Rose was soaring. She could not believe her luck or Brandon's for that matter. That stupid little photographer that Brandon despised really did help her. He helped them both. Although Brandon said, "Their talent got them both a job." 'It didn't matter as long as I am making it count,' Rose thought as she lit the Chinese candles Brandon had given her. It was late in the evening, 'Jack's time,' she thought.

Silently, so as not to wake up Brandon, she sat Indian style on the floor of her bedroom, her back up against the bed. "Jack, Jack," she half-whispered, half hissed. Instantly she felt his presence right next to her. She began to tell him of her latest adventure, words spilling out of her mouth at a rapid pace. She could barely contain her excitement. It filled Jack with joy to see her happy, to know that he gave Rose the greatest gift she had ever received, to live her life with the freedom of choice.

"Today I went to a movie studio named Biograph. I auditioned for a strange man named D. W. Griffith. The photographer who took our picture on the Pier set the whole thing up," Rose said in almost a high-pitched hysterical sounding voice.

Jack loved that she always referred to that picture as our picture. It gave him of sense of actually doing something alive with Rose, not as a spirit, but as flesh and blood person.

"Let me tell you what an odyssey the whole thing was," she said continuing on.

'Third class girl still using first class words,' Jack thought

"Not funny, Jack Dawson," Rose said in her most imperious tone, just before she stifled a giggle.

Continuing on, Rose whispered, "This strange man, D.W. Griffith, chased me around the studio for ten minutes shooting blanks at me. I refused to let him see how unnerved I was at his unorthodox behavior. I just kept running away from him screaming at the top of my lungs. Brandon was watching the whole thing play out. He was quite shocked I must add. I thought his eyes were going to pop right out of his head. As quickly as Mr. Griffith started acting like a mad man he stopped and began acting like a rational person again. It was all quite odd.

"I must excuse myself for a few brief minutes. When I return I will give you my decision?" Mr. Griffith said as he briskly walked away.

As soon as he left the room, Brandon went into absolute hysterics. "If that's what you have to do to be in moving pictures, I wouldn't do it." He said laughing gaily.

By this point, I was so humiliated and angry with the whole situation I just blew my top, "Oh shut up Brandon!" I said at the top of my lungs. Poor Brandon looked like he had been slapped. It was a dreadful scene. Before I could apologize to Brandon Mr. Griffith came back.

"Rose, we here at Biograph are looking for dainty young girls with shy smiles and rippling long curls. I believe you have all those traits. But more than that you have talent. You were able to give me the reaction I was looking for. I would like to offer you a contract of five dollars a day." Mr. Griffith said without stopping to breathe.

I was thinking to myself 'Well of course I gave you the reaction you were looking for you silly fool, you were chasing me around with a gun,' but instead I stammered, "Well, Sir, I would be, yes,"

"Good, then it's settled. Come back tomorrow. You will be an extra in a new film I am directing with Lillian Gish," he said walking away once again.

"Thank you, thank you so much. You don't what this means . . ." but before I could finish Mr. Griffith interrupted again.

"Before you leave, have the studio take your portrait. It will be useful in promotion of your career. See you at 4 a.m. tomorrow."

"Where do I go to have my portrait taken?" I asked.

"Building 4," he yelled, walking away.

I looked around for Brandon; he seemed to have vanished. 'Nice going Rose, he didn't mean to hurt your feelings and you had to bite his head off,' I was thinking. I walked out of the studio thinking he must be somewhere on the lot. I searched for almost an hour. Just as I was about to get hysterical, I saw him running towards me.

"Rose, Rose!" he was shouting.

"Oh Brandon, I am so sorry. I thought you left," I said, extremely relieved to see him.

"Of course not, silly, I knew you were upset. I just thought it best to take a walk. As I was looking around the lot I saw men building sets for the moving pictures. I watched them for a few minutes. Then it hit me; I could build those sets with greater efficiency and more skill. So I just walked up to the man who seemed to be in charge and told him so," he said.

Rose looked at Brandon with great admiration; he never lacked self-confidence. People never looked at him as if he was arrogant. He just seemed to have such an easy way of carrying himself that you couldn't help but get caught up in his self-assurance. The breeze blew his soft dark hair into his face and he mindlessly pushed it away as he continued talking. "So they offered me a job. I start first thing tomorrow morning," he said, finishing his story.

Just then a beautiful young girl walked past us. She was tiny with cascades of dark curls flowing down her back. She wore an ankle length white lace dress, with a pink sash tied at her waist. Tiny daisies decorated the sash. The whole outfit was topped off with a wide brim white hat made of white netting and embroidered daisies that matched the sash. "Oh Jack, you should have seen her. She was beautiful," Rose said continuing on.

She walked right up to us and said, "Hello my name is Mary Pickford. I hear you're the new girl.

"Jack, you could have knocked me over with a feather," Rose said. "She was very kind showing us around the lot. Introducing us to Lillian and Dorothy Gish. Then she went with me to have my portrait taken. It was a wonderful day," Rose said yawning. "I am making it count," she whispered as she dozed off to sleep.

Jack leaned forward to kiss her softly on the forehead. "Good night, sweet Rose."

'After listening to Rose tell about her day, it always seemed so lonely to go back to the Titanic,' Jack thought. The ship had over fifteen hundred souls on it and Jack was lonely. It was a foolish notion. But he felt it every time. He sat quietly smoking under the stars pondering his feelings.

"Young Jack, you're back. How is our sweet Rose tonight?" Thomas Andrews asked. "Did she tell you of the escapade with that Griffith chap that we watched with amusement this afternoon?"

Jacks eyes were filled with sorrow as he looked up at the kind ship builder.

"You know Jack, you have all of us on board to keep you company, but you do realize that you will carry that hollow lonely feeling until Rose joins you, just as she carries it too. You complete one another. Neither of you will be whole until you are together again. You must find a way to deal with it or it will certainty become apparent to Rose," Thomas said quietly.

"No, it mustn't!" Jack cried adamantly "It will make it harder on her."

"Then take comfort, young Jack, that you will do in eternity with Rose what you couldn't do in life," the older gentleman assured him.

"I need patience," Jack answered.

"Yes, you do. There is a war approaching. Rose is going to need your strength to deal with a tragedy about to befall her, not your sorrow," Thomas said, walking away.

'I already knew that,' Jack thought with foreboding.