31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Behind them the man screamed, “You two! Thieves! Come back here!” Jacquelyn had never heard anyone so angry. Was he really coming after them? And why? They’d done nothing wrong. The train car had been empty. It wasn’t as if their presence made a difference either way.
Jacquelyn ran as quickly as she could, not looking back until the man’s voice had receded in the distance. When they got a safe stretch away, Ezra slowed and waited for her to catch up. “That was a close one.”
Out of breath, Jacquelyn managed to get out a few words. “What did he want?”
“To nab us, of course. I’m not sure what would have happened if he actually caught us. I don’t think they would have thrown us in jail on Christmas Eve, but you never know.”
“We could have been arrested ? ”
“Oh yes, miss. And a sad state of affairs that would have been. The food in jail is not nearly as good as at the mission, and there won’t be any Christmas carols or special gingerbread cookies there neither.” He clicked his tongue. “Nope, nothing good could have come of that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her hand went to her side, pressing against the sharp pain made worse when she inhaled. “I think I hurt myself running. I might have broken a rib.”
“You have a stitch in your side,” Ezra said. How he knew that she had no idea. “It will go away. You just need to walk it off.”
By this time, the train yard was far behind them. A row of houses to the right made her feel better. They were back to civilization. “Maybe someone here has a telephone I can use?” she asked hopefully.
He shook his head. “No one in this neighborhood can afford a phone. All the money they have is used for getting food on the table and keeping the lights on.”
“Oh.”
He led her through someone’s yard to the street on the other side, then continued on. The houses here were like the ones she’d seen earlier when Eddie had driven her that morning. It was different seeing them while on foot.
At one of the houses, a woman came out to the front porch to shake a rug. “Merry Christmas!” she called out upon seeing them.
“Merry Christmas,” Ezra said back with a wave.
“She seemed friendly,” Jacquelyn said .
“Folks can be nice,” Ezra agreed with a bob of his head. “Christmas brings out the best in people, I think.”
They walked for what seemed like an hour, and then Ezra stopped so suddenly that Jacquelyn nearly walked right into him. “What?”
He raised one finger to point across the street. “That’s Delia’s house. The gray one with the dark roof.”
“Your daughter’s house?” Jacquelyn craned her neck to see. The house was better than most and actually had a Christmas wreath with a red bow on the front door. A picture window framed a decorated tree with a star on top on the other side of the glass. It looked as if reasonable people lived there. “Why don’t we go up to the door and knock? If I explain who I am, it might help.”
“No,” he said, horrified. “I can’t do that to her.” He grabbed Jacquelyn’s arm and pulled her forward. “Let’s keep moving before she spots us.”
Jacquelyn yanked her arm free from his grasp and kept walking. “It was just an idea. You don’t need to manhandle me.”
Ezra didn’t respond until they were in the next block, and then he finally spoke. “I’m sorry.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes.
“Are you crying?” Jacquelyn asked, fascinated. She’d never seen an adult man cry before. In her family, that would have been unheard of.
“My eyes get funny sometimes,” he said ruefully. “It’s just . . . sometimes I miss her so much. She was just the best little girl. I used to call her my sweetie pie. She thought the world of me then. That was before I ruined everything. ”
What did people say for this type of thing? Jacquelyn wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry.” That sounded right, for some reason, although what she could be sorry for she hadn’t a clue. She’d only just met Ezra and wasn’t even around back then.
He nodded in appreciation. “Thank you.”
When they turned the corner several blocks ahead, it became evident they were entering the edge of downtown. Ezra said, “Not too much farther now. I can almost taste those gingerbread cookies. The line can get very long, but I think we’ll be there in plenty of time to get a plate.”
“Wonderful.” Jacquelyn actually didn’t plan to stand in any line for any length of time. She intended to find whoever was in charge at the rescue mission, reveal her true identity, and request—no, demand —that she be allowed to use their telephone. Her family donated substantial amounts of money to the rescue mission every year. They owed her.
When they arrived, Jacquelyn saw that Ezra was right. A line of people stretched thirty feet from the front of the building. It wasn’t moving at all, but at least it was short. Ezra guided her to the back. On the way, he was greeted by some who were waiting.
“Ezra! You made it!”
“Welcome back.”
“Merry Christmas!”
Sheepishly, he returned the words of welcome. “Thanks, gentlemen. It’s good to be home. ”
Home. The word hit her like a gust of wind to the face. Odd that he considered this home.
The couple in line in front of them turned to talk to Ezra. Their skin was ruddy from the cold and their clothes ragged, but their smiles were wide. “Ezra!” the woman cried out, giving him a hug. “How was working at the Christmas tree farm?”
Ezra had a job? This was news to Jacquelyn, who’d assumed he’d gone north to beg for food. Of course, if she’d given it much thought, she would have realized he could have begged just as easily in the city.
“I liked it,” he answered. “I slept in a barn with two other workers, and the food was good. The man paid me on time and said I can come back next year if I want.”
She gave her husband a nudge. “You should have gone. Told ya.”
“You know I could never leave you,” he said. “I always say we don’t have much, but at least we have each other.”
Ezra said, “Where are you folks going to be staying for the holidays?”
“With Bertha’s cousin for the rest of the month,” the man said. “She invited us, even. Didn’t have to ask. You?”
“I’ll be sleeping here, same as usual.” Ezra rubbed his hands together. “It will be good to get out of the cold.”
“Excuse me,” Jacquelyn said, stamping her feet to warm up. “I’m Jacquelyn Sheridan. Can you tell me how I can talk to the person in charge? It’s very important. ”
“Oh, dearie,” the woman said, “I don’t think you’ll be able to talk to anyone until you get inside.” As if reading Jacquelyn’s thoughts, she added, “And you can’t skip ahead, or they’ll ban you and send you packing. Happened to a friend of mine once.”
They wouldn’t dare, Jacquelyn thought, but still she stayed in place. She didn’t want to spoil her chances of getting home. If she’d learned anything from the day’s events it was that being dressed as Jane did her no favors. How could it be that a change of clothes gave her a different status? It hardly seemed fair.
And why did none of these people react to her name? It was as if her social position and money meant nothing to them. So puzzling.