Dinner in the lighthouse was taken only after washing up, Nora insisted, and she'd showed him to the little private bathroom. Pete had never seen anything so modern as the shower she showed him, and she explained that their lighthouse had been established thirty years ago, but that they had added some modern things from a stipend allotted them; lighthouses needed to be in excellent repair, and they budgeted upgrades for rooms regularly.

Pete had been left to wash in privacy. Which was partly the reason he had decided to do it at all. If scrubbing up had meant disrobing in front of Nora, or letting her see the marks still on him from his beatings, he would have refused.

He'd seen a cake of soap and used it, but hadn't been sure how to go about getting his hair clean without dunking his head underwater; also, his shoulders still ached, a little, from the beating he'd taken yesterday, before he'd run away, again. So his hair still smelled dusty and sweaty, but he'd combed it, at least, and he didn't know what to expect, when he got out of the bathing room.

There hadn't been a towel for him to dry off, and he couldn't find his clothes, except for his underthings, but Nora had given him a black sort of bathrobe. He was grateful for the long sleeves, because washing up so late in the evening meant he was rather chilly, now.

The kitchen he followed his nose to was cramped, and cluttered, but it didn't feel…oppressive. Like it would have done, at the Gogans. There was a sink, instead of a pump, and there was a stove, and irons for washing, Pete thought, and he saw his awful clothes hanging from a line, clothespinned neatly, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

For her part, Nora had donned an apron and was stirring the chowder, which she said she'd added some water to, and she waved him to sit down at the little table, where she almost immediately set a brimming bowl of hot clam chowder in front of him.

Then, Pete was eating. He wasn't worried about anything because he hadn't had chowder since his Mama used to make it, and he hadn't had a hot dinner in…months. Since before running away the first time, at the start of summer. If he'd been bad, he was put on punishment. If he was on punishment, he didn't get supper.

Pete's supper last night had been a hiding with Mister Gogan's belt and a cucumber, he remembered. He'd liberated it from his weeding because it had been too spindly to let grow to maturity. It had been sour, and he'd coughed on the seeds. It was usually anything he'd managed to sneak while he was working, during the day; a green tomato or a crab-apple or something he could hide in the large pockets of the overalls without squashing.

Nora refilled his bowl without him asking, and chatted happily with him as she bustled about the little kitchen, she dried dishes at the table with him, and got him a glass of water, straight from the sink, and showed him how the water could run hot or cold.

She was so nice. It was so nice.

"So Pete, you're travelling. You came here this morning from the west of town, and you're not sure where your parents are, or where you're staying," she said at length, but it wasn't…mean. Wasn't accusatory. She was just…summarizing what Pete had told her about himself.

"My parents are dead," Pete admitted. "I was staying with the Gogans."

"The Gogans," Nora repeated, and she set to untying her apron. She didn't ask about them. Didn't say anything else. But Pete felt the compulsion to explain. If he could just tell someone why, and they could understand it didn't matter about the Bill of Sale or the running away.

"The Gogans own me, I guess," he said. "They said it was against the law for me to ever leave them."

Nora didn't comment on that. Just nodded. And walked behind him, to sit in her chair, where she'd poured herself a cup of tea, a moment ago. "Where did you get that bruise?" she asked, pulling lightly at the collar of the bathrobe. Pete had taken a particularly large bite of chowder, or he might have ducked the gentle touch.

"Mister Gogan," he answered, without looking at her. "I was milking the cow and I missed the bucket." Well, he had 'missed' the bucket in that Willie had spilled it, and then Pete had been punished for it.

Nora sat down, and Pete looked at her, then. And she just…she looked so nice. So concerned. "Had…he done that before?"

"All the time," Pete said emphatically. "The first time I ran away, the orphan home sent me back."

It had been awful. He'd run through the night, and then been caught when he fell asleep. Missus Gogan had smiled and showed the worker her Bill of Sale as Mister Gogan had clamped Pete in an iron grip. The worker had left, and Pete had been forced, struggling, into the house, where Willie was waiting with Mister Gogan's belt, and Grover was waiting to tie Pete down to 'take 'is lickin' like a man.'

"This time, I'll just keep running," he finished, and it was a fact. He had a plan. He and Elliot would find a train, maybe. Get far away.

"Well, you'll be safe here," Nora said, and Pete didn't know what to say to that.

It wasn't the plan. It wasn't what he meant, at all. Why was she being…so nice?

"Nora, no one's ever been this nice to me," he said, and wished he could take it back. And he couldn't ask her 'why.' He didn't want her to say it was because she felt sorry for him. The dirty street urchin. "I'll always remember it," he said instead, and tried for a grateful sort of expression on his face.

"Pete, why don't you sleep here tonight? And then…we'll figure out what to do tomorrow. Okay?" Nora seemed…nervous. Saying it.

Pete smiled and nodded.

"Wonderful," Nora smiled back. "I've got work to do. Come on."


AUTHORS NOTE

I think I like this better than my other piece? Where I did this scene in Nora's POV? I actually had the film literally in a side-by-side reference while I wrote, this time, courtesy of Disneyplus, which I didn't, at the time I wrote 'It's Not Easy.' (I noticed continuity errors based on my recall, which was faulty) But I like the other piece, too. So...this one and that one can sorta compliment each other, if you want to give that a read. :)

And we'll continue on, next time! Which might be tomorrow, depending on what I get written!

~Angeladex