WOHOO! Well, in case there's any of you out there
that don't know yet, my new computer is here, up and running! Sorry it took so long to post this new
chapter, just the past week has been hectic and I had a really hard time
writing what I've written in this chapter. So if this chapter is bad, like too sappy or something, I'm sorry, I've
just never written something like this before and I'm not quite sure how to do
it. Thank you for all who have
reviewed. Oh and one thing—could you
please go r/r "Another Fine Day" by JosiahGirl because it is a very, very, good
story with a couple really good plot twists, and she doesn't have very many, if
any reviews besides what I've reviewed. Thank you!!
Chapter 16
There was nothing more the doctors could do, the nurses said. This resulted in an almost entire corner of a hallway in the hospital being packed with newsies. They waited in suspense outside the door, each holding their breath, each wondering how Jack, Spot, and Becca would take it.
The three were the only ones in the room save Thomas. Rhys had just left, for he and Thomas spent the entire afternoon "clearing things up." He insisted on exiting the room, giving the grandchildren and their grandfather privacy. Since Thomas gave Rhys permission to leave, no one else could argue. Now he (Rhys) was out in the hallway as well, making his best effort to get to know his children and nephew's friends better. Due to the circumstances, the newsies tried especially hard to become more acquainted with Rhys as well.
Spot resumed pacing the room while muttering, "what d'the doctahs know, the quacks, they ain't Conlons, they don't know how strong wese are." Becca was scrawling away, her writing instincts activated by the heightening emotions that swamped the room in an ever-thickening fog. Jack went back in forth between the two, trying to calm down the former while being swatted away by the latter for reading over her shoulder. All activity cased when a hacking cough followed by a wheezing intake of breath broke the relative silence, like a clanging church bell.
Jack, Spot, and Becca rushed to Thomas's bedside, Spot standing parallel to Becca and Jack. The sickly man quieted his cough and squinted mock-menacingly at Becca, a twinkle in his eyes. "An infernal scratching woke me from my doctor-prescribed rest, and a dream I was quite enjoying." Despite the humor in Thomas's words, his voice was evidently more frail than what was healthy. "It sounded distinctly like a pencil on paper. "Who is the culprit?" Becca raised a meek hand, making no effort to wipe the petite grin off her face. Thomas reached out to her, "Well, let's have it then. May as well read what woke me up, for there's no getting back to sleep now."
Becca's grin faded as she hesitantly handed the paper over to her grandfather, much to the bafflement of Spot and Jack. Even though Dave was Becca's proclaimed editor by the songwriter herself, Becca was still often reluctant to let Dave read much of what she wrote before she read it over a few times first. This timidity was the same, if not magnified, with anyone else save Thomas. Becca would always give her grandfather writings of hers without even taking a single glance at the finished product.
Thomas's eyes lingered on the paper for a while as he carefully read every word. After a long silence, Thomas raised his gaze to meet Becca's. "Is this really how you feel?" Becca squirmed as she stammered an answer,
"Well, it's just…the mood here is so…and with all that's…and everything the doc—doctors say…" she trailed off, looking deeply into her grandfather's eyes as he looked into hers. Becca felt a calming peace settle around her. For the first time in her life, the phrase "everything's gonna be alright," had a tangible meaning. Thomas stretched out the hand that held Becca's paper and she took her writing back. In a fluid yet pensive movement, Becca took up her pencil and scribbled a few more lines at the bottom of the paper. She handed it back to Thomas when she was finished.
The elder Conlon read over her completed writing and nodded slowly in approval. The motion was rusty, like gears that hadn't been used or taken care of in years being forced into action, so that Jack half expected to hear the squeaking complaint of the underused machinery as it turned. "Much better. Ends quite profoundly this way." Thomas folded up the paper with shaky, fumbling hands. He gave the paper back to Becca and lay his head back against his pillow with a groaning sound that he unsuccessfully tried to conceal. Jack, Spot, and Becca's faces poured over with concern as they leaned in closer to their grandfather, asking him various questions about what they could do to make him more comfortable, how they could help him, did he want to be alone so he could get some good rest, did he want one of them to get a nurse or doctor, etc. Thomas waved them quiet.
"No, no, I'm fine. Just the three of you stay here, that's all you can do." He peered directly at Spot, who was about to
protest, and silenced him. "Even you,
Sean." Thomas had never taken to calling
Spot by his newsie name when they were alone. He understood Spot's desire to be the leader of
"I will, Grandpa." Thomas slowly closed his eyes, opening them a moment later. (A moment that consisted of various forms of panic in his grandchildren.)
"Becca, come here." The sixteen-year-old's lip quivered as she moved closer to her grandfather. Thomas gazed at her for a handful of seconds before reaching up to touch her cheek. "You're the mirror image of your mother. You've got a great gift. Keep writing, and make sure to keep this boys in line."
"I will, Grandpa." Thomas's gaze turned to Jack.
"And you, Jack." Becca stepped aside to allow her brother nearer to their grandfather.
"Yeah, Grandpa?"
"You see yourself as the leader of the group sitting outside. Many of them look up to you, but even more are your friends as well. Some friends are closer than family can ever be. Your true family are the people you love, whether or not they are blood related. Always remember that." Jack's voice was thick,
"I will." Finally, Thomas's eyes swerved to Spot.
"Ah, Sean." Spot fought to keep his heart from beating too hard as he followed his grandfather's beckoning hand.
"Grandpa?"
"You are a true and natural leader, Sean. And you are doing a fine job at what you do. I realize that it is necessary to maintain a certain image whilst in your leadership position, especially when it fits your personality. I am sorry that I never said this before, and even sometimes made it to seem like I did not fully approve of the way you lead your newsies. But I am proud of you." Spot nodded, not trusting his voice. His grandfather understood. Thomas arranged his head so that he had a clear view of all his grandchildren.
"I am proud of each and every one of you, and I love all of you beyond what words can express." With that, he lay his head in a resting position and with a few words about rest in a tone barely the volume of a whisper, the rise and fall of Thomas Conlon's chest ceased.