Chapter 9: Midnight at the Lookout
A/N: Before we jump into this chapter, a quick note about a Newsies reference in the last one (since I think I failed to make it obvious enough in the text).
In Chapter 8, Skip mentions oil being found on the Larkin Estate some time back. This is meant to be a direct allusion to "That's Rich," in which Medda discloses that she "[lives] in a mansion on Long Island sound [where she] pulled up a weed [and] found oil in the ground." It's not particularly important to know that Medda's discovery is being mentioned here and that it's had an indirect impact on Cherin Cove and its inhabitants, but I did want to highlight this allusion, for though there are precious few anchor points in this OC-centric story, it's still supposed to feel like it's a part of the larger Newsies universe.
All right, that we've gotten that out of the way, back to our story!
Abby quickly became engrossed in the familiar narrative, and the minutes ticked by as she continued to read, her furry companion at her side.
She had just gotten to the part of the story where Huck and Jim had sunk the robbers' boat, when a sudden tap on the lobby doors startled her back to the present.
"It's probably another guest who decided to come back early and doesn't know that Lottie left the key under the mat," Abby told the cat as she got to her feet. "I'll let them in and be right back."
She hurried to the double doors, pushing her glasses up her nose and readying some polite small talk to greet the incoming stranger, when the words fell away as she saw that it was Skip standing outside.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, once she'd opened the door.
He held up her handbag with a half smile. "You left this behind at the ball, Cinderella."
"Oh." Abby took it from his outstretched hand, trying to hide her embarrassment. "You didn't have to come all the way up here to bring it back."
"Well, I kinda did…" Skip's smile grew, "'cause I wanted to tell you that you won somethin' at the book raffle."
The book raffle! How could she have forgotten?
"Thad started callin' numbers, and you were nowhere to be found," Skip continued, "but I knew how much you wanted to win, so when I saw the tickets pokin' out of your bag, I figured you wouldn't mind if I pulled 'em out to check the numbers. Turns out one of 'em was lucky."
He produced a handsome-looking volume, and Abby tried not to gawk at the pretty colors and gilded edges.
"Hopefully it's one you ain't got yet."
She shook her head. "I don't think I have anything this beautiful in my collection!" Running her hand gently over cover, she looked up at him. "Thank you for getting it for me, and for coming all the way here to deliver it yourself."
"It was just up the hill," he shrugged. "Ain't like I crossed half of New York."
It would have been the perfect time for him to politely excuse himself and return to the Countdown, but instead he remained standing outside the door, and Abby found herself saying belatedly, "Do you want to come in?"
"If you ain't busy doin' somethin' important."
"I was just reading," Abby explained as she ushered him inside. "The bay window has a good view, and one of Lottie's cats was keeping me company."
"This little fella?" Skip walked over to the window seat and sat down next to the droopy-eared creature.
"He's sat with me this last hour at least," Abby joined him. "It's made the time much more pleasant."
"Animals have a way of doin' that, don't they?" Skip remarked as he gently scratched the cat's head.
A comfortable silence fell, Abby delightedly leafing through her new volume as Skip continued petting the cat.
"So…do you mind tellin' me why you left the Countdown?" he asked as the feline crawled into his lap. "I was worried somethin' might've happened to you, but fortunately I talked to Lottie first and she told me that you'd come back early."
Abby reluctantly set aside her book. "I spilled punch on my dress."
She showed him the bright red blot, and he grimaced sympathetically.
"Sorry 'bout that. You might be able to get it out with some chalk."
Abby nodded. "I was planning to look in the laundry room."
"Failin' that, maybe Ada could replace that part of the dress," he suggested. "Then you wouldn't have to give up wearin' the whole thing just because of that one spot."
"That's a good idea," Abby admitted. "Even if she doesn't have time to sew it herself, I could purchase the material from her and ask my sister to take care of it when I get back to Manhattan."
The thought of home made her melancholy feelings suddenly return, and she looked out of the window at the lights of Cherin Cove twinkling in the darkness. Were there any lights on at the tenement tonight? Perhaps Judith and John in their visitor's quarters, quietly conversing while their children slept, or Mama attending to one of Lilly's night wakings, or David reading by candlelight while Sadie slept beside him?
"Now that you know why I left, you don't need to stay," she said aloud, pushing all thoughts of home aside. "I'm perfectly fine, and I'm sure people are missing you at the Countdown."
Skip laughed. "Yeah, you know, I actually owe one of your friends a dance! She caught me right as I was leavin' and wasn't too happy about me putting her off to come find you, but I promised if I didn't make it back to take her for a twirl before midnight, I'd make it up to her somehow."
Why am I not surprised? Abby thought wryly, knowing exactly which "friend" he was talking about.
"If you leave now, you'll make it back with time to spare," she observed, glancing at the lobby's grandfather clock. "Sally isn't the kind of woman to be easily put off, and she'll make your life miserable if you keep her waiting."
"Well, if that's the case," Skip cracked a smile, "maybe a little more waitin' could do her some good."
His cheekiness effectively lessened the gravity of the situation, and Abby found herself joking, "What about 'making sure all of the out-of-towners feel welcome at Cherin Cove's Confetti Countdown'?"
"Oh, I think your friend Miss Sally feels plenty welcomed. There are plenty of fellas who've seen to that - she told me so herself."
"So you decided that you'd just come and hide out up here for a while until she loses interest?" Abby teased (not that she'd blame him a bit if that was the case).
Skip shook his head. "I ain't tryin' to renege on a promise to a lady. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You came all the way down to the docks to check on me, and I'd be a poor excuse for a Cherin Cove local if I wasn't willin' to at least do the same."
Leaving off petting the cat for a moment, he gave her a thoughtful look.
"If you want to go back to the party, I bet no one will say anything about your dress," he suggested. "It's already so dark, and it seems kinda lonely to be up here on the hill all alone."
A few days prior, Abby might have quickly brushed off his concern, but she found herself confiding in him instead.
"I actually was feeling lonely before you came up…" she admitted, "but not because I wanted to be back at the Countdown. I was actually thinking about home."
"Oh." Skip's voice softened. "You missin' your family?"
"Yes." Abby ran her fingers over the cover of Huckleberry Finn. "I wish I was with them right now. The New Year's party is in less than forty-eight hours, and I thought I didn't want to be there, but now it feels so wrong to be away. Of course, the trolley won't be running tomorrow on account of it being a holiday, and even if I left early the next day, it would be cutting it close…though I suppose it's not a matter of life and death this time."
"What do you mean?"
Abby hesitated. She had been mostly talking to herself and hadn't meant to let that last part slip…but there was no taking it back now.
Here goes the remainder of any good opinion he may have of me, she thought, dropping her eyes to the cat who was curled up in Skip's lap. The feline regarded her with large, round eyes, and his sympathetic-looking expression gave her the courage that she needed to continue speaking.
"I'm ashamed to say this…but I wasn't home when Papa died. I'd gone to Philadelphia on a business trip, and when my sister sent an urgent telegram saying he was in a bad state, instead of dropping everything to hurry home, I delayed for half a day to finish my assignment, thinking that if I could complete it, it would give me the favor I needed to secure the editor position I'd been hoping for. But the decision to delay was costly. By the time I got home the next morning, Papa was already gone."
She shook her head, guilt seeping in with every word. "I never got to say goodbye to him. And I know I'll regret that for the rest of my life."
Silence fell as she finished her declaration, and she found herself staring out of the window again at the twinkling lights in the distance.
"That's a hard burden to bear," she heard Skip say quietly.
"It's my own fault." Abby pushed her glasses up, ignoring the prickling feeling in her eyes. "If I hadn't been so selfish, I would have made it in time, and I wouldn't feel so guilty about seeing my family now. My sisters did what they needed to do to hold things together, but I wasn't there. And then I ran away again to come here, and left them to handle everything by themselves!"
The tears which she'd been trying to avoid began to well up in earnest, and she angrily blinked them away, willing herself not to think of the shock on Judith and Sadie's faces when she'd told them that she was going to Long Island for two weeks to clear her head. Neither of them had questioned her decision or offered even a word of complaint, but she'd seen the consternation in their eyes, and though they'd told her not to worry about the party, she knew it had been inexcusably thoughtless to take herself out of the equation. Her sisters had their own responsibilities as wives and mothers, and they were both still grieving themselves - surely she could have managed to push past her discomfort and guilt to help them with the preparations.
But unlike sensible Judith, who had stepped in after their father's death to handle the legal documents and arrange for the funeral, Abby hadn't found the fortitude to lend her mind to any pragmatic employment. And unlike sweet Sadie, who had salved the sting of loss with warm embraces and gentle words, who had been a shoulder to cry on for the never-ending stream of visitors who had came to call and offer condolences, Abby hadn't managed to get past the pain in her own heart to entertain, much less assuage, the sorrow of others.
She'd always been "the smart one" in the family, intelligent and ambitious and far more inclined to scholarly pursuits than the rest. People had been calling her mature for her age since she could walk and predicting that she would go far in life, and as she'd gotten older, those distinctions had only proven to be true. It hadn't been a completely straightforward or easy process…but she'd never encountered any setbacks that hadn't been overcome by pivoting or simply working harder.
There had been times in the past, especially when she'd begun working for the New York-Tribune, when she'd mildly disdained Judith and Sadie's simple lives that seemed to revolve around the concerns of their families and immediate communities, concerns that had seemed so small and mundane compared to the fast-paced, high-stakes, more intellectually-stimulating environment that Abby herself moved in…
But when their family's world had been rocked by tragedy, it had been her prosy, unassuming sisters who had summoned up the strength to do what needed to be done, while Abby had failed her duties miserably in spite of her intellect and professional abilities.
And then she'd topped it all off by running away when her sisters had needed her most, leaving them shorthanded to manage the family's biggest event of the year.
Is it already too late to right that wrong? Abby thought wistfully. Or can I still make it up to them somehow?
"I know you said you weren't plannin' to travel tonight…" Skip said as she realized belatedly that she'd lapsed into silence, "...but it sounds like headin' home might do you some good."
Before she could ask him how he'd managed to read her thoughts so accurately, he glanced over at the lobby's grandfather clock and added, "It's too late to hail a carriage, and lots of the crossings to Manhattan'll probably be closed for the holiday, but Williamsburg's always got a fellow on duty in case of emergencies, and if you leave soon, you'll be home by mornin'." He paused for a moment, then added, "If you want, I can ask for a wagon and drive you over myself. Cars are a little harder to come by in Cherin Cove, I'm afraid."
"But what about the Countdown?" Abby asked, elated by this spontaneous plan but not quite ready to let herself hope that it would materialize. "Don't you want to celebrate with everyone else? And won't people wonder why you've disappeared again?"
"Most of the festivities are over anyway," he replied, "and I'll leave word with a few folks when I go back to ask about the wagon. Meantime, you can start packin'. That is, if you're sure you want to commit to this. The ride over'll be chilly, not to mention long."
"I'll pay you for your time," Abby offered. "It's the least I can do when you'll be spending the rest of New Year's Eve out in the cold."
"If you really want to pay me back, tell all your friends to come visit us here at Cherin Cove," Skip winked as he got to his feet. "It'll be good for business."
The reminder of his devotion to his town above all else didn't sting as much as it had the first time, and Abby found herself quickly agreeing to his half-joking suggestion. Slightly wounded pride aside, this was the kind of place that she could easily praise, and it would be simple enough to talk up the town to those in her circle once she went back to Manhattan. In any case, it was a small price to pay in order to be back home in time for the tenement party.
Skip walked to the door, and she followed him, bracing herself for the rush of cold air that blew in as he stepped outside.
"Better make sure to bundle up for the ride over," he said as he surveyed the sky. "You got a coat that you can wear?"
"I'll be fine," Abby assured him.
Skip nodded and started down the path to the main road, but before he'd gotten very far, she found herself blurting out, "Are you sure that I can't pay you for your trouble? Even if you're not disappointed to be missing the Countdown, you're still going out of your way - far out of your way - to help me. It doesn't seem right to let you do that without doing something for you in return."
He stopped and turned back to look at her, and a smile, half-amused but also a little sad, stretched across his face.
"You already did somethin' for me when you came down the docks."
She must have looked unsure of his meaning, for his smile melted into a more serious look, and he added, "Truth be told, you're the first person who's ever come lookin' for me when I haven't shown up to somethin'. I know folks around town speculate about why I disappear every once in a while, and I don't blame 'em for doin' so 'cause I know they mean well…but no one's ever asked about it - 'cept for you." A faint hint of his smile reappeared. "Maybe it don't seem like much…but it meant a lot to me. So no repayment's necessary."
He touched his cap, then turned and continued walking briskly down the hill, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the cold.
Abby waited until he'd made it to the main road, then turned and went inside, pondering what she had just heard. It was surprising and a little sad to know that no one had ever asked Skip about his absences before, though when she thought about it, under normal circumstances, she probably wouldn't have done much investigating either. Her modus operandi was to mind her own business and trust that others would do the same, and though there had been a handful of times when she'd seen things to indicate that others might have been struggling, she was generally so preoccupied with her own concerns that she'd quickly forgotten about them. It had only been here, amidst the slower pace and storybook-like setting of Cherin Cove, that she'd even begun to notice the subtle signs that indicated others' unspoken feelings: Ada's anxious, fluttering hands, the slight strain in Lottie's voice at the end of the day, the way Skip's smile seemed somehow happy and sad at the same time. They were small, unobtrusive things, but Abby had noticed them, even if she'd failed to do anything about her observations at the time.
How many things like this have I missed back home? she wondered. Manhattan, of course, was a far cry from this quiet, idyllic town, but surely there were people there who were just as in need of a sympathetic listening ear - even an ear as awkwardly sympathetic as Abby's.
Tucking the thought away, she made her way back to the window seat to collect her book. For now, further reflection would have to wait; she needed to start packing so that she would be ready when Skip returned with the wagon.
"Looks like the night's excitement has just begun," Abby informed the cat, who was still perched in his place. "Sally will never forgive me for whisking her dance partner away, and I hope that she doesn't finagle Skip into something completely unreasonable for his truancy, but I am glad to be heading home, even if it's at such a late hour."
The feline purred, showing a break in his sober demeanor for the first time, and she reached down to scoop him up, cuddling his soft fur against her cheek.
"You're a sweetheart, you know that?" she murmured. "I know you can't possibly understand what I've been feeling this last hour, but it seems like you do understand somehow, and if it wouldn't be stealing, I'd sneak you into my suitcase and bring you home to Manhattan - though I suppose that wouldn't be fair to John, as he has terrible allergies."
Giving the cat one last pat, she set him back down on the window seat, making sure that he was comfortably curled in a blanket before she turned towards the stairs, feeling a sense of elation. The magic of Cherin Cove had worked wonders in the most unexpected ways, and while a part of her was sad at the sudden prospect of leaving its borders, she knew that it was time to let the spell be broken and to return to the real world where her family was waiting.
"I'll be home soon," Abby whispered as she hurried up the steps, the fabric of her dress swishing softly against her legs.
She reached the door to her room just as the clock downstairs began to strike midnight.
A/N: I know, I know, not the sweeping romantic moment sealed with a kiss at midnight that you might have been hoping for, sorry. I've pretty much conceded defeat when it comes to writing a romance that's not a slow burn. The characters will drag their feet and insist on getting to know each other before willingly engaging in overtly amorous behavior of any kind. (I know I'm the writer, but I seem to only have sporadic control over their choices. Or maybe my imagination is just that limited).
Anyway, thank you for sticking around, gracious readers. Any comments you have to share on this chapter would be greatly appreciated! :)