Chapter 40

The day of the wedding, Crutchie turns up on the doorstep of Medda's theatre asking to see Katherine. It's testament to how well things have worked out for their relationship so far that Katherine is immediately convinced that something terrible has happened.

Her stomach swoops in a way that she's only ever experienced once before, that time she rode in Uncle Worthington's motorcar and they went over a bump too fast, when she opens the door and sees Crutchie standing there. Crutchie. Why is Crutchie here?

"Is everything okay? Is Jack okay?"

"He's fine, Kath," Crutchie rolls his eyes; and he thought Jack was whipped, "he jus' wanted me to give you this, 'cos 'pparently I's some sorta messenger boy now."

"Oh." She breathes out. "Thanks, Crutchie, thank you."

Crutchie lets his eyes rove up and down her figure, whistles low under his breath. In the middle of it all, Katherine has forgotten that she is in her wedding dress. Admittedly, she's hardly ready, yet – her hair is half done and she's barefoot because she's still getting ready, damnit, but it's okay.

"You look… wow. Jus', wow." Crutchie breathes.

"Thank you." Katherine laughs, a little, nervous thing. Then, feeling unbelievably self-conscious, does a twirl. "Do you think Jack will like it?"

Crutchie raises his eyebrows. "I think Jack might pass out when he sees you."

The drawing, when she unfolds it, is a sketch in delicate pencil lines of two hands intertwined, fingers so tightly locked together that it's almost difficult to work out which fingers belong to which hand. Beneath it, in Jack's childish scrawl, with the 's', predictably, written the wrong way round, are the words for sure. And somehow, every niggling worry that's been lurking in the back of Katherine's head for weeks, about whether she's good enough and whether they're doing the right thing and whether they're going to have enough money, all go out of the window. For sure.

Jack knows that this is supposed to be the happiest day of his life. And he's pretty sure that it will be, by the evening, but so far? Awful. Absolutely awful.

He's never been so nervous that he can't eat before, not even during the strike, but he hasn't even managed to touch the bacon that Esther made for breakfast, pushing it around his plate with something sick twisting in his stomach. He's completely pathetic. And then he looks like girl having to kick Davey and Les out of their room to get changed into his suit, because no way in hell are they seeing the amount of scars that he's collected over the years. Les, after all, sweet as he is, doesn't know when or how to keep his damn mouth shut, and goodness knows he'd ask questions about the Refuge. And then he might tell Davey and Esther what Jack's answers were, and Jack couldn't bear that.

So, by the time they get to the church, Jack's done enough pacing to wear a hole in the Jacobs' living room carpet and he's feeling vaguely like he's about to throw up.

Medda, bless her, has done a frankly phenomenal job setting up the church, with little ribbons to decorate the ends of the pews that she's fished out of the costume box at the Bowery. When Katherine had gone to the florists, she'd been quoted something ridiculous to have little bunches of flowers on the ends of the pews (a figure which, when she repeated it to Jack, nearly knocked him to the floor) and so Medda has, yet again, saved the day. There's something of gratitude inside of Jack as they approach the church, for all that she's done, but it's rather overwhelmed by the effort of not turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction.

"I's surprised you ain't burst into flames yet." Jack mutters to Davey as the two of them step into the church and head towards the altar.

"I'm Jewish, Jack, not a demon." Davey rolls his eyes, sitting next to Jack where he's sprawled himself in the front pew on the right-hand side of the church. "My God and the Christian one are the same, Christians just think that he sent his son a couple of hundred years after my people sorted everything out."

"Wait, seriously?" Jack pauses in his efforts to dry his sweaty palms on his trousers to look over at Davey.

"You were brought up by nuns, how do you not know this?"

"Brought up's a bit much," Jack shrugs, "dragged up, more like." Davey nods a little, earning an elbow in his side.

"How're you feelin'?"

"Like I's goin' to puke." Jack leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Reckon that's normal?"

"I'd say so. Why are you nervous?"

He closes his eyes. "Jus' worried she's goin' to realise that I ain't good enough for her. Or that her father's goin' to turn up an' object. Or-"

Davey cuts him off, clapping a hand on Jack's shoulder. "She won't realise that, because (a) you are good enough for her and (b) she loves you. As for her father, do you really think any of the newsies would let him set so much as a foot in this church before they soaked him?"

"Fair." He snorts.

"You'll be fine, Jack. It's Katherine."

"I know. Thanks."

"Don't thank me now." David elbows him back. "You're goin' to have to do this for me, one day."

Finally, Jack glances up, confused. "Ain't you goin' to ask Les?"

Davey looks at him in disbelief. "You think he's goin' to make me less nervous?"

And, well, Jack thinks, that's a fair point.

Outside, Katherine prays that the ribbon that binds her bouquet together will soak up at least some of the sweat from her palms. Goodness knows she'll drop it halfway up the aisle if her nervous skin doesn't stop producing a veritable lake. Will Jack want to marry somebody with sweaty hands?

"Katherine," Ralph looks over at her, doubtful, fiddling with his solid silver cufflinks, "you know that you can still back out-"

"Ralph." Katherine cuts him off, watching as Daisy and Edith set off down the aisle, preceding her. "I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

It takes her saying it to realise that it's true. She can't think of doing anything else, can't imagine her life without him in it.

"-because there'd be no shame in it." Ralph finishes, as if she hasn't said anything at all.

"No shame in leaving a good man at the altar?"

"No shame in leaving a man who is below you at the altar."

She sets her jaw, chin jutting out. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just say that. Now walk me down the damn aisle."

Ralph, to his credit, doesn't gape at Katherine's language, but instead takes hold of her arm and sets his shoulders, taking them through the church doors and down the aisle.

Now, Jack had known that Katherine would make a beautiful bride, but this? Well, it's a struggle to keep his jaw from dropping. She looks like a fucking angel. His words, that night, a year ago, have never been more true. If there was a way I could grab holda somethin', to make time stop. Jus' so's I could keep lookin' at you. He barely manages to collect himself enough to nod at Ralph, his mouth dry, as the other man shakes his hand. And then Katherine looks up at him and smiles, and he damn near falls over.

Reverend Bates clears his throat. And, well, it's probably a bit sappy for Jack to have forgotten that anybody else in the world exists, isn't it? Still, he can't help himself, and so, as they turn to face the minister, he grabs hold of her hand, twisting their fingers together just the way he drew them this morning, because she's right there, and she's his, and he wants to make sure that she's real. He almost laughs aloud when he realises that her palm is just as sweaty as his.

It all goes rather well, really, other than when Katherine starts crying halfway through him saying his vows. Jack's eyes go wide, his brain scrambling to figure out how exactly he's managed to screw this up, but then she whispers carry on, you idiot, I'm happy in a voice thick with tears, so he stammers his way through the rest of the words.

Jack's never felt elation like it when Reverend Bates tells him that he's allowed to kiss Katherine. He's absolutely sure that he looks like a complete fool, grinning like a maniac, but he can't wipe the stupid, soppy smile off his face as he turns to face her, stepping right up into her space and resting their foreheads together. He'll never forget the way that she shivers when his words fan across her face.

"D'ya trust me?"

Eyes closed, no hesitation. "For sure."

And really, those are the only two words Jack's ever needed to hear. He's pretty sure that he could live forever on just those two words. And they're definitely all the permission he needs to take hold of her by the waist and dip her into a full-on Hollywood kiss, swallowing the squeak that she lets out, and then lapping up the giggles that she lets out as well. Katherine is suddenly immensely glad that Cornelia, Rose, and Eliza aren't in attendance as she's pretty sure at least one of them would have swooned into a full-out faint.

Somewhere, off in the distance, the newsies have exploded into raucous cheers and wolf-whistles, and it only makes her laugh more into Jack's mouth because she just knows that Ralph is horrified, and so is the Reverend, but this is her and Jack, and she's never been happier in her entire life – not even when she got her story on the front page. Though, she thinks, as he eases her back onto her feet, a kiss like that might just make the front page.

They're laughing, breathless, completely immune to anything other than each other. Until Katherine blushes and bats at his chest with her little bouquet. "Show off."

"Got plenty to be showin' off 'bout, ain't I?" Jack grins. "I's jus' married the most beautiful woman in the world."

The meal goes better than expected. No food gets thrown by the newsies (well, a little bit of food gets thrown, but between Crutchie's threatening glances and Davey's disapproving glares, it's practically unnoticeable). There's a definite culture clash between Jack's motley family and Edith, Ralph, and Bill, the last of whom, bless his soul, had managed to make the wedding – something that earned him an enormous hug from Katherine. But it could go a lot worse. Jack turns the charm up like nobody's business, and soon has got Ralph talking and laughing. Admittedly, getting Katherine's brother on side might have something to do with Race helpfully plying Ralph with whiskies at every opportunity, but, Katherine thinks, you've got to take what you can get.

Despite the size of the wedding party, Katherine and Jack are completely separated for the vast majority of the evening, doing their duty of mingling. Still, he keeps shooting her these smiles and glances across the room and when he does ever get a moment with her, whenever they pass each other as they move between Luigi's tables, he pulls her close and whispers in her ear something about how beautiful she looks or how lucky he feels.

And well, Katherine's pretty sure this is what happiness feels like.