The stems of the tired white carnations were slippery and mottled green in Melanie's tight grasp as she picked her way along the icy sidewalk toward the Bay Ridge newsies' lodging house, her arms cradling a small tightly-wrapped package stuffed with ribbon.

"Mel!" greeted Leapfrog Kristo brightly from his crouching position in the snow near the front door of the three-story brick building. He sprang to his feet, true to his name, and she could see that he had been hoarding a pyramid of medium-sized snowballs. "I'll get th' door," he told her with sincere amiability. She grinned broadly at him.

"Thanks, Leapfrog," answered the dark-haired girl as he held open the dark-stained walnut door and she stepped through, stomping the snow off her thin-soled brown leather shoes in the entryway.

"Sure!" he exclaimed before dashing back outside to expand his arsenal. Melanie laughed softly after him and set her flowers and packet of ribbons on the table, shrugging out of her lightweight knitted-wool jacket.

"Hey there, Mellie," said Ransom's distinctively low voice. The eighteen-year-old turned her head, smiling at the groom-to-be lounging on the grey foam sofa in the lobby. A few flakes of snow had melted in his hair, creating a spider's-web of sparkling droplets upon the short, strawberry-blonde strands.

Melanie smiled widely, nodding her head in his direction. "Hello."

"Still snowin', I see," commented the younger boy with a glance to the snowflakes thawing on the dark locks of hair that graced her shoulders while she hung her jacket on the back of a chair to dry.

"Yeah. Still snowing." She offered a slight smile of appreciation toward the smudgy front window of the lodging house. "It's a bit of a relief. I was a little worried we wouldn't have snow for Christmas."

"It could've waited `til aftah the weddin'," muttered Ransom, pushing his damp hair off his forehead with one hand. It lay in disorganized spikes where his fingers had parted it and Melanie smiled at his resulting disheveled appearance.

"You did plan a wedding for the middle of December," Melanie pointed out gently. "The snow'll only make it prettier."

"An' get ev'rybody all wet an' cold b'fore we get married."

"No one will mind, Ransom, dear." Melanie patted him lightly on the head, taking the opportunity to somewhat repair the damage he'd done to his reddish-blonde tresses. "We'll all wear our best shoes and hold up our skirts above the snow."

"Hopefully somebody'll've shoveled th' sidewalks b'forehand," the seventeen-year-old commented with a bit of agitation.

"The snow is very pretty, Ransom. It's going to be just fine, and just perfect. Stop worrying." Melanie moved to the circular table in the center of the spacious lobby and picked up her paper-wrapped package, sliding her fingers under the fastenings. "Here, look what I've gotten to decorate the dining room." She opened up the paper, holding up a small handful of wound strips of papery lace and shining pastel ribbon. "Think they're pretty?"

"They'se real nice, Mel." Ransom smiled at her. "That's awful nice a' you."

"Got a couple of flowers, too. I-I don't know, it felt appropriate." She held the slightly cold-damaged white blossoms toward him almost apologetically.

"Where did yah find flowers this time a' year?" exclaimed Ransom, sitting up on the small couch to stare at her.

Two spots of pink appeared on the eighteen-year-old's cheeks and her dark blue eyes looked rueful. "They…they keep flowers, in a store. Get them in from-I don't know-warmer places…"

"How much did they cost?" demanded Ransom with carefully contained excitement. "I ain't…been able t' find any, an' I nevah expected…"

"They were all right," Melanie replied, her tone a bit defensive and the flushed points on her cheeks deepening in color.

"I-I know that," Ransom said quickly. "I don't mean t' pry intah yah business. I'm jus'-I wan'ed t'get some flowers for Penny." Now his eyes, focused on her face, were guarded and somewhat uncertain.

"Oh." Melanie laughed a flustered, uncertain laugh. "I'm sorry. I just thought-you know." She shook her head a little and procured the flowers before her. "You can give her these."

"Oh, Mel…no."

"Well, yes. I was just going to have the two of you figure out whatever you wanted to do with them anyhow, and that's what you'll be doing. I think it's perfect. I probably would have thought of it on my own later anyhow." She nodded decisively and placed the flowers in his hands. "So there you go. Flowers. Consider it my wedding present."

"And the ribbons."

"And the ribbons," laughed Melanie.

"And all that baking you've said you'll do."

"All of which needs to be done right now!" She patted his hand and moved toward the kitchen. "You make sure to get some sleep tonight, you goof."

"I'll try, Mellie."

"Good boy." Smiling, the dark-haired girl slipped into the kitchen and tied her handmade apron around her waist.

Ransom tugged one of the petals out of the carnation's tight-wound floral base. "She loves me," he murmured with a quiet happiness. He let the petal fall to the floor and looked at it, then chuckled. He tugged out another petal and dropped it a few inches from the first. Then, brightening still further, he began to drop a trail of petals up the stairs to the girls' bunkroom.

“Is this right?” asked Morning Bennett, holding out a narrow piece of soft thread lace with a thin lavender ribbon twined through its orderly row of loops. Her soft periwinkle eyes were hopeful and bright as she studied the older girl.

“Perfect.” Penny nodded, two locks of copper hair bouncing loose around her face and the rest of her thick, wavy hair tied back with a loose scrap of the ribbon. “Just toss it here.”

Obligingly, Morning did so, and then pushed several strands of her light brown hair out of her eyes before beginning the tedious process for a second length of decoration. Across the bunkroom came a moan of irritation. “I’ve done it all wrong again,” cried Promise Kept, throwing her hands into her lap where she was sewing the hem of Penny’s lightweight white skirt with long horizontal stitches. “I can’t do it. I can’t! I’m sorry,” she whimpered, jabbing the slim silver needle into her mattress and flopping onto her back, distressed.

Gentle white hands lifted the delicate material and narrow fingers traced the row of thread. “Promise, it’s fine,” murmured Diamond Lockheart in a tightly controlled voice. “It’s only a bit tangled.” Her fingertips moved swiftly, whipping through the loops of the tremendous knot with ease. “See?” She held out the rumpled cloth. “Just fine.” She took a deep breath and did not add any further commentary, although her vocal cords were itching to shoot a little jab about the uncivilized young ladies in America.

“It is not,” muttered Promise Kept, resignedly poking the needle through the folded cotton and exhaling heavily, sticking out her lower lip so her breath ruffled the shorter strands of her sandy hair. “All th’ rest a’ yah know what you’se doin’, an’ I’se jus’ messin’ stuff up.”

“You couldn’t mess stuff up, kiddo,” Penny assured the nerve-wracked sixteen-year-old. “It’s all gonna be perfect an’ fine no mattah what. Stop worryin’ ovah everyt’in’.”

“Me? Worried? Nah.” Promise made a dismissive gesture with her hand as she grabbed the material and wadded it up in irritation. “Jus’ horrid at sewin’, not worried.”

Penny laughed and hugged the younger girl.

Ransom tossed the slip of calligraphed paper onto the table in the center of the boys’ bunkroom with a nonchalance totally incompatible with the smirk on his green-eyed face.

“What’s ‘dat?” demanded Smudge as he, Leapfrog, and Ian Baumer converged on the curious piece of paper. “Ohh…” He turned and grinned at Ransom. “Nice.”

“So now it’s all nice an’ official, eh?” Leapfrog inquired, his bright, verdant eyes glancing from the rectangular marriage license to seventeen-year-old Ransom Cane and then back to the table. “You’re all fixed up an’ allowed t’be married?”

“Yep.” The pale-haired boy smiled brightly and flopped onto his bunk with a contented sigh. “All the signatures are had, an’ all we gotta do is say the magic words.”

“You told Penny?” Smudge asked, dropping into the nearest rickety wooden chair and sitting down on it backward, resting his chin on the topmost wooden cross-slat.

“I just got back!” complained Ransom. “Besides, if I go up in that bunkroom, they’ll all be sewin’ an’ talkin’ ‘bout girl-stuff. I don’t wanna, you know, interrupt.”

“Girl-stuff?” asked Ian with a laugh, leaning back against the post of a bunkbed. “What’s girl-stuff?”

“Sewin’, for example,” replied Ransom, rubbing his dully green eyes with the back of one hand. “I dunno; I ain’t a girl.”

“What is there t’say about sewin’?” demanded Leapfrog as he jumped to a seat on the edge of the battered wooden table, his legs dangling a few inches above the floor as he peered at the fancy legal document beside him. “Says you’re eighteen. Are you?”

“Well, no.”

“Says Penny’s eighteen too. She ain’t.”

“She is now,” Ransom murmured. “Ain’t no gettin’ ‘round ‘dat particulah regulation, I don’t t’ink.”

Ian shrugged, putting a hand absently on Leapfrog’s shoulder as he spoke. “It ain’t like it makes no diff’rence, anyhow. A year.”

“’Zactly what I t’ought,” Ransom explained calmly. “Ain’t no reason t’jeopardize th’ possibility a’ us gettin’ married wit’ somethin’ stupid an’ trivial like ‘dat.”

“I t’ink it’s fine,” concurred the twelve-year-old with a nod of his brown-haired head. “Th’ important thing is ‘dat you’se got ‘dis marriage license ‘dat says you an’ Penny can get married.” Leapfrog grinned at the boys in the room. “Ain’t ‘dat right?”

“’Dat’s right,” Smudge responded with a rare reassuring smile to Ransom. “An’ we sure do wish yah luck, buddy.”

“Thanks,” laughed Ransom. “I might be needin’ it if I gotta head up intah ‘dat realm a’ sewin’ an’ girl-talk.”

Standing at the window, Penny Johnson gazed with unfocused emerald-colored eyes over the houses of the residential Bay Ridge neighborhood stretching out in front of her, the white of the new snow was not able to sparkle in the grey, tightly filtered sunlight that managed to leak through the thick clouds, but the city looked more beautiful than usual and she took a deep breath of the cold, clean December air.

“Penny?” Someone tugged on the soft cinnamon fabric of her well-worn pants and she glanced down to see Little Bit Powell studying her with wide brown eyes, fringed by long, curled lashes.

“What is it, Gracie?” Penny smiled and bent down so she could look the nine-year-old in the eye and took a seat on the radiator, which was thankfully off.

“I…I don’t want to be the flower girl anymore,” murmured Little Bit in a nervous voice. “I don’t want to… I don’t want all the people to look at me, and I don’t want to wear the pink dress like Mellie’s, and I don’t want to throw the flower petals on the nice clean floor. Someone will be mad at me, Penny…”

“Mad at ‘chu?”

“Flowers are a mess,” whispered Little Bit with sincere fright. “Mellie will be upset… She’ll have to clean them up… She shouldn’t have to do that!”

“Gracie Powell,” laughed Penny, but she tried to cover her chuckle with a forced cough. “Oh, dearie…” She reached out with her arms to hug the brown-haired girl tightly. “You sweet, silly girl,” she breathed over the girl’s head as she held her. “I promise you no one’ll be upset ‘bout the petals.”

The nine-year-old swallowed hard and took a step back. “I don’t want everyone to look at me,” she reminded Penny carefully. “What happens if I trip? What if I rip the dress you’re making for me? I don’t want it to get ripped…”

“But, Li’l’ Miss Powell, if you don’t be th’ flower girl, who will?” Penny studied the younger girl with wide, serious green eyes. “No one else can wear yah dress, ‘cause I made it jus’ ‘zactly your size. And you’ll be wit’ Mellie, so they’ll look at her, too. You’re goin’ t’be beautiful, an’ no one is gonna be lookin’ at ‘chu for meanness… They’ll all be sayin’ what a pretty, nice girl you are. An’ how nice your dress is.” She grinned. “So they’ll start talkin’ ‘bout me, anyhow, an’ how wondahful a seamstress I am.” When Little Bit giggled slightly, Penny tweaked her nose lightly. “So don’t you worry.”

“I love you, Penny,” murmured Little Bit, throwing herself at the redhead with such force that she nearly tipped off the radiator. Instead she just wrapped her arms around the brown-eyed child and blinked back tears.

Melanie tipped the cupful of coarse white sugar into the somewhat beaten-up saucepan, adding carefully measured tap water to the granules and stirring the mixture slowly. Her wooden spoon scraped against the gritty undissolved sugar and she placed the pan on the stovetop, stirring continuously with her left hand while she prepared the small cubes of diced apples, sifting out the damaged ones, with her other. The spoon warmed in her hand and she lifted a shallow spoonful of the sweet, clear liquid, letting it slowly run off the spoon. She nodded as it ran nicely and smoothly into the kettle, then began dropping handfuls of minced apples into the kettle. She continued stirring the applesauce, but gently so as not to ruin the apple pieces’ shapes. Her eyes flicked to the pastry shell dough cooling on the windowsill behind a sheet of newspaper. It would probably be stiffened enough by the time the apple filling was complete.

As she prepared the first of her batches of tarts for the wedding day, she sang whatever songs came into her head, because she was alone in the kitchen and unaware of how very thin the walls were.

“Sorry her lot who loves too well,” came the words in a tremulously thin soprano. “Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly. Sad are the sighs that own the spell, uttered by eyes that speak too plainly…” Her voice rose slightly in the swooping notes. “Heavy the sorrow that bows the head, when love is alive and hope is dead…”

She would have been quite embarrassed to know that in the next room, Promise Kept was smiling to herself as she listened to Melanie singing parts of the repertoire from Pirates of Penzance. Hummer, however, sitting across the lobby from her and carving a small block of wood into a life-size sparrow, found the lyrics to be far too sad for the occasion and filed this knowledge in the back of his mind.

The soft pink material draped delicately over Penny’s arm, its bright shadows shifting under the sunlight streaming winter-crisp through the bunkroom window. Resting her hands on the soft material of her quilt, Melanie leaned back a bit and smiled at the copper-haired girl. “So it just-what-it clasps up the back?” She extended one hand toward the younger girl and got to her feet in a fluid motion.

Penny nodded swiftly, removing the enamel-ended pin from her mouth as she handed Melanie the dress. “Yeah.” She waited while Melanie changed into the pale-colored shift and then turned the older girl around, hooking the small silver fastenings along the back of the dress. “How does that feel?” she asked brightly.

“Oooh, it’s really lovely!” exclaimed the eighteen-year-old as she spun around, scarcely feeling the weight of the bell-shaped skirt hanging around her. With one hand, she tugged at the neckline. “I think…that this here,” she pinched the fabric lightly, “could be let out a little. It’d be all right as it is, but if it’s not difficult, it’s pinching just a bit.”

“No, that’s perfectly all right,” Penny said with a smile. “I want you to be comfortable at the wedding. And to remember the wedding for-itself! And not for being uncomfortable in a dress I made.” She laughed softly and motioned for Melanie to sit, taking up her sewing scissors and beginning to manipulate the fabric as Melanie held very still.

“It’s only a very minor thing, but thanks.” Melanie folded her hands in her lap. “Are you excited?” she asked with a gossipy smile.

“Yes,” murmured Penny, stitching carefully. “But also very nervous.”

“Still with the nervous,” smiled Melanie. “What are you nervous about?”

“I don’t know…” The redhead shook her head slightly, playing with the fabric of the soft pink dress. “I mean, I know that Ransom and I are very happy together. But…still…” Her words trailed off into a sigh and she tied off her thread, moving to sit on the other side of Melanie, but not beginning any further work. She looked at her hands, holding the sewing materials. “Oh, I don’t know… Maybe I’m just crazy.”

Grasping her dark hair in one hand to get it out of Penny’s way, Melanie tucked her legs underneath her and smoothed the skirt. “Maybe you are, but I doubt it.” She smiled gently. “But still…what?”

“I’m just afraid something’s going to happen.” The younger girl’s eyes gazed, unfocused, at the wall opposite her. “To him, or to me, or to the baby… I just have all these…these fears. And I’m having nightmares, too.”

Melanie pressed her lips together; they turned slightly white at their edges. “Here’s what you have to realize, hon. The whole point of getting married is that it makes you together for everything. It’s…all those things they say about ‘in sickness and in health’ and everything. So no matter what happens, it’ll be all right. And your family-” she gestured around her and smiled “-is here for you.”

Brushing the back of one hand across her eyes, Penny wrapped Melanie in a tight hug. “Thank you, Mel,” she confided softly.

“Look here, darling,” continued Melanie reassuringly, her voice slightly strained. “All you’re doing getting married is being brought closer together. You aren’t even moving out; it can only be an improvement.”

Penny nodded, smiling. “You’re right, of course. I guess I’m just going through that stage in pregnancy where I get really emotional and worried.” She laughed a bit.

Wryly, Melanie nodded her head. “Trust this girl; she’s been there, after all.” She watched as Penny knelt on the mattress and began once again to stitch the fabric of the dress. “I guarantee you a better life than I’ve had,” she decreed. “And I guess I’ve turned out all right, so you’ll turn out even better!”

“Oh, Mel…” Penny chuckled softly and bit the thread to cut it. “I think you turned out perfectly. And…speaking of perfect…” She motioned to the dress. “How do those shoulders feel?”

Melanie stood, swishing the skirt around a bit to loosen any wrinkles in the material and then felt the shoulders to see how the fabric draped. “This is wonderful,” she concluded. “They just needed that little tuck.” She grinned broadly. “Now…I’ll take this back off, so I don’t accidentally ruin it before the wedding! Is there anything else you want to check before I ask you to help me undo the back?”

Penny circled the eighteen-year-old meditatively, then nodded. “No. It looks…wonderful.”

“Well, you’ve done…a beautiful job, I must say.” Smiling brightly, she continued. “I’m very excited and happy for you. If I haven’t said that already.” She turned around carefully and looked at Penny over her shoulder. “Can you undo me?”

“Thank you, Mel,” laughed the copper-haired girl. “You know I couldn’t have gotten through all this without you. You’re almost like my mother.” She carefully undid the fastenings down the back of the dress and Melanie smiled softly, her eyes slightly damp, though she didn’t turn around until that had passed.

“Thanks, Penny,” she murmured in a soft voice, slipping back into her clothing. “You-you’d be a great daughter, were I your mother. I’d be very, very proud of you.”

After the eighteen-year-old had gotten dressed again, Penny smothered her in a second hug. “I just hope I make a wonderful mother.”

“Oh, Penny… You will. Very much. Very, very much.” Melanie embraced the younger girl tightly, so tightly she could hardly breathe. “I promise,” she whispered.

Tying the pastel blue ribbon around the lace rosette with precision, Melanie’s dark blue eyes quickly shifted from her delicately moving fingers, their gaze softening from intent to misty. Finally, she dropped into one of the wooden chairs clustered in the dining room, pressing one hand to her forehead and sighing heavily.

“Mel?” The timid voice triggered no recognition in the eighteen-year-old’s mind and she carefully glanced up with damply glossy eyes over the pale palms of her hands. She said nothing, and the black-haired boy took a very small step into the room. “Melanie?”

She swallowed hard, and despite her best efforts, her voice came out huskily. “Good evening, Lucas.” A warm smile touched the corners of her lips, and even her teary eyes didn’t mask her motherliness. “Are you all right?”

He chewed his lower lip nervously, his words apprehensive. “I-I wonder if…you are.”

“If I’m all right?” With a slightly flustered laugh, Melanie brushed the back of her hand over her damp eyes. “I’m only-nostalgic, is all.” She smiled carefully. “Girls, right?”

“N-no,” Hummer murmured, pulling out the chair farthest from Melanie and sitting on it like as though it were a prickly cactus, resting his elbow equally as gingerly on the table in front of him. “No, I think you’re pretty smart. Not just…not just girls.”

“That’s nice of you,” Melanie replied. Her slim fingers were entangling themselves almost subconsciously in the few handfuls of cheap paper lace and wide pale ribbons that lay strewn on the table in front of her. “I’m sorry, Lucas,” she said softly, looking at her hands. “I’m…not so well. Not feeling well. Do you need something, dear?”

“You…you’re cryin’,” the thirteen-year-old commented in a low voice. He was looking at the floor and had it not been for the midnight-crystallized silence in the room, his words would have been completely inaudible.

Melanie swallowed hard and a wry smile settled on her face. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I-I am, aren’t I.”

“Yeah.” Hummer offered a nervous glance. “You are.”

With a slightly flustered partial laugh, Melanie brushed the back of her hand over her scarlet cheeks. “I must be-tired. Very.”

“You…you aren’t tired,” he said delicately. “You’re upset.”

The dark-haired girl just waved her hands absently. “I-I don’t know. Perhaps that’s it, then.”

“If…if you wanna talk about it, I’ll listen,” mumbled the black-haired young man.

“It’s really not a big deal, dear,” Melanie replied in a detached voice, shrugging helplessly. She looked at the table intently. “I…I think you should go to bed,” she concluded softly.

“I-I’m sure you’re right,” Hummer said quickly, looking anxious. “I’m sorry.” He stood quickly and ducked out of the room.

After a few moments, Melanie sighed heavily. “Lucas…?” The darkness responded with nothing and Melanie pressed her face into her hands, feeling the night sitting heavy on her shoulders.

“I…” Hummer reemerged in the doorway.

“If you want to, you can stay,” Melanie said quickly, looking at him with guarded eyes. “I…I don’t have anything interesting to say, but you can stay. If you would like.”

Biting on his bottom lip, the dark-haired boy managed a timid nod. “I will. But…only if you want company,” he murmured.

“You’ve-at least distracted me,” smiled Melanie. “Are you sure you aren’t tired?”

“Nah…” He watched her, then allowed a bit of a grin to dapple his face. “My brother used to tell me I was a night owl. Whatever that means. It meant I didn’t get tired.”

“Your brother?” Melanie asked gently.

“Yeah. I lived with him before…Gears…brought me here.” The thirteen-year-old hung his head, swallowing the mysterious lump in his throat.

Resting her chin on her hand, Melanie fell back into what she was used to-sympathizing. “He sounds like a nice person,” she commented.

“He was,” whispered Hummer.

“I’m…so sorry,” Melanie said quietly. “Family’s so…so important.”

“Is that why you’re crying?” The words hung in the air like dewdrops clinging to a spider’s web and Melanie finally took a breath.

“All this-this wedding stuff,” she breathed. “I want them to be so happy. I want them to be-to be happy!” Her voice trembled. “I love Penny like my sister, and I-I adore Ransom, too. They’re so important. This wedding-it’s so important.” She looked sadly at her hands. “They’re so excited, and I am too, but I’m-I just-I don’t know, Hummer. I guess they remind me of my wedding and my husband, and my beautiful white dress and… I wish everything could just be perfect all the time. And it’s not. And so, so, so many people have it worse than me. I have a beautiful daughter. I have a whole family still alive up in Ryalin and two dear brothers, and a whole group of sweet, darling people living here with me that I adore more than anything in the world…”

“It’s okay,” Hummer finally said after he’d deciphered her words. “Mel…you’re forgetting something.” She raised her eyebrows inquiringly in his direction. “You’re allowed to be unhappy, too.”

“Hummer-”

“No, it’s true. You’re…you’re always thinking how it’s so important that you be very solidly and simply the happiest person here, ready to catch everyone if they fall and ready to toss a smile to anyone who needs one. It’s great that you do it, ‘cause it really helps everyone. But then you only get to be sad-” He motioned to the kitchen. “-When you’re alone. At night. And when you’re alone and sad, that doesn’t help. Just like what you’re always saying to everyone. You gotta take your own advice.”

Melanie gazed at him for a moment, her blue eyes bright. “You’re far too wise,” she said softly. “And you’re quite right. Will you help me with that?”

He nodded gravely.

“Good, then. Let’s go to bed, eh?” She got slowly to her feet and extended a hand to him. He took it and pulled himself to his feet, turning and pushing in the chair. “Thanks, Lucas,” she stated, swallowing hard.

“After you sleep, you’ll feel better,” he told her seriously, taking the lead up the stairs. “Really.”

Melanie nodded and followed him, stepping into the bunkroom. “Good night, Lucas.”

“Good night, Melanie. You’ve got a wedding to get rested for.” Smiling into the night, Hummer ducked into the boys’ bunkroom, his dark blue eyes shining like candle-flames.