Epilogue

                                    

                                          
January 3, 1933
Santa Monica
An evening breeze swept over the front porch of the Dawson residence. Rose's auburn hair billowed slightly in the wind. Her husband, Jack, watched her, amazed by her beauty. Over the years, he had drawn her many times but had never truly captured her beauty on paper. The family had moved back to Santa Monica three years earlier due to the Great Depression. Despite the difficult times, Jack's gallery business was thriving. He not only showcased his art but also supported young, emerging artists.
Their eldest daughter, Lizzy, was almost twenty years old and studying history in New York. Seventeen-year-old Olivia, passionate about movies like her mother, planned to join Lizzy in New York to work in a dance studio. Twelve-year-old Charlie shared his father's love for art and fishing. Rose had also taken on Lilly, now eight, as her child, while Jonathon, their youngest at four, was just starting school.
Rose enjoyed a moment of peace on the porch as the sun set. Jack joined her on the swing, and they reflected on their past.
"Isn't it lovely?" Rose said.
"It is. It hasn’t changed since I first came here in 1910. It seems like forever," Jack replied.
"Twenty-three years," Rose calculated. "It's been over twenty years since we first met."
"And yet it still feels like yesterday. That young, beautiful woman about to throw herself from the Titanic," Jack reminisced.
"Thank God you were there to save me," Rose smiled.
"Twenty years. It’s too long, Rose. It feels like just the other day, but then I look at our children and realise just how long ago it was," Jack mused.
"I cannot believe Lizzy is at the university. Olivia will be joining her soon. One by one, our children will fly the nest," Rose laughed.
"Well, Jonny's only four. We have a while to go yet. Besides, we'll have to keep an eye on him with his tricks," Jack chuckled.
"He's just like Charlie at that age," Rose recalled.
"Remember Chicago, Jack? That was ten years ago," Rose said, thinking back to 1923 when she visited the Chicago art museum. She wondered if she would have met Jack again that day if it hadn’t been for Charlie running off.
"We always managed to find each other again, no matter what happened or how much we hurt each other. We somehow managed to find a way to find each other. It took thirteen years of running to get to where we are now," Jack reflected.
"Well, we have each other now, Jack. After all the starts, stops, hurt, and pain, we finally found a way to be together. It was fate," Rose said, resting her head against Jack's shoulder as they gazed into the sunset. They knew the rest of their lives would be happy and spent together.