Jack sat up in a cold sweat. He had been having his usual nightmare about struggling in the freezing water. As he came awake, he realized that the train had stopped moving and there was silence, except for a muffled sound of pain that seemed to be coming from the space next door. Was that the room where the Iowa woman had gotten on? Could he just lie here and ignore it? Perhaps she was ill and needed help. He listened again and he thought he was loosing his mind. In a raspy whisper, he thought he heard someone saying his name over and over. That was impossible. He had to be imaging things.

"What have I got to loose. I can knock on the door and at least ask if she needs help. And if the door is open, I can look and see if she is alright. If there is no problem, I'll just back away."

Jack reached for his navy silk robe. It was one of the few extravagant items that he owned. Jeannie had given it to him last Christmas, and he figured that he better take it with so that she could see that he was using it. He didn't have much use for fancy things. While his business had been very lucrative, he had lived very frugally, spending money only on things like nice clothes for Jeannie, her education and two or three trips a year to California to see her.

He stood up and slipped on the robe. He slowly opened the door of his bedroom and stood out in the dim hallway, listening. Yes, the sound was definitely coming from the room next door, marked Bedroom D.

"What am I doing?" he asked himself.

Maybe this was not a good idea. Perhaps he should just mind his own business. What if the person inside didn't want or need his help. But a voice deep inside him kept saying, "Go to her."

He took a few steps until he stood directly in front of the door. Jack knocked quietly on the door. He didn't intend on awakening a whole car of travelers.

He knocked softly one more time. There was no answer. Just the continual moaning and sobbing. He tried the door and it was unlocked.

"I'll just go in and ask if she needs help."

The door opened and in the dim light, he could see that there was a woman lying on the bed, her back to the door. Whoever it was huddled close to the window, hugging a pillow tightly. In a soft voice, she was saying the same thing over and over.

"Jack, I trusted you. Jack, why did you leave me? Oh God, Jack."

Surely it was a coincidence that she was calling his name.

In almost a whisper, he asked, "Ma'am, miss, I heard you call out. It sounded like you were in pain. Do you need help?"

Her body stiffened and the crying ceased.

"Please just leave me alone. Please. Just go away," said a muffled voice.

"Are you sure? I can't leave without knowing you'll be alright. That's all that I want," he said, softly.

Suddenly without warning, she started shaking uncontrollably and the weeping began again. Why did he have to say the same words that Jack had once said?

Jack approached the bed. His heart went out to this woman in her sadness. He wanted to take her in his arms and give her comfort. But he had almost forgotten how. Except to hug Jeannie when she bounced in and out of the town, he had not touched a woman since Martha. He stood awkwardly over her, wondering what to do. The train jolted slightly as it started up again and without really wanting to, he landed on the bed, next to the woman.

Rose felt the movement of the train and the stranger settle on her bed. For some reason she was not frightened. And because he ended up there when the train started to move, she knew it was an accident. She turned to try and sit up. Who was this man who had come to her aid in the night?

She reached over and turned on the light next to her. For a moment neither of them could see in the bright light. Rose pulled herself up and turned over. Jack started to get up, but she gripped his arm for support.

"Thank you for coming to see if I was…….

Rose could not finish the sentence. It was amazing how cruel the memory could be. This must still be part of her dream. There sitting on the bed inches from her was the man she had seen in the window. The man who reminded her of Jack.

Jack's eyes slowly adjusted to the light. It WAS the woman who had boarded the train in Marion, Iowa. The woman who reminded him of Rose.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, speechless. He looked at her delicate skin and luminous eyes. Only a few lines here and there betrayed her age. Her hair was still coppery red. She was lost in the depths of his sea blue eyes. His gentle smile looked down at her. She felt short of breath. Maybe she was dying and she was seeing a vision.

Jack awkwardly raised his hand to touch her face.

"Rose, it is you," he said hoarsely.

"Jack, I can't believe this. It can't be happening. It can't be true," she cried softly.

After so many years, the words were slow in coming. All they could do was stare at each other in disbelief.

"Jack," she said, looking wondrously into his eyes, "what are you doing here? How did you know I was here?" Rose asked, gently touching his arm.

"I'm in the room next door. I saw you get on back in Iowa. I kept staring at you. Because you looked so much, well, like you," he smiled.

"And I looked up just when you pulled the shade down. There was something about you that made me think of you."

They both laughed softly, unable to ignore the electricity as their fingers accidentally touched.

"Rose," he said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder, "you were having a nightmare about Titanic, weren't you?"

She nodded her head.

"I get them all the time. In April, around that time, and when something makes me think, of, of you. Like tonight."

"Me too. I woke up from mine, only to hear you calling my name."

Jack stood up. He looked down on her. This all seemed so awkward. She was probably married and he had no business in here. He should go now that he knew she was alright. They could talk in the morning.

"Jack, where are you going?" she asked.

"Back to my room. This doesn't seem quite proper."

"No, Jack, where are you going on the train?" she asked again.

"All the way to LA. I'm going to visit my daughter for the holiday."

"Where's your wife Jack? Is she with you?" Rose couldn't help asking.

Jack looked down at the floor. It had been so long now, it seemed as though he'd never had a wife. Only when he was with Jean, did he connect with that part of his life.

"She's dead, Rose. For a long, long time. Since 1923."

Rose studied Jack's still handsome face. She saw sadness there, sadness but mostly loneliness.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching out for him. "I lost Sam a year ago in June, right after our 25th anniversary."

Jack's heart skipped a beat. He was sorry for Rose and the pain she must have endured. But for a moment, he guiltily rejoiced, knowing that she no longer was married, that she was free.

"That must have been terrible," he murmured gently. "Where are you going?" he asked her.

"I'm going to California too. One of my sons is there. Richard. The other one, Joe, lives back east and can't get away for the holiday."

Jack pondered all this. They were at least going to be on this train for another day and a half. He would have that much time with Rose. Time to catch up on everything and to find out what had happened after Titanic.

"Listen, Rose," he said, feeling very unsure of himself, "I still think I better go. This doesn't seem right. Maybe we can talk in the morning. Have breakfast together and spend the whole day reminiscing. What do you say?"

Whatever had happened to Jack in the past had changed him. He had been alone for a long while. It sounded as if he had raised his daughter all by himself. He seemed very concerned about propriety. Something that had never stopped him before.

But Rose's old sense of adventure was still alive. Maybe because she had raised two sons, maybe because she had not been alone as long.

"What happened to the man that used to say, make each day count. Here we are seeing each other for the first time in 36 years and you are going to walk away? Don't you want to make this time count?" she said to him, desperate for him to stay near her.

"Rose, you'll have to forgive me. I've forgotten a lot of things. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Please don't go. No one knows you are here. We could just sit here together and talk. Please don't leave me Jack, not tonight," she said, adding to herself, "or any night, ever again."

It was not a hard decision to make. He wanted to stay here and be with her. She had given him just the encouragement he needed.

"Alright, I'll stay," he agreed.

Rose rearranged the pillows and straightened the covers. Then she put her hand on the mattress, indicating where Jack should be.

He got in the bed with her and placed his arm around her shoulder. In the most natural of movements, she rested her head against him.

"As I was saying before, Rose, I'd forgotten a lot of things, but never how good this felt."

"I never forgot either Jack," she said quietly. "I have thought about you everyday. I am ashamed to say that even during my marriage, I wondered what our life would have been like, if it had been you and me. That must sound strange to you."

"No, not strange. Because I have had the same feelings. But let's not talk about all that now," he replied. "Let's just concentrate on this moment."

"Just holding each other, healing ourselves," he thought to himself.

Without saying much, they reveled in just being together after all this time. As their hands caressed and they gently kissed, they looked into one another's eyes and thought their own private thoughts. Slowly the years slipped away and they began to feel the familiarity that had once been theirs.

The hours and the towns passed. Omaha, Grand Island and Kearney, Nebraska. Three, four, six A.M.

It was 6:30 and Isaac was finishing putting the last touches on the shoes he was polishing. He was going to put them back in the right lockers outside each room and then he was going to start waking his little brood. He took a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. Mr. Dawson had asked to be called at 6:45 and Mrs. Calvert at 6:30. The rest of the travelers were waiting to be awakened until after North Platte at 7:10 A.M.

He finished with the shoes and decided to wake up Mr. Dawson and Mrs. Calvert. At 6:40, it was a fair compromise for both of them. He knocked on Bedroom E, but there was no answer. After being a Pullman porter for twenty years, he knew just what he could and could not get away with. When there was no response, he carefully opened the door. There was no one there and Mr. Dawson's robe was missing as well.

"Hmm," thought Isaac, "Someone spent the night somewhere else."

He moved on to Mrs. Calvert in Bedroom D. He knocked softly there as well, and there was no response. Again he opened the door a crack, just to be sure that all was well.

There on the berth next to the window was the handsome, lonely man and the sad faced, beautiful lady, sound asleep, their arms entwined around each other, looking as though they would never let go.

"I'll wait until about 8. Then I'll bring them some coffee. Probably need to rest after last night," he smiled to himself.