Disclaimer: Newsies belongs to Disney, not me.
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August, 1886
Hadder stifled a grimace as the baby kicked against her belly. None of her other children had been this active. Not that she minded; the kicking reassured her that the baby was still alive within her. But she did wish that the baby would choose to kick at a time other than her husband's sermons.
Next to her, two-year-old Fiona shifted, her chubby legs waving as she tried to keep them from falling asleep. Hadder looked at her sternly, softening the look with a gentle pat on the child's knee. Fiona settled down.
Reverend Thompson finally ended his sermon, calling up the choir to sing the final hymn. Hadder stood slowly, looking down the row. All six of her children stood, the oldest boys- Thane, fourteen, and Harry, ten- holding the hymnals open for the younger ones. Hadder held her hymnal open for Fiona, pointing to the words as the congregation sang. Normally she enjoyed the singing, but today she just wanted to end the service and go home to rest her aching body.
The members of the congregation began to file out of the church. Hadder picked Fiona up and settled her on her hip. "Come on, my bairns," she said. "Thane, carry Ian, won't you?"
Hadder led her six children out of the pew and joined the throng headed towards the door. She could see her husband standing on the front steps, shaking hands with the parishioners. He stopped to talk for quite a while with one man. Hadder stepped quietly beside him, the children gathered around her.
"Ah, Mrs. Thompson," Angus said. "Mrs. Thompson, this is Richard Maxwell. Mr. Maxwell, my wife and our children."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Thompson," Maxwell said, taking her hand.
Hadder tried not to make a face. His hand was as limp as a dead fish's. "Likewise, Mr. Maxwell," she said. Her voice was still tinged with a Scottish brogue.
Angus lifted little Fiona out of her arms. "I've invited Mr. Maxwell for Sunday lunch," he announced.
"You will be most welcome in our home, Mr. Maxwell," Hadder said promptly. It didn't matter what she thought. It was her husband's house, not hers. She stifled the feelings rising in her heart and took Bonnie by the hand. All she could do was pray that her own little daughters would choose more wisely than she had.
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