Rose found the farm life quite agreeable. The routine was comforting to her since she had about enough adventure to last a lifetime. While John profusely apologized for their quaint surroundings Rose absolutely loved it. No one to tell her what to say or how to act and best of all, no latest fashions from Paris including bone crushing corsets. This came as a blessing since Rose had no plans to corset up her stomach where her small child grew. She did however find a plain stay in town that hid her belly perfectly without constricting her too much. Afraid that John would kick her out once he found she was of no use to the farm being pregnant, Rose kept silent and hid her growing child from everyone. Her wardrobe grew looser and looser without the hint of showing.
Her bouts of depression lessened each day as she grew bigger. The physical love growing helped heal wounds otherwise left opened. When it was late at night she would tell her baby all about Jack and the heroic deed he sacrificed that night for Rose. It would all but make her cry. However sometimes there were nights when his memory would creep up into her mind and take over. She would find herself empty and forlorn and spend all night crying or releasing the pain in a hot bath with her trusty blade.
One night was especially bad for Rose after spending more than a month with the Calvert's. The weather didn't seem to help as the gloomy gray sky cried with her all day and all night. Rose had memories flooding back to her as she lay in her bed late in the evening after everyone was asleep. Her back ached and her baby was agitated as well. She could finally feel her baby move and tonight it was not happy at all. She rubbed her belly trying to comfort herself and the baby.
John Calvert woke to the sound of crashing thunder. The house was an icicle and John threw back his covers to check on the fire in the stove that heated the house. He shuffled out quietly from his room across the hall to the stairs when he noticed that Rose's door was open slightly. He found it odd since she never left it open when she was in there. Feeling uneasy, he made his way to her door and knocked ever so slightly. When no answer came he pushed the door back so he could slide in. The room was dark and the rain was pelting at her window which was opened. Furrowing his brow, John walked over to close it. Feeling the ice cold raindrops, he reached for the top of the window. As he pulled it down, he suddenly saw someone standing out in the pasture.
He quickly realized that Rose was not here in her room. The bed sheets were pushed back but no one occupied it. Confused, John walked quickly down the stairs. He made his way past the kitchen and out the back door. The rain pummeled down completely soaking him in a matter of moments. He trekked quickly over towards the pastures where the figure was standing. When she came into sight, he instantly recognized her long red hair dripping down her back. He came up behind her and noticed that she only had a white muslin shift on and it completely soaked. The cold air froze his fingers and he only imagined how cold she was. Trying not to scare her, he came up a little ways behind her and spoke loudly over the rain.
"Rose! What are you doing out here? For god's sake, it's freezing out here!"
She didn't turn to face him but she did speak only softer, "I heard him and then I saw him."
John looked out into the pastures beyond her and saw nothing, "Rose there is no one out here but you and me."
"He was here. I saw him," She began to cough a bit.
John came forward instantly pulling off his robe and coming to put it on her shoulders. As he reached her he stopped. There was no denying that her shift was completely see through when wet. He attempted not to look down but it was practically impossible when he saw what she had been hiding for months.
"Rose…" He started to speak as she still gazed out in the pastures with a hazy look in her eyes.
He couldn't help but follow the traces of her body down from her collarbone to her supple chest down to the bump that was recognizable with fabric clung to it. Shaking it from his mind he quickly finished covering her with his robe and half led her back towards the house. She was obviously not really with him and he knew he needed to get her back in before she caught cold. He led her back in the house, up the stairs and into her room where she still said nothing and stared blankly ahead. He left her standing while he rummaged her drawers for something similar to sleep in. Satisfied that he had found another shift, he pulled it out and set it on her bed. Beneath her was a puddle of water forming from her wet demeanor. He went to the bathroom quickly and searched for linens. He came back and covered her in one moving it back and forth attempting to dry her off.
"Jack… He was there; outside my window. He called for me." She spoke through chattering teeth as the cold finally struck her.
"Rose you're soaking wet. You need to get dry and get into something much warmer." John instructed as she took the linen from him and dried her hair somewhat as she walked towards the window again. John followed with the dry shift he grabbed from her bed. She simply watched the window as she slipped out of John's robe. He instantly looked up and away as she slipped out of her wet shift. He reached out for her with the shift and helped her to slip into it all the while trying to ignore the pale skin that silhouetted the window light. Satisfied that she was decent, he went to her coat hanger and grabbed her robe and came back and slipped it on her. Even in this dry loose shift, he could see her raised belly and he wondered how he never noticed it before.
He motioned for Rose to come back to the bed. She simply followed and said nothing. He ushered her into the sheets and pulled them up around her. She almost instantaneous fell asleep. John sat by her side for more than an hour making sure she did not get up again.
Detective Jones had been on the phone for more than an hour with this guy, "Hockley. I told you his name is Hockley, Caledon Hockley." Jones' partner Detective Strait sat down next to Jones and offered him a cup of tea.
"Okay, thank you." Jones' hung up the phone exasperated, "I've been chasing my tail on this one for an hour now. It seems no one in this town has heard of Mr. Hockley's fiancée Rose Dawson. I'm starting to think someone else was in that car."
"Well I just got something less than ten minutes ago. You better brace yourself for this." Strait shifted forward.
"Give it to me, Will." Jones moved closer.
"It seems that Mr. Hockley did indeed lie about his fiancée but not in the way you think. I did some research on his old fiancé Rose De Witt Bukater, you know, the one that died on Titanic?"
"Go on," Jones indicated.
"Well, sure enough she wasn't on the survivor list but there was a Rose Dawson on the list, from steerage though."
"What do you make of it, Will?" Jones asked obviously intrigued.
"I don't know but it seems pretty peculiar that he drops one woman off and picks up another on the same ill fated ship and both with the same first name. However, get this," Strait moves even closer.
Jones eagerly motions him to continue, "A Rose Dawson never boarded the ship according to the boarding list."
"So one Rose De Witt Bukater boards the Titanic and one Rose Dawson leaves the ship."
"I think we need to go back to Mr. Hockley and have a little chat with him about his disappearing girlfriends."
TBC...
Author's Notes: Pretty please read and review!! I get more inspired when I hear what my readers think! Thanks!!