He ran a hand through his hair nervously, returned his hat to his head and knocked on the door.
Gladys opened the door with a smile that thinned into something that was not quite a frown. "Russell." She opened the door.
"Aftanoon, ma'am." Needle couldn't blame her for her distrust of him. Although, after three years, one would think . . . He handed Gladys the money he'd collected and caught sight of a tiny girl peeking out from behind the table. "Hi, Karry." He knelt down.
"Karen," Gladys said gently, a trace of concern in her voice.
The girl stared back at him in shy silence and whispered something. Needle smiled. "How ya doin'?"
She shrugged, still staring at him and said something equally inaudible.
"What's dat?"
Karen shook her head. Needle held out an arm to her, and suddenly she hugged him tightly. What was inaudible at three feet's distance was wonderfully clear when whispered into his vest. "Love you, Daddy."
Two and a half year old arms couldn't reach all the way around him, even when she sat in his lap. He held her like a treasure that might fly away if released or shatter if held too tightly and kissed her hair. "I love you, too, sweetheart."
They let him see her. At least, they let him see her. Needle headed back to the lodging house. Even only once a week. Even for a few hours. "Love you, Daddy." He smiled to himself. How his daughter managed to be so beautiful inside and out, he didn't know. But, then, she wasn't only his daughter. She was Maura's too . . .
"Hey!" As she came down the factory steps, he picked her up and whirled her into the air.
"I'se havin' a baby."
He set her down.
"Russell?" she whispered.
"Oh," he replied belatedly. He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "Since when?"
"Almost two months." Maura paused. "Mama knows. Papa don't." She paused again. "She knew before I did."
"Oh," he repeated. "I-" He blinked. "Well, den. We oughta get married, shouldn't we?"
She flushed angrily. "Not fer dat."
He flushed also and backed up, holding up his hands. "Not fer dat. Because I love ya, an' I hope ya care fer me."
"Care?!" At least some of the tension dissolved. "Russell Hill, yer a master a' understatement."
He kissed her, then drew back uncertainly. "I'm sorry." Her face darkened slightly. "I don't mean - we gotta get a license."
"Dey fired me," she said quietly. "One a' da goils said somethin' ta Mista' Brayder."
He flushed. "My fault. I'll get - somethin' . . ." He was not going to panic . . . He took her right hand. "Well, license or not, we's married, right?"
Maura's eyes softened. "License or not, priest or not." Her voice dropped lower. "I love you."
And now their daughter barely knew him, it seemed. He'd lived with his father and still considered him a stranger when the man died of alcohol poisoning. There was a better job than this. There had to be. He considered Mess, leaving the newsies for the Surrey Hotel even before Dice's pregnancy made it a necessity. And he, nearly three years a father, still couldn't support his own daughter.
"Love you, Daddy."
He still couldn't help smiling.
"Needle!"
He winced at his partner's voice. Sliding into the lobby, he eyed his best friend. "Heya, Hammer . . ."
Hammer crossed his arms. "Ya got a habit a' disappearin' when people wanna tawk ta ya," he commented. Hammer sported a black eye and a broken nose as well as an exasperated glare. The injuries were most likely the gift of the group he'd been - debating - with when last Needle saw him.
He shrugged, managing a grin only slightly shame-faced. "Always seem ta be people wantin' ta see me . . ."
"I noticed." After a beat, Hammer uncrossed his arms, rolled his eyes heavenward and cuffed him. "Why do I put up wit ya?" He asked the ceiling.
"Aw, I'se jus' such a charmin' guy," Needle grinned.
Hammer rolled his eyes again. "C'mon. Dinner."
Stay tuned! More to come!
