The sun was intense and hot as the house came closer. She wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead and pulled her long braid to the side to allow some air to her neck. When she was only a few feet from the porch a petite woman came out, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her gray hair was tied back in a chignon, and her face held a warm smile. "Can I help you?" She asked.

Rose stopped and placed her hands on her hips. She found that she had to squint from the sun in order to see the woman clearly. "My car blew a tire up on the road. I was hoping to use your telephone to call the nearest garage?" Rose prayed that there was a garage around here somewhere. The warm smile grew broader as she motioned Rose up onto the porch and into the shade of the overhang. She did not act at all surprised to see a young woman in trousers traveling alone.

"Nonsense." She scoffed. "Let me call my husband to help you." Rose put down her satchel, expecting the woman to turn and go into the house to use the telephone. Instead the woman cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted her husband's name. Rose was so surprised, she almost fell off the porch. She turned towards the hangar where she could see the outline of a man come out into the sunlight.

"What?" Came the answering call.

This time Rose braced herself as the woman shouted, "Company!"

"Oh," she exclaimed. "Where are my manners? My name is Mrs. Charles Adler, but please call me Sarah. Would you like a cool drink?" She offered Rose her hand, which she took after trying in vain to find a clean spot on her shirt to wipe it first. Sarah Adler laughed, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Dear, a little dirt will wash away."

Rose smiled at her warmly. "My name is Rose Dawson."

"Well its very nice to meet you, Rose Dawson." Sarah said as she held the screen door open for Rose. "Come on in and quench that thirst. It has been an unusually hot and dry spring this year." She looked pointedly at Rose's dirty boots and trousers. "How does some lemonade sound?"

"Heavenly." Rose breathed as she closed the door slowly to keep it from slamming shut. The kitchen was small, but cozy and it managed to capture a small breeze from the open windows. It was a spotless room and the table in the center was covered with a blue and white checked tablecloth.

"Sit, sit." Sarah ordered as she pulled a glass pitcher out of the icebox.

Rose gratefully fell into her chair and then exclaimed a small, "Oh, Mrs. Adler," when she saw the dirt she tracked in across the hard wood floor. "I am so sorry!" She got up to look for a broom, something, anything to clean up after herself. Not finding anything she began to walk back out the back door but Sarah's chuckle made her stop and turn around.

"Please call me Sarah, and I shall call you Rose." She waved Rose back over to her seat. "Some nights you should see this place. Especially if Charlie and my two boys have been out there tinkering with an engine for hours. Those three leave their mark on everything before they manage to clean up after themselves." Sarah handed Rose her glass of lemonade and sat down across from her. "My sons, Douglas and Robert are flying observation planes in France. I do hope this horrible war is over soon, they've been gone for almost six months now."

Rose sipped her lemonade, feeling the ice-cold liquid slide down her throat and hit her empty belly. She savored it for a moment, closing her eyes. It cooled the sweat that was pooling on her forehead and almost made her feel human again. She opened them to find Sarah watching her with amusement.

"What brings you through Prairie Grove?" She asked as she leaned forward in her chair.

Rose did not hesitate in answering her question, although she had learned through the years that the least information given was not usually enough to satisfy the curious.

"I am on my way to Chicago, to hopefully find work in the art museum." Rose answered as she sipped her lemonade. She made sure her eyes were wide and guileless.

"Enjoy art, do you?" Sarah asked as she sipped her drink. At Rose's nod, she smiled. "Do you have family up that way?"

Rose crossed her legs under the table and prepared to give the story she had concocted for herself so many years ago. "No, my family is from the East Coast. My late husband's family resides in Wisconsin. I also thought that I might visit them. There are many roads that I can take."

Sarah nodded, her eyes saddened by the news of Rose's loss. She knew there was something about the girl, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Sarah was not a stupid woman, she could tell that Rose was being evasive in her answers. But she did not know this girl. Did not know her family or her past. It had always been Sarah's way to accept people at face value and usually her first impressions were correct. This girl was harmless. She might be a little lost on her quest for life, but harmless all the same.

"I lost my first husband also, it was pneumonia, back in "

Whatever she was about to say was lost in the slamming of the screen door as Charles Adler entered the kitchen. He was a large man, given more to muscle then fat, towering over his petite wife by almost two feet. He had salt-and-pepper hair and severe black eyes. He glanced at Rose only for a second before making his way to the sink to wash his hands. He turned towards her, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. Rose hid a smile as she saw the grease stains on the towel. Sarah rolled her eyes and winked conspiratorially at Rose. She rose from her chair as Charles came towards her, holding his hand out to shake.

"Charlie Adler, what can I do you for?" He asked. The handshake he gave was matter-of-fact and Rose returned the pressure as she introduced herself.

"Rose has a problem with the tire on her car, dear." Sarah said as she walked over to place a kiss on his cheek. Rose bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from smiling at the sight of seeing the large man bend almost halfway to accommodate his wife.

He looked at her pointedly before speaking. "What about the spare?" He asked.

"That was the spare." Rose replied, feeling as if she were child again, under interrogation. " I blew the other tire in a rainstorm outside of Toledo last Tuesday. I was hoping this one would last until I was able to replace it in Chicago."

"You changed the tire yourself?" Charlie asked, incredulous.

"Mr. Adler, it would hardly be wise for me to travel from New Orleans to Chicago without first being aware of the equipment that was taking me there." Rose sighed, tired of the way men always seemed to expect women to be fragile, insipid creatures. "All I require is a lift to town where hopefully I can buy a tire so I can be on my way." And out of your hair, Rose thought to herself. There was something about Charlie Adler that told her that she needed to be mentally on guard at all times.

"Hmmm I could. But not today." Charlie smiled at Rose. There was a new light in his eyes, amusement.

"Charlie!" Sarah exclaimed. "Why can't you take Rose to town? Don't you dare tell me that it is because of that engine sitting in the hangar. It has been sitting there for two months "

Charlie turned to placate his wife. "Now Sarah, there is a storm coming. I can feel it in my knees. It will take at least an hour to tow Ms. Dawson's car and the plane into the hangar, by that time the garage will be closed. You know how Henry likes to close up early on Fridays and head to the bar."

Sarah nodded and sat back down at the table. Rose still stood; she did not feel comfortable enough to sit yet in the presence of Charlie Adler.

"She can sleep here tonight and first thing in the morning after Jason drops off the mail I will drive Ms. Dawson to town to replace her tire. Then she can resume her adventure." Charlie turned to go back out the door. "Lets go get my truck Ms. Dawson "

"Rose, please call me Rose." She said as she started out the door after him.

"Okay Rose, let's go get that car of yours hitched up and towed into the hangar. Where'd you manage to get a car anyway?" Unlike Sarah, Charlie did find it odd to see a woman with a car traveling alone.

"I won it in a poker game." Rose replied. Charlie halted, shocked, his mouth hanging open.

Rose smiled deviously as she shrugged her shoulders. "Scandalous, isn't it?"

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

The storm that Charlie promised broke sometime after midnight. A long loud rumble of thunder awoke her and she had lain in bed, at first not sure where she was. Painful memories of the sounds of groaning metal came uninvited into the room with her. She remembered leaning against the wall, looking for someone to help Jack, when the lights went out. She was more terrified at that instant then when she and Jack were on their final descent into the sea. At least they had been together. Rose sighed as she regretfully stood and pulled on her wrapper. Once the memories began, she knew it would be awhile before she would be able to get back to sleep. She picked her satchel up from the floor and laid it on the bed. Sewn into the underlining was The Heart of the Ocean. She pulled it out and looked at it intently. It had been so long since she held it in her hands. So many times she had come close to selling it, so many times she thought she was that desperate. She had finally ripped a hole in the bottom of her satchel and shoved it in hoping that if it were out of sight, it would also be out of mind. It had worked for awhile, but now here she was, haunted by her memories, alone in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Lightning flashed, weaving a jagged trail across the midnight sky. She silently opened her door and crept out into the darkened hallway. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously. She could hear Charlie snoring as she made her way past their closed doorway. Rose winced as her foot hit a soft spot in the wood. She hoped the creak would be covered by the sound of thunder. Once in the kitchen she opened the back door silently, keeping sure that the screen door did not slam. The air was humid, heavy with a smell of ozone. The Illinois countryside might not offer much to see during the day, but at night the sky was so clear she could see for miles. Off in the distance the threatening dark mass was rolling in, lightning weaving from one cloud to another. She sat down on the step and leaned back against the pole supporting the roof. Rose was hoping the storm would take her mind off the past.

The nightmares no longer came with the regularity that they used too, but occasionally she would still awake at night bathed in sweat, her pulse beating erratically. She would never so much awaken from these dreams, but explode from the arctic deep frantically gasping for breath. In the dark she was so sure she was in the sea, she would sometimes scream Jack's name before her rational mind took over. The lights would go on and Rose would spend the rest of the night huddled under blankets shivering, waiting for dawn. Sometimes it was a phrase she heard, or a certain smell during the day that would propel her subconscious mind back to that night in April 1912 when the ship of dreams sank.

"I miss you, Jack." She whispered into the wind. A crack of lightning made her look up, her face awash in its brilliant white flash. A few moments later, thunder answered its call. Rose brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I've done and seen so many things these past five years, I almost think I could spend eternity telling you all about them. But I know its not enough. I still haven't made my way to California. I haven't ridden on the beach yet. That almost seems like it should be the climax of my life, what we said we were going to do. Can you imagine me an old woman, gray hair flying, galloping on the beach?" Rose laughed chuckled softly. "But here, in this place, I feel like I'm home."

The storm was almost upon the homestead. The air had grown very still, the night sounds silenced.

"Here, in this place, with these people, I can be simply Rose. Not Rose DeWitt Bukater, not even Rose Dawson. Just plain Rose. But there is so much life out there that needs to be lived." And miles to go before I sleep, she thought sadly as she watched the rolling clouds.

Occasionally, she wondered if she would be able to love anyone the way she loved Jack. She missed the feelings that came of being in love, the giddiness and the all-consuming passion that one feels when they are totally, utterly adored. She wished for a love that was pure and intense. But would she find that she loved that person more than Jack? Would that be unfair to him or his memory? Would she be able to completely give herself body and soul to another man? She had brief flirtations in her past, but either by her own design, or the other persons, it never grew into anything more. How odd would it feel to have a crush on someone again? She wondered. Of all her adventures, the one she had yet to embark on was one of the heart. When she was a stage actress with the "Theatre des Orleans" she had earned the nickname

"Ice Princess". It amused her greatly on the outside, but on the inside it cut her to the bone. Had that fragile part of her gone down with Jack?

Deep inside she realized that her trepidation at falling in love was the fear of losing someone again. She was afraid that it would be enough to catapult her over the edge. When Jack died she was left alone to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart. Before then, in her Edwardian innocence, she had never imagined that God could or would be that cruel. But what was living without also loving? The way she felt about love, she didn't know. Were we able to have more than one love of a lifetime? She asked herself ruefully. Or had she met and lost her one true soul mate? Looking at Sarah and Charlie it was easy to be envious of the love that they shared. She watched them when they weren't aware and sometimes all it was a gentle look or soft touch that was enough for them to say 'I love you'. Rose sighed in confusion, bowing her head so her cheek rested on her knees.

Suddenly the wind began to howl. Rose held her face up to it basking in its cool breeze. Her hair began to fly about like Medusa's snakes. She pulled it over to one side and held it in her hand. The rain had yet to come, when the rain began she would go back up to bed and let its staccato rhythm lull her to sleep.

Unknowingly to her, Charlie stood in the shadow of the screen door. Regardless of how much noise he may make snoring, he was a light sleeper. He had heard the floorboards creak and got out of bed to investigate. He watched Rose from the darkened stairway as she crept out onto the back porch. Curious, he followed her. He hadn't meant to over hear her, but then again he wasn't expecting her to talk to herself either. He was touched by what she said; realizing that Rose Dawson was more of an enigma then he first imagined. Twenty years ago, Sarah had given birth their last and only child, a daughter, who was stillborn. She would have been about Rose's age now. He wondered what his daughter would have been like if she had been allowed to live. Would she be as strong and self-sufficient as Rose Dawson was? Charlie shook his head as he made his way back up the stairs. She would have probably been married with children by now, her husband off fighting in the Great War. He laid back down in bed, shushing Sarah as she stirred in her sleep.

Rose sighed as the rain began to fall in quarter sized drops. She stood up, hesitating before she went back upstairs. The rain soon turned to pour and the feel of the mist on her closed eyes made her feel relaxed enough to sleep. She went back inside and up the stairs as it began to come down harder. She hoped it would be so loud she would not be able to concentrate on anything else except its erratic tempo. She crawled back into bed, the Heart of the Ocean tight in her grip.