St. Matthew

By: Coneflower

Disclaimer: The song "St. Matthew" is owned by Michael Nesmith. I'm just using the 'plot' of the song loosely for this story. Sainta/Leigh is owned by me though. Newsies belong to Disney…duh.

Part 1: "She walks around on brass rings that never touch her feet."

He fell solidly on the splintered bench in Grand Central Station. The news had killed his spirit like a knife to the gut. Every person waiting for the arrival of the freight coming from Boston, MA was hit hard by the news. "I'm sorry Mr. Denton, there was a freight accident. There were no survivors." The only image that flashed before him was of her. She had become his life when he realized there were more important things to life then a career.

Renee Kerry became engaged to Bryan Denton three months after the newsboy strike of 1899. They'd met in Cuba during the war. Renee was a stationed nurse at a clinic for the wounded soldiers. Bryan was writing about the war, and visited the clinic to interview soldiers. Renee was the nurse who showed him around the clinic and told him who he could talk to.

Their friendship grew as Bryan visited the clinic more. After he left Cuba, they keep in touch for those few months, but found they couldn't live without each other. Renee was sent back home to Boston, but couldn't stay there. She wanted to be with Bryan.

It had been nine months since they had been engaged. But for this particular occasion, Renee had traveled back to Boston to visit her parents. Bryan was at Grand Central Station when he heard the news of the accident.

Now he sat there on the bench, a heap of a man. Sobbing uncontrollably with his insides twisting painfully thinking of his lost love.

***

"Do we have to part ways?" a middle-aged man asked to his compartment companion…who had taken pity on him when she saw how lonely he appeared. "You've been quite generous to me. I hate to see you go." He kissed the delicate hand he was holding.

"Oh Manual, I'm sorry I cannot go with you to Atlantic City. As much as I would like to…" the auburn headed girl answered back. "Thank you for your company." She shimmered a plausible smile.

"We'll meet again, I'm sure of it" Manual declared. "Goodbye, my Sainta." The girl just turned - without a word - into the mass of people, not looking back. It was always hard leaving the men she came across, but both her jobs were done. Manual felt more confident now and was a bit happier. His prized 14 carrot gold ring was missing though. It settled on the finger of the girl he called "Sainta". Of course, that was another thing the rich man wasn't aware of…her name wasn't Sainta.

How many more names can I alternate with before I can actually use my real one? - she thought, amusingly. I can't see that happening. Portraying a legend, you never can have your real name known.

She sighed, heavily. "Time to move on." She assumed it would take a few days to find what she was searching for: a partly shattered man. The mournful cries of people scattered around the depot didn't seem to effect her any. The train she had just stepped off of was pulling away from the depot as Sainta caught sight of a certain Ace War Correspondent. She knew what to do.

Bryan Denton stared up from leaning over his lap, head in hands. A person had gently touched his shoulder. His crimson eyes meet the sight of lovely portrait. The fractious gaze from the broken man told the story. She'd seen the situation a dozen times.

"You loved her very much" the auburn headed girl stated with a sense of sorrow.

Trying to regain coherent speech, Bryan nodded - weeping. "Yes, more than anything."

"What's your name?" She sat down beside him, taking his trembling hand in hers.

"Bryan Denton" he replied, wiping a hot tear.

"Let me take you home." The girl started to raise up when Bryan caught her wrist. He peered into her brown eyes, capturing all the sincerity of the girl's mannerisms.

"Who are you?"

The girl held up her hand alongside Bryan's red cheek. "You'll learn soon enough."

***

Part 2: "She stoops down to gather partly shattered men."

Sainta glanced the exquisite apartment Bryan had lead her to. She didn't have much time to look around, her 'patient' needed her at the moment. But from what she saw - This'll be a treasure hunt worth taking.

Her and Bryan walked to the bedroom, that was off the main room. She ordered him to bed. Bryan only sat, still weeping uncontrollably as though it were the first moment he was told of the accident.

Sainta pushed him down when he wouldn't lay down for her. Another audible sob rose from the man's chest. "Shh…it'll be all right." She stroked his forehead, rubbing back the damp strands of hair. "You'll make yourself sick with grief."

"I don't care" came a shaky voice, softly. "I want die too."

The scene was almost more than the girl could bare. Now a tear escaped from her eye. She wiped it away, quickly. "Don't say that. Time will heal all wounds."

She headed to the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth. "Go to sleep, my angel." The cool cloth caressed Bryan's forehead and cheeks, soothing the hotness. Bryan let his emotions subside and relaxed finally, as the comforting voice of his redeemer began to sing…

"Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart, Naught be all else to me, save that thou art, Thou my best thought by day or by night, waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light."

***

The girl stayed by Bryan's side till she knew for sure he had fallen asleep. She sighed unobtrusively, glancing down one more time at the shattered man, before quietly walking out the bedroom. She realized how warm her body had become. Slipping off her shirt-coat and rolling up her sleeves, Sainta went to work exploring the apartment.

The first place she looked was the mantle above the fireplace. Only photographs in sliver frames and little trinkets were displayed on it. She shook her head - Nothing here. She decided to try the desk near-by. There, sat more framed photographs. On the right corner of the desk was a picture of a bundle of boys in front of a building. I wonder what the story is behind this photo.

On the left corner of the desk, a beautiful brunette stared back at Sainta. This must be the lost love - she mused. She picked up the frame to examine the lady better. A prim smile shone off the lady. Her slender hands laid atop one another in her lap. The neck of the lace collar was raised almost to her chin. Snob? Stiff-neck? No, she couldn't of been. Snobs do not actually smile.

Sainta placed the frame back in it's rightful place, and moved on to the papers sitting in the middle of the desk. She always took the opportunity to explore the personal lives of the men she helped. The first item was a letter out of the envelope, appearing as though it had been read more than once. She began to read it.

To my dearest man,

I miss you terribly, Bryan. I think of you almost every waking moment of the day. How did we live without each other after you left Cuba? I cannot remember a time as that. We will be together soon.

My father and mother are doing well. They brought me out on their yacht last Friday. It was a pleasant time. I will be coming home to Manhattan on the 23rd. Please meet me at Grand Central Station. I will telegram my schedule soon. Till then, Bryan.

Love Sincerely,
Renee Kerry

The girl dropped the letter as if she'd been burned. It wasn't the first time she'd read letters so private before, but this one had a sense of secrecy - a line that was not suppose to be broken in to. A blood-curtailing cry screamed impatiently from the bedroom. Sainta drove herself to the room, and fell to Bryan's side. He was ghastly pale and trembling like mad. His eyes watered and blank from inner pain.

"Bryan, please calm down" she pressed gently, kneading his forehead.

"Renee! Renee, come back to me!" he screamed, in a nightmare trance.

Sainta did the only thing she could think of. Her voice became deeper and decorous, "Bryan, my love, don't cry. I'm here." She climbed onto the bed, wrapping her arms tightly around him - cuddling the poor man. "It'll be all right." Bryan sobbed on her chest. All the while, the girl tried soothing him.

As they laid there, the sun was setting. Light turned into dark, and Sainta fell asleep holding the man fifteen years her elder.

***

Part 3: "She speaks in conversations that never are complete."

The peaceful slumber that Sainta and Bryan were sharing was disturbed by a sound knock on the front door. Sainta raised her head, groggy from sleep. Bryan was oblivious of the noise. He was still asleep appearing as calm as a baby. The only evidence of his grief were the tear stains down his face.

Sainta laid her head back down not feeling the need to answer the door. Another knock rang out. This time it was louder. She heaved, standing up stiffly, and walking to the door. She knew if the knocking went on, Bryan would wake.

"Yes?"

A curly, meshed haired boy glanced up meeting his blue eyes with the girl's brown ones. His expression was more than questionable. "Is Denton home?"

Sainta cocked her head. "Oh, Bryan? No, he is sleeping and does not desire to be disturbed." She was about to close the door when the boy stopped her.

"Who are you?" The girl frowned at the frequent question.

"I should ask you the same" she retorted coolly.

"David Jacobs. I'm a friend of Denton's" he said, mirroring her attitude perfectly. "Now, who are you?"

The girl decided - once again - that a false identity was needed. Never can go anywhere without one - she mused. "Renee…" What waas her last name? "…Kerry."

David quirked an eyebrow. "Renee Kerry?" Time to play the Jacobs' way. His attitude switched to how he was with Jack Kelly in Irving Hall on the first day they met. "It's funny you say you're Renee, Denton's fiancee. Because you sure look nothing like her." Sainta turned a light pale shade. It may have been the early morning tiredness or she just wasn't thinking clearly at the time, but it didn't dawn on her that this boy would know Renee. "How can you be her when I've met Renee several times and you are not her. Now, where is Denton?" The firmness shot out from his voice like a cannon. It was more flamed from anger at the moment. No telling who this girl was. One category popped in his mind though - harlot.

The girl keep a tight fix on David's eyes. If she couldn't convince him with her lie, maybe she could beat him at his own game of slyness. Being nebbish was not her style.

"If I'm not Renee then it's none of your concern who I am. Please, go away." With that, she slammed the door on him and clicked the bolt lock shut.

In the hallway, David yelled through the door. "I'm coming back and not alone! Next time you won't get off that easy!" Sainta stood, back turned toward the door, waiting for him to leave. Oh wonderful, we'll have company later - she thought, cynically. She closed her eyes suddenly feeling faint.

"I was wondering the same thing myself" Bryan remarked, walking out the bedroom.

The girl looked up to see him standing there. "What do you mean?"

"Who you are…why you are here helping me…" he answered, offhandedly. Sainta's mouth twitched, but no words fell out. "I heard you talking to someone just a moment ago. Sounded like my friend, David."

She nodded, solemnly.

"Even if you don't reply to my questions, I want to thank you for being here for me. I don't know what I would of done if I would of left the train station alone."

Sainta smiled warmly. "It's what I do, Bryan. You do not have to thank me. You seem to love Renee with all your heart and soul."

The mention of Renee's name sparked memories and tears. He nodded, sadly. "I don't know what I'm going to do without her." He stifled a sob. "In her last letter to me, she said she couldn't remember how life was like before we met. I cannot either now."

"Oh Bryan…" She went to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Time will ease the pain. I have experience in that situation - losing someone you loved very much. The pain never goes away, but you have to live for Renee now since she cannot live for herself."

"You're right." He pulled away from her wiping his face in his hands. "I'll try."

"She'll always be here." Sainta placed her hands gently on Bryan's chest, signifying his heart.

For once, she could indicate a slight glimmer of hope in the poor man's face. "Will you stay with me?"

Sainta's eyes became fixed to the floor, almost in guilt. She always felt guilty when this moment came to pass. "I can't."

"Why?"

It was always the same excuse. "I can't have you becoming attached to me directly after Renee's death." She knew that was not the only reason - I'm afraid I will not be able to leave you. "Your friend, David Jacobs, became very suspicious of me while he was here. He said he'll be back and not alone."

"David will understand why you're here."

"No! No one can know I was here, just you." Her heart started to wrench. Bryan was one of the few she had this shining up to, for some reason. It made her not want to leave him. This was going to be hard. "I have to go."

Bryan lowered his head in dismay, breathing in hard. "I still don't know your name."

"St. Matthew." Quick, simple reply.

That's how it always was for the men she did not want to become attached to. For other men she would get to know more personally and wasn't in has bad of shape as Bryan was, her identity was either "Sainta" or "Mattie". Leigh could never be known to anyone.

"The name suits you. You are a saint." To say the least - the girl shot back in her mind. Bryan was plucking her heartstrings every second she stayed there with him. "I'm sorry, Bryan, I really need to go."

He caught her hand before she could gather her belongs. "I'll never forget what you've done for me."

Sainta mustered up all the energy in her will power to not break down. "Never forget Renee……remember me only as a trifle thought."

With her shirt-coat in hand, the auburn headed girl slipped onto the fire escape, disappearing into the street as though she was just another face in the crowd.

Part 4: "A girl who's named St. Matthew, and she is on the run."

David sweep through the streets of Manhattan heading for his and Jack Kelly's usual selling area. Something strange was going on…and it was all tied to that auburn haired girl. At least, that was his suspicion.

He knew Denton had gone to Grand Central Station to pick up Renee the day before. He thought by the time he arrived at Denton's apartment that morning, Renee would be there for breakfast already as she always was. But she wasn't……that girl was there. The Harlot. David needed to know what was going on.

"Jack!"

The cowboy turned, lowering his arm from the air that held a newspaper. "Heya Dave! I got your papes. How was Denton and Renee? I bet he was happy she's home again." Jack divided his stake of papers hanging from his arm.

"Thanks Jack" David panted, taking the papers. "We have a problem though."

Jack's eyebrow cocked up. "What would that be?"

"You know Denton was suppose to pick up Renee at Grand Central Station yesterday because she was gone visiting her parents…" Jack nodded, listening intently. ", and you know how she meets him in the morning for breakfast. This morning, she didn't answer the door. Another girl claiming she was Renee did."

"Say what? How is that…? Wha, what happen?" Jack asked, trying to comprehend the situation.

"After she feed me that lie, she shut the door in my face and locked it!" David continued, using wild hand gestures as he became more induced in his playback.

Jack stared down at the road, forgetting all about his job. "What do ya think we should do? I mean, we…" Jack came to a halt, eyes glazing over.

David noticed this sudden stop and the blank stare of his friend. "Jack, what's wrong?" When his friend didn't answer, he grabbed Jack's shoulder and shook his slightly. "Jack, say something!"

"Dave, I think you should sit down." The tone was rather frightening.

Anxiety was becoming too overwhelming for the Jacobs' boy. "Just tell me, PLEASE!"

Jack swallowed hard. "I can't believe I didn't put two and two together in the first place…there is this cover story in the papes about a train wreck…and the train was coming from Boston. There were no survivors."

"That's where Renee was coming home from. Do you think she could of been on that train?"

Jack shook his head in disbelief. "We better go find out the truth before jumping to conclusions. Let's get to Denton's."

***

David and Jack trekked through the street to Denton's tenement building. It was mid-afternoon by now, and shelter from the sun was welcomed. David knocked on Denton's door, softly, hoping the mysterious girl wouldn't answer this time. Better yet, he hoped someone would even answer.

There, stood Denton. He appeared more than just shaken. The tear stains were still visible on his cheeks. David stared blankly at his friend.

"Denton, what happen?"

"She's…" he sniffled. "She's gone. Renee, she…" A fresh batch of tears rolled down his face, as much as he tried to hold them back.

"No…she can't be." David's head started reeling. His eyes grew wide. "NO! NO!"

"Looks like she was on that train" Jack murmured, placing a hand on his slowly breaking friend's shoulder. They'd gotten to know Renee fairly over the pass several months. Denton would bring her around to Tibbys most of the time. "I'm sorry, Denton."

"Thank you, Jack. Why don't you boys come in." The weeping man let his younger companions in then closed the door.

"I didn't want to believe it. I was more than stunned when the employee at the train station told me the news. My Renee…was gone. I wouldn't of gotten through last night without the girl I met there."

David's attention was triggered by those words. "That's the girl who answered the door this morning, wasn't it?" Denton nodded, wiping his eyes for the millionth time. "She told me she was Renee then slammed the door in my face. Who was that girl?"

Denton stared into David's eyes. A glimmer of hope appeared at the mention of the mysterious girl who came into his life for that brief time. Comfort could even be seen in the trodden face.

"St. Matthew."

Part 5: "Part of it is loneliness and knowing how to steal, but most of it is weariness from standing up trying not to kneel."

The dusk of day was setting on Manhattan as an auburn headed woman walked through the thinning crowd on the sidewalk. Her first destination was Grand Central Station. She knew she had to leave New York City right away before she changed her mind and ran back to Bryan Denton.

Never in Sainta’s right mind had she thought she’d be drawn to stay with one of the men she comforted. Bryan was different, and she could tell from the moment they met. When the tall cathedral came into view, Sainta couldn’t help ducking into it. The sanctuary was empty, not uncommon for this time of day.

She stepped cautiously down the aisle of the massive church to settle in a pew near the alter. She hadn’t been in a church for over five years…ever since they died. Sainta pushed back the horrible memory of her past and knelt on the cushioned knee-rest in back of the pew.

For a while she didn’t know what to say, where to start. It was obvious in her heart what needed to be said, but she just couldn’t grasp that in her mind.

Sainta slowly wiped away the tears that had began to fall, lowering her head to pray. The words were barely audible, but she knew He could hear.

"O my Lord, I do not know what to do anymore. You brought me to this man who has revealed something to me. I do not know what it is though. Please show me. I cannot go on in my life the way I have no matter how much I need to carry on my task."

Sainta swallowed a sob, words finally pouring from her.

"I do not know Bryan, but it feels as if I do. It was the first time I had pure attention for someone. Now, I’m confused. Please show me what to do, Lord! I need to know…I need to know…

"I haven’t been to You in so long. It feels You have forsaken me. That can’t be, because You said You’d never forsaken Your children."

All at once, she knew exact what to do.

"I know I am a sinner. I thought I was helping these men, but then turning around an stealing from them. Even if I need money to live, it was still wrong. Please forgive me for what I have done, Lord. Christ is the Savior, I’ll admit on the hill tops. Christ is King. And, I only want You to guide me from now on to help all people - not just men - honestly and not foolishly."

Sainta fell forward onto the pew, a rush of emotion suddenly hitting her. The hurt disappeared melting into a feeling she hadn’t felt in several years - peace.

Sainta raised her eyes heavenward, her direction clearer than ever now. "I need to go home to Philadelphia." She grabbed her carpet bag and headed to Grand Central Station once more.