Disclaimers: WHOOO HOOO! Double digit chapters baby! Uh huh! That's right- I'm on chapter 10, I didn't make it up, it's real! Okay, I love the world of the reviews…it's a wonderful surprise when I wake up and go to my computer where a happy little envelope is bouncing all over the screen, telling me I've got NEW REVIEWS! *Sigh* Just lovely.
Chapter Ten
The snow fell steadily outside the lodging house. Luckily, no one was out in it, trying to sell papers, they were all safely inside, playing cards and just plainly being newsies. They're not boys- they're newsies. Kloppman's words came to mind as Moira glanced around the room at the rowdy boys. She surveyed the common room, eyes resting on Kid Blink as he watched the arm wrestling match going on between Mush and Specs. Something about him had been bothering her about him lately.
"Hey, Blink." Moira called to her cycloptic friend. He looked up as she beckoned him to join her on the beaten down sofa.
"What's up?" He asked, running a hand through his hair.
"Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?"
"I guess it wouldn't hoit nuttin'."
"What happened to your eye?" She asked, pointing to her own eye. Blink smiled without showing his teeth.
"Dat's a long story, Moira."
"Tell me." She prodded, nudging his shoulder.
"Come wid me." Without another word, Kid Blink stood up, grabbed the ratty blanket off the back of the sofa and started to walk upstairs. "Bring your coat." He called back to her. Scrambling to her feet, Moira grabbed her coat and followed him up to the roof. Once there, he brushed some snow off the ground and put the blanket down. They sat, feet off the sides as usual.
"So, why are we up here?" Moira asked, curiously.
"I dunno. I just like sittin' up here. It's nice, huh?"
"It's a little cold." She pulled her jacket tighter. "If you don't want to tell me about your eye, I won't ask anymore."
"When I was five, my fadda woiked in da stables. Takin' care of da horses, ya know? I used ta go wid 'im sometimes. I'd be helpin' 'im, he used ta say. So, one day, he says ta me, he says 'son, go get me a hoof pick, a crop, and a brush.' So I goes into da back room, gets da brush, and da crop, but da hoof picks was hangin' on dis hook way up at da top. I'se only five, remembah, and I couldn't reach it. So, I takes da handle of da crop and tried ta knock it of da hook. Well, I knocked it off, but da pick fell down and caught me right in da eye." Blink finished, sadly, looking down at the street.
"Oh my God! Really?" Moira asked, horrified at the thought of a five year old losing his eye. He smiled.
"No, not really. I just made dat up. Actually, I used ta wear glasses, right? And before I runs away from home, I gots into a fight wid my old man, and he hit me. Da glasses broke I lost me vision in me right eye." Moira's mouth hung open. She wanted to hug the poor boy.
"Oh my, that's awful."
"Yeah- it ain't true eidah." He confessed smiling and lighting a new cigarette. Moira whacked him on the arm.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"Not taday. But maybe someday."
"She watched with interest as he took a long drag of the cig. "May I try that again?" She ventured bravely. He looked at her with surprise.
"Are you sure?" She nodded. "Knock ya self out, Princess." Blink handed over the smoking cylinder. Moira put it in her mouth, as she'd seen them all do so many times and inhaled, remembering not to breathe too deeply to avoid a coughing spell like last time. She still coughed deeply again, but Blink encouraged her to take another puff. She did, and the coughing subsided after a few more drags. Smiling, after a few minutes, she handed the cigarette back to Blink, feeling odd relaxed.
"Thanks, I think I needed that." She said, making him smile.
"You're all right, kid." He told her, patting her shoulder. "You're all right." They sat together in silence for a minute before Moira shivered, shaking the snow from her hair and coat. "Why don't ya go back inside?" He suggested.
"Aren't you coming?"
"Nah- I'll be down. I'se just gonna sit for a liddle. But go on, you'se cold. I don't wantcha gettin' sick or nuttin'." Moira shrugged and went downstairs, where she found David sitting on the stairs.
"Hey." He greeted, as Moira sat down next to him. "Where were you?"
"Up on the roof." David looked surprised,
"Alone?"
"No, I was talking to Blink."
"Anything important?"
"No, not really. Just…things."
"So, tell me, what does Moira Bailey want for Christmas?" David asked, after a few seconds. She smiled at him,
"Aside from you shipping my mother to the West Indies, I'm not sure if there's anything I really need."
"Ah, but I didn't ask what you needed, I asked what you wanted. These are two very different things."
"Hmm, I don't know, David. What do you want?"
"Use your judgment." He answered simply, looking at his pocket watch. "Come on, I'd better get you home." She groaned. "Come on, no complaining. Hey, Les, we're gonna head home."
"Goodbye boys!" Moira called into the room, getting a chorus of farewells, as Les picked up his coat and followed them out the door with a handful of drawings Moira had done.
"It's almost Christmas, Moira. Aren't you excited?" Les asked, full of energy, as he and his brother walked her across the street. The snow had let up, just as the sun was going down.
"It's not the same when you get to be my age, kid." She told him, ruffling his hair. Suddenly, she had a thought, "David, when it's snowing like this, no one sells papers, right?"
"That's what I'm assuming. Why?"
"Well, what about when it isn't snowing, but still winter?"
"We sell in the cold, Moira. And most of the boys get sick."
"They do?" She asked, surprised at how concerned she was.
"Well, most of them don't have coats or gloves or even proper shoes. Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering." Moira covered, as the boys left her with hugs at her doorstep. She walked up to the apartment, a few minutes early, formulating a plan.
Ah, Christmas, truly a magical time. Well, at least, it looked magical. The lights and tinsel decorated and illuminated the city of New York so much that Moira no longer hated doing her errands. It was so much fun to watch people as they bustled past, carrying packages home from the department stores. One Saturday, two weeks before Christmas, Moira ventured into one of these stores and looked around. She'd been in one before, but rarely by herself and hardly ever with a purpose. Today she was a woman on a mission-to get something suitable for the newsies, her mother, David, Les, Sarah, and Jack. She knew what she was getting for the tenants of the lodging house, and some idea of what she was going to get for Sarah, but the men in her life…hmm…now that was a tough one.
"Well, first thing's first." She murmured aloud, heading over to the Men's Department. They didn't have enough of what she needed, and they had to back order it for her. This was probably a good thing, Moira concluded, trying to figure out how she would get them all home. She was given the total, an obscene amount of money, which left her mouth hanging open. "H-how much was that again?" She asked, not sure if she'd heard right.
"Four hundred and seventy dollars miss." The man told her, expectantly waiting while she wrote out a check with a shaking hand. Ripping off, she handed it to him, trying not to feel too guilty. "Will there be anything else?"
"N-no. Not today." She told him quickly, turning and walking away from the department. That narrows down the price range a bit. She thought to herself, and then going to the jewelry section, where she picked out a pretty, but relatively inexpensive necklace for Sarah. On the third floor-Children's-Moira found a board game for Les, which she decided, that if paired with a bag of candy, would certainly be enough for the little boy. After paying, she left the department store, packages in hand, and made her way further into town to browse.
PARTICULAR PAGES the sign above the store read. Moira looked up at it for a moment, before deciding that it couldn't hurt to investigate the bookstore. She pushed open the door, a scent of pipe and vanilla greeted her as someone bustled past and out into the cold. Moira took to one of the rows of leather bound and thick volumes of books that lined every shelf and were scattered over any other available surface. "David- what on Earth will I get you?" She asked herself, running a finger over the spines of the books.
"Hello!" A jovial old man crowed, from out of nowhere, scaring the bejesus out of Moira, making her jump a mile into the air.
"Hello." She breathed, recovering from the surprise.
"What are you looking for?" He asked as she took in his appearance. He was very short, several inches smaller than she was, portly, white-haired with a mustache to match that he continually twisted to maintain the handlebar shape.
"Well, I'm looking for a book for a friend of mine." The little man brightened.
"Might this be a gentleman friend?" He asked slyly.
"Yes, actually, it is. Unfortunately, I'm not sure what to get him."
"Tell me about him, my sweet, and we'll see what we can do." The gentleman took her arm and led her down the rows.
"He's smart, funny, sensitive…" Moira continued listing all of David's good qualities as her personal literature assistant plucked a book off one of the higher shelves, making Moira wonder how he'd reached it- but he had, and handed it to her. She looked at the title. "Yeats- the collective works." She read, the little man nodded happily.
"Read a bit." He encouraged.
"Your eyes that once were never weary of mine
Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,
Because our love is waning. Do you think he would like this?" Moira asked, after opening to a random page and reading the first few lines of a poem. The man nodded. She considered for a minute. "How much is this?"
"Four dollars."
"I'll take it."
"Good good!" She followed him to the register, where he rang her up, took the cash she offered, and placed the book in the bag. She thanked him again and headed out to find her most difficult gift- something for Jack.
There were only so many things she could think of before she ran out of ideas. She would have gotten him a book with David's if she thought he would read it. But she had a feeling he wouldn't.
After searching for an entire two hours, Moira came to the decision that Jack Kelly was impossible to shop for. She went home, dropped off her packages at the empty apartment, then crossed the street to the lodging house, which she found to be bustling and hustling with live- a nice change from the solemnity that was her home.
She took a seat in the common room, on the sofa, with a piece of blank paper and a pencil, observing, feeling the urge to draw. On the other side of the room, David and Jack were talking about something while Les sat in between them, listening intently. Moira picked up her pencil and began to sketch; letting her hands do the thinking and her mind come up with an idea for what she was going to do for Jack.
***
On Christmas Eve, the Bailey's were invited to a party- this time; however, Moira was forbidden to call off from it. Kathryn pulled tightly on the corset stays, trying to make Moira's waist look like the girl's in the magazines. Her daughter, scarcely being able to breathe, held on to the doorframe, holding her breath each time the stays were tightened.
"Okay, Mother, I think that's quite enough." She coughed, not being able to stand it anymore.
"Very well, I think that's the best I can do." She looked dissatisfied with the appearance of Moira's figure.
"It'll be fine. If I can't breathe, then I can't eat, right?" Moira asked, dismissively. Her mother had never come out and told Moira that she thought she was fat, but there were little hints dropped all of the time.
"Correct." Kathryn took the dress her daughter was to wear from off of the hanger. It was stunning, and had been made especially for her. Floor length red taffeta, with a black slip dress over top that stopped just before the bottom, leaving a few inches of fiery red material to be seen. There were tiny black beads sewn all over the dress in a cascading spiral around the bodice and skirt before coming to a thick band that circled the neckline and weaved down the sleeves. Moira stepped into it and waited patiently while her mother did up all fifty-five of the tiny buttons in the back.
"Mother, don't you think it's a bit low?" She asked, noticing how the neckline scooped down, exposing her cleavage.
"Moira, the designer of this dress is French. I personally think it's too low, but he assured me that this is what everyone is wearing in Europe. You'll look fine." Even with this, Moira tried to pull the dress up just a little in the front. "Stop it, you'll pop off a bead."
God forbid. Moira thought sarcastically as her mother led her to her vanity, and began to do her hair.
"I will never understand, for the life of my, what possessed you to cut off your beautiful hair." She said, in a bit of a melancholy tone. Moira had told her that she had cut the hair off herself and sold it to a wig maker, and now said nothing as her hair was pinned and twisted into an elegant knot with curls hanging around her face. "Lovely." Moira remained silent as her mother added a bit of powder to her face, a little bit of kohl around the eyes, stained her lips with a red liquid that tasted like raspberries, and touched her cheeks with a dollop of rouge. "Very pretty, my dear."
"Thank you, Mother." Moira stood up, slipped into the black satin shoes that pinched her toes at the top, and made her way into the parlor. Just as she was about to ease her way onto the sofa, there was an abrupt three knocks on the door. Opening it, she saw Jack standing there, looking around with interest. "Oh, hello Jack." She greeted, quietly, hoping her mother wouldn't hear her. He looked at her, mouth hanging slightly open.
"Wow. You look…uh…nice." She blushed.
"Thank you. Was there something you needed?"
"Oh, uh…well…uh…we was all talkin' and we wanted you ta come ova and spend Christmas Eve wid us." Jack invited, making Moira's heart sink. A night with the newsies sounded so much more appealing than what she had to do.
"I would love to. Unfortunately, my mother and I were invited to a Christmas party, I have to go." She admitted, depressed.
"Moira, who's there?" Kathryn asked, from behind. Moira grimaced and pulled the door open to reveal the caller to her mother. Jack stepped into the apartment and strode over to Kathryn, extended his hand, and introduced himself,
"Hello. I'm Jack Kelly, I woik over at da-"
"I know who you are, Mr. Kelly." Kathryn cut him off quickly. "You worked with my father, he's told me about you. Is there something we can do for you?" Moira loved how her mother used the word 'we' as if her opinion mattered even to people she had never met.
"I just came ova ta invite your lovely daughter ova ta da house for a liddle Christmas Eve bash. But she informs me you've already made plans."
"Yes, we have." There was a moment of silence before Kathryn turned to her daughter, "Moira, I'm going to go finish getting ready." She stopped there, raised an eyebrow and waited for a response.
"I'll just say goodbye and do the same." Moira answered mechanically. Her mother nodded, turned on her heel, and left the room, moments before Moira followed Jack out into the hall to say goodbye.
"She's piece 'a woik, ain't she?" Jack commented, pushing his hair out of his eyes.
"Yes, that's one way to describe her." Moira rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall.
"Where ya goin' again?"
"To a party. Another mindless soiree with shallow conversation and bland food."
"Sounds like fun."
"Oh yes, a good time to be had by all." She replied dryly, looking to the ceiling, as if for some kind of divine rescue. None came,
"Do you still want me ta put everyone's presents on deir bunks tamorrah?"
"Yes, I would, if you don't mind." Jack nodded.
"Will do. But, I'se gonna go letcha get goin'. Don't wanna be da one responsible for makin' da Bailey ladies wait." He chuckled for a minute. "You do look really nice, dough. Just so ya know."
"Why, thank you." Moira smiled. Jack turned to go, but then changed his mind, turned back around, hugged her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"Merry Christmas, Moira." He told her with a wink.
"Merry Christmas, Jack." She smiled, surprised. "I was planning on stopping over tomorrow afternoon, will that be all right?"
"Like we could say no ta you." Jack smiled and shook his head. "We'll be waitin'." He gave her a wave and started down the steps as Moira disappeared back into her home.
The night passed quickly, as Moira sat at the party with her painted smile and false laughter. She was relieved when she and her mother left the party and attended midnight mass at the Catholic Church a few blocks from their house. The Bailey women took the carriage ride mostly in silence until,
"William Baxter seemed to be rather interested in you." Kathryn commented as they neared home.
"I'm very glad for him."
"I was hoping you might have something positive to say, after all you did dance with him twice."
"The looks you kept shooting at me were frightening, I would have done just about anything to get away from them." Moira explained, in a noticeably bad mood.
"I don't want to fight with you."
"Then let's not fight. It's Christmas Eve, let's just go home." The carriage pulled up in front of the apartment building, and they both got out, walked to their rooms with scarcely another word between them.
Christmas morning came and went, Moira and her mother exchanged gifts, then had breakfast together as was their tradition. Around noon, Kathryn announced she had people to see, and left with an armful of packages to exchange with her friends. Moira sighed with relief, took a bath, fixed herself up a bit, grabbed the presents she had taken so much care in wrapping herself, and headed over to the LH, where her boys were waiting.
When she got there, she found Snipeshooter, Mush, Kid Blink, and Specs having a snowball fight on the sidewalk, each wearing a new, heavy coat and a pair of pig skin gloves. They stopped the skirmish of fallen snow when they saw, and ran over to greet her with hugs.
"I see you all got my presents." She laughed, commenting on their outdoor apparel. She had bought a new coat and gloves for each of them, which was what had lightened her bank account so early on in the month.
"Thanks, Moira." Specs said, sincerely. The others chorused similar sentiments.
"Not a problem, gentlemen. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas!" They called as she made her way into the house.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS, BOYS!" Moira yelled at the top of her lungs, upon entering the house. She was greeted with a variety of thank you's and holiday greetings when she got into the common room. Everyone was quite pleased with their gifts, and randomly came over to hug her or tell her thank you.
Jack came into the room, looking surprised,
'Well, what do we have here? I didn't t'ink you was comin' till ladah." He gave her a friendly punch in the shoulder. "I guess we'll just hafta give ya your present now, whaddya say boys?" He asked the room, getting sounds of approval. "Hang on." Jack retreated from the room and came back several minutes later with a package sloppily wrapped in newspaper and handed it to her.
She carefully pulled off the paper, exposing a thick book bound in brown leather.
"Open it." Racetrack prodded. She did, and flipping through the pages realized it was a sketchbook, and from the looks of it, a rather expensive one at that. "Read de inside." Race ordered, opening to the inside cover where there was a message written in David's handwriting:
To our future artist,
What do you see? We hope this helps you.
You always got family here. Remember that.
Merry Christmas.
Love,
Your boys at the LH
She smiled; feeling sentimental tears welling up her eyes. "Thank you." She choked up, greatly moved by the thoughtfulness of the gift.
"Aww, don't cry about it, it was nuttin." Bumlets shrugged, smiling.
The Jacobs came over later that day. Moira was able to exchange gift with Sarah and Les, who had pulled their money together and bought her a book on drawing. After a little while, she pulled David into the kitchen and placed his gift in front of him.
"This is my favorite poet- how did you know?" He asked, in mild amazement, after he'd opened it. Moira shrugged,
"Just a lucky guess I suppose." He smiled at her, and seemed to remember something,
"Oh, I have something for you too." He pulled out a rectangular box from his vest pocket. "Here you go, merry Christmas." She opened the box slowly and gasped as she saw that inside was a beautiful silver charm bracelet.
"David, it's beautiful! Thank you so much." Moira threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He smiled modestly and helped her put it on. She couldn't help but notice that there were only two charms.
"I only bought two, because I figured you could add more whenever you wanted." He explained quickly. Moira looked at the two little silver figures, one of a paintbrush, and another of a book. She smiled at him and hugged him again.
"Hey, Kelly." She called to Jack, who was sitting on the roof, in his usual spot, just as the sun was going down. He turned around and smiled at her, she walked over to him. "May I sit with you?"
"It's a free country, sit where ya like." She took a seat, and watched the colors in the sky shine from pinks and purples, mixing with the deep reds and the blue that was still trying to peek through the inevitable sunset. "Nice, huh?" Moira didn't say anything, mesmerized by the colors.
"It's amazing how people can look at that and say there's no God." Jack looked at his companion for a minute,
"What do you mean?"
"He's painting again." She answered simply. He smiled at the child-like statement, and they watched as slowly, the colors faded away into a deep blue freckled with silver stars. "I have something for you." Moira said suddenly, remembering the reason she'd come out on the roof in the first place, and handed him the two things she had combined to make up his Christmas gift. He looked at her for a minute before tearing the paper off of the solid square.
"A Tale of Two Cities." Jack read the title and flipped through the pages.
"It's my favorite. I took a chance and thought you might want to attempt it." She told him, noting the confusion on his face.
"Thanks."
"Wait, there's something else." She held up the rolled up piece of paper that had been sitting on top of the book. He picked it up and unrolled it, jaw dropping when he realized what it was a picture of: himself, sitting atop a horse, in a Santa Fe setting.
"Wow, Moira. Dis is…wow." He stuttered, searching for the proper words. "Wait a minute. I t'ought you couldn't draw from your head?"
"I didn't. You actually gave me inspiration. I went back to the Metropolitan Museum and, after a bit of searching, found a picture of a cowboy in Santa Fe. So, I drew what I could, then went home and found a picture that I had done of you already, and sort of substituted what I didn't have done. And you, monsieur, are looking at the finished result." She concluded, quite proud of herself.
"Wow. Thank you." He said, suddenly, and pulled her into another hug. Moira didn't know what to do. Jack had transitioned from the world's most irritating soul, to a friend so quickly that Moira sometimes forgot that it had actually happened. She hugged him back, and sat silently once he'd released her. After awhile, he stood up to go inside. "Are ya comin'?" He asked, extending a hand to help her up.
"I'll be in in a minute." She told him, buttoning her coat. Jack nodded, and turned to go inside.
Once she was certain the door was closed and no one else was coming up, Moira tilted her face up to the sky. "Hey, Grandpa. How ya doin'?" She asked the stars. "I know you can hear me, I just wish you could talk back. Is heaven nice? I'll bet it is." She sighed, able to see her breath in a cloud in front of her face. "First Christmas without you, it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. You know, it's not been easy, not having you around. I don't think anyone realized how much we all needed you." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I miss you a lot, Grandpa. So does Mother, and the boys, all of them, even if they don't let on, I know they do." Moira thought for a minute, wondering how to phrase the next thing she wanted to say. "I'm not sure if you know this, but Jack and I, we've become friends. And, I hate to say; it's because of you. He's not a bad guy, really, he's just…different. I like being around him. So, I suppose I wanted to say thank you for giving me Jack as a friend- he's been a big help." A single tear rolled down Moira's cold cheek as she looked out onto the lights of the city. "Merry Christmas, Grandpa. Merry Christmas." Slowly, Moira got to her feet and went inside.
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WHOOOO HOOO! It is finished! I am free! Well, no, the story is far from over, but at least chapter ten, which followed me around like a plague, is finished. AND NOW ON TO CHAPTER 11! Thanks for the support my peeps!
