The next morning, I woke with a start, haunted by memories and nightmares.
My cat, Pixie, cuddled against my legs, trying to provide any comfort
possible. I stroked her fluffy coat absently for a moment before preparing
for the day.
Descending the stairs, I inspected the pictures on the wall. Faces of my past stared back at me. My parent's wedding picture, family portraits and neighborhood social pictures, all distant memories. They filled my eyes with tears.
"Come now," Mrs. Paige said, pulling me from the pictures. "Let me make you some breakfast."
We sat at the small table in the kitchen, having the tea and toast that she had prepared.
"What am I going to do now, Mrs. Paige?" I asked, noticing more desperation in my voice than I cared for.
A forced smile crossed her lips. "Oh, honey, don't worry about that now. There will be time for that later. Just try to relax."
I tried to take her words to heart, but relaxation was the last thing on my mind. At that moment, all of my thoughts were concentrated on finding Gabe. Everything that I had known from my past was slipping away and I needed something to grasp onto. That something was my search and the newsies.
I suddenly needed fresh air. I gave Mrs. Paige a quick hug. "I am going out for the afternoon."
When I was safely out on the street, I took a deep breath and looked around. Pulling my shawl tighter around my shoulders to bar out the cool autumn breeze, I started down the street with no particular destination. Eventually, I made my way to Central Park, sitting on a bench near the pond. For hours, I sat there watching the people pass me by. I began to wonder about their lives and their futures. It was a welcome distraction from the slew of thoughts swimming around my mind.
Suddenly, my eyes focused on a vaguely familiar figure sauntering up the path toward me. "Specs?"
"Well, hello again, Belinda," he called cheerfully.
I managed a weak smile. "Hello."
"Why the sad face beautiful?"
I smiled brighter. "It's nothing. I'm just having a bad morning."
"Come on," he said, offering me his elbow. "I know what'll cheer you up."
When we reached Tibby's, the diner was already filled with newsies. They all welcomed us with cheerful hellos as Specs and I made our way to Jack's table.
"Heya Specs, ya finally got yourself a goil? It's about time," a newsie that I didn't recognize called from his place beside Jack.
Specs' face contorted into an angry scowl. "She ain't my girl, Spot."
Jack set down his glass and patted the boy on the back. "Belinda, meet Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Spot, dis is the girl that I was tellin you about. We're helpin her find a friend."
"Heya sweetface, how's it rollin?" he asked in a thick Brooklyn accent.
I raised my eyebrows at him. "Sweetface?"
He quickly backed down, hiding behind his menu.
"So, Belinda, tell us more about this friend of yours," Race suggested, taking a seat in the empty chair beside me.
I told them as much as I could remember about Gabe, but realized that if he had changed as much as I had in six years, the description would not have been very helpful. When I had finished, I let out a light sigh of desperation.
"We'll keep askin for ya," Jack reassured, resting his hand on my arm.
I smiled. "Thank you."
The rest of the afternoon, our discussions were general and casual. I learned what it meant to be a newsie and the boys animatedly described a strike that they had organized a year earlier.
Throughout the conversation, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. At one point in the evening, I looked up to find Dutch staring at me, barely taking the time to blink. When he realized that he had been caught, he just shrugged and went back to his meal. Shifting uncomfortably, I turned my attention back to Jack and Spot's conversation.
"I'm starting a poker game back at the lodging house. You boys commin?" Race asked, returning to our table from across the room.
Specs pulled a few coins from his pocket. "Yeah. I got enough."
"Cowboy?" Race turned to Jack.
"Ah, why not? You wanna come Belinda?"
"Sure," I replied, welcoming any distraction from going home.
I sat on the window sill in the lobby, watching a table full of newsies squinting at their cards. When one boy ran out of money, another would take his seat. Soon after the game began, Specs joined me on the windowsill.
"Out of money already?" I teased.
He clanked the coins in his pocket. "Nah, I won. With these boys, you learn to quit while you're ahead."
"Smart man," I replied, studying the other boys. As I scanned the room, I once again found Dutchy staring at me from his spot on the steps. I leaved over to Specs. "What's his story?"
"Who, Dutchy? I don't know much. Nobody around here talks about the past much." He gave a slight smile.
"He still gives me the creeps," I scooted closer to Specs on the windowsill. "He's been staring at me all night."
"Aw, Dutchy's harmless. He's just not used to seein such a beautiful girl is all." He cheeks turned crimson in the candlelight and he turned away from me.
Embarrassed, I turned to glance out the window at the city. Twilight had begun to fade into darkness, casting shadows onto the street. "Well, I suppose that I should be headed home."
"You want me to walk you?" Specs asked quickly.
"Nah, I think that I'll be fine. Goodnight."
I had only gotten a few blocks when the darkness and strange noises of the city had me reconsidering Specs' offer. Determined to make it home, I continued, ignoring as many sounds as possible.
That is until I heard a hoarse voice from the shadows behind me. "My, my, what have we here?"
A pair of straggly teens stepped out from the alley. The shorter of the two began circling me, a twisted smirk on his face. "Don't know, Morris. Looks like da goirl that's been hangin around with Jack's newsies."
"I think that you're right. Whatta ya say, toots? Ya wanna see what real newspaper men are like?"
Exhausted by their cocky banter, I bypassed them and continued down the street. As I passed, I murmured, "I really couldn't care less."
"Nobody talks to me like that, girlie," the taller one snapped, pulling me back to them by the arm. A momentary surge of pain shot down my arm as he clenched his fingers.
"Let her go, Morris!" an angry voice called from behind us. Dutchy soon appeared, arms crossed, looking more intimidating than I could have imagined. "Come on, Delancy. Don't make me go get Jack and Spot."
Morris's eyes widened. "Spot?"
Dutchy nodded, causing Morris to release me and take off down the road, with Oscar close in toe.
Ignoring them, I glared at Dutchy. "Are you following me?"
"Gee, no thanks necessary for savin your neck!" he shot back.
Rolling my eyes, I spun on my heal and headed home. A few seconds later, I started to hear footsteps following me. I stopped, and without turning asked, "Dutchy, why are you following me?"
"Cause there are worse people out here than the Delancy brothers. You could get yourself hurt, or worse." He lengthened his stride to catch up to me.
"I can take care of myself, you know."
He chuckled. "Right. Like you did with Morris just now?"
I grimaced, remembering the scene and thinking about what could be worse than getting hurt on the streets. "Alright, so maybe you're right."
He cracked a smile, the first that I had seen cross his face since we met. I shot him a grin as we started down the street together.
Before I knew it, we were standing on the front stoop of my house. "Thanks for getting me home safe, Dutchy."
He just stood there, staring off into space.
"Dutchy?"
He snapped his head back to face me. "Huh?"
"Are you alright?"
He nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Well, you're home safe. I'm gonna go back. Goodnight."
He spoke so quickly that it took me a few seconds to process what he was saying. By the time that it all sank in, he had already dashed down the street.
As soon as the door clicked closed behind me, Mrs. Paige called me into the kitchen.
"This arrived for you this afternoon, dear." She handed me a sealed envelope with my name ornately written on the front.
I opened the seal carefully and pulled out a sheet of letterhead that read Murphy and Sanders, Attorneys at Law. Scanning the letter's content, I felt my knees go weak. Sinking into the chair, I stared dumfounded at the blank wall in front of me.
"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Paige asked through the fog in my head. I wordlessly handed her the letter.
"Dear Miss Spencer," she read aloud. "We understand that this is a difficult time for you, but we ask that you join us at eight am on October 20th for the settlement of the estate of Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Spencer. We apologize for any inconvenience that this might cause."
She folded the letter delicately and set it on the table beside me. "Awfully polite, aren't they. The 20th is tomorrow, Belinda."
I nodded slightly. "I know."
"Why don't you try to get some sleep, dear? Tomorrow will be a long day."
I silently climbed the stairs, completely devoid of feeling.
Descending the stairs, I inspected the pictures on the wall. Faces of my past stared back at me. My parent's wedding picture, family portraits and neighborhood social pictures, all distant memories. They filled my eyes with tears.
"Come now," Mrs. Paige said, pulling me from the pictures. "Let me make you some breakfast."
We sat at the small table in the kitchen, having the tea and toast that she had prepared.
"What am I going to do now, Mrs. Paige?" I asked, noticing more desperation in my voice than I cared for.
A forced smile crossed her lips. "Oh, honey, don't worry about that now. There will be time for that later. Just try to relax."
I tried to take her words to heart, but relaxation was the last thing on my mind. At that moment, all of my thoughts were concentrated on finding Gabe. Everything that I had known from my past was slipping away and I needed something to grasp onto. That something was my search and the newsies.
I suddenly needed fresh air. I gave Mrs. Paige a quick hug. "I am going out for the afternoon."
When I was safely out on the street, I took a deep breath and looked around. Pulling my shawl tighter around my shoulders to bar out the cool autumn breeze, I started down the street with no particular destination. Eventually, I made my way to Central Park, sitting on a bench near the pond. For hours, I sat there watching the people pass me by. I began to wonder about their lives and their futures. It was a welcome distraction from the slew of thoughts swimming around my mind.
Suddenly, my eyes focused on a vaguely familiar figure sauntering up the path toward me. "Specs?"
"Well, hello again, Belinda," he called cheerfully.
I managed a weak smile. "Hello."
"Why the sad face beautiful?"
I smiled brighter. "It's nothing. I'm just having a bad morning."
"Come on," he said, offering me his elbow. "I know what'll cheer you up."
When we reached Tibby's, the diner was already filled with newsies. They all welcomed us with cheerful hellos as Specs and I made our way to Jack's table.
"Heya Specs, ya finally got yourself a goil? It's about time," a newsie that I didn't recognize called from his place beside Jack.
Specs' face contorted into an angry scowl. "She ain't my girl, Spot."
Jack set down his glass and patted the boy on the back. "Belinda, meet Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Spot, dis is the girl that I was tellin you about. We're helpin her find a friend."
"Heya sweetface, how's it rollin?" he asked in a thick Brooklyn accent.
I raised my eyebrows at him. "Sweetface?"
He quickly backed down, hiding behind his menu.
"So, Belinda, tell us more about this friend of yours," Race suggested, taking a seat in the empty chair beside me.
I told them as much as I could remember about Gabe, but realized that if he had changed as much as I had in six years, the description would not have been very helpful. When I had finished, I let out a light sigh of desperation.
"We'll keep askin for ya," Jack reassured, resting his hand on my arm.
I smiled. "Thank you."
The rest of the afternoon, our discussions were general and casual. I learned what it meant to be a newsie and the boys animatedly described a strike that they had organized a year earlier.
Throughout the conversation, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. At one point in the evening, I looked up to find Dutch staring at me, barely taking the time to blink. When he realized that he had been caught, he just shrugged and went back to his meal. Shifting uncomfortably, I turned my attention back to Jack and Spot's conversation.
"I'm starting a poker game back at the lodging house. You boys commin?" Race asked, returning to our table from across the room.
Specs pulled a few coins from his pocket. "Yeah. I got enough."
"Cowboy?" Race turned to Jack.
"Ah, why not? You wanna come Belinda?"
"Sure," I replied, welcoming any distraction from going home.
I sat on the window sill in the lobby, watching a table full of newsies squinting at their cards. When one boy ran out of money, another would take his seat. Soon after the game began, Specs joined me on the windowsill.
"Out of money already?" I teased.
He clanked the coins in his pocket. "Nah, I won. With these boys, you learn to quit while you're ahead."
"Smart man," I replied, studying the other boys. As I scanned the room, I once again found Dutchy staring at me from his spot on the steps. I leaved over to Specs. "What's his story?"
"Who, Dutchy? I don't know much. Nobody around here talks about the past much." He gave a slight smile.
"He still gives me the creeps," I scooted closer to Specs on the windowsill. "He's been staring at me all night."
"Aw, Dutchy's harmless. He's just not used to seein such a beautiful girl is all." He cheeks turned crimson in the candlelight and he turned away from me.
Embarrassed, I turned to glance out the window at the city. Twilight had begun to fade into darkness, casting shadows onto the street. "Well, I suppose that I should be headed home."
"You want me to walk you?" Specs asked quickly.
"Nah, I think that I'll be fine. Goodnight."
I had only gotten a few blocks when the darkness and strange noises of the city had me reconsidering Specs' offer. Determined to make it home, I continued, ignoring as many sounds as possible.
That is until I heard a hoarse voice from the shadows behind me. "My, my, what have we here?"
A pair of straggly teens stepped out from the alley. The shorter of the two began circling me, a twisted smirk on his face. "Don't know, Morris. Looks like da goirl that's been hangin around with Jack's newsies."
"I think that you're right. Whatta ya say, toots? Ya wanna see what real newspaper men are like?"
Exhausted by their cocky banter, I bypassed them and continued down the street. As I passed, I murmured, "I really couldn't care less."
"Nobody talks to me like that, girlie," the taller one snapped, pulling me back to them by the arm. A momentary surge of pain shot down my arm as he clenched his fingers.
"Let her go, Morris!" an angry voice called from behind us. Dutchy soon appeared, arms crossed, looking more intimidating than I could have imagined. "Come on, Delancy. Don't make me go get Jack and Spot."
Morris's eyes widened. "Spot?"
Dutchy nodded, causing Morris to release me and take off down the road, with Oscar close in toe.
Ignoring them, I glared at Dutchy. "Are you following me?"
"Gee, no thanks necessary for savin your neck!" he shot back.
Rolling my eyes, I spun on my heal and headed home. A few seconds later, I started to hear footsteps following me. I stopped, and without turning asked, "Dutchy, why are you following me?"
"Cause there are worse people out here than the Delancy brothers. You could get yourself hurt, or worse." He lengthened his stride to catch up to me.
"I can take care of myself, you know."
He chuckled. "Right. Like you did with Morris just now?"
I grimaced, remembering the scene and thinking about what could be worse than getting hurt on the streets. "Alright, so maybe you're right."
He cracked a smile, the first that I had seen cross his face since we met. I shot him a grin as we started down the street together.
Before I knew it, we were standing on the front stoop of my house. "Thanks for getting me home safe, Dutchy."
He just stood there, staring off into space.
"Dutchy?"
He snapped his head back to face me. "Huh?"
"Are you alright?"
He nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Well, you're home safe. I'm gonna go back. Goodnight."
He spoke so quickly that it took me a few seconds to process what he was saying. By the time that it all sank in, he had already dashed down the street.
As soon as the door clicked closed behind me, Mrs. Paige called me into the kitchen.
"This arrived for you this afternoon, dear." She handed me a sealed envelope with my name ornately written on the front.
I opened the seal carefully and pulled out a sheet of letterhead that read Murphy and Sanders, Attorneys at Law. Scanning the letter's content, I felt my knees go weak. Sinking into the chair, I stared dumfounded at the blank wall in front of me.
"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Paige asked through the fog in my head. I wordlessly handed her the letter.
"Dear Miss Spencer," she read aloud. "We understand that this is a difficult time for you, but we ask that you join us at eight am on October 20th for the settlement of the estate of Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Spencer. We apologize for any inconvenience that this might cause."
She folded the letter delicately and set it on the table beside me. "Awfully polite, aren't they. The 20th is tomorrow, Belinda."
I nodded slightly. "I know."
"Why don't you try to get some sleep, dear? Tomorrow will be a long day."
I silently climbed the stairs, completely devoid of feeling.