It was over in minutes. Reverend Johnson had read the words declaring that Rose and Jack were husband and wife.

It had been a short and simple service. They had said their vows and Jack had given Rose her ring. The reverend had omitted his usual wedding sermon. Rose and Jack did not need to be told to trust one another, or to be told to lean on each other in times of suffering and tragedy; they already knew that. He did however, add a prayer of thanksgiving for bringing Rose and Jack through adversity and said a few words in memory of their friends who had not survived.

Now Rose and Jack stood rooted in place, engaged in a very passionate kiss as time stood still for them. It mattered not to them that their three witnesses stood smiling at the tender scene. What was important was that they had been joined together. Now neither Ruth or Cal or anyone else could take them away from each other.

A burst of laughter and the sound of voices brought them back to reality. They turned around to see the Johnsons and Molly speaking with a man in the back of the garden. The Johnson's approached Rose and Jack and offered their congratulations. Then Molly came forward with the stranger who was carrying several bulging leather cases.

"Well, Jack...Rose, I just stood there and cried like a baby. I wouldn't have missed this for anything." Molly hugged both of them tightly. Then she introduced the man with her. "This here is Mr. Hollings, he's here to take your picture. It's my weddin' gift to you."

"Oh Molly, how thoughtful of you."Rose reached forward and gave Molly yet another hug.

"Over here, Mr. Hollings,"called Molly. "I think this would be a good place."

As Molly busied herself helping the photographer set his equipment up, Jack and Rose found themselves alone. "Jack, these flowers are beautiful." Rose looked down at the small bouquet of pink roses that she carried. "How did you know they would match my dress?"

"Ah, I really didn't Rose, I just guessed that they would be something that you would like. I know it's not as much as you're used to, but………"

"Jack stop." Rose laid her finger on his lips to prevent him from saying any more. "What makes you think I really liked anything I was used to? I was used to a corset and didn't like that. I was used to Mother and Cal belittling me, and that inane small talk that I had to endure and you know I didn't like any of it. Please, Jack, that's behind me now."

" Rose," he said as he took her in his arms again, "you really are so special. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do enough for you."

"Jack, just be with me forever, that's all I want."

Jack tenderly held her face in his hands and kissed her again. "I think we're ready over here," called Mr. Hollings.

Rose and Jack turned around and saw that the photographer had set up his equipment. He motioned for Jack to sit in a chair and for Rose to come and stand behind it. Rose and Jack looked at each other and shook their heads, reading each other's thoughts. There would be no subservience in this marriage, not even in a photograph.

"Excuse me," Rose said politely, "I think I have something a little different in mind." She moved the chair out of the way, as Mr. Hollings watched, wondering what would happen next. Jack watched amused as Rose took charge of the situation. Then she took Jack by the hand and drew him toward her, so he was standing behind her.

"Well, I've never taken a wedding photo quite like this," commented the photographer. "But I figure if it's what you want, I'll do it." He went behind his camera and looked through the lens. What he saw was a beautiful bride with her head tilted backward, smiling into the eyes of her groom, a handsome young man whose hands were entwined with hers at her waist.

Mrs. Johnson had kindly provided a small cake and a bowl of punch. "Now here is a knife, you both should cut the first piece." Eleanor handed Rose an antique silver knife that was decorated with a pink bow. "Then you feed Jack the first piece."

A devilish look appeared in Rose's eye. She took the knife and Jack put his hand on hers and together they cut down on the cake. After putting the first slice of cake on a plate, she turned and fed Jack a small piece. Suddenly she took some icing on her finger and playfully smeared it on Jack's nose. She laughed as he caught her hand.

He smiled as he said, "You'll pay for that tonight, Rose."

Rose gave him a look of mock fear. "We'll see," as she looked him hopefully into his eyes.

When the cake had been eaten and the bride and groom had been toasted, Molly announced, "Follow me everyone, right this way."Rose and Jack looked puzzled as they followed her out to the street. There at the curb, was a beautiful white carriage, that had been lavishly decorated with flowers. "This is yours until eight this evening. Tom here will take you anywhere you want." Tom, the elderly black man, who sat on the driver's seat, tipped his hat and smiled.

"Oh, Molly, how can I thank you for everything?"

"Yes, Molly, you have made so much possible for us."

Rose and Jack hugged Molly. She was clearly moved by their display of gratitude. To make light of the situation, she joked, "Just name a baby for me." While everyone laughed, Rose swallowed hard, thinking that just could happen a little sooner than everyone expected.

Jack shook hands with Reverend Johnson and handed him a small envelope. "Thanks for helping us out."

"Oh no trouble, Jack. I feel like you are family. Good luck to you now." Jack helped Rose into the carriage and then climbed in himself. Amidst a flurry of tears, waves and laughter, Jack and Rose embarked on their new life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ruth Dewitt-Bukater entered the lobby of the Waldorf and headed for the front desk. The clerk at the counter asked, "What can I do to help you?"

Ruth, who was by now tired and hungry said in an irritating voice, "I want to see the manager, Mr. Woods."

"Oh he is not here today. Can someone else help you, perhaps?"

Ruth was determined to see someone, after all she had no where to go. "You wouldn't know if a Mrs. Molly Brown is here?" "I'm sorry," said the man, "we can't give out personal information like that."

Ruth drew herself up taller and took a deep breath. With a determined look on her face, she said "What do you mean? I am a friend of hers." With that, she pushed the small calling card on the counter.

"Oh, yes, oh course, you know Mrs. Brown then. She's not here now. I believe she has gone to attend a wedding. But I am expecting her soon."

When Ruth heard that Molly at least was still in New York, she felt relieved. Her trip had not been in vain. "Well you can't expect me to stand here and wait for her. Find me some place to sit and bring me some coffee."

The clerk had seen people like this before. They always had to have their own way, and never displayed any gratitude. In fact this woman looked somewhat familiar. He was almost tempted to ask if she had not been here a few weeks ago, with the surviving passengers from the Titanic. But one thing he had learned from years at working in a hotel was discretion. So he said nothing.

"Please ma'am, come this way. Give me your name and when Mrs. Brown returns, I'll tell her you're here."

"It's Dewitt-Bukater, Ruth DeWitt-Bukater." Ruth sat down. "Get me that coffee and a sandwich too."

"Yes ma'am. I'll see that you'll be served immediately." Ruth nodded and the man went off in search of her food.

Ruth set down her coffee cup. She was getting impatient, having waited for Molly now for almost two hours. Where could that woman be? Ruth stood up. She felt cramped from sitting here and on that train all morning. There was a window a few feet from where she stood. As she walked over to it, she looked out and saw a carriage go by. There were flowers hanging all over it, decorated as if for a wedding. From her point of view, she could just make out the heads of two people in the carriage. The woman in the carriage had red hair. "Just like Rose. That foolish daughter of mine. She threw away her entire life for some romantic fling with a worthless nobody. In a few weeks, she would have been going to her wedding, just like that couple." Ruth went back and forth between the reality that her daughter was dead, the fact that she had died needlessly and the anger that consumed her when reminded of her now reduced circumstances.

Ruth glanced out the window again. The carriage was still in view and she could see passers-by straining to get a glimpse of the bride and groom. "Romance," she thought. "Where did it ever get anyone?" You couldn't live on romance. It belonged only in books, not in life.

She thought back to the early days of her marriage, when Edwin had taken her on strolls in the moonlight, and to concerts in the park. He was a dreamer and had such wild romantic thoughts. Hadn't all his ideas about mysterious jungles and lost treasure cost them his life and their money? "No romance in my life," thought Ruth. No, romance was for fools. It was too bad that Rose had not understood that. Now it had cost her Rose's life as well.

There was a commotion at the desk and Ruth turned to see what was going on. It was that vulgar Brown woman. Only she could stir things up like a hornet's nest.

From across the lobby, she heard Molly call, " Hey Ruth, how are ya doin? I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well it's a long story," said Ruth hesitantly, in a softer voice, hoping to encourage Molly to tone down her welcome. "Really, I would like to talk to you privately."

"Well, come on Ruth. I want to change from this wedding get up I've got on. Let's go to my rooms."

"That was a close call," thought Molly. "Another few minutes and we might have had no wedding." It was just lucky that Ruth had not been out in front of the hotel.

Molly had gone into the dressing room to change. Ruth wandered around the parlor of Molly's suite. She was not really sure what to tell Molly. It was beneath her dignity to ask for help or pity. But without it, she was stranded. "I suppose I can put up with her for awhile."

Ruth stopped at a table in the middle of the room. On it were several charcoal drawings. One was of Molly herself. It galled Ruth to admit that the picture was quite flattering. The picture gave Molly's face a soft motherly look. Another was of a small child sitting in her father's lap. Each of the sketches were filled with exquisite detail. Even Ruth had to admit to herself that the artist had unusual talent.

It was the last drawing she picked up that disturbed Ruth. It was a picture of a couple walking hand in hand. Their backs were to the artist's point of view. But the shapes of the figures looked startlingly familiar. The woman in the picture looked like Rose, even from the back. "I've seen work by this artist before." Ruth picked up the sketches to study them more closely. She began to feel weak as she read the dates and the initials at the bottom of each one. They were dated from between April 23 to May 1, 1912 and all of them bore the initials JD.