Thank you once again for the sweet reviews!! I must apologize to you for
the delay in updating and will try to keep the explanation short (yeah,
right). I have left my position as a therapist, or am leaving and have
taken on a new position. I've been putting in about 60 hrs between
offices, couple that with the nasty cold (bronchitis) I've had and a 4 year
old and well..enough excuses..on with the show..hope you enjoy this.
Not believing his eyes, he briefly held his breath fearing it might only be a dream, a dream that his shooting star wish finally came true, but it was not a dream for there she was sitting on the floor in front of him. Rolling his eyes skyward, he silently thanked his mother for her words of wisdom all those years ago never to pass up the chance to make a wish, whether it be blowing out candles, falling stars, or throwing a much needed, hard earned penny into a fountain. Jack paused at the top of the stairs, swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to find his voice to speak.
"Sarah?"
Emerson jumped at the sound behind her almost afraid to turn to face the voice. She found the voice vaguely familiar, but was unable to place it right away, knowing it had to belong to one of the young men who lived below. Feeling him move toward her, Emerson attempted to stand. Applying weight to the right ankle produced extreme pain causing flailing arms as she began to fall.
Catching her just in time for both of them to land in a heap on the floor, Jack planted a light kiss on her lips. With Emerson in his lap, Jack took a closer look at the girl's face and realized he had mistaken her identity. She resembled Sarah in many ways especially in the moonlit room, but her eyes revealed the physical similarly was as far as any resemblance went. These eyes were warm, caring and full of something he had rarely seen before, hope. They almost seemed to see right through him to his soul.
She was taken aback for only a minute before making the move away from the boy and choosing to ignore the kiss lest embarrass them both. Sliding off his lap, over to the stack of newspapers she had tripped over, Emerson looked down at her rescuer. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else."
"I figured as much. I am sorry to have woken you; I tripped over these papers and hit my elbow on the ledge." Touching the pile beneath her, she explained the noise she caused.
"Um, beg pardon, but who are you and what are you doing here? Do you know where you are?"
Taking a deep breath, Emerson thought back to that time on the roof and the stories the boys shared with her and her father and knew if she could trust anyone with her own story, she could trust the newsies. Her heart ached to tell her story to someone, needing to vent some of the pent-up pain and confusion lying within. Not wanted to bring anyone else into harm over her problems, she hesitated briefly before deciding she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
"Yes, I know where I am, my name is Emerson Lewis and I was hoping to hide out here for a few days."
Before she was able to continue, Jack broke in with a thought of his own. "Emerson Lewis, now why does that name sound so familiar?" He paused only briefly before remembering his earlier conversation with Medda. "You're John's daughter, aren't you?"
"Yes. That is why I am here. My parents were killed a few days ago." She went on with her story, telling Jack of the day she passed by the factory witnessing the dead child which led to the factory tour. She told him how she spent the better part of it in the washroom with food poisoning, about her parent's death, the funeral, the man who talked to her and her plans to lie low until her father's lawyer came back into town.
"I thought I could stay here without anyone knowing and slip out to Mr. Phiscomb's office on Friday. I realize it is not a very well thought out plan, but I have nowhere else to go."
Emerson was normally an emotional person anyway, and telling the events that brought her to the lodging house opened the floodgates causing tears to slide down her cheeks like a waterfall.
Realizing her need to release all the mental anguish she felt, Jack thought it better to move up to the roof for fear of waking the sleeping boys below. Standing, he walked over, picked up one of the blankets off the floor and back to Emerson offering her a hand up. "Can you walk?"
Nodding she took his hand, rose, adding a little weight to her ankle. It ached a bit, but with some movement would be fine. She must have just twisted it when she fell.
Jack stepped out the window and on to the fire escape offering a hand to steady Emerson as she joined him. Once on the roof he motioned to a makeshift davenport fashioned of crates and cushions for her to sit.
The night air was a little chilly, but just what she needed to clear her mind. Goosebumps covered her arms and a rush of cold caused a quick shiver. Taking the blanket, Jack unfolded it, threw it around her shoulders and sat down beside her.
"Thank you. Again, I am terribly sorry."
"No, need, we all have our stories here in the house and we are always willing to help someone trying to hide. Why I've had to do it myself a few times, well, more than a few times, but who's counting."
Finally looking into the eyes of the boy, Emerson realized he was the young man who seemed to be the leader of the pack. The one they called, what was it again, she could not remember. Guardian of the younger boys, protector of their young and innocent lives, defender and big brother for many of them, he was the one they trusted. She would need to learn to trust him too. Cowboy that was what they called him, Cowboy, quite the strange name for someone who lives in New York City. The nearest cow was miles away.
Until the past week, her life had been fairly easy, but trust had been difficult for Emerson having seen it betrayed so many times. John and Anna were very trusting people, too trusting in her eyes after seeing them deceived time after time. John never gave up trying to find the good in people or in trusting them. Wanting to share in this trait, Emerson tried, but found herself cautious, heavily guarding herself against heartache.
Not believing his eyes, he briefly held his breath fearing it might only be a dream, a dream that his shooting star wish finally came true, but it was not a dream for there she was sitting on the floor in front of him. Rolling his eyes skyward, he silently thanked his mother for her words of wisdom all those years ago never to pass up the chance to make a wish, whether it be blowing out candles, falling stars, or throwing a much needed, hard earned penny into a fountain. Jack paused at the top of the stairs, swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to find his voice to speak.
"Sarah?"
Emerson jumped at the sound behind her almost afraid to turn to face the voice. She found the voice vaguely familiar, but was unable to place it right away, knowing it had to belong to one of the young men who lived below. Feeling him move toward her, Emerson attempted to stand. Applying weight to the right ankle produced extreme pain causing flailing arms as she began to fall.
Catching her just in time for both of them to land in a heap on the floor, Jack planted a light kiss on her lips. With Emerson in his lap, Jack took a closer look at the girl's face and realized he had mistaken her identity. She resembled Sarah in many ways especially in the moonlit room, but her eyes revealed the physical similarly was as far as any resemblance went. These eyes were warm, caring and full of something he had rarely seen before, hope. They almost seemed to see right through him to his soul.
She was taken aback for only a minute before making the move away from the boy and choosing to ignore the kiss lest embarrass them both. Sliding off his lap, over to the stack of newspapers she had tripped over, Emerson looked down at her rescuer. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else."
"I figured as much. I am sorry to have woken you; I tripped over these papers and hit my elbow on the ledge." Touching the pile beneath her, she explained the noise she caused.
"Um, beg pardon, but who are you and what are you doing here? Do you know where you are?"
Taking a deep breath, Emerson thought back to that time on the roof and the stories the boys shared with her and her father and knew if she could trust anyone with her own story, she could trust the newsies. Her heart ached to tell her story to someone, needing to vent some of the pent-up pain and confusion lying within. Not wanted to bring anyone else into harm over her problems, she hesitated briefly before deciding she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
"Yes, I know where I am, my name is Emerson Lewis and I was hoping to hide out here for a few days."
Before she was able to continue, Jack broke in with a thought of his own. "Emerson Lewis, now why does that name sound so familiar?" He paused only briefly before remembering his earlier conversation with Medda. "You're John's daughter, aren't you?"
"Yes. That is why I am here. My parents were killed a few days ago." She went on with her story, telling Jack of the day she passed by the factory witnessing the dead child which led to the factory tour. She told him how she spent the better part of it in the washroom with food poisoning, about her parent's death, the funeral, the man who talked to her and her plans to lie low until her father's lawyer came back into town.
"I thought I could stay here without anyone knowing and slip out to Mr. Phiscomb's office on Friday. I realize it is not a very well thought out plan, but I have nowhere else to go."
Emerson was normally an emotional person anyway, and telling the events that brought her to the lodging house opened the floodgates causing tears to slide down her cheeks like a waterfall.
Realizing her need to release all the mental anguish she felt, Jack thought it better to move up to the roof for fear of waking the sleeping boys below. Standing, he walked over, picked up one of the blankets off the floor and back to Emerson offering her a hand up. "Can you walk?"
Nodding she took his hand, rose, adding a little weight to her ankle. It ached a bit, but with some movement would be fine. She must have just twisted it when she fell.
Jack stepped out the window and on to the fire escape offering a hand to steady Emerson as she joined him. Once on the roof he motioned to a makeshift davenport fashioned of crates and cushions for her to sit.
The night air was a little chilly, but just what she needed to clear her mind. Goosebumps covered her arms and a rush of cold caused a quick shiver. Taking the blanket, Jack unfolded it, threw it around her shoulders and sat down beside her.
"Thank you. Again, I am terribly sorry."
"No, need, we all have our stories here in the house and we are always willing to help someone trying to hide. Why I've had to do it myself a few times, well, more than a few times, but who's counting."
Finally looking into the eyes of the boy, Emerson realized he was the young man who seemed to be the leader of the pack. The one they called, what was it again, she could not remember. Guardian of the younger boys, protector of their young and innocent lives, defender and big brother for many of them, he was the one they trusted. She would need to learn to trust him too. Cowboy that was what they called him, Cowboy, quite the strange name for someone who lives in New York City. The nearest cow was miles away.
Until the past week, her life had been fairly easy, but trust had been difficult for Emerson having seen it betrayed so many times. John and Anna were very trusting people, too trusting in her eyes after seeing them deceived time after time. John never gave up trying to find the good in people or in trusting them. Wanting to share in this trait, Emerson tried, but found herself cautious, heavily guarding herself against heartache.