Can you exchange one life for another? A caterpiller turns into a butterfly. If a mindless insect can do it, why couldn't I?
-Rose
''When your father and I married, I was eighteen years old. I had known him for less than a year.'' Rose told her daughter, her soft smile showed as she recalled her own wedding day. When she saw the pretty girl stood before her, she could barely believe that she was a mother – even after all of these years. Just where did time go? It didn’t stop for nobody, not even for a fraction of time, just so one could enjoy a moment, a kiss, a cuddle with their precious children. For now, all of her children were growing so fast.
''Oh, Mother. I do wish you had a picture of you and daddy on that day.''
''Lilly, pictures weren't taken as often back then and we had very little money.'' Rose smoothed her hands down Lilly's pure white dress. It was silky, flared out at the waist and the long sleeves were decorated with tiny beads. ''We did a good job with this dress.'' Rose pulled a small pair of spectacles onto her face and her blurred vision cleared. ''It is just beautiful.''
''Eadie is the one who designed it from scratch, remember?'' Lilly shook her light copper curls. ''That girl has something. Just like Teddy and daddy when they draw, like Helen when she dances.'' Her lips curved over into a look just like her fathers. ''I don’t have a talent.''
''Oh, nonsense.'' Rose arranged a curl or two down her daughters back. ''When I met your father, I thought I thought the same thing. He was a talented, handsome young man who was wonderfully creative but I wasn’t really anything.'' Rose stood back as she placed her hands on her hips to scan over her daughter's figure, the dress and how it hung. Her young face showed just how nervous she was. ''We started painting, sculpting, drawing...together. I wasn’t half as good as your father but he made me feel confident, Lilly. I had an outlet for my creativity, but then I had Teddy and Samuel, and my life became my children's.''
Lilly saw the tears shining in her mother's eyes at the mention of Samuel. ''He should be here.'' She said, simply.
Rose blinked away her tears and breathed through the lump in her throat. ''He is, darling. He always will be. Harry, too. They watch us, never forget that.''
Rose came to Lilly's side, she took her hands in her own. They were just a small, daintier version of her own. As she looked into those dark, deep blue eyes she saw herself twenty or so years ago, with flashes of Jack. ''I won't.''
''Oh, let me go get your father before I sob into your dress.'' Lilly giggled. Rose took a small but pretty veil from the bed and gently placed it on Lilly's head. She arranged her hair around it to cover the small clip before standing back to see her eldest daughter at full length.
''You are just simply beautiful.''
''Can a man see his daughter yet?'' Jack called from outside of Lilly's bedroom door, his knock was loud. Rose and Lilly broke into laughter.
''I told you just how desperate your father was.''
Rose went to the door, her lilac heels clacking upon the floor. Jack was dressed in his finest navy suit. Rose's hands went to his tie to straighten it out and then ran across his shoulders. ''My, my you scrub up as handsome as I remembered, Mr. Dawson.''
Jack's eyes sparkled with mischief. ''You're as radiant as the day I married you.'' He leant forward, kissing the tip of his wife's nose.
''Hardly, Jack.''
His eyes pierced hers as he took her hands in his and kissed her left hand just above her wedding ring. The same ring which she had worn all of these years. ''Rose, never question my love or my affection for you.''
He stole away her breath right there in that moment. ''We may be grandparents twice over, but that doesn’t limit anything between us, does it?''
Rose blushed a deep crimson and leant forward to kiss her husband's cheek. ''I love you, my darling. Now, go see our daughter and promise not to cry.''
--
''1955! It will be our year!'' Eadie raised a glass of champagne. Her black curls were permed into a lovely, neat bob. Her lips painted a crimson red.
''Oh, darling. You do say that every year!'' Jack chuckled.
Eadie drank the champagne down in one.
''Yes, daddy. But it isn't every year that Marilyn Monroe wears one on your designs is it? Next, I am thinking Elizabeth Taylor!''
''Is that why you dyed your hair that horrible coal colour? To model yourself on her?'' Helen laughed, shoving chocolate into her mouth like it was going out of style. Her blonde curls shook as her eyes met her mother's stern look.
''Actually, no. Bobby likes it.'' Eadie stole a glance at her engagement ring. They had become engaged just before Christmas and her heart fluttered just like all young girls did once.
Jack cracked open another beer, taking a sip as he glanced about the table. It had started out with two seats many years ago, for just him and his wife, and now there were no less than the entire family. Teddy with his wife Maddison and their two sons. Cecilia with her and Samuel's son, William. Even though Cecilia had remarried three years after her son's birth, she still gathered with the family on these occasions and truth be told, she felt like another daughter to them all. Lilly sat with her husband Todd and their daughter. Her hand pressed against her raised stomach for soon she would be expecting another child just before February and then there was Eadie; the party girl. She designed dresses for Hollywood elite and had just become engaged to Bobby, a casting agent and then there was the baby; Helen. She would turn sixteen in the coming months. Two empty seats also sat with a cracker in front of them and the plates laid out as though they would be expected. For Harry and for Samuel. Even though everyone around them chattered, laughed, drank and ate whilst the wireless played songs, Jack still thought of the two sons he had buried. Across the table, his eyes met his wife's. She was just as lovely as ever even though they would celebrate her sixtieth birthday in the coming months with a trip to Paris and London. It would be their first time flying and first vacation away from the children.
''Well, when will you marry him?'' Lilly asked. Her husband lit a cigarette right next to her and she wafted away the smoke. ''Todd, please go outside! The baby doesn’t want that in its lungs!''
''Oh, stuff! It's such nonsense.'' He complained but knowing better than to argue with his pregnant wife he took his cigarette to the door, where he was joined by Teddy.
''I don’t know. I may never marry.'' Eadie puffed on another cigarette. ''I may simply wonder, design wonderful dresses and never settle.''
''All girls have to get married and have babies, Eadie.'' Helen shook her head at her elder sister's stupidity. ''That is what us girls have to do.''
''Actually, no you don’t.'' Rose glanced to Jack. ''You can do whatever you want to do. When I was your age, a woman's choices were very limited. Now, if a woman wants a career then it is a wonderful thing to do.''
''See.'' Eadie crinkled her nose at her sister. ''I cannot see myself simply wiping a kid's snotty nose for the rest of my life.''
''Eadie!'' Jack scolded with a sharp gaze.
''Sorry, daddy.''
His middle daughter was quite the modern woman in so many ways but she was still naïve to the world. Whether she chose to marry and raise a family was her own business but to criticise others for the decision wasn’t an option in his house.
He glanced about at the grandchildren. Three grandsons, and a granddaughter. His own children were wonderful parents and that was all he could wish for them. While he loved his grandsons and their boisterous ways, he did have a soft spot for his only granddaughter Jean who had turned five. She was like her mother but with her father's dark curls and freckles. She quietly sat resting against her mother, Lilly, one hand pressed against her swollen stomach and she ran a finger gently down the middle of it, trying to cause the child to kick. He took another swig of beer, remembering when Rose carried their children and he would do the same gesture to entice them to kick.
''Who wants chocolate cake?'' Teddy shouted, curling his head around the door from the kitchen. The grandchildren all shouted, screaming and ran into the kitchen for a slice of their grandmother's cake.
''Me, daddy! Me, uncle Teddy!''
Rose sipped her champagne and shook her head, their childish excitement amusing her endlessly. ''Oh, Jack, how did we just cope with six children?''
''We had to, my darling. We just had to.''
--
''Pregnant? Oh, give me strength. She's still a kid herself.'' Jack ran his fingers through his grey hair.
''Jack, you are forgetting she is older than I was when I was expecting Teddy.''
''By one Godamned year! She is in school still! She wanted to study in Paris and now, she is having a child!''
Jack paced the living room of their Santa Monica home.
''Oh, stop being so stuck in the past! We were parents at her age!'' Rose reminded her husband as she settled her aching back in the chair. ''Helen is twenty-one years old! Yes, she will need to take time away from her studies but she will manage.''
''How? Without a father in the picture.''
Rose exhaled slowly. ''Jack, she just will. He is better off never knowing. He was some French restaurateur who used our daughter in such a way I never want to know. She may have fallen for him but the light in all of this is that she will have that baby. She told me so, herself. That bastard doesn’t want his name dragging through the mud.'' Rose toyed with her knitting, wondering if to reveal the next information but she knew that she could never hide anything from her husband; they had been married for fifty years and he knew her more than she had ever known herself. ''He is married already with children.''
Jack widened his narrow eyes and clenched his teeth together. ''He what?''
''Jack, please calm down!'' Rose struggled out of the low armchair and came to her husband who stood beside the log fire. Her hands settled upon his face.
''Rose, she is our little girl-''
''I know.'' She soothed, stroking his hair. ''But, she is a woman now.''
''If I ever get my hands on that bastard, he will have his neck snapped like a-''
''Oh, I know that!'' Rose felt him relax. ''But for now, she is coming home to Santa Monica and we need to make a home for her and the baby.''
--
1966
Six-year-old Elizabeth held onto her grandfather's hand tightly as they walked to the fields. Her loose blonde curls billowed behind her in the gentle summers breeze.
Her eyes watched as the flowers danced. All bright and pretty before her and just then, a butterfly flew past right under her nose. She stopped and gasped.
''Oh, Grandpop, look!'' She held out her dainty hand to catch the purple and green speckled butterfly.
''Yes, just look how beautiful.''
He knelt down to her height. He smiled, as her large blue eyes lit up with her hands held out in front of her for the butterfly to land on. It fluttered before them as though it was showing off.
''Can we catch it and keep it?''
''Oh no, Elizabeth. We cannot keep it but we can certainly catch it.''
Expertly, he pulled a small glass jar from his pocket. Jack was certainly used to catching butterflies and even after all of these years, their beauty never failed to astonish him but what made it even more exciting was seeing the face of his granddaughter. Her Mother, Helen had given birth to her at home right there with Jack and Rose in the room and it had been one of the most precious moments of his life.
''Why not?''
''Because they had to be free. Just as we people do.''
He took the lid off the jar which was full of nectar and held it out in his hand. Jack stood in front of Elizabeth. He stood as still as could be.
''You see butterflies like nectar.'' He whispered to her. ''Be still now.''
Elizabeth did as she was told. Within twenty seconds, the butterfly had flown into the jar and quickly Jack placed the lid on so that it was contained. The butterfly began to flutter around wildly.
''See how the butterfly gets trapped. She doesn't like it.''
Elizabeth watched as the butterfly tapped its wings frantically against the sides of the jar. ''Oh, grandpop but she is so pretty.''
''She is but she needs to be free. Could you imagine living in such a small jar?''
Elizabeth was quiet, too enthralled by the butterfly as it continued tapping its delicate wings against the glass.
Jack smiled as she held the glass jar. Her pretty freckles came out in the sun. She was tanned like her Mother and just like he had been, too.
''Can we show Granny?''
Jack sat on the grass, his back beginning to hurt from kneeling. Harriet tucked her hair behind her ear and sat beside him, still clutching the jar.
''Granny and I would come here before your mother was born. We caught butterflies, watched them fly by and we went fishing too.''
''Can we go fishing too?''
Jack smiled at her enthusiasm. ''Of course, but you will need a rod.''
''Did Mother come fishing?''
''Yes, when she was your age and older. We came here for picnics.''
Elizabeth glanced at her grandfather and then to the butterfly. ''We have to let her go?''
''Yes, darling.''
''If we can't take Granny a butterfly, can we pick her some pretty flowers?''
''Of course, she would love that.''
--
The cancer had come quickly, taken over and claimed his life so quickly that none of the family had barely registered it.
On April 12th 1970. Jack Dawson had passed away, in his wife's arms. Fifty-eight years to the day, after they had met. Rose had wanted to cry, to scream and to fight the disease which had claimed his life. But, in her heart, she knew just how selfish that would be. They had shared fifty-eight years together. He had given her a wonderful life, six wonderful children and in turn seven grandchildren. They had created, loved, cherished and travelled. Their lives had been enriched with such love that, in the end, Rose knew she shouldn’t be angry. Life would go on, she wasn't delicate and she would keep on the way Jack wanted it. She would still take care of their children, their grandchildren and travel. Hell, she even had her eyes on a cruise to Brazil for her birthday. It was a day after his funeral that she had discovered a handwritten note in pencil. In that moment, as she saw the tall, long letters just as she had done as a seventeen-year-old girl, when a note had been thrust into her hands. It was upon closer inspection, when she put her glass on that she noticed the words. Make it count, meet me at the clock.
Her heart pounded in her chest. The envelope was unsealed and with shaking hands she pulled out the letter. Tears were already forming in her eyes and this time, she refused to stop them falling. Settling herself upon Jack's side of the bed, she began to read:
My dearest, beautiful Rose,
As I sit and write this to you, I can feel the cancer taking over my body. The doctors told me it could be days, months or even years but I know my own body and it won't be too much longer. I can only cherish the days I have left with you and my family. Every day with you has been a wonderful gift and my life has been enriched more than a small-town farm boy could ever wish for.
It started on a night, very much like this one, when a young and naïve girl was about to throw herself from the Titanic. I loved you from that second and from each one from then until now, it has only grown. It hasn’t been easy, this life. We have loved and lost. We buried two children. But, that is part of life, I suppose.
We created art, painted, sculpted, danced, sang and laughed. We did everything we talked about, my darling and so much more.
The moment I part ways with you will be the most difficult thing which I will ever do but I can't sit here and cry, for I know that after this life, I will still see you. You will feel me. We will both go on, just on different paths. I have our children waiting for me and I will send them your love, but you are still needed here, my love, for so many more years. Take that trip to Brazil, go to the theatres, create more art as I know you have loved to do, perhaps more than me all of these years.
Rose chuckled through her hot, heavy tears, she could hear Jack's words as she read.
This life was just one for us to share. We have many more lifetimes left together, my sweet Rose and until I meet you again, just take care of the family and of our children.
There are no goodbyes, just a little farewell, for now.
I love you and I always will,
Your husband,
Jack
P.S:- I will meet you at the clock.
Folding away the note, Rose clasped onto her stomach. The pain of Jack's passing had pent up until now and as she lay her aching body down upon their marital bed, she sobbed into the pillow which still held his scent, the blankets which had wrapped around his body like a cocoon and she held herself, clinging to the note left to her by her one true love.
--
''Are you sure we are sailing?'' Rose clattered about placing her pictures, neatly in a line across a dark oak chest of drawers.
''Yes, nana.'' Elizabeth unzipped a suitcase which had been placed upon the bed by a steward and opened it. There, nestled in the suitcase were another twenty or so photo frames. She narrowed her eyes at her grandmother who was still playing with a photograph of Jack and Lilly.
''How many pictures did you bring?''
Rose ignored her granddaughters horrified face and waved her arm in the air as if to dismiss it. ''I promised your grandfather that he would be with us with we travelled.''
Elizabeth placed her hands on her slender hips. ''He is, nana. Surely, we don’t need all of these?''
Rose narrowed her aging eyes at her teenage granddaughter. ''Hey, missy.'' She playfully pointed her finger. ''Just remember who begged your mother to let you skip school for this trip!''
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, just as her grandfather used to do under such circumstances. His death had hit Lizzy hard, she had been just ten when he passed and since then, after Teddy's death especially, Rose had come to struggle a little more around the house and so Helen had suggested for Lizzy to move in part time in between school to help out. Secretly, Lizzy loved it. Her own Mother re-married but never had more children and without a father in her life, she had always cherished her grandfather.
''Yes, nana.'' She sighed. Even though she was sixteen and most girls her age were swooning over John Travolta and going out to the clubs, she would much rather be with her aging grandmother, aboard a cruise liner bound for Brazil. It had taken six years after Jack's death for her to plan the trip and a year after turning 80 years old for her to come!
''It doesn’t feel like we're moving.'' Rose held onto her stick as she went to the window. She saw below the sea was, slowly moving and the ship had moved away from the docks. ''Hmm, so we are. It didn’t always feel so smooth.''
''What didn’t?''
Rose raised her hand to dismiss the thought again. ''Doesn't matter, dear.''
--
''My third son, Harry, he died at birth. We buried him in Wisconsin where we lived at that time. He was buried beside his grandparents on his father's side.'' Rose bowed her head. ''Samuel, he was buried in Santa Monica. Teddy, too. Jack was buried with them. ''
The pastor nodded his head. ''I'm sorry to hear you lost so many children, Mrs. Dawson.''
Rose clutched the tea in her hand, swirling about the teabag. ''When one is so old, you expect this to happen.'' She glanced at the pictures next to the table. ''My Eadie passed on just last year, too. She was just forty – nine years old. But, she enjoyed a drink and a smoke, too.'' Rose chuckled. ''Ones indulgences can be also a killer.''
''Quite.'' The pastor nodded, taking a sip of his tea.
''Care for a biscuit?'' Rose handed him a tray of cookies.
''Perhaps after these discussions, Mrs. Dawson.''
''Very well.'' Her aging hands shook as she drank her tea. ''Eadie was buried with her husband, Bobby out in New York City. I go to visit her grave a couple of times a year.''
''I see.''
''So, I guess that comes to this question?'' Rose placed her tea down on the table and glanced at the papers before her. Most were signed, others still had to be read. ''Lilly Dawson-Thompson will be buried with her father and her brothers in Santa Monica.'' Rose decided as she signed off one last page. ''I discovered that I was carrying her whilst we lived there.'' Rose smiled at the memory. ''So long ago and yet just like yesterday.''
''Time flashes by too fast. One moment we are young and the next we are old.''
''But with age comes wisdom, pastor. Time may be cruel to us, but it is also kind.''
The pastor noticed the flash of youth in Rose Dawson's eyes at that moment in time. Here was a woman who had buried all but one child, a woman who had lost her husband and who had still so much life left in her. She had turned eighty-eight years old.
''God knows how true that is.''
--
''What is that ghastly sound?'' Rose cradled her head in her hands.
''That would be Peter's rap song.'' Elizabeth laughed. ''Did someone drink too much sherry last night?''
''Oh, just a touch.'' Rose reached out for the fresh coffee Elizabeth had just made. From outside in the car, her great grandson had come to visit. He was Samuel's son's, daughters, son and came frequently to visit his elderly relative. ''One didn’t know how strong it is. Blasted New Year's Eve.''
Elizabeth served up a plate of eggs and toast for her grandmother and placed it before her. ''Well, this is the 90's.''
''Hey nanny!'' Pete called from the doorway as he fought his way through the fly net. A motorcycle helmet nestled under his arm and he was dressed head to toe in leather. He was a handsome boy, with typical Dawson features; tall and blonde but he had his father's dark eyes.
''Peter, my darling. You grow taller every day.'' He came to Rose and kissed her wrinkled cheek. ''I have to ask just what the racket is you were playing.''
''Just rap music, nanny. I would tell you but after you laughed at my own bands performance I don’t think it would interest you.''
Rose chuckled. ''Oh, Peter. Come sit down and tell us about school.''
''I'm through, remember. I am eighteen.''
Rose furrowed her brow. ''Oh, yes, of course! Well, tell me about your plans for this year! I hear 1991 is going to be good!''
Elizabeth laughed. ''Nana, you say that every year.''
''Of, course, dear, it is true. Each year has to top the last.''
Peter set down his helmet on the table.
''Actually, my father and I are going to Australia. We want to travel out there.''
Rose clapped her hands together. ''How wonderful! When did we go there, Lizzy?''
''Summer of '87.'' Elizabeth recalled. ''Bon Jovi were on tour and you want to dance with the lead singer but I wouldn’t let you.''
Rose creased laughing. ''Oh, of course. That handsome man. If I was your age I would have been dancing at his concert, let me tell you that.''
''Nana, even turning ninety-three that weekend didn’t stop you!''
All three fell about laughing. One thing was for sure, there was never a dull moment in the Dawson household.
--
CNN played in the background of the kitchen whilst Lizzy fed the three Pomeranians which her and Nana had managed to rescue over the past three years. She vaguely listened as she pottered about.
''Treasure hunter Brock Lovett is best known for finding Spanish gold insunken galleons in the Caribbean. Now he is using deep submergencetechnology to work two and a half miles down at another famous wreck... theTitanic. He is with us live via satellite from a Russian research ship inthe middle of the Atlantic... hello Brock?''
''Yes, hi, Tracy. You know, Titanic is not just A shipwreck, Titanic is THE shipwreck. It's the Mount Everest of shipwrecks.''
The dogs danced around her feet as she emptied a chicken into three bowls. ''Yes, I will feed you in one moment.''
Inside the glassed-in studio inside the house, Rose worked on her latest work. Her studio was full of ceramics, figurines, folk art, the walls crammed with drawings and paintings... things collected over a lifetime. Liquid red clay covered her hands and she worked calmly.
In the background, the TV chimed on.
''I've planned this expedition for three years, and we're out here recoveringsome amazing things... things that will have enormous historical andeducational value.''
''But it's no secret that education is not your main purpose. You're atreasure hunter. So, what is the treasure you're hunting?''
''I'd rather show you than tell you, and we think we're very close to doing just that.''
Rose wiped her hands on an old rag and grabbed her stick to walk. Her body was shrunken under an African print dress and she steadily found her way to the kitchen where the CNN reporter was still playing in the background.
Her eyes were still as bright and alive as they had been as a young girl as she came to the TV, focusing on the treasure hunter known as Brock Lovett upon the screen.
''Lizzy? Turn that up please, dear.''
Lizzy came to her nana's side, wondering just what interest the report would have. Rose didn’t watch television never mind watch the news.
''Your expedition is at the centre of a storm of controversy over salvagerights and even ethics. Many are calling you a grave robber.'' The reporter accused. Brock's face filled the screen once more.
''Nobody called the recovery of the artefacts from King Tut's tomb graverobbing. I have museum-trained experts here, making sure this stuff ispreserved and catalogued properly. Look at this drawing, which was foundtoday...''
The camera panned off Brock and onto a piece of paper; a drawing laid in a tray of water. It focused closer and closer. The picture was of a woman, with eyes so alive and yet so naïve. She was naked, aside from a necklace at her throat.
''...a piece of paper that's been underwater for 84 years... and my team areable to preserve it intact. Should this have remained unseen at the bottomof the ocean for eternity, when we can see it and enjoy it now?''
Rose's eyes struggled to focus without her glasses, she shuffled closer to the screen and it was then she was certain. There, on the screen was a drawing done 84 years before of her; by Jack. Her mouth hung open in amazement.
''I'll be Godamned.''