Noah finished his soup while his mother talked. Peter motioned to the server for more, which brought a smile to the lad’s face.
“We didn’t have much,” Patty continued. “But what we had was ours.”
“That sounds ideal.” Rebekah smiled dreamily.
“It was until it wasn’t. Until Shad took sick. He grew worse and worse until he died, left me a widow in a strange country.” She looked at her son. “Noah is also of a peculiar sort since he never speaks. People fear what they don’t understand, do they not? Me boy makes people point and stare.”
Everyone sat in uncomfortable silence.
Patty took another bite. “It wasn’t long until we lost everything and Noah and I found ourselves living in the streets. Nobody will hire me, the mother of a mute. They think I’m a witch.”
She closed her eyes and touched her forehead, her chest, and each shoulder, just as she had done before. Noah did the same. She ended with an amen.
“Which I am not.”
Rebekah’s curiosity got the best of her. “What is that?”
“A witch? That is a person who—”
“Oh,” Rebekah giggled. “No, not that.” She fumbled her fingers in front of her. “That.”
“It’s a prayer. A reminder that Jesus died for me on the cross too. And that He lives in me still.” She offered a shy smile. “It’s called crossing yourself. Like the cross on which He died.”
Rebekah smiled. “I see.”
Patty finished the last of her toast and went to work on her eggs. “Some offered me work at the tar-paper shacks that line the docks, said that is all I would be good for. But I cannot. It would be a sin. I would rather live off the scraps of others than work there.”
Rebekah’s eyes were wide. “What happens there? In the tar-paper shacks?”
Patty shook her head. “You’re good people, innocent people. You need not know about the goings on in the likes of those places.” She shook her head harder. “They be nests of vipers.”
Peter picked up his paper and folded it.
“You have been keeping your paper close to your heart, Peter O’Leary,” Patty commented.
He laid the paper in front of her. “We are here to look for her. She is from our village back home in Indiana.”
At least he called Indiana home.
“And you love her,” Patty said. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
Rebekah had never seen, in all the days since Peter found her, her brother flush such a crimson shade before.
“I—uh, I...”
Patty shrugged. “I might be a lowly street urchin in the eyes of society, but I can read people.” Patty looked directly at Peter. “I can read you. And you love her. Deeply.”
“You’re right.” Peter hung his head. “I do. And you know as well as I the harsh realities of this world. I must rescue her, or at least give her the option to be rescued.”
Patty finished her plate. The server brought over the promised slices of apple pie. Little Noah banged the table excitedly and kicked his bare feet.
“And you two,” Patty continued, looking at Joseph and Rebekah. “You two are to be married. But something is causing you distress, no?”
Rebekah’s smile faded and her shoulders sagged. “In our custom, we must sew our own wedding dresses. And those of our bridesmaids.” She looked into Patty’s clear, honest eyes. “I don’t sew very well.”
“I tell her her dress will be lovely, no matter what.”
“If it stays on,” Rebekah muttered. “I fear it won’t.”
“I don’t know much about sewing either, or I would offer to help in payment for your kindness.” She stuck one dirty finger on the plate to pick up the residual crumbs. “As it is, I can only offer you a safe place to sleep tonight. And I tell you, a safe place on the streets is worth its weight in gold.”
She glanced at Noah. “And we know that from experience, don’t we, Son?”
Noah picked up his apple pie plate and licked it. He pursed his lips together as Rebekah had seen Thomas do when he was really serious. All eyes, he nodded big nods.
“Ready to take them home for the night?” Noah stood up and nodded. “Then let’s go.”
***
“This is it?” Joseph’s voice was a whisper. “Lord above, take care of these people.”
Rebekah was speechless.
Peter said nothing at all.
“I know it isn’t much, I don’t pretend that it is. It isn’t even a home. But nobody dares come here because of the shakiness from the train—they call it the El.”
Sure enough, Patty and Noah had carved out a cozy little bolt hole beneath the elevated train tracks. “Said the train has been running elevated like this since 1870. I would have thought people would hurry to make their homes here. I was wrong.”
