at the reporter. "Would you like this in your teeth, young man? Now out!" she shouted. "Just a couple of minutes," he persisted, desperation creeping into his voice. "Can you at least tell me if she's one of the survivors? It would mean a lot." Kelly's eyes narrowed. "I said out! This girl needs her rest, not your pryin' questions."
The reporter hesitated, clearly taken aback by Kelly's fierce demeanor. He opened his mouth to protest, but Kelly cut him off. "I don't care if you're the king of England, you ain't gettin' past me. Now scram before I give you a reason to write about your own injuries!" Seeing that he was getting nowhere, the reporter reluctantly turned to leave. He cast one last glance over his shoulder, a mix of frustration and curiosity in his eyes, before stepping out into the night. Kelly slammed the door shut behind him, muttering under her breath. "Nosy little weasel," she grumbled to herself. "Thinkin' he can just barge in here and bother my guests. Not on my watch."
Just then, I heard another set of footsteps descending the stairs. Jen appeared, rubbing her eyes and still in her bed attire. Her hair was disheveled, and she looked groggy but concerned. "Ma, what were you yelling about?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep. "Please tell me you were not in another fist fight again." Kelly turned to her daughter, her expression softening slightly. "Go back to bed, Jen. Just dealin' with a nosy reporter who doesn't know when to quit." Jen sighed, shaking her head. "Ma, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack one of these days. Can't you just ignore them?"
"Ignore 'em?" Kelly huffed. "Not when they're tryin' to disturb my guests. Now go on, back to bed with ya." Jen rolled her eyes but smiled affectionately at her mother. "Alright, alright. Just don't knock anyone's teeth out, okay?" Kelly chuckled, her tough exterior cracking for a moment. "No promises, kiddo. Now go on, get some rest." Kelly then glanced at me, her demeanor once again becoming gentle. "And you too, dear. Off to bed with you. We don't want you catching a cold on top of a nosy reporter out there." I nodded, returning to my room and closing the door behind me. As I settled back into bed, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for Kelly's protection.
By morning, the aroma of fresh pancakes filled the air, gently waking me from my slumber. I stretched and got out of bed, drawn to the enticing smell emanating from the kitchen. When I entered, Kelly was bustling around, humming a cheerful tune.
The kitchen was a cozy space, with a wood-burning stove taking pride of place. A cast-iron skillet sizzled on the stove, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of pancakes. The wooden table in the center of the room was set with simple, yet charming dishware. A bowl of fresh fruit, likely from the local market, sat on the table, adding a touch of color to the room. "Good morning, dear," Kelly greeted me with a warm smile as she flipped a pancake. She was dressed in a simple house dress with a floral pattern, her sleeves rolled up and her apron tied snugly around her waist. "Sit down, I've made you some fresh pancakes." I took a seat at the small wooden table, the morning sunlight streaming through the window and casting a warm glow on the room. "Thank you, Kelly. They smell wonderful." Kelly turned back to the stove, expertly maneuvering the skillet. "Been up since dawn," she said, her voice cheerful. "Figured you could use a good meal to start the day."
As I started eating, I couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to contribute somehow. "Kelly, I was thinking... I don't feel right just sitting around and not helping out. Is there anything I can do to help around here?" Kelly turned to me, her expression soft but firm. "Oh, dear, you need time to relax and recover. You've been through a lot. You shouldn't worry about work right now." I hesitated for a moment before speaking again, my voice carrying the weight of my past. "Kelly, I appreciate your kindness more than you know, but I need to feel useful. Back home, my life was... complicated. My mother, she was always so controlling. And my ex-fiancé, Cal... He saw me as nothing more than a possession." Kelly's brow furrowed with concern as she listened intently. "That sounds awful, hun."
"It was," I continued, my voice steady but tinged with emotion. "I felt trapped in a life that wasn't mine. Coming here, surviving the Titanic... it's given me a second chance. I want to make something of myself, to have a purpose. I can't just sit around and do nothing. Please, let me help." Kelly sighed, her stern exterior softening. She placed a plate of pancakes in front of me and sat down across the table. "Alright, dear. If it means that much to you, I'll find somethin' for you to do. But promise me you'll take it easy, at least for a little while. You're still recovering." I nodded, relief washing over me. "I promise. Thank you, Kelly." She patted my hand reassuringly. "We'll get you sorted, Rose. Don't you worry. Now, eat up. We New Yorkers start our days with a full stomach." I smiled, feeling a sense of hope and purpose start to bloom within me. This new life in New York was still uncertain, but I knew I had people who cared about me and believed in my potential. Kelly leaned back in her chair, her eyes studying me thoughtfully. "You know, Rose, you're a strong young woman to have come through all that. You remind me of my daughter, Jen, in some ways. She doesn't let anything, or anyone tell her what she can or can't do." I felt a surge of gratitude and a touch of pride at Kelly's words. "Thank you, Kelly. That means a lot."
"You're welcome, hun," she said, her voice warm. "Now, about that help you were offering... There's always somethin' to do around here. You can help with the cleaning, or if you prefer, you can lend a hand in the kitchen. Maybe you and Jen can do the washing together, hun. I'll go and wake her and let her know, but those pancakes better be eaten when I get back, hun." I nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "I will, Kelly. I promise."
Kelly smiled approvingly and stood up, heading towards the stairs. As she reached the doorway, she paused and turned back to me, her expression serious. "And don't you worry about that Cal fella. If he sniffs around here, he'll spend the entire time in New York with a fat lip!" She demonstrated with a bit of shadow boxing, throwing a few playful punches in the air. "I may be fifty-six, but this old girl still knows how to swing a good bunch of fives." I couldn't help but chuckle at her fierce protectiveness and spirited demonstration. "Thank you, Kelly. I feel safer already." As she left the kitchen to wake Jen, I continued to eat, savoring the warmth and comfort of the pancakes. The morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a gentle glow on the room. This was just the beginning of my journey, and I knew that with Kelly and Jen's support, I could face whatever challenges lay ahead.