Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 14: Morning Conversations
Sadie had the distinction of being the only naturally early riser of the four Becker sisters, and while the two older girls were more or less unaffected by this characteristic (Judith being far out of reach in Boston and Lilly being of a rather placid nature to begin with), Abby did not particularly appreciate her third-oldest sister's diurnal habit of waking at what Abby considered to be a rather ungodly hour of the morning.
It wouldn't have been so bad if Sadie had just read in bed or done something quiet to pass the time, but she insisted instead on "keeping busy," which generally meant that she was bustling around the apartment, tidying up the already-immaculate sitting room, thumbing idly through the previous day's mail, working on the alterations that she'd brought home from the tailor's, or adding an embellishment to a new hat, humming under her breath as she worked. She didn't have a particularly good voice, and she knew it (Abby took the liberty of reminding her if ever she happened to forget), but that unfortunately didn't seem to stop her.
(Thankfully, Sadie generally avoided the kitchen, or else they would have had another kind of problem on their hands).
This morning, however, Abby was thankful that her sister was an early riser and of a generally agreeable disposition. It had turned out to be a rather taxing start to the day, as their mother had left for the train station in the wee hours of the morning, bound for Boston and for the home of Judith and her husband John. She would be staying with them for a week, and the Becker household would have to muddle through the best they could until she returned, which meant that Sadie and Abby were left in charge of Lilly's care while their father was busy attending to the needs of the tenement.
Lilly generally had fewer seizures in the morning, but this morning had turned out to be the exception.
Abby watched her sisters warily from the doorway of the kitchen as Lilly pitched forward yet again, prevented from falling only by Sadie's protective hold. Thankfully, they'd made it over to the couch in time.
"Abby, I'm sorry, but I think school is out of the question for today," Sadie said apologetically. The hope had been that if Lilly's morning was seizure-free, Sadie would stay home to watch her and Abby would go to school, but if Lilly was going to have a rough time of it, both girls' presence would be necessary.
"I wasn't counting on making it," Abby responded. She and her sisters had learned long ago that plans were never set in stone. Glancing down at the bowl of porridge in her hands; she resisted the urge to sigh. She'd been in the kitchen cooling it down for Lilly when the first seizure had hit, but at the rate her sister was going, the porridge would probably be completely cold by the time she was done.
One seizure led to another, and then another. Sadie's face was calmly determined, but Abby could see the strain in her eyes.
Eventually, Lilly visibly relaxed, and Sadie cautiously loosened her hold. "Let's hope that's the last one," she murmured.
They waited for several minutes. When nothing happened, Sadie asked, "Are you done, Lil?" Receiving a nod of confirmation, she looked over at Abby, who brought over the bowl of porridge and set it down on the little table that sat beside the couch.
After getting Lilly comfortably situated with her food, Abby returned to the kitchen to fetch two pieces of buttered toast. She set the larger one down in front of Sadie (figuring that her older sister deserved it) before tucking into her own piece hungrily, hoping that this was as eventful as their morning was going to get.
Sadie, normally an enthusiastic partaker of breakfast, picked absently at her toast. Daydreaming wasn't at all out of character for her, but it must have been something important to distract her from her meal. She looked thoughtful and a little sad, and Abby decided that she'd certainly had enough trouble this morning without a melancholy third-oldest sister on her hands.
"Sadie, why didn't David come for tutoring yesterday?" she asked abruptly, trying to pull her sister back to the present.
"Hmm?" Sadie asked, her mind still clearly on something else.
Abby repeated her question.
"He had something come up unexpectedly," Sadie answered, continuing to pick her toast into little pieces.
"Too bad you bothered asking all those questions in class," Abby remarked, secretly regretting the choice not to keep the bigger piece of toast for herself if her sister was going to shred it into oblivion anyway.
"Don't worry," Sadie reassured her. "It wasn't a total loss." She seemed to snap out of her pensiveness, adding in a more lively tone, "I've already told him that he'll have to make it up to me by doing something ridiculous. I just have to think of what that something will be."
"Have him teach you to bake," Abby suggested snarkily as she rose with her empty plate and began walking towards the kitchen. "I don't think anything could be more ridiculous than that, and if he survives, he'll never back out on you again for fear of having to repeat the experience!"
She dodged nimbly out of the way as her older sister threw a cushion in her direction.
"You little imp," Sadie muttered, going to fetch the pillow. Abby stuck her tongue out, then scooted quickly away as Sadie made one last-ditch effort to swat her with the cushion.
It didn't take much to pull Sadie out of the doldrums, and when Abby returned to the sitting room a few minutes later, her sister's toast had all but disappeared.
Davey found himself heading for the rooftop in the early hours of the morning. The newsboy life was going to make an early riser of him after all, he reflected. Normally, Les was the one pulling him out of bed, but these last two days, Davey had awoken to find his younger brother still asleep and the rest of the household quiet.
He'd gotten back late the night before, his feet tired from the long walk to and from Brooklyn and his mind buzzing with thoughts after a long and lively conversation with Jack. They'd covered a variety of topics - Jack, Davey noted, could get you to talk about almost anything - and to his surprise, he'd found himself opening up to the newsie leader more than he normally would with someone he'd only just met. Maybe it was the unavoidable result of them being each other's only company for several hours of walking. Maybe it was Jack's natural charisma. Or maybe Davey had underestimated himself, and he was capable of making friends easily as Jack had suggested (though of all possible explanations, this one seemed the least likely).
Whatever the case, the conversation had kept Davey's mind alert and had made the long walk more bearable, and when he was finally climbing the stairs to his family's apartment (after one last failed attempt to get Jack to stay overnight), he surprisingly felt almost ready to face the difficult conversation that he knew was coming.
His parents had waited up for him and were all too impatient to hear the explanation for his strange behavior. Davey had been half counting on Les to ease them into things by spilling the news of the strike, but surprisingly, his brother had heeded his instructions and hadn't said a word, which left it up to Davey to explain everything.
It hadn't gone as badly as it could have. Thankfully, he'd had ample time to gather his thoughts and sort through his reservations about the strike, so when it came time to account for himself in front of his parents, he was much more articulate than he would have been if they had questioned him about it before he'd had time to think things over.
The revelation that his parents had been saving up money for him - and that they were willing to let him use it to offset the loss of income that would result from the strike - had been unexpected, but Davey was grateful for it. It relieved him of the pressure to figure things out right away and assuaged a bit of the guilt that had been eating him ever since he'd realized the financial implications that the strike would have on his family. He still planned on finding a way to make money, but at least this way he wouldn't have to make any overly-hasty decisions.
By the time the conversation had concluded and he'd gotten his father settled and to bed, it had been quite late, and Davey had found himself exhausted from the long walk to and from Brooklyn and from the taxing conversation that had followed. Collapsing into bed, he'd fallen asleep almost immediately, but had awoken early in the morning again with a clear head and with a need to collect his thoughts. His feet were still a bit tired, so instead of walking the neighborhood, he'd decided to make a stop at the rooftop before heading to the circulation gate.
When he arrived, he found the rooftop deserted. Settling himself in the same spot that he'd retreated to on the night that he'd found out about his father's accident, Davey looked out over the waking city, letting his thoughts sift and sort themselves as the sun rose higher in the sky.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been ruminating, but it must have been at least a good half hour or more before he heard the sound of footsteps behind him and turned to see Sadie trudging up the stairs with a basket of laundry in her hands. Catching sight of him as she stepped onto the rooftop, she smiled cordially.
"Good morning, Davey." She set the basket down near one of the empty clotheslines. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your solitude. I just have to hang these towels up, but I won't be long."
"Oh, that's all right."
Davey got to his feet, ducking under a few of the clotheslines and walking over to her. For some reason, he didn't feel the need to be alone with his thoughts any longer, and he found himself surprisingly open to her unexpected company. "Could you use an extra set of hands?"
She looked up at him in surprise. "You certainly don't need to do that."
"I don't mind," Davey replied, taking one of the damp towels from the basket. "It actually helps me take my mind off of things sometimes."
"Is laundry something that you do often, then?" Sadie asked curiously, handing him a pair of clothespins.
Davey shrugged. "Occasionally. I learned how to help with laundry after Les was born. It was a pretty difficult birth, so my mom was laid up in bed for a while, and during that time my dad and I had to fend for ourselves." He laughed slightly at the memory, reaching for another towel. "We made a giant mess of things the first few weeks, but after a while we got the hang of it. There have been times since then where my mom's health hasn't been so good, so we just try to pitch in a little more to help when that happens, and I guess laundry was just one of those things that I picked up."
Sadie made a face at him. "And I suppose you can cook, too?" she asked, sounding slightly put out.
"Well, yeah...a little. If I have to," Davey answered, wondering how he'd managed to upset her. "Why do you ask?"
Sadie sighed, plucking another towel from the basket. "This morning, I was trying to think of something ridiculous for you to do to make up for missing our tutoring session yesterday. Abby suggested that I have you teach me how to bake." She pinned the towel to the clothesline, adding dryly, "She said that the experience will certainly keep you from canceling on me ever again - if you manage to survive the ordeal."
"I'm sure you can't be that bad at it," Davey objected, relieved that he had not, in fact, offended her. "Younger siblings tend to exaggerate sometimes. I would know."
"That's kind of you to say, Davey..." Sadie paused, struggling a bit with a particularly thick towel, "...but unfortunately I have to admit that Abby may be right." She succeeded in securing the towel to the clothesline, then continued grimly, "I don't seem to have the patience for all of the measuring and exactness that baking requires."
"You do seem to have a commendable patience for your sister, though," Davey remarked, trying to draw her out of her mild deprecation. "Which, in the long run, is probably more important than baking."
Sadie shook her head, seemingly determined to stick to her resolve about this particular subject. "I'm sure you won't be so positive about it when you actually have to try something I've made," she said.
Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she tapped her finger against her cheek as if pondering the idea further. "Now that I think of it," she mused, "maybe that would actually be a more fitting consequence than Abby's initial suggestion." She glanced over at Davey, her eyes crinkling in mischief. "Perhaps I shall subject you to some of my baking soon," she said playfully. "I need the practice, and I'm sure one bite will be enough for you to learn your lesson."
Davey smiled, her ability to laugh at herself putting him at ease. "You promised me something only 'moderately ridiculous,'" he reminded her. "So as long as your baking falls within that description, I'm game."
"Famous last words," Sadie murmured, but she was smiling too.
"So," she said, taking another towel from the basket, "I know you didn't come up here to discuss my lamentable skills in the kitchen. What does the leader of the newsboy union have on his agenda for today? More rousing speeches of inspiration, perhaps?"
"Well," Davey began, "there's - " He stopped abruptly. "Wait...how did you know that?" he asked, confused. He had told her that the newsboys had gone on strike, but hadn't mentioned anything about the union or about making speeches. Unless…
"I happened to be late to school yesterday morning - incidentally, due to a batch of burnt brownies," Sadie explained. "I caught the end of your address to the newsboys, and I have to say, I was rather surprised. I didn't expect you to be such a passionate orator."
"I surprised myself too," Davey admitted. "I don't really know where it came from. I'm not usually like that."
"It seemed like the subject was important to you," Sadie observed.
"It was," Davey affirmed. There was more he could say, but he didn't want to ramble on in front of her, so he left it there. It was one thing to open up to his parents or to Jack about the strike. After all, it was something that directly concerned them. But Sadie was only conversing with him to be polite, and she had already been inconvenienced enough as it was on his account. The least he could do was not force her to listen to the many thoughts running through his head about the strike, though he felt compelled to clarify one point of understanding.
"I'm actually not the leader of the newsboys or the union," he said, wanting to be completely honest with her. "Jack's the one in charge. I just fill in here and there if there's something he needs help with. And even that's only been a few times."
Sadie looked at him curiously, and he wondered if she was going to challenge his statement, but she didn't, asking instead, "So, what do you and Jack think will happen, now that the newspaper owners know about the strike?"
Don't ramble, Davey reminded himself before answering. "I'm not sure. I hope that if we're able to make a strong enough impression, they'll see that we aren't going to back down, and we'll be able to negotiate a return to the original price of papers. But if they try to break up the protest, it could end up being a smaller-scale version of the trolley strike, especially if the newsies from the other boroughs get involved."
"At the risk of sounding like you, Davey, that doesn't seem very safe," Sadie remarked. Her tone was lighthearted, but he could hear a note of concern in her voice. "I've read about the things that have happened to some of the trolley workers - there's been little else in the papers these last few weeks."
Affixing a clothespin to the last towel in the basket, she regarded him solemnly, her eyes almost troubled. It wasn't a look that he was used to seeing on her face, and Davey found himself hastily trying to reassure her.
"There's a possibility that it could be dangerous," he admitted. "But giving in would be more detrimental in the long run." He quickly reiterated his reasons for why he felt the strike was necessary, thankful once again that he'd had to explain himself several times already and thus was not as incoherent as he could have been.
"Well, I'm sure that you won't do anything rash," Sadie replied upon hearing his explanation. "And your reasoning makes perfect sense..." She trailed off, readjusting one of the clothespins on the line. "Do you think the newsboys will have trouble standing their ground if the newspaper owners threaten violence?" she asked, clearly not ready to be done with the subject.
"I'm actually more concerned about their spirits flagging if reinforcements from the other parts of town don't show up," Davey confided. It wasn't something that he'd given voice to yet, but it had been on his mind ever since his conversation with Jack on the way back from Brooklyn. "The newsies are used to brawling, so I don't think the physical threat of a soaking alone will be enough to stop them, but if they think that no one's standing with them…I don't know if they'll be able to stick with it."
He'd read somewhere the battle was always fought on two fronts - the physical, and the mental - and he was worried about the newsies' morale more than anything else. A show of support from the other newsboys of the city would be key - but Davey wasn't sure that they could count on it, especially if the ambiguous answer Spot had given the night before was anything to go by.
He suddenly started feeling a bit anxious.
"Enough about the strike, though," he said quickly. "How has your morning been? I mean, so far, besides the laundry." A thought suddenly dawned on him. "Wait, shouldn't you be getting to school right now?" he asked. "I didn't - I haven't made you late, have I?"
Sadie smiled, and Davey found himself relieved that he had finally managed to banish the troubled look from her face, even if he had to admit that it was his awkwardness that had done the job where his attempts at reassurance had not.
"You haven't made me late," she replied. "Abby and I aren't going to school today, actually. My mother is gone for the week visiting my sister in Boston, so Abby and I are taking care of Lilly. We were going to take turns watching her while the other went to class, but unfortunately she's had quite a few seizures this morning, so we thought that it would be better if both of us stayed close by. She's resting now and Abby is keeping an eye on her, so I came up to get some of this laundry done."
Gesturing to the empty basket, Sadie added, "And it went much faster than expected, thanks to you. But now I suppose that it's my turn to beg your pardon for not being able to keep our tutoring appointment, since I won't be in class today to hear the lesson."
It would have been the perfect time for a lighthearted quip, but Davey felt too sober to attempt something already a bit out of character.
"You don't have to apologize for that," he said, hoping that she could sense his sincerity. "I'm sorry to hear about Lilly. Is she going to be all right?"
Sadie nodded. "It's never easy when she has days like this," came her matter-of-fact answer. "We can't tell if a seizure is going to be an isolated incident or if it will lead to a string of them - sometimes she can go on for an hour or more - but we've just learned to take things as they come."
"It must be hard with things being so unpredictable," Davey said sympathetically. He couldn't imagine living with the constant unease that he would feel if he'd been in her shoes.
"Well, we enjoy the moments of calm when they come, and we try not to get overwhelmed by the moments of chaos," Sadie said simply. "We live one minute at a time; that's the only way any of us are able to get through the day."
She bent down to pick up the empty laundry basket. "It's like your newsboy strike. You can't know what will happen next; all you can do is keep moving forward." With a little smile, she set the basket on her hip, adding gently, "One minute at a time, Davey. Just take the next step. The rest will fall into place."
It was as if she'd sensed his earlier anxiety about the strike, and Davey couldn't help but wonder if maybe he wasn't as good at hiding things as he'd thought. Sadie's exhortation was oddly similar to Jack's admonishment that Davey didn't need to solve the world's problems in one night, and Davey reflected that he really must be an open book if two people whom he hardly knew could read him so easily like that.
"Anyway," Sadie adjusted the basket slightly, "I'm sure that you have a busy morning ahead, so I won't keep you any longer, but I do appreciate you taking the time to help me with the laundry." She started towards the stairs. "I hope that things go better than expected for you today."
It was how their conversations usually ended - with her leaving before he could manage to come up with a reply. But this time, Davey was a bit quicker.
"Let me take that," he offered, holding out his hands for the basket. "I should be heading to the circulation gate, anyway."
The landlord's daughter looked surprised, but she surrendered her light burden easily enough, and they walked together down the stairs to the third floor.
"Thank you, Davey." Sadie received the empty basket once they were in front of the Becker apartment, then set her hand on the doorknob as though she was about to go inside, but instead she paused, turing slightly over her shoulder. "I know it seems odd for me to be saying this to you and not the other way around," she said, looking up at Davey, "but do be careful today. Climbing trees for fun is one thing - going up against powerful men like the newspaper owners is quite another."
"I'll be careful," he promised, surprised and touched by her concern. "And...thank you, too," he added. "For giving me something to do to get my mind off of things, and for listening. And for the advice."
She gave him a small smile in reply, then turned and let herself into the apartment, shutting the door gently behind her.
Davey stood in the hallway for a moment, still trying to wrap his mind around her parting words. They were rather ordinary, and they shouldn't have surprised him - after all, his very first words to her had been a statement denoting concern for her personal safety. It made sense that she would remark upon the potential danger of the strike and express some polite apprehension for his wellbeing.
So why did the thought that she might care about it please him so much?
Shaking his head, Davey turned and hurried down the stairs. He would have to think on this more at a later time, but right now, he had to collect Les and head to the circulation gate. The events of today would be critical for the strike, and he needed to keep his mind clear so that he could tackle whatever challenges the next few hours might bring...one minute at a time.
A/N: Many thanks to ChibiDawn23, who came up with the scenario of Davey teaching Sadie to cook as recompense for his failure to show up for tutoring, and to mgsglacier whose headcanon of Sadie not being a good singer also found its way into this chapter.
(To the kind guest reviewer who left a comment in Chapter 6 about Les and Abby...if you're still following along with this story, I wanted to let you know that I haven't forgotten about your idea! :)).
Thanks, as always, for reading this chapter! Please let me know what you thought of it!
