Titanic

{Chapter Twenty-One}

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Sunday, April 14, 1912

It was a bright, clear day. Sunlight splashed across the promenade. Rose and Cal were having breakfast in silence. The tension was palpable...so thick it could be cut with a knife. Trudy Bolt, in her maid's uniform, poured the coffee and went inside.

"I had hoped you would come to me last night," Cal spoke quietly.

"I was tired." Rose lied, looking at him.

"Well, your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting."

Rose stiffened. "I see you had the undertaker of a manservant follow me. How typical."

"You will never behave like that again, Rose. Do you understand?"

Rose sighed, having had enough. "I'm not some foreman in one of your mills that you can command...I'm your fiance--"

Cal exploded, flipping the table and sweeping the china off of it with a crash. He moved to her in one shocking moment, glowering over her, and gripping the sides of her chair so that she was trapped between his arms.

"My fiance? Yes, you are! And my wife as well!...my wife in practice if not yet by law...so you will honor me! You will honor me the way a wife is required to honor her husband...because I will not be made a fool, Rose!" His voice became scarcely quiet. "Is this in any way unclear?"

Rose shrank into her chair. She saw Trudy, frozen, partway through the door, bringing the orange juice. Cal followed Rose's glance and straightened up. He stalked past the maid, entering the stateroom.

Rose was almost in tears. "We...had a little accident. I'm so sorry, Trudy."

And sorry she was, indeed. For everything.

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