******Thanks again to all who reviewed. I appreciate your kind words of
encouragement. A special thanks to Raeghann for dealing with my whining
into the wee hours of morning.******
Sheila observed the dark circles adorning Emerson's eyes. Whatever she was facing, it had her very afraid. Afraid to sleep, afraid of shadows, afraid of things once taken for granted, fear is what brought her to Sheila's room, caused her to cut and dye her hair. Feeling her friend's pain, she wished for some way ease Emerson's heavy heart.
"Em, why don't you take some time to rest, you need to sleep. You will be safe here. I promise not to tell anyone."
Emerson looked into the caring eyes of her friend and knew she meant well. She should never have come here, risking the lives of others was not her intention and she was afraid that might be the result. Tears welled up in her eyes; she wanted so badly to share everything with Sheila. To tell her of the factory worker who approached and hugged her during her parents' funeral. She had never seen him before and the hug seemed a bit inappropriate, until he whispered something in her ear. There would come a day when she could, but until that time, Emerson hoped Sheila and her family would not be compromised due to her actions.
"I really cannot, but thank you for everything you have done. I must be off before the sun starts to rise."
"Please, tell me where you are off to, I hate the thought of you being out there alone."
"I wish I could, but try not to worry."
"You know that is much easier said than done, I wish there were more I could do. I feel so helpless."
"Well, there is one thing I would like to ask you to do for me, that is, if you do not mind too much."
"Of course not, you should know I would do anything to help you."
"I know. What I need you to do is deliver this package to Mr. Phiscomb's office. He has left for holiday and will be back eight in the morning on Friday."
Sheila nodded and took the large envelope from her. "Be careful out there please. I will respect your wishes and not ask further questions, but I need you to tell me you are going to be okay."
"I will, I promise." Fear crept into Emerson as she attempted to reassure her friend. About to face unfamiliar places, faces and circumstances, she had no right to make such a guarantee. It seemed to soothe Sheila some and for now that was most important.
Hugging her best friend, Emerson made her way out the window. When she emerged on the other side, she was facing the world a new person. At least she looked the part and that was all that mattered.
Yawing and stretching the fingers of the sun started to touch the New York horizon as Emerson's feet hit the ground. Quickly running toward the alley behind the house, she planned to make her way through the back streets and alleys using the shadows and lack of traffic as her friends.
Arriving at her destination, Emerson carefully looked around to be sure no one was watching before climbing up the fire escape to the open window. Cigarette butts covered the landing, which made her smile slightly. Remembering the outing, she and her father made last summer to this place and the young men who smoked from the rooftop telling their stories of life on the street. One story in particular moved her enough to bring tears.
"We found him in an alley, Race and me," the tallest of the group said gesturing toward a boy of smaller stature, but bigger of mouth, "clinging to his mother. When asked what was wrong, he told his she wouldn't wake up. We knew by the smell she had been gone a day or two. He just sat there trying to talk to her, looked as if he hadn't slept for days himself."
Where he paused, the one called Race picked up the story. "Jack picked him up and brought him back here. He's been with us ever since, our little Dare."
Her father just nodded as he heard "our little dear", but Emerson was sure she heard otherwise. "I'm sorry; did you just call the boy Dare? He's such a little one, how was it he picked up such a nickname?"
"Oh, yeah, that's on a count he's always making dares to everyone." Jack spoke back up interrupting an open-mouthed ready to talk Race.
"Well, young man, that was quite a kind thing for you to do." John looked admirably at the boy.
"One day someone helped me when I was in a similar situation, it wasn't nothin'."
It was that conversation which convinced John Lewis to support the boys during their strike. Word came to him from an old high school friend about some of the former house of refuge inmates might need a little financial support. He was told of the strike and the union formed by the boys, of the reporter who befriended them and the greedy newspaper men, of boys armed with sticks and slingshots being attacked by grown men. Here, less than a year ago, John found his cause.
Climbing into the open third floor window, Emerson was surprised to find a few furnishings and not surprised to find a lot of dust. A mattress leaned against the wall next to a cabinet. Opening the cabinet, she found a slightly stained pillow and blanket. Well, it was far from home, but it was better than being on the run. Life as she had known it would never be the same, her parents were dead and had it not been for a case of food poisoning she would have been too.
She pulled the mattress to lie on the floor, removed her shoes, fluffed the pillow and pulled the blanket over her. Realizing then it had been since before her parents' death that she had had a decent night of sleep, Emerson yawned and closed her eyes. Before another thought could invade her mind, she was asleep.
******Okay, I know you think you know where this is going, but I'm out to prove you wrong. Hope you'll be back for more.*******
Sheila observed the dark circles adorning Emerson's eyes. Whatever she was facing, it had her very afraid. Afraid to sleep, afraid of shadows, afraid of things once taken for granted, fear is what brought her to Sheila's room, caused her to cut and dye her hair. Feeling her friend's pain, she wished for some way ease Emerson's heavy heart.
"Em, why don't you take some time to rest, you need to sleep. You will be safe here. I promise not to tell anyone."
Emerson looked into the caring eyes of her friend and knew she meant well. She should never have come here, risking the lives of others was not her intention and she was afraid that might be the result. Tears welled up in her eyes; she wanted so badly to share everything with Sheila. To tell her of the factory worker who approached and hugged her during her parents' funeral. She had never seen him before and the hug seemed a bit inappropriate, until he whispered something in her ear. There would come a day when she could, but until that time, Emerson hoped Sheila and her family would not be compromised due to her actions.
"I really cannot, but thank you for everything you have done. I must be off before the sun starts to rise."
"Please, tell me where you are off to, I hate the thought of you being out there alone."
"I wish I could, but try not to worry."
"You know that is much easier said than done, I wish there were more I could do. I feel so helpless."
"Well, there is one thing I would like to ask you to do for me, that is, if you do not mind too much."
"Of course not, you should know I would do anything to help you."
"I know. What I need you to do is deliver this package to Mr. Phiscomb's office. He has left for holiday and will be back eight in the morning on Friday."
Sheila nodded and took the large envelope from her. "Be careful out there please. I will respect your wishes and not ask further questions, but I need you to tell me you are going to be okay."
"I will, I promise." Fear crept into Emerson as she attempted to reassure her friend. About to face unfamiliar places, faces and circumstances, she had no right to make such a guarantee. It seemed to soothe Sheila some and for now that was most important.
Hugging her best friend, Emerson made her way out the window. When she emerged on the other side, she was facing the world a new person. At least she looked the part and that was all that mattered.
Yawing and stretching the fingers of the sun started to touch the New York horizon as Emerson's feet hit the ground. Quickly running toward the alley behind the house, she planned to make her way through the back streets and alleys using the shadows and lack of traffic as her friends.
Arriving at her destination, Emerson carefully looked around to be sure no one was watching before climbing up the fire escape to the open window. Cigarette butts covered the landing, which made her smile slightly. Remembering the outing, she and her father made last summer to this place and the young men who smoked from the rooftop telling their stories of life on the street. One story in particular moved her enough to bring tears.
"We found him in an alley, Race and me," the tallest of the group said gesturing toward a boy of smaller stature, but bigger of mouth, "clinging to his mother. When asked what was wrong, he told his she wouldn't wake up. We knew by the smell she had been gone a day or two. He just sat there trying to talk to her, looked as if he hadn't slept for days himself."
Where he paused, the one called Race picked up the story. "Jack picked him up and brought him back here. He's been with us ever since, our little Dare."
Her father just nodded as he heard "our little dear", but Emerson was sure she heard otherwise. "I'm sorry; did you just call the boy Dare? He's such a little one, how was it he picked up such a nickname?"
"Oh, yeah, that's on a count he's always making dares to everyone." Jack spoke back up interrupting an open-mouthed ready to talk Race.
"Well, young man, that was quite a kind thing for you to do." John looked admirably at the boy.
"One day someone helped me when I was in a similar situation, it wasn't nothin'."
It was that conversation which convinced John Lewis to support the boys during their strike. Word came to him from an old high school friend about some of the former house of refuge inmates might need a little financial support. He was told of the strike and the union formed by the boys, of the reporter who befriended them and the greedy newspaper men, of boys armed with sticks and slingshots being attacked by grown men. Here, less than a year ago, John found his cause.
Climbing into the open third floor window, Emerson was surprised to find a few furnishings and not surprised to find a lot of dust. A mattress leaned against the wall next to a cabinet. Opening the cabinet, she found a slightly stained pillow and blanket. Well, it was far from home, but it was better than being on the run. Life as she had known it would never be the same, her parents were dead and had it not been for a case of food poisoning she would have been too.
She pulled the mattress to lie on the floor, removed her shoes, fluffed the pillow and pulled the blanket over her. Realizing then it had been since before her parents' death that she had had a decent night of sleep, Emerson yawned and closed her eyes. Before another thought could invade her mind, she was asleep.
******Okay, I know you think you know where this is going, but I'm out to prove you wrong. Hope you'll be back for more.*******