1894
Grace shivered as she and Patrick trudged through the snow-covered streets of North Brooklyn. "We'll be inside soon, Gracie," said Patrick. "I promise. It'll have warm soup, hot coffee, and a nice fire going."
Grace nodded. They had been walking for an hour trying to find some place that was open on Christmas Eve. She believed in Patrick. She knew he'd find a place for them to eat. She knew he'd get her warm.
Never in a million years did she think she'd find herself in this situation on a Christmas Eve.
They'd been living on the street for the past two weeks – ever since they'd come home from school to find the hand that life had dealt Grace.
Patrick and Grace walked in the front door of the apartment and began to take off their coats and scarves when Mrs. Conlon appeared with the baby on her hip.
"Pack your things, Grace," said Mrs. Conlon.
Patrick frowned. "What's going on?"
"Pearl died this morning while you two were at school," said Mrs. Conlon.
Grace felt like she'd been kicked in the gut. "What?" her voice cracked.
"The undertaker took her away a few hours ago," said Mrs. Conlon. "I've already sent for one of the matrons at the girls orphanage down the street. She'll be coming for you shortly."
"No!" Patrick frowned.
Grace walked trance-like toward a chair and sat down, still reeling from the shock of the initial news.
"Patrick, we can't afford to feed another mouth without rent," said Mrs. Conlon. "As it was, Pearl was behind on her rent ever since she got sick. So, unless Grace can get a job and pay rent, she needs to leave."
"This is so unfair!" Patrick yelled, startling the baby. The baby began to cry.
Mrs. Conlon sighed. "Now look what you did." She walked away, lightly bouncing the baby, trying to calm the child.
Patrick turned to Grace, who had tears streaming down her cheeks. He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the sheet that divided the living room.
"Pack your bags," he whispered.
Grace looked up at him, panic-stricken. "What?"
"Shh," he said. "Just trust me. Pack anything you want to take with you and do it fast."
Patrick hadn't let her go to the orphanage. He put a few of his own belongings into a pillow case and stole a few dollars from his stepmom's purse without her noticing. By the time the matron from the orphanage came to the apartment, Patrick and Grace were long gone, having run away out the window and down the fire escape.
Despite the cold December nights, Patrick always managed to find a place for them to sleep. Not all of them were warm, but they weren't freezing outside.
"Here we go," said Patrick as they walked up to a restaurant, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Patrick pulled the door open and a rush of warm air greeted them. Grace walked in. She felt like her skin was melting in the most glorious way.
"Sorry, kids, it may be Christmas Eve, but we ain't givin' out freebies," said the owner.
"We don't want any freebies," said Patrick. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small handful of coins and put them on the counter.
The owner pushed the coins around, counting them and then nodded. "You kids have a seat," he nodded toward the empty tables.
Patrick led Grace over and they sat down.
Grace looked across the table at her companion. She could see the stress and worry etched on his face – worries and stresses that no twelve year-old should have. She trusted him completely and had absolute faith in him. He had not let her down once.
The owner brought over two cups of hot coffee. Grace wrapped her hands around the warm mug and bowed her head, letting the steam from the coffee warm her face.
"I might have a place for us to stay tonight," said Spot.
Grace looked up at him.
"One where we won't have to split up."
"Really?" They had been searching for lodging houses all around Brooklyn. They'd found girls lodging houses and boys lodging houses, but none of them were close to each other. Neither of them wanted to split up. Patrick felt the compulsion to be near her to keep an eye on her. Grace was nervous to be on her own after relying on him for so long.
Patrick nodded. "I met some fellas when I was gettin' our papes this morning," he said. "They seemed like solid guys."
"The same guys who keep callin' you Spot?" asked Grace.
Patrick nodded and rolled his eyes. "One time…one time, I ask if they'd spot me a couple cents, and now it's a big joke."
Grace grinned and shrugged. "It kinda suits you. Spot Conlon."
"Spike would be better."
Grace laughed for the first time since her mother had gotten sick six weeks ago. "Spike? Spike Conlon?" She laughed as Patrick rolled his eyes.
The owner came over and placed one plate of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and green beans between them. "That's what you can afford," said the owner.
Patrick nodded. "Thank you."
He picked up a fork and knife and began cutting the turkey. He divided up all the food on the plate, giving Grace slightly larger portions.
"This stuffing is great," said Patrick. "Reminds me of your mom's." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he paused and looked over at her. "Sorry, Gracie."
She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes. "It's okay." She sniffed and wiped her eyes before he tears could come. "It does taste like her stuffing."
Patrick put his utensils down and put his hand on hers.
"I'm an orphan," Grace said softly.
"Yeah," said Spot. "But you still got family."
Grace looked up and grinned. "Merry Christmas…Spot."
Patrick grinned and shook his head. "Merry Christmas, Gracie."