Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.


Chapter 96: Something Sensible

It turned out that they didn't get very far with the reading.

Only a quarter of an hour after Miriam Becker left, a noise was heard in the bedroom down the hall. Davey instinctively stopped speaking, and Sadie gave him an apologetic look as she rose from her chair. "I'm sorry, Davey - I'll only be a minute," she promised.

"There's no rush," he replied. "Take your time; I'll be here."

She smiled gratefully, then hurried down the hallway.

Davey idly perused the apartment as he waited, taking in some of the details that he'd missed upon his arrival in his determination to make a good impression at this appointment. He'd been caught off guard a few times, both by Mrs. Becker's brusqueness and by Margaret's unexpected presence, but - at least in his estimation - he'd handled things fairly well and had managed not to make any gaffes, so that was a win in his book.

The apartment that the landlord's family inhabited was fairly spacious, seemingly even larger now that there were fewer people occupying it. It wasn't lavishly decorated, but there were small knick knacks here and there that hinted at the Beckers' modest affluence: portraits of each of the girls hung on the wall, and there was a mantle clock on the bookshelf and a beaded lamp on the end table between the two armchairs. Sadie's sewing kit sat beneath the table, a little basket with a hinged lid upon which she'd placed the garment that she'd been working on at Davey's invitation while he read. It was a child's playsuit in a handsome hunter green color trimmed with olive cord, and though Davey had tried to focus on his task while reading, he'd also secretly enjoyed watching Sadie work in his peripheral vision. She'd been unsure and hesitant in the kitchen, but with a needle in her hands she was confident and quick, and it had been fascinating to watch the garment take shape beneath her nimble fingers.

Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall, Davey set his book aside and got to his feet just as Sadie appeared supporting a taller girl with a stiff, uneven gait and a distant expression.

"Davey, this is my sister, Lilly," Sadie said, guiding her sister over the couch. "Lil, this is Davey Jacobs, our neighbor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lilly." Davey gave the older girl a nod, his mind running through the words that Philip Becker had shared several days ago about Lilly's condition.

"She won't talk to you the way my other daughters will...we believe that she understands much of what she hears, but her ability to express her thoughts and emotions are significantly impaired. She might not even answer you at all."

True to the landlord's prediction, Lilly said nothing in response. Sadie settled her comfortably on the couch, draping a blanket across the older girl's lap, then turned to Davey.

"Lilly usually has a snack and something warm to drink when she gets up from her nap," she said, looking hesitant. "Would you mind very much if I went to the kitchen to prepare them?" He could tell that she felt guilty for imposing on him again, and quickly reassured her that he didn't mind, but he felt himself beginning to get a little nervous. He had been expecting more time to adjust to communicating with Lilly, but if Sadie was confident enough to leave her sister in his company, then he probably didn't have anything to worry about (or so he told himself).

Thanking him, Sadie hurried to the kitchen, and Davey took his seat, turning his attention to the girl sitting on the couch who was now regarding him with an unblinking stare. He wished that he'd thought to ask Philip Becker beforehand what Lilly liked to talk about (or if she preferred not to be talked to instead), but he hadn't, so he was on his own in that regard.

"So…" he cleared his throat. "Did you have a good rest, Lilly?"

No response.

"What, um, kind of snack do you normally have after your nap?" Davey tried again.

When several moments of silence once again greeted his question, he mustered up a smile, then said, "It's been a while since I've napped myself, but when I was younger, my mom used to give me two crackers and a cup of milk when I woke up. I kind of miss that now - the nap maybe more than the snack, truth be told."

Lilly inclined her head just slightly, but she didn't reply, so Davey continued the one-sided conversation. "That's a nice quilt you have there," he said, gesturing to the blanket on her lap. "I remember reading somewhere that quilts tell stories, because every piece that's sewn in is something that came from somewhere else and had its own separate use before it was repurposed. It was an interesting idea, the thought that those pieces - and their stories - all come together to form something new, though I suppose that if you don't have someone to pass down the stories, it's a little harder to fully appreciate its significance, since there's no one to translate..."

He was rambling now, but he wasn't sure of what else to say, and Philip Becker's statement that he believed Lilly understood more than she could express was gently prodding him to continue - because if there was one thing that Davey could empathize with, it was the feeling of having much more to say than you could put into words, and the quiet but deep disappointment that set in when people stopped trying to engage because it was simply too difficult or too uncomfortable to continue. He didn't know if that was how Lilly felt, or if his awkward attempts to talk to her the way he'd talk to any new acquaintance were really meaningful at all, but at the very least, he wanted to try, to let her know that he saw her and that she mattered.

Admittedly, he was also a little relieved when Sadie returned a few minutes later, bringing with her three cups of hot chocolate and a little plate of biscuits (store bought, she assured him jokingly). It helped to have another person present to ease the conversation, and while Lilly remained silent (even in response to her sister's occasional questions), Davey saw at least a hint of a smile show itself on the older girl's face as the dialogue unfolded, so inwardly he felt a bit better knowing that he hadn't completely put her off with his rambling.

"What's in this drink, Chare?" he asked Sadie, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. "It's delicious."

"It's Judith's recipe," she replied proudly. "Sugar, milk, and baker's chocolate with a pinch of salt and a dash of cinnamon."

"Do you have this every day?"

"No, only on special occasions - right Lil?" Sadie smiled at her sister. "We should thank Davey for coming by to visit, as it gives us an excuse to plunder the pantry for some sweets. But we mustn't speak a word of it to Abby, or she'll be even more sour that she couldn't stay home from the party with us."

"Abby likes chocolate, doesn't she?" Davey ventured. "I feel like she's remarked on that a few times."

"All of the Becker sisters have a weakness for chocolate," Sadie confirmed. "Some of us simply satiate our cravings more often than others. Judith is a model of temperance while Abby is prone to indulgence, and I suppose that Lilly and I fall somewhere in between, though now that Judith's gone, we perhaps indulge ourselves more often than we ought to."

"You mentioned that Judith and her family are coming to visit." Davey took another sip of hot chocolate. "Is that going to be soon?"

"Yes, in a few days, in fact. We're all looking forward to their arrival. Papa's been working hard to get our only vacant apartment ready so that Ju and her family can live there while they're with us, and Mama's excited to have her right hand back, even if it's only for a few weeks. As for myself, I'm eager to see all of them, my sister especially...though I hope that she won't be too disappointed when she sees how I've handled things in her absence."

The last part was said with a smile, but Davey could sense the earnestness behind it. Before he could think of how to respond, though, Sadie changed the subject, and the next quarter hour was spent in lighthearted conversation about the plans the Beckers had to enjoy the time with their visiting family. The hot chocolate and biscuits were thoroughly dispatched, and after that followed another quarter hour of reading at Sadie's request.

All too soon the hands of the clock on the bookshelf read four in the afternoon, and Davey realized that he'd stayed an hour longer than he'd intended. Quickly apologizing for the oversight, he set the book on the end table for Abby and helped Sadie take the empty cups back to the kitchen. Miriam Becker returned to the apartment as they finished cleaning up, so he politely thanked her for her hospitality before saying goodbye to her and to Lilly.

"I'll walk you out," Sadie offered as he started towards the door. "I kept a cup of hot chocolate warm for Papa, so I'll just take it over to him now." She procured the aforementioned drink, and the two of them made their way out of the apartment.

"I'm sorry that our time was a bit chaotic, Davey," Sadie apologized as they walked down the hall. "I forget sometimes how it must feel for a guest to come over to our house and be forced to contend with so many different things going on at once...but thank you for coming to visit, and for reading to me and to Lilly. I know she enjoyed it, even if she didn't say so. And I did, too."

"I'm glad that I got to meet her," he responded, "and I'm glad that you enjoyed the reading. I know it's not your favorite thing to do, but I appreciate you giving it a chance."

They reached the landlord's office, and Davey was about to bid Sadie good afternoon and take his leave when she suddenly added, "I'd like to find out how it ends. The story, that is."

He looked at her in surprise. He'd assumed that she was mostly being polite when she'd expressed her enjoyment (for her agreeable disposition seemed to allow her to find pleasure in a number of things), but he'd never thought she'd actually become invested in the story itself.

"You're welcome to keep it as long as you want," he offered. "I know I left it for Abby, but she's already got quite a stack of books to go through, so I'm sure she won't mind letting you have it first."

"That's generous of you," Sadie responded, looking a little disconcerted at his response. But before he could figure out where he'd answered amiss, she shook off her bewilderment and said quickly, "I wanted to thank you for talking to Lilly, too. I overheard you trying to converse with her while I was in the kitchen. It was kind of you to take the time."

"I'm not sure how helpful any of it was," Davey said uneasily, slightly embarrassed that his faltering efforts had been observed.

"What matters is that you tried," Sadie assured him. "I know that it's difficult to speak with someone who doesn't answer back, and I ought to have warned you about how Lilly's condition affects her ability to communicate...but I appreciate you pushing through anyway despite my oversight."

"I actually asked your father about Lilly when we were working together last week," Davey admitted. "He gave me some advice on what to expect."

Now it was Sadie's turn to look surprised. "That was thoughtful of you," she murmured. "Most people - even those whom we'd call our friends - ignore Lilly or talk around her as though she can't understand. They rarely bother to engage her, even superficially, and if they do talk to her, it's almost as though they think she's an imbecile, incapable of feeling or of rational thought. It's - " she broke off, sounding sad. "Well, I suppose in some ways it's understandable...but it can be hurtful, too, even if it's not meant to be. And it's unusual to find someone who will make an attempt to try to understand Lilly in any way, let alone someone who would…" she trailed off again, curling her hands around the cup of hot chocolate.

"Thank you," she finished simply. "That meant a lot to me, Davey."

She smiled up at him, and he expected to feel the little rush of happiness that typically came over him whenever that expression crossed her face…

...but instead what he felt was the sudden sensation of going just a bit weak in the knees.

Before he could fully register the feeling, Sadie looked away. "I'd better let you go now," she said, setting her hand on the doorknob. "Thank you again for a lovely afternoon." She disappeared inside the landlord's office, gently shutting the door behind her, and Davey found himself alone in the hallway, trying to recover his lost equilibrium.

What was that about? he thought, unsure as to what had caused his momentary disorientation.

I'm probably just overdue for some food, he decided, forcing himself to start down the stairs and brushing the thought aside. It was almost dinner time, and he hadn't eaten much for lunch, so in all likelihood, this momentary feeling of weakness would be quickly mitigated by the evening meal to come. (The fact that he didn't feel hungry in the slightest was irrelevant, of course - hunger had to be the only plausible explanation for his unusual reaction).

When he arrived at his own family's apartment, his mother was already beginning to prepare supper, and Les was sitting at the table shelling peas.

"How was your time, David?" Esther asked as Davey came through the door.

"It went well," he answered. "Sadie and her family send their thanks for the raisin bread."

"What did you study today?" Les asked casually.

"We didn't study anything." Davey walked over to the kitchen area, absently loosening his tie. "We only met up to - " He stopped abruptly, realizing his mistake.

"You mean you didn't meet up for tutoring?" Les prodded, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "You were paying Sadie a social call?"

"I - it wasn't - I mean, it wasn't that kind of social call," Davey floundered as his mother turned around from her place at the stove to give him a curious look. "We just did some reading together, that's all."

"Reading for fun, or for school?" Les demanded.

"Now Les," Esther interjected suddenly, "there's no need to interrogate your brother. Reading is generally an educational pastime, regardless of the circumstances it's done in." She gave Davey a little smile. "However, it's time to put books and studies aside for now. This dinner won't cook itself." She nodded to a bowl of potatoes sitting on the table. "Would you please wash up, David, and then peel those potatoes for me?"

"Yes, Mom," he answered quickly, grateful for the change in subject. He washed his hands, then sat down at the table across from his brother, ignoring the suspicious looks that Les was shooting in his direction. He had just begun peeling the first potato when he felt his brother kick him under the table.

You're a liar, David, Les mouthed when Davey looked up at him in indignation. I know you weren't reading to Sadie.

It had been quite some time since they'd engaged in silent communication behind their mother's back (something they'd become proficient at in their younger years), and Davey wasn't particularly keen to get into a back-and-forth with his brother, but he also didn't want the argument to be spoken aloud, so he resigned himself to the inaudible repartee.

I was reading to Sadie, Les. I wouldn't lie.

But you weren't reading your school book, the younger boy insisted. I saw that you left it behind.

We were reading for fun, Davey admitted quickly, knowing that he couldn't deny the evidence. But it wasn't that kind of social call. It was… he paused, unable to come up with the right word to accurately describe what their meeting had been. It just wasn't that kind of social call, he reiterated weakly.

Les smirked.

Davey deliberately went back to peeling the potatoes, but a few seconds later he felt Les kick him again.

I'm going to find out what you were up to. I'll ask Abby at school.

Davey shrugged indifferently. She'll tell you I was reading to Sadie - if she talks to you at all. He wasn't concerned about Abby - she'd have nothing incriminating to divulge, and even if she did, it was questionable that she'd deign to speak to Les.

Les seemed stumped for a moment, but then a sly smile stretched across his face.

Fine. If you're not going to fess up, I'm going to tell Jack and the newsies.

There's nothing to tell, Davey asserted, trying to remain calm even as he felt himself beginning to sweat a little.

Oh, there's plenty to tell, Les smirked again. Even if it's only that you called on our landlord's daughter, the same girl you talked about in your sleep, the same girl you you're always saying is so smart and so clever and so good at everything, even when I've already told you that I know all of those things and don't need to hear them again for the hundredth time.

I don't talk about Sadie that much!

That's what you think. But I'm going to tell Jack and the other fellas, and when they find out, they'll -

"Les, you cannot - " Davey growled, surging to his feet. His mother turned around from her place at the sink, giving him a shocked look, and he sank sheepishly back into his chair. "You cannot...shell the peas...that...way." he finished. "You'll leave some of them behind. In the pod."

"I can shell peas just fine, David," Les shot back indignantly. "And if there's anyone who's guilty of leaving things out, it's you, not me."

Esther came over to the table and examined the bowl of peas. "It looks like you've got most of the shells picked clean, Les," she said. "But it can't hurt to remember to check them. And David, you don't need to be so stern with your brother. He's doing his best."

"Yes, Mom," both boys muttered.

"Now, no more fussing," she admonished, turning back to the stove. "I need those vegetables prepared. Please focus on your task."

"Yes, Mom," they echoed.

Davey gave Les a displeased look before returning to the potatoes, but the younger boy avoided his gaze, looking thoughtful as he resumed shelling the peas.

It could either be a bad sign or a good one, Davey thought. Les was rarely pensive for any innocent reason, but hopefully he'd taken their mother's reprimand to focus seriously and would let the matter drop.

Anyway, there was nothing to really be concerned about. Les had no truly incriminating evidence, and Jack and the rest of the newsies knew that he was prone to exaggeration, so even if he did decide to say something, they'd likely just brush it off…

...unless Race somehow got wind of it and put two and two together. Then Davey would be in trouble for sure. Because if Les was meddlesome and annoyingly persistent in trying to drum up something between Davey and Sadie that wasn't there, Race was equally determined, if not more so.

Nothing for it, Davey told himself with a sigh. Some teasing was probably inevitable, and if teasing was the price of spending time with Sadie, he was more than willing to pay that price. It was just a little bit of embarrassment, nothing that he couldn't handle. As long as he knew where he stood and could refute any accusations with a clean conscience, he was fine.

Quickly finishing up the potatoes, he handed them over to his mother, then helped Les shell the remaining peas. Once that was done, Esther excused them from the kitchen, letting them have the next half hour to themselves while she finished up the dinner preparations.

Les immediately laid claim to the brothers' shared bed, flopping down diagonally across it on his stomach and pulling out a handful of marbles that he'd borrowed from his friend at school. He'd been trying to work on his shooting, but he'd stubbornly refused Davey's offers of assistance, despite the fact that Davey himself was rather proficient at the game. It was just one of those things that Les was determined to learn on his own, so Davey didn't bother approaching his brother and left the younger boy to his own devices instead.

He thought about poking his head into his parents' room to check on his father, but decided against it; Mayer wasn't the kind to enjoy small talk, so it would probably be best to just leave him alone until dinnertime.

A thought suddenly came to Davey, and he made his way over to the bed, underneath which he kept a little wooden box that held a few of his personal belongings. He opened the box and removed a small leatherbound notebook and a pen, then slid the box back into its place and took a seat on the small bench near the door of the apartment. Opening the notebook, he began to leaf through it.

The date of the last time he'd written on its pages was May 2, 1899, about a month before his family had moved to Lower Manhattan.

His writing habits were rather sporadic, especially where his poetry was concerned. Sometimes a snippet of a verse would come to him while he ruminated, and he'd jot it down to see if it would become anything more, but oftentimes the words he fashioned in his head never made it to the page, because he was simply too busy and too preoccupied to give them his attention. When he did find the time and the inspiration to write, however, what he created was entirely his own, a little corner of his life where he could let responsibilities and expectations fall away for a moment and simply let the many thoughts filling his head spill onto the page in whatever manner they chose to unfurl without concern for what people would think. He'd temporarily forgotten about the diversion until Sadie had stumbled upon it earlier that afternoon, but now he found himself suddenly eager to revisit it.

Words began coming to Davey, and he put his pen to paper and began to write.

The girl upstairs is inexplicably bright, and baffling like a full moon at midday...


A/N: Yes, he's writing poetry about her. But there's nothing going on. Nope. Absolutely nothing. Nothing to see here. Carry on. (But please do tell me what you thought of this chapter before you leave ;) Thank you!).