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She could not sleep, and she knew that nothing more than more confusion would come from her laying sleeplessly in bed, so she would put her restlessness to use and cleaned that night's mess, even though Julia had said they would take care of it in the morning. Rose set about throwing the strings and papers into the fire. But as she picked up the newspaper that had concealed her gift from Julia and Henry, she froze. Startled, Rose settled onto the sofa and began to read. Ruth DeWitt Bukater and Caledon Hockley are in mourning for beloved daughter and finance, Rose DeWitt Bukater. The trio was traveling back from a tour around Europe on the ship proclaimed "unsinkable", the Titanic, when the massive ship struck an iceberg and sank, taking with it 1,500 souls, including young Rose DeWitt Bukater. Even though her body was never found, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater and Mr. Hockley have had a gravesite prepared for her and there will be an honorary ceremony for her held on May 12, the day she and Mr. Hockley were to be married. Miss DeWitt Bukater was only one among many prominent souls lost on the night of April 14... Rose tore her eyes from the newspaper article. Yes, Rose DeWitt Bukater was dead, but reading this still stirred something inside her. How had Henry and Julia even found this newspaper? Or did they even know what had been on it? Trembling, Rose carefully folded the article and hurried upstairs and pulled the dress box from beneath her bed. She threw the lid back and paused, gently reaching out to touch the glittering blue diamond. 'I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this.' 'All right.' 'Wearing only this.' The hundreds of facets carved into the face of the stone reflected what moonlight flowed through the limp, plain curtains and twisted it and sent it dancing about the walls and ceiling as Rose moved it. A tear slid down her cheek, falling on the diamond and ending her trance. She gently placed the diamond back in the folds of the stained pink and white dress beside the crimson rose and placed the newspaper article on top of the dress. Four hundred and sixty dollars were tucked in the corner of the box. All material things that were truly dear to her were in that box, save the portfolio of charcoal sketches that lay on her desk. She closed the dress box and quickly replaced it under the bed, then stood, and plopped down in the rackety wooden chair situated in front of the desk. Rose gingerly opened the portfolio and flipped through the papers. She
could almost envision Jack, his young, nimble fingers gripping the little
piece of charcoal, sketching whatever image he had stored in his mind or 'I want you to draw me...' He had drawn more than the woman he'd seen laying naked on the sofa
before him; he had drawn the woman within her. If Rose just closed her
eyes, she could see that portrait of herself. Oh, how her heart had been
pounding! Those moments had been erotic, sensual, wonderful,
exhilarating... they had taken her yet another giant step closer to freeing
herself from the chains Rose closed the portfolio and lay down in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind now blank, until she finally slipped into a deep sleep. |
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Rose lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling,
her mind reeling. Her hand rested lightly on her
stomach. Her dress had been tighter than she 
