Chapter 8
David shuffled through the messy pile of wrinkled papers. "What's the difference between lyrics and poems? And how do I know which ones are songs?"
"Just put the lyrics and poems together. The ones that are songs say so on the top." Becca and Davey were going through a rather large and disorganized heap of sheets of paper--everything Becca had written over the past few years. They had been working for a couple hours now, and it wouldn't be long before the others came back from selling. Dave was so absorbed in sorting that he didn't even notice that Becca had stopped. She was leaning against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest, reading a piece of paper.
"Where does this go?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the clutter of papers. When Becca did not answer, he glanced up to see her reading. "Becca?" She snapped out of her trance.
"Oh, sorry." Dave crawled over to her.
"It's okay. What're you reading?" Becca half-smiled, reminiscing. "It's something I wrote the night after I left Santa Fe, while I was still on the train. I couldn't sleep, I had this itch. I was wondering why I had left. There was the obvious reason, to find my family and my past, but there was something else. After I wrote this, I was able to fall asleep. I tucked it away, and haven't taken it back out till now. I forgot I even wrote it."
"What's it called?"
"Hands and Feet. Want me to read it?"
"Sure, if you don't mind."
An image flashed across my wand'ring mind*
Another broken heart comes into view
I saw the pain, and I turned my back
Why can't I do the things I want to?
I am willing yet I'm so afraid
You give me strength when I say
Chorus:
I want to be Your hands
I want to be Your feet
I'll go where You send me
I'll go where you send me
And I'll try, yeah I try
To touch the world like You touched my life
And I'll find my way
To be Your hands.
I've abandoned every selfish thought
I've surrendered everything I've got
You can have everything I am
And perfect everything I'm not
I am willing, I'm not afraid
You give me strength when I say
(repeat chorus)
This is the last time
I turn my back on You
From now on, I'll go out
Send me where You want me to
I finally have a mission
I promise I'll complete
I don't need excuses when
I am Your hands and feet (am Your hands and feet)
HANDS…FEET…GO…GO
(repeat chorus)
This song ©1999 Up In The Mix Music/Andi Beat Goes On Music (BMI) Words and music by Mark Stuart, Bob Herdman, Will McGinniss, Tyler Burkum, and Charlie Peacock Performed by Audio Adrenaline (yey!) don't sue me, I've got no money to take anyway. No copyright infringement intended at all, I just love your song and it fits this story so I used it please don't be mad. *This line reads "an image flashed across my wand'ring mind. The real lyrics are "An image flashed across my tv screen", but obviously I couldn't use that with a story that takes place in 1900, so I had to change just those two words.
"Wow," Dave commented nonchalantly, "emotionally deep. And you can actually understand the meaning, unlike other," Dave began to laugh as Becca started hitting him playfully, "works of yours. But seriously," he added soberly, "that was really good." He sighed, and slumped against the wall. Becca had slouched long before and now they were sitting side by side in Becca's quite muggy room. A pile of papers were scattered across the floor.
Dave turned to Becca. He sounded utterly bored. "You wanna take a break? Maybe do this later? We could go downstairs, it's so much cooler there, and wait for the others to get back." Becca, who had been searching for an excuse to get out of there, agreed heartily.
"Sounds great." She grabbed her guitar and a handful of papers and followed Dave down to the first floor. They plopped down on a couch in the corner.
"Looks like we're back where we started," Dave muttered.
Kloppman walked out of the room, chuckling. Those two were a riot. He wondered when they were going to realize what was right in front of their noses.
Dave noticed Becca's guitar. "So why'd you bring your guitar?"
"I dunno," she replied lazily. "I thought that maybe if we got bored enough I could try and remember the music to these songs," she indicated the papers she had brought down, "and play them."
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm bored enough."
"K." Becca pulled her guitar into her lap and began tuning it. "Pick a paper." Dave shuffled through the pile, waiting for one to catch his eye.
"Beautiful Sound. Sounds interesting. It a song?" Becca checked the top of the paper that he held out to her.
"Yeah. Just stick it on the table right there." Dave did so.
"What's this one about?"
"I wrote it when I was travelling with the band. It's kind of loosely based in a weird way on my experiences touring. More like how I felt then, aside from the whole not knowing my real name or past thing."
"I see." Becca strummed an opening to the song, then began.
Turn the page
Can't turn the light out
Every word every line
Carries to my soul
Dark letters on a page
singing so loud
Where did I go wrong not to hear You...
Fourteen years*
I guess it was alright
I let You do the thinking
I'd just bide my time
Father to son
Sunday hand me down
Where did I go wrong
Not to hear Your song
Chorus:
It's a beautiful sound
Movin' through the crowd
Voices lifted up
On high for You
It's a beautiful song
We've only just begun to understand
Rediscovering You
To have found You
And still be looking for You
It's the soul's "paradox of love"
You fill my cup
I lift it up for more
I won't stop now that I'm free
I've been chasing You
Like You chase me
(repeat chorus)
(bridge)
(repeat chorus)
Something tells me it's alright
You know it's gonna be alright
***
Thomas was trekking along Duane Street when he heard the voice. He knew that voice. "Samantha," he whispered, before rushing through the door of the Newsboys Lodging House.
***
Becca finished her song to Dave's applause, who was about to compliment her when a man around Kloppman's age burst into the room. His salt and pepper hair was blown askew by the breeze, and his clear blue eyes searched around frantically. They rested and seemed to break when they saw Becca. He sped to her side, "Samantha," he cried. Then, reality sunk in, and he realized that this young woman could not be Samantha. Apologizing, Thomas got up and began to walk away.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. For a second there, I thought you were my daughter, Samantha. Your voice sounds just like hers, and you look exactly like she did when she was your age. But she's much older now…or would be much older. I'm sorry for bothering you."
"No, wait!" Becca called after him anxiously. "My mother's name was Samantha." Thomas turned around, disbelief and hope in his eyes.
"What's your name?" he asked in a choked whisper.
"Rebecca Sullivan." David was shocked and perplexed. (okay, I'm going to be the first to admit that this whole running joke with Dave getting confused is getting old. I'm going to have to find another way to poke fun at him without being mean. If you have any suggestions, feel free to tell me.
"Was your father Rhys Sullivan?"
"Yes," Becca whispered, unable to believe what was happening. Neither could Thomas. He took a small step towards Becca, who flung himself into his arms. She could trust this man, he was who he said he was, who she thought he was, she could feel it.
"Then you're my granddaughter," Thomas said as he held onto Becca.
***
Spot walked beside Jack, Les, Blink, Mush, and Race on their way to the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, exchanging casual conversation. That afternoon, Spot had learned from his "little boidies" that the others had kicked Becca and Davey out of Tibby's in order for them to discuss things. He was eager to find out what conclusion the two of them had reached, although Spot hid his emotions well. Only Jack was ever able to penetrate Spot's smirk and view what was going on behind Brooklyn's eyes. Even then, Jack could never see much, Spot was a master at masking emotions. He had to be in order to survive and become the leader of the Brooklyn newsies.
Spot and Jack quickened their strides when the Lodging House came into view.
***
Thomas broke his hug with Becca and gently pushed her back in order to get a good look at her. "Look at you," he breathed, voice thick with unshed tears, "a spittin' image of your mother." Becca's chin and voice trembled violently,
"You do know that Mama's…"
"Yes, yes, I know," Thomas stated sorrowfully. "They told me that I had two grandchildren, but they didn't know where they were."
"You mean Mama never told…how come I never knew about you?" Thomas's grief visibly deepened.
"She was young when she met your father, and he was sweet to her when they courted. I was never against romance, but I knew something about this man, he would only hurt her in the end. Your grandmother, God rest her soul, and I tried to warn your mother, but she was in love and would hear none of it. A stubborn one, your mother always was."
In the background, Dave smiled to himself. Now he knew where Jack and Becca got it.
"They eloped. We may or may not have given our consent to the marriage, but they never asked, and we never got the chance. I never saw your mother again. A few years ago, I tried to find her, only to find out that she was dead, husband in jail, and children missing, presumed dead. But now…" Thomas trailed off when he saw six figures standing at the doorway, but particularly the one in the front.
***
Spot laughed and joked with the others as they entered the Lodging House. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the figures in the room.
***
Becca was worried. Never, never, never had she ever seen Spot look like that before, not even after his family died in the fire. He looked like he'd swallowed a frog…no, too comical. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.
To be continued…
And one final thing, and hopefully this will be the last time I bring it up. My friend who wrote Serenity thanks all of you very much for your kindness in reviewing his song, and liking it, and you get the picture.