May 1917

Brandon paced the floor of the loft that he shared with Rose. He was wearing a loose-fitting pair of black pants. As usual he was barefoot and wearing no shirt. The muscles in his arms rippled as he ran his hands nervously though his hair. His black silky hair had grown shoulder length. Every time he mentioned cutting it, Rose begged him not to. She told him that she thought it made him look smashingly handsome. After hearing her musical voice say those words, he could not bring himself to cut it. Secretly, he was teasing Rose; the long hair just fit with his rebellious, anti-establishment nature.

When he was a small boy, the racist teasing and prejudice he endured for being the child of a mixed marriage would tear him up. After coming home once again from school bloodied and in tears, his Grandfather, Lee Jun Fan, took him aside. Quietly he said, "Your future is extremely bright with endless possibilities. Don't let small minds keep you from reaching your true potential. Fight back using your mind, not your fists. Seek your own truth, and always be proud of your heritage and who you are."

From that day on Brandon never cared what anyone thought of him. He lived his life seeking his own truth, and believing in what he felt was right.

Tonight Brandon was sick with worry. He was used to Rose coming home late when she was working on a moving picture, but it was 3 a.m. He had resisted the urge to go look for her. He was afraid she would come home and wonder where he was. Rose seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders since her birthday; he didn't want to give her another reason to worry. The nightmares that had ceased after their first year together had come back with a vengeance. He would awaken to her screams. "I am so sorry. I couldn't leave you." She would yell over and over. Brandon had found himself sleeping more and more in her room. It seemed the only time Rose had a peaceful nights sleep was in Brandon's arms. 'What is she going to do when I enlist?' he worried. This thought crossed his mind a million times a day.

Quietly the door to the loft opened. Rose stood in the doorway, her makeup had run down her cheeks, leaving black stains on her pale, porcelain complexion. Her hair was disheveled, and the dress she was wearing was a rumpled mess. She looked like a lost and frightened child.

"Rose, are you all right?" Brandon nearly screamed.

"I am fine, really! I just need to take a hot bath. Then I will speak with you," she answered, walking by him to the bathroom.

Brandon stared after her. "At least she is all right," he kept whispering, trying to convince himself something horrible had not happened to her. He lay down on the couch and looked out the huge picture window on to the dark, quiet street below. The worry and tension had taken its toll on him and he fell into an exhausted asleep.

Rose emerged from the bathroom sometime later. She wore a Chinese bathrobe that Brandon had given her on their first Christmas together. Her hair hung down to her waist in wet curls, tiny ringlets had formed around her face. The dark stains now gone from her cheeks, she quietly knelt down next to the couch, placing her cool hand on Brandon's face.

He stirred slightly and slowly opened his eyes. "Rose," he whispered, thinking to himself he had never seen her look more beautiful. He slowly reached his hand out to caress the soft white skin of her neck. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"Brandon, on the set I found out they are going announce the draft in this mornings newspaper." Rose's voice was barely audible.

"I know. It's June 5th, between 7am and 7pm," he replied.

"You know already?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes," he said in a hushed tone.

"Brandon, I love you," she started to say when Brandon interrupted her.

"Rose, you don't," he said before she cut him off.

"Let me get this out before I lose my nerve," she said with more confidence than she felt.

Brandon nodded slowly, allowing her to continue on.

"Like I said, I love you more than anything else in the entire world. When I heard the news today, I became physically sick and had to leave the set. I walked the streets for hours. I felt numb. I ended up at the beach. I can't tell you how long I was there. All I know was I don't ever remember crying that long or hard in my entire life."

Brandon gently pulled her to him on the couch, caressing the small of her back.

"I thought of all the arguments, reasons, and guilt I could use to make you stay here with me. But then I thought if I did that I would be trying to make you into something you are not. I would be asking you to sacrifice your self-respect and family honor for me. Eventually you would grow to hate me and look at me as a burden. I couldn't bear for you to look at me that way. Nor could I bear the self-hatred you would feel towards yourself because you stayed behind when others went to fight. I decided to come home and tell you that you have you my blessing. When you get back I will be right here waiting for you," Rose said finally daring to take a breath.

Brandon got up and walked into his bedroom. Rose was shocked. She began to panic. Was he mad at her? Had her behavior these last few weeks finally been too much for him?

But he was back quickly. He came out of the bedroom, grabbed Rose's hands and pulled her to her feet. Then he slowly descended on one knee.

"Rose, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Brandon said, gazing tenderly up at her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Oh God! Oh God! Brandon, yes of course!" she answered as he slipped a dainty engagement ring on her finger.

"Its beautiful!" she exclaimed looking down at the delicate ring on her slender finger.

Brandon stood and scooped her up in his arms. He gently carried her to the bedroom and closed the door.

Jack stood in the corner of the loft watching the whole time. Rose Dawson would now become Rose Calvert, just as he had known would happen all along. He had been with her all day. He yearned to take her in his arms and comfort her at the beach. Her gut wrenching sobs ripped out his very soul. Honoring her wishes, he had stayed away, praying she would call for him, but she never did. He stayed with her as she walked home, making sure she was safe, careful not to let her become aware he was near for fear of angering her further.

Jack always thought the worst thing that ever happened to him was being unable to live a life with Rose. He was wrong. Her telling him to go away was the worst thing that had ever happened.

"Give it time, boy'o. She will come around," Tommy said, putting an arm around his friend. "Nice place Rose has," he blurted out.

Jack couldn't help but laugh. "We are talking about something serious and you notice what Rose's place looks like," he said, scolding his friend.

"Sorry, I just wished when I was a living member of the third class that I had a place this nice," Tommy said a bit embarrassed, looking down at his shoes.

"She is going to need me again soon. I know it. Thomas Andrews is right. We are one; our souls are forever joined together. Nothing will change that. I just have to be patient until Rose decides to forget her stubborn pride, and admit she wants me near," Jack said quietly.

'I hope she still loves me,' he thought to himself.

Then in his heart he heard her voice say, "I love you, Jack."