Title: A Hero's Sin
Author: Buttons
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: Drama/General
Chapter 7—Letters
I left Irving Hall in the still of the night. The streets were cleared of all decent folks, having gone to bed or to spend the night with their families. It was cold and Christmas was in a week. The street lamps lit my way with a soft, yellow light. Frost clung to the shop fronts.
The lights were out in our flat while I dressed in my nightgown before putting my jacket back on and going out to the fire escape. There I pulled the letters out of my pocket, the paper of them yellowing and the ink faded. It was in his writing, something I had never seen before.
December 18, 1902
Dearest Medda, my oldest friend,
If you haven't yet heard, I have left New York. I can not honestly say I don't miss it. I do. I didn't that that I would ever long for the loud streets, foreign smells or crowded quarters. I miss my boys. Who will be their leader? Can you find out for me?
I have headed off. You know of my dreams, of how I long for the hot, wide open spaces, the likes of which I have never seen.
I suppose you may know about Sarah. You remember her, David Jacobs' sister. She is with child. My child.
Medda, I beg of you, do not tell Sarah or David that I am writing to you. I suppose I do love Sarah, but u was never one for a family. I miss David too. Things get lonely without a good conversation. I think, with time, Manhattan will learn to forget me. I hope this, at least
In the best situation. Sarah will find a man; one who our child will call her father. I didn't mean to leave this child fatherless. I didn't think I would leave Sarah alone.
You have kept many secrets for me Medda, I only ask you keep this last one.
Francis Jack Kelly Sullivan
PS. Here's hoping you a wonderful Christmas.
It was cold and I could feel icy tears cutting down my cheeks. I wiped them away before they froze and read the next letter.
January 1, 1903
Dear Medda,
Happy New Year! I am in Santa Fe. Everything is so different here, just like I predicted. The sky is bigger and people are slower. It is much hotter. However, the sun remains the same. I haven't much of a home yet. I am low on money and not skilled in Western trade, but I can learn. People are nice here. They are curious about New
York, but I haven't the attitude to speak about it. I tell them that it's not as good as it seems.
I have found work at a ranch of an English family, cleaning out stables. I miss seeing you at Irving Hall, Medda. I hope the boys still come to see you. You know my favorite was always High Times, Hard Times. I have such memories. Of course, there are parlor can-can girls here, but none who can hold a candle to your entertainment glory.
I hope you are well.
Francis Jack Kelly Sullivan
I could hear city sounds when I paused to switch letters. I remember the strong surge of love for the city. Something about cities makes me happy. Who wants to be surrounded by miles of barren land? I pulled my jacket tighter and read on.
January 20, 1903
Dear Medda,
I am getting used to things out here. I look forward to your letters. The English family has left the ranch to spend the rest of the winter in their country home. They say that it's in Maine, where there is snow. The middle daughter told me to write. Her name is Irish. This seems strange, considering that they're English, but her sisters are named France and Roma and her brother is named Moscow, which they tell me is a city in Russia. They have been all over and their names suggest so. I think Irish's name is the nicest though.
The cook, gardener, housekeeper and other stable boys are staying here as well. They are all very nice. I am staying with a boy named Paulie. He is eighteen and works in the stable with me. His father is a blacksmith and he has a shiny scar on one side of his face from the tongs.
Missing you,
Francis Jack Kelly Sullivan
I flipped through the letters, glancing at the dates on the top. I stopped on a thicker piece of paper, embellished with doves and bells. Over two years had gone by. It read:
March 7, 1905
Medda,
I am writing to you from the main house. I am in the den and I am very nervous. I am about to be married. I still cannot believe that Irish said 'yes', but she did. Her father doesn't trust me, but he is old and dying. Irish's mother fears that soon he will be gone. I bought a new suit. I think that I look quite handsome. It is plain black and smooth. I smell like the cinnamon soap that Irish uses. You would like it, it is spicy and fresh.
I am writing on the same paper we used for invitations. I am sorry that you weren't invited, but I think it best if no one knows about my newsie days. Medda, I really do love Irish. I think that this is the perfect time for a new start. A new beginning. Not everyone gets one of these.
Please wish me luck.
Francis Jack Kelly Sullivan
Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes and I fell into bed, burying my head in my pillow, wetting it with my salty tears. The window was still open and I fell into a poignant sleep to the sound of the city and a dog howling.
End Chapter
Wow. That's all. Please review.
Shoutouts:
mistymixwolf aka Perch—(Nichole puts collections money into tin can) Thanks! The letters made poor Nichole sad.
C.M. Higgins—I never remember writing these things until someone quotes them. Thanks!
Lady of Tir Na Nog—Look! It's Irish! You are demanding. But I would be too.
Two-Bits—I'm not continuing The Newsie Soccer Team for a while. I don't know when it'll be up-and-running again. I've retired it for the time being.
Ccat—See Jack, you've disappointed everyone! (Jack looks sad). That's right. You be sad.
newsiefreak9er9er—(Helps out of trap) There y'go! I have never been to Santa Fe, I hope I am portraying it properly.
Cakes—I like writing about the characters when they're older or younger. It's so much fun!
Tessie26—I don't mind Jack/Sarah. I didn't like Sarah that much, but I think she's allowed to have a guy once and a while. Even though he ran away in this fic…
Klicks—If you'd like, my fic is waiting to wed. And he thinks you're cute…tee hee!
christianrockstar—thanks for those nice words! Are you really a Christian rock star? You're not from Relient K, are you?