Come, Josephine

Chapter 18

1927

Somewhere in Pennsylvania

   Jack awoke to someone tending to a fire beside him. He was in a small cottage, dimly lit by candles and lanterns, and he was laid out on a kitchen table.
"You're a lucky son-of-a-bitch, you know that?"
He watched, weary of the man who stood up from tending to the fire. He waited for the stranger to say their piece, "my daughter found you downstream with your limbs tied together. Not many people survive a drowning."
Jack squinted against the light, "I don't remember..."
"Not surprised, not many people would remember their name after a blow to their head such as you've had."
The truth was, Jack didn't remember much from recent times. He knew he lived near Chippewa Falls, his age, and his name. He recalled how he lived alone after loosing a girl he adored fifteen-years ago, and how that left him hollow. He couldn't recall anything else.
"You well enough to sit at the table and eat dinner with us?" The old man said.
Jack assumed he meant his daughter and himself, and crawled off of the table, "what day is it?"
"Saturday," he turned at the soft, feminine voice behind him, and realised it was the old man's daughter- his saviour. She was attractive, he realised. She was easily five years younger than he, and had golden locks of hair that she had pulled in a tight bun. He wondered if she was married.
He flashed a boyish smile and tried not to stumble over his words, "how long was I out for?"
"Just a few hours since I found you," she returned the friendly smile.
Jack nodded, and saw that the old man was bringing a roast to the table. It was a surprisingly generous amount of meat for such a modest cottage and had an equally as fair helping of potatoes spread around it. The lump of beef looked irresistible from where Jack was standing.
He sat down at the table and nodded in thanks, waiting for the others to take a helping before he took his own. He finally served himself a fair portion of food, covered with gravy, and turned to the young woman, "I must thank you, miss..."
"Mrs Wood," so she was married, Jack realised with some disappointment, "I'm widowed. But please, call me Bonnie."
The fact she was widowed raised Jack's spirits a little, and he turned to the older man, "thank you for your hospitality, Sir."
"John," he smiled, "you're perfectly welcome."
"Well, I might not remember a great deal about what has happened, or where I am, but my name is Jack Dawson."
John said, "well, Jack, it's good to meet you, and you're welcome to sleep here until you get back on your feet."
"Thank you, John, but I think I'll go about setting off as soon as I can. I wouldn't want to impose."
John nodded, and Bonnie looked almost sad at the news. They finished dinner in silence, when Bonnie raised her head in surprise, "oh! I've left my gardening gloves outside. Jack, would you mind escorting me?"
"Of course," Jack smiled, and met her by the door to walk outside. As they did, Bonnie smiled at the soft night air.
She turned to Jack in a friendly manner, "so, Jack, do you remember much at all?"
"Yes," he smiled back at her, "I remember that I lost my wife some time ago, and that I live near Chippewa Falls in Wisconsin."
"You're a long way from home," she laughed in surprise, and noted his questioning eyes, "you're a mile or so outside of Philadelphia."
"Philadelphia?" He started, "that does remind me of something, but I suppose it couldn't of mattered since I've forgotten it."
She frowned, "it's a shame you've forgotten- here, look, under the rose bush..."
She went to kiss Jack, but as her lips neared his, he pulled away sharply.
"Fuck!" He shouted, "Rose is with that bastard Cal- Rose- I'm sorry, miss, but I must go-"
And as Jack bolted towards the far-off city lights, he was certain of one thing and one thing only.