Jack carried his art folder to a charming little park a few blocks from the hotel. Smaller and quieter than Central Park, he hoped he could concentrate there on the drawing that he wanted to do. This was far different than the one he had done of Rose on Titanic. Someday, when the trauma of that night faded, he wanted to do that one again. No, the drawing he had in mind for today had been on his mind for five years.

For all that time, since the death of his parents, Jack had carried their images in his heart. He had not been able to bring them to paper. Now that he had a life ahead with Rose, he felt healed enough to think about Hank and Edy the way they had been before the fire. Before that horrible night when Jack had been away.

It had been a freak combination of circumstances that had caused the deaths of Hank and Edy Dawson. A lamp had been left burning on the first floor. When the wild storm came suddenly with the winds wreaking havoc on everything in its path their fate was sealed. The old tree outside the house crashed through the walls blocking their way downstairs and knocking over the lamp. With no way out, they were dead from the smoke in minutes.

When Jack returned home the next morning, there was nothing left of his home or his family. He was numb and all that had once been joyous and creative inside him was dead. He also felt guilty. Perhaps if he had been home, he might have saved them. He knew that he could not stay in Chippewa Falls, could not endure the pitying gazes of friends and neighbors. Jack remained long enough to bury his parents, then gratefully accepted a few donations of clothes and some money. He said good bye to his best friend Jay and turned his back on Chippewa Falls. One day, when his heart was healed and his courage returned, he might be able to face it all again. And so Jack had headed off on his own to an uncertain future.

Jack found a quiet corner in the park and settled down with his sketchbook. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and at last he was able to picture his parents in happier times. He could see the handsome, laughing pair that he wanted to remember. Slowly they came to life in his mind. Now he would be able to show Rose and she could have some connection with his past.

He put his pencil to the paper and began to sketch. At first it was hard, but slowly he made his parents come to life. The scene he drew was the last time the family had gone on a picnic. His mom was seated on the ground looking up at his dad, who towered above her. She looked lovingly into his eyes. The tall lanky man in his thirties looked down at her. He had straight hair that was a little too long, a gentle face despite the sharp angles of his facial structure and eyes that had a dreamlike quality to them. His mother sat with her face turned upward. A riot of curly hair framed her face. Like Jack, it was her eyes that made a person look twice. Her eyes, like Jack's were piercing in their intense gaze, but not in a frightening way. Rather as though she could look right through a person and see their soul.

Jack sat for awhile refining his work until he was finally satisfied. As he studied his work, he was overcome with emotions. Tears misted his eyes as he thought about their lives being cut short, of how they would never know Rose. He allowed himself to dwell upon these thoughts for a few more minutes. Then feeling at peace and relieved of these emotions, he carefully slipped the drawing into his folder.

As he stood up and brushed off his clothes he was amazed at how free he felt after finally releasing the ghosts of his past and taking them out for all the world to see. He was ready to move ahead now with his life with Rose. He thought about what his mother used to say to him when she saw him wasting time. She would tell him to make every minute count, live everyday to it's fullest, for you never know what will happen. Well his parents had led full lives, though short ones. He would have a full life with Rose. He wasn't about to waste a minute of their time together.

Jack smiled to himself as he walked back to the hotel. He would give this picture to Rose this evening. Now their children could see who their grandparents had been. He had something tangible to remember them by. He hoped that his parents knew of his great happiness and smiled down on his good fortune.