The Christmas of 1899

"So, whatcha think?"

A beat of silence.

"About what?" Katherine finally asked. She snuggled closer to Jack, pulling the blanket they shared under her chin. Up on the rooftop, the sleeping streets of New York below were peaceful. Above them, millions of stars shone, only clouded by the foggy sky of early December.

"Christmas," Jack sighed, his fingers playing with Katherine's hair. "I want to do somethin' for them. The boys. We's all been through a lot, and, well, I want to do somethin'. Make it a Christmas they'll never forget."

She shifted and her warm brown eyes met his. "Like what?"

"You know those stories in them papes n' magazines ya read about? Like with family and a tree and presents?" He sighed. "Somethin' like that."

Katherine smiled, illuminated by the faint light of the moon. "That's really sweet, Jack. If I can do anything, like decorating or helping with gifts or getting my father to–"

"I don't want to take your father's money," he cut her off. "I mean, it's gonna be hard, but if I can get the others to pitch in, I think we can do it," Jack shrugged. Sure, it wouldn't be a Christmas party in Upper East Side, but he didn't expect it to be. What mattered was the experience, not necessarily the presentation.

"Well, I still want to help."

He grinned. "Thanks, Kath."

She shivered as a frigid wind blew past. Jack pulled her closer. With her head against Jack's chest, she could almost fall asleep despite the cold.

But it was late, and although she had told her father she would be at the Lodging House past supper, she'd never expected to be out this long into the night. She finally summoned the courage to push herself up from the warmth of Jack's embrace. The freezing air whipped around her as they parted. "I need to go, Jack. See you tomorrow?"

He nodded. "I'll walk you back."

And with a quick peck, the couple slowly made their way back to the Pulitzer estate.

• • •

The next morning, Jack decided to run his idea by one of his closest friends.

He finally spotted him exiting the gates at the circulation center, papers in hand and younger brother in tow. "Hey, Davey!" Jack called. The pair turned around. He nodded at the youngest boy. "Les."

"Heya, Jack! Did ya see the headline?" Les snatched a paper from his brother and shoved it in Jack's face. "Wreck on Lackawanna! Six people dead n' twenty-two injured!" Les bounded from one foot to the other, waving his hands wildly through the air. "We's gonna make millions!"

Jack ruffled the boy's dark hair. He didn't know whether to be proud or appalled at the boy's excitement over carnage. "That's great, kid. Say, why don't ya go and sell with Race today, I gotta talk to your brother," he said, slinging his arm around Davey's shoulders.

Davey gave a squeamish smile. "Or Crutchie too. Better influence and all–"

But Les had already bounded over to Race and joined in with Albert playing keep-away over Race's cigar.

The two boys roamed out into the bustling streets of New York, making their ways to their selling spots. They hawked headlines as they walked. Just as Les had promised, the headline was hot and Jack was able to sell several papers within the first five minutes.