Chapter 51

It's almost a week before Jack really, properly panics about it again, prompted by Katherine turning up on Thursday evening with a knitting pattern for baby booties. That, in itself, Jack thinks, would be cause for concern, considering Katherine's track record with knitting; though he does still have that sweater, despite the fact that he's never actually worn it since she gave it to him, because it's the first time anybody has ever made something specifically for him and he's not just going to throw something like that away.

However, there's the thought of having a baby and then the actual practicalities, such as clothing it in things like little vests and baby booties. They have, they've determined, enough money to sort themselves out, even if Katherine doesn't go back to work. Between Jack's salary, the odd commission, and their combined savings, they're going to be fine. It had been a trial in and of itself to determine that, sitting at the kitchen table and hashing out numbers until Jack's head had spun. In the end, Katherine had marched over to the cupboard and produced the box of numbers. He'd protested vehemently, but, as usual, Katherine had got her way in the end. Jack's just grateful that she was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing, instead of being simpering and sympathetic, just telling him to pull himself together and use the ruddy numbers, until the redness around his ears had dissipated.

Still, there's other issues surrounding children, other than financial ones. What about diapers? Jack doesn't have a clue how to change a diaper and he's pretty damn sure that Katherine doesn't either, despite having younger siblings. What if the kid gets sick and he doesn't know what to do? Jack's good at dealing with illnesses, he's had to be, over the years, but all the kids that he's cared for have been able to tell him what hurts. Babies can't do that.

Which is how Jack ends up sat at the kitchen table of the Jacobs' apartment, Esther pressing a glass of brandy into his shaking hand to calm his nerves. He's all kinds of pathetic, Jack knows, but Katherine's got enough on her plate what with throwing up every morning and suddenly having to adjust to the concept of growing another human being inside of her without him having a minor mental breakdown about his inability to be a father. Esther's solution to this problem does not help his nerves. In fact, it undoes all of the brandy's good work and then some.

Her solution involves him talking to Mayer. Which, if Jack really thinks about it, is probably pretty sensible. After all, the bloke has raised three successful, well-mannered kids. Jack could probably learn a lot from him. Whether this whole thing will work out, on the other hand, remains to be seen.

Mayer sits down opposite Jack at the table as Esther shoos Les out of the kitchen, the boy bemoaning the fact that Jack needing privacy with Mayer in the kitchen is what is separating him from the biscuits that have freshly emerged from the oven. In any other circumstances, Jack would be chuckling at the boy's petulance, but right at this moment he's just trying to figure out if he can get to the door before Mayer, if he needs to.

"You know, I was terrified before Sarah was born, too." Mayer tells him.

It takes Jack a moment to realise that he's talking to him. Don't be stupid, Kelly, you're the only other one in here. "Y'were?"

"Goodness, yes." The man laughs. The lines on Mayer's face, the ones around his eyes from a lifetime of laughter and cares, crinkle deeper. "I had no idea what to expect."

"But… didn't you have parents?"

"I did. But, as I think you know, Jack, having parents doesn't mean that they show you the right way to do things." Well, that's certainly true. "You really only need to do one thing to be a good father, and that is love your children. Which," Mayer glares at Les, who has snuck back in and is currently involved in trying to sneak one of the forbidden biscuits off the tray, causing him to snatch his hand back and slope out of the kitchen, "is sometimes more difficult than others."

"But, I already love them." Jack assures him, tension draining from his shoulders as he slumps forward a little. "I jus'… don' know what to do."

"Judging by how you behave toward your wife, Jack, I think you know exactly how to love people well. You talk sense into them when they're about to do something unbearably stupid, you let them make their own mistakes when what they want to do is less stupid, and you show them that you love them, that you're proud of them, no matter what. Nobody has some sort of guidebook."

…

Naturally, more people know, now, than just them. Katherine, of course, hasn't begun to show yet, but she likes to think that there's a certain roundness to her belly that wasn't there before, something firmer about it. While Jack has a wash, one evening, she stands in front of the mirror in their bedroom and pulls up her nightdress, turning from side to side, examining. It's a strange feeling, wanting to see the swell of her own skin, craving it, but she's so desperate for this to work out, for everything to go just right.

She's caught Jack talking to her stomach a couple of times, when he's thought she's asleep, after she read him a particularly amusing article from a women's magazine about the importance of talking to your unborn child. For her part, Katherine puts little stock in such hogwash, though she's having to make a concerted effort not to keep laying a protective hand on her stomach whilst she's at work for fear of giving the game away, given her recently formed habit of her hand gravitating there. She still can't quite bring herself to tell Jack to stop though, even though him talking to her stomach is patently ridiculous. It happens when he wakes a little earlier than her, or falls asleep a little later, sliding down the bed and laying his lips against her stomach, whispering words that she can't quite make out, but doesn't need to, can tell from the tone of his voice that they're laden with love, that he's telling their little one stories about Santa Fe, about their soon-to-be uncles, about how much they're loved. It feels precious somehow, sacred, in a way that she can't bear to spoil.

Jack's unbearably excited, she knows, much as one of his foul moods can dull it with worries for her safety and his capability. This is what Jack wants, she knows, what he's always wanted, deep down, despite his delusions of Santa Fe. His dreams are average-sized, a little house, a woman who loves him, children. Family.

Yet, they still have to work out how to tell their extended family about it. There's Mayer and Esther who know, of course, plus Sarah and Les because Esther had shooed them out of the kitchen just as soon as Jack turned up on their doorstep shaking and talking about a pregnancy. And then Daisy. Katherine had turned up at Daisy's rooms across town the day after they'd found out to go wool shopping (for the aforementioned baby booties, and possibly a little cardigan, if Katherine decides that she's feeling brave). And if Katherine had dragged her into another shop and bought Daisy a very fetching pashmina as a thank-you for helping her the day before, well, that was just part of the trip.

But that leaves all of the boys. Davey will just have to wait, caught up as he is in his exams, but when Jack asks him to come for dinner in a couple of weeks because they've got some news and he asks if he can bring Miriam to meet them, Jack's pretty sure that he and Katherine having a baby will be the least of the revelations around that particular table. As for the rest of them, they elect to drag Crutchie over to the lodgehouse one night after work and tell all the boys together.

When they arrive at the lodgehouse, a lot of the boys haven't yet returned from selling the evening edition, and there's only Crutchie, who they brought along with them, Race, and Mush in the dorm. The five of them unpack the food that Jack brought along onto the kitchen table, Race swiping an apple as 'payment for his labour' and then head back, spreading themselves out across the beds and greeting the boys as they come in. Whilst Katherine still retains enough of her upbringing to perch on the edge of one of the beds, Jack has no such qualms, stretching out across a mattress and pillowing his hands under his head.

Albert (who, it turns out, the mattress belongs to) tells Jack that that's my bed as soon as he walks in, to which Jack merely cracks open one eye and replies:

"You ain't usin' it. Finders keepers."

Apparently, Jack, despite having been living outside of the lodgehouse for more than a year, has not lost his authority over his boys, as Albert just rolls his eyes and walks away. Soon, all of the boys arrive, and Jack whistles for their attention, silencing the chatter.

"So, we's brought food –" a chorus of excited yeses ripple across the dormitory, "- an' we's got some news." Jack pauses a moment and looks over at Katherine, grinning. "We's havin' a baby."

The room, predictably, explodes, the boys swarming Jack with playful punches, pinning him to the bed in their own little way of saying congratulations. It's only seven-year-old Peter, who remains, if not the youngest newsie, then still the smallest thanks to a nasty case of rickets that he still has to wear the leg braces Jack bought him to correct, instead wandering up to Katherine and frowning at her.

"Where is this baby, then?"

Katherine smiles. "The baby is in my tummy, Peter."

Peter's face turns ghostly white and he cries, horrified, quickly retreating from her: "You ate the baby?"

That particular pronouncement gets the attention of most of the newsies, who finally pile off Jack, all sniggering as Katherine blanches in response, frantically trying to reassure the small boy.

"No, no, that's where the baby has to grow before it can come out."

"Oh." Peter looks relieved, at least. Then he frowns again and reaches out to poke Katherine's stomach. (She's not sure she's entirely comfortable with that, but figures she's going to have to get used to it as there's always those odious people who decide that they are perfectly within their rights to touch a pregnant woman's stomach without so much as a by-your-leave.) "How'd the baby get in there?"

"Yeah, Jack," a grin spreads across Crutchie's face, "how'd the baby get in there?"

"Shuddup." Jack rolls his eyes, sitting up on the bed opposite Katherine's and leaning down to talk to Peter. "Babies happen by magic, Pete, when you loves another person a lot."

Race snorts. "I bet the neighbours can confirm 's a lot." Jack grabs a balled-up pair of socks that are lying on the floor and throws them at Race's head. He misses, Race catching them neatly – he'd make one hell of a baseball player, Jack thinks – before throwing them back, catching Jack in the leg.

"You can do magic?" Peter asks, his mouth hanging open.

Jack bites his lip to suppress a grin, meeting Katherine's amused eyes over Peter's head. "Yeah, I can." He says, shooting Katherine a wink that has her cracking up with laughter.

"You know," Katherine says, later, leaning into Jack and putting her head on his shoulder as they walk back toward their house, "at some point you're going to have to talk about the birds and the bees with our little one. They're eventually going to figure out that it's not magic."

"Not 'f 's a Lucy and not a Thomas." Jack snorts. "Then, Mrs. Kelly, 's totally your job. I's jus' here to make sure she ain't courtin' nobody 'til she's at least thirty."

"You hypocrite!" Katherine laughs, digging an elbow into his side. "You expect any suitor to listen to you when you so blatantly disregarded my father, hm?"

"To be fair, you disregarded him first."

"You better hope our daughter doesn't inherit that trait, then."

"I hope she does." Jack looks down at her, smiling and fond. "I wants her to be jus' like you."

A child just like Katherine. Another brave, smart, beautiful woman. Jack wants to be a part of bringing that about. He wants a little girl with his wife's smile and bright eyes.

"I don't," Katherine laughs. "I'd hate to live with another me!"

"As the guy livin' wi' you, it really ain't so bad. It ain't so bad at all."

…

By the start of December, everybody on the street is perfectly aware that Katherine Kelly is pregnant. This is unequivocally due to Mrs. Ross, though neither Katherine nor Jack can quite work out how on earth she's managed to figure it out, given that Katherine isn't showing through her clothes yet.

Honestly, Jack is considering putting their neighbour forward for the new investigative journalism position that's due to open up at the Journal because he's pretty sure that woman can find out bloody well anything. She also seems to have an uncanny ability to sense when Jack is doing something out the front of their house – today, affixing a wreath to their front door because he's home earlier from work than his wife, for once, and she's been wanting it done since halfway through November – and emerges onto the front step with a cigarette to question him about all sorts of things. Today, it's baby names. She has pronounced both of their choices – Lucy and Thomas – too commonplace for her liking and is suggesting more 'exotic' equivalents (what about a nice Frida, hm?) when Katherine barrels down the street towards them, calling his name.

"Jack!"

He drops the wreath, whirling round. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Everything is perfect!" She cries, breathless, coming to a stop in front of him, Mrs. Ross staring at her as if she's committed some grave sin. "Mr. Ross got word of a railroad telegraphers' strike later this week and he wants me to go and cover it!"

Jack just stands there for a moment, staring down at her, then catches hold of her by the waist, picking her up and twirling her around. "Look a' you, Mrs. Star Reporter!"

Behind them, Mrs. Ross mumbles something about impropriety. Katherine cannot bring herself to care. "My train leaves in the morning – oh, we're meeting Miriam tonight – can you sort out dinner while I pack?"

"Wait, pack?" Jack frowns.

"Oh!" Katherine pauses as she pulls away from him, ready to hop over the forgotten wreath to get to their door. "The strike is down in Texas. I'll be away for four days, maybe five – look," she fumbles around in the pockets of her skirt, pulling out two pieces of paper, "I have tickets!"

"You's travellin' to Texas?" Jack blinks, caught up in the whirlwind of his wife.

"Yes! I need to pack – can you handle dinner?" She's already got the front door halfway open.

"Yeah." Jack finds himself saying, not really fully back on the ground. "Yeah, you go pack."

Katherine grins at him before clattering up the stairs, doubtless to drag her carpet bag out from under their bed and make a terrible mess of the wardrobe that she so diligently tried to organise the previous weekend. Jack stands, a little dazed, left in her wake.

"You've got your hands full there, Mr. Kelly." Mrs. Ross remarks, stubbing out her cigarette and wandering back inside.

…

Jack puts the potatoes in the pan to boil, listening to the thumps coming from upstairs – dinner needs making and he knows better than to get in the way. He stirs them in the water, wondering how exactly he's supposed to live through four or five days with his wife and unborn child halfway across the country, alone and unprotected, chasing a story in the middle of strike action. He knows as well as anybody that whilst there are very few people in the unions who would want to hurt Katherine, strikes get violent. It's their nature. He doesn't want her in the middle of that. Not without him there beside her.

The knock on the door jolts him out of his thoughts and he heads over to answer it. On the doorstep is David, wearing his nicest shirt – the one that he wore for their wedding, so Jack knows that he means business about this - stood just a hair too close to a woman. And, well. Davey sure knows how to pick them. Miriam is short, similar to Katherine, with curly dark hair and bright, intelligent eyes.

"Hey, Davey!" He grins, then sticks a hand out to the woman. "An' you mus' be Miriam, nice to meetcha, the name's Jack."

"Nice to meet you, Jack." She smiles, shaking his hand, firm and pleasant. "Davey's told me lots about you."

"Oh, has he?" Jack laughs, raising his eyebrows at David as he stands aside to let them in. "Devastatin' good looks, charm, talent-"

"I believe the words he used were 'cocky sod'." Miriam remarks, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips as Jack takes her coat. Oh, I like her.

"Charmin'." He snorts. "An' to think I made you my best man."

"You're my best friend, Jack, but I'm not blind." Davey grins back, clapping him on the shoulder.

Jack shows them through to the kitchen, calling up the stairs as he passes. "Kath, Davey an' Miriam are here!"

There's a rather loud thump from up the stairs, before Katherine's voice calls back. "Coming! I'm just finishing off packing!"

"Packing?" Davey questions, following Jack into the kitchen.

"Believe me, she'll tell you."

Katherine bursts into the kitchen less than a minute later. "Davey! And you must be Miriam – I'm Katherine, it's so nice to meet you."

"Davey wants to know what you's packin' for." Jack remarks from his spot by the stove. Katherine's face lights up and she turns to David.

"You are looking at the reporter who's being sent across the country, on behalf of the New York Sun, to cover the railroad telegraphers strike!"

"Congratulations! Kath, that's amazing!" Davey sweeps her into an enormous hug.

"I leave tomorrow morning!"

Seeing Miriam sat at the kitchen table, Katherine calms her squealing a little, stepping away from David to take a seat. Miriam, however, seems utterly unfazed, simply smiling a wide, kind, smile. "You're a reporter, Katherine?"

"Yes, for the Sun."

"That must be fascinating; tell me, what sort of things do you write?"

She can stay, Jack decides, watching as Katherine gets sucked into an animated conversation about politics with Miriam and Davey. David's eyes keep drifting to Miriam's face, in profile beside him, looking like he can't quite believe she's sat next to him. Oh, yes, she can definitely stay.

"So," Jack eventually interrupts, putting the pot of stew in the centre of the table and handing the spoon to Katherine to plate it up, "we's got some pretty big news?"

"Oh?" Davey raises his eyebrows, taking a plate from Katherine.

Jack looks over his shoulder at her, eyes glinting with do you want to tell them, or shall I? Katherine grins back. Jack ploughs on. "We's havin' a baby."

Davey has his fork halfway to his mouth, but the stew promptly drops right off it and into his lap at Jack's words. He stares, wide-eyed, looking between them. Jack snorts, tossing his friend a tea-towel.

"Wha –" Davey dabs uselessly at his lap with the cloth, "- how?"

Jack opens his mouth to make a snarky comment, but gets beaten to it by Miriam, who reaches out and pats David's free hand, which is resting on the table edge. "Not a good question to ask, David, I rather think you don't want to know." She turns to Katherine, offering a cheerful: "Congratulations! How far along are you?"

David, for his part, turns beet red up to the tips of his ears, mouth opening and closing, soundless and fishlike, his brain seemingly unable to process Katherine's pregnancy, Miriam's mildly suggestive joke, and her touching his hand all at the same time. Oh, Jack is never going to let him forget this.

…

The evening finds them quietly, after Davey and Miriam have left, intertwined in the armchair, Katherine staring into the fire, Jack leaning his head into her hand where she's carding her fingers through his hair.

"You're very quiet, my love." She remarks, pressing her lips to his temple. "Is something wrong?"

"Nah." Jack smiles, lazy, his eyes fluttering open to meet hers. "Jus' tired, sweetheart."

"Aw, poor baby." She teases, smoothing his hair down.

"Shuddup." Jack laughs, pinching her side, then settling her more comfortably against him.

Companionable silence falls over the room again, nothing new for them, of course, but there's something different in it tonight, a hesitancy, perhaps, in the way that Jack is staring into the fire, burning bright and hot to heat the room through the December chill.

Katherine frowns. "You're sure that nothing is wrong?"

Jack's eyes flick to hers, just for a moment, then return to the fire. He swallows heavily, almost guilty, somehow, before he says: "Jus'… you. Travellin' so far, on your own, nobody to help you out? I don' like it."

Katherine freezes. She told him, she bloody told him, before he married her, that she wouldn't just give everything up to be the perfect little housewife. And he has the cheek, now, to try and control her? No, it's too much to bear.

"You wouldn't be saying these things if I was a man."

"No," Jack replies, his tone low and smooth, "'cos 'f you was a man you wouldn't be carryin' our baby into the middle o' a strike."

"I'm pregnant, Jack, not an invalid-" She snaps, making to get up off his lap.

"Hell, Ace, I know." Jack says, tightening the arm that's wrapped around her waist and holding her to him, taking her hand with his free one. "But I love you, an' I worry 'bout you, an' I wasn't goin' to say nothin' 'cos I don' wanta hold you back, but you asked."

And, well, when he says it like that. She softens and Jack sees it, well-versed, now, in the little tells she has. He brings her hand, still in his, up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Hey." She reaches up, strokes his face, revels in the way that he leans into her touch now instead of flinching away from it. "I promised you I wasn't going to leave you alone, didn't I? I'll come back to you, Jack, whole. I promise. It's only a few days."

"I know." Jack nods, miserably resigned, his head hitting the back of the chair with a soft thump. "I jus'… don' like bein' wi'out you."

"I'm going to miss you too, you know." She tells him, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. "I'll call you, I bet I'll be able to find a phone and call you at work." Jack nods his head, then turns, pressing a kiss into the palm of her hand.

"I's real proud o' you, y'know. I ain't happy 'bout all this," he waves a hand vaguely in the air, "goin' off wi'out me. But, I's proud o' you. Glad you's got what you wanted."

She wraps her arms around him, fierce, loving. "This assignment is what I wanted. But I didn't need it. I'm happy just the way things are."