Tears coursed down Evan's face. He let them flow, only wiping a few away so he could see his son. Joseph sat a hand's breath away. He wanted to hoot to the sky or dance in wild abandon, tossing his son high into the air and catching him again. But the boy looked ready to run at the slightest movement with a badger of a guardian watching out for him.
Evan chose his words and then delivered them quietly so the boys wouldn't spook at the powerful emotion raging inside his chest. "Frankie.” He inclined his head with respect to the boy who’d protected an unrelated child like a brother. Then he turned to his son. “Joey, yes, I know you're my son. You have your mama's hair and the shape of her eyes. But see the color of mine? That's the color of yours."
Frankie leaned in to inspect Evan's eyes. And nodded.
"See the shape of your brow and nose?"
"No."
"Uh, sorry. Of course. We need a mirror."
Mirielle picked up Joey from her lap and set him near Frankie. "One moment. I have a compact in my reticule." She went to her desk, retrieved it, and knelt beside the boys. "Take a look. I think you'll see what we all can see."
Joey stared hard into the mirror. Then up at Evan, whose tears had dried but his face shone with joy.
Looking back into his reflection, Joey's finger traced an eyebrow. He looked back and Evan and held up the same finger toward his father's face.
Evan leaned into Joey's hand and the little boy traced his father's eyebrows, nose, and chin.
"What do you think?" Mirielle asked. "Would you like to get to know your daddy?"
A small whisper from Joey made them all lean in to hear. "Yes, but I don't wanna leave Frankie."
Evan accepted his comment, thought for a moment, and then smiled. "Frankie, he says you made him come. You had all the last week and a few days. But why did you bring Joey today and not another day?"
"I wasn't sure before."
"You weren't sure of what?"
"I found Joey. He was kind of a mess of a little kid. But—" he shrugged as he wiped his nose on a sleeve.
Both Mirielle and Evan waited and allowed Frankie to tell his story.
"It was hard to be alone, and he didn't eat much. But it's been hard to get him shoes and a coat and stuff. When you showed up lookin' fer him, at first I thought you'd jes be takin' him away." He looked at Joey. "Then I remembered what the pastor said about puttin' others first. I wanted to make sure Joey had a chance even if I didn't." He lowered his eyes.
"When you gave me your word, did you mean it?" Evan asked.
"Yeah. I gave my word." Another tear threatened Frankie's composure. "But I had to be sure you was who you said you was, and he was the son you lost."
"Even if it means you'll lose Joey, you still want to make sure he's safe back with me?"
"Yeah," Frankie's voice dropped to a low whisper. "It's the right thing to do."
"Frankie, I can't tell you how much I appreciate the care and love you've given Joseph." Evan cocked his head to the side, trying to catch Frankie's line of sight. "You remember I also gave my word on something, don't you?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I'm glad one of the boys is gonna get you as a sponsor, sir."
Evan shook his head. "Not just one of the boys, Frankie, I'd be honored if it would be you."
"Me?" Frankie's head popped up. Then he wrinkled his brow. "I can't accept."
"Why in the world not?" Mirielle asked, her brows furrowed. "Frankie, you can't pass up this opportunity."
He shook his head with a sad expression, but he squared his shoulders as if resolved. "I got more guys out there, Miss Mirielle. I can't leave 'em all. I can’t leave one of ‘em. They gotta have a leader. Someone to help 'em learn how to survive."
Evan answered, "I'll tell you what, Frankie—"
"Son, I say you give the rest of us a chance." Mr. Broadwater called into the room, startling all four of them. Mrs. Broadwater stood next to him with a hankie pressed to her cheek. Behind them, quite a crowd gathered, waiting in the hall respectfully.
The boys jumped up quick as hotcakes flipping on a griddle.
Mirielle sighed as Evan offered his hand to help her to her feet. She draped elegant fingers across his palm. With radiating excitement, she stood and then leaned in to him. "I think it's all going to work out, Mr. Russell. We're going to build a life for these boys!"
He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them. He looked into the depths of her soul and said, "Yes. We are."
"Isn't that so romantic?" Mrs. Broadwater asked a little too loudly of Mrs. McDonald. Other invited guests continued to fill the room and join in the social festivities. "And they say they aren't courting. Pooh."
Mirielle pinked all the way into her brunette tresses. "Mrs. Broadwater—"
Evan interrupted. "Yes, Mrs. Broadwater, I'm declaring my intentions to court Miss Sheehan," he looked only at her, willing a positive response, "if she'll accept."
Mirielle's pretty mouth opened a tiny bit before she clamped it shut. Would she agree? The seconds ticked away in silence.
"I, uh," she dipped her head and peeked up through her lashes. "I would like that, Mr. Russell."
The two ladies and a few of their friends clapped in glee.
"Now that's settled as I knew it would be." Mrs. Broadwater slipped an arm around Mirielle's waist. "Shall we choose our proteges?"
Evan looked down at the two boys near him and shrugged. They shrugged back with grins on their faces.
Frankie spoke first, "Womenfolk. They sure go fer that sweet stuff."
Evan broke out in laughter. "Makes life awfully nice for the menfolk though."
Frankie sagely nodded. “I like their cookies.”
Evan ruffled the boy's hair. "I have a surprise for everyone, including Miss Mirielle. Would you get the other boys and help me?"
Frankie called his team to follow. A few minutes later, they reemerged with huge grins. Each boy carried either a drum, a penny whistle, or a hand drum. Except one youngster carried bagpipes.
The crowd burst into applause.
Mirielle wove through the crowd. "How in the world did you do this?"
He gestured around the room to the other men, tipping a nod to him here and there. "I had a little help from the Montana Club members."
"It's just wonderful!" She turned back with a worried look. "But I don't play or teach bagpipes."
"Ah, but Mr. McDonald does." He shook hands with the older man. "Miss Mirielle Sheehan, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. McDonald. He and his wife would like to sponsor the boy with the bagpipes. That lucky young man will get instruction on the instrument and, should he earn his grades as expected, on graduation will also be granted an internship at Mr. McDonald's import business. He has a series of warehouses and needs to raise up management to take over for him."
"How did you figure all that out?" Mirielle asked.
He felt like a hero in her eyes. "It wasn't hard. We had a talk the other day at the club meeting. A few of the members took it upon themselves to get the donated instruments."
"But the McDonald's?"
"They have no children to inherit. Jonathan is one of the older newsies. If he can prove himself a talented student, he'll get quite the opportunity starting in management with Mr. McDonald's business dealings."
One-by-one, they sponsored the boys by the end of the tea. Those sponsors would also act as mentors with regular visits to help the boys continually learn social skills. Their speeches drew both adoration and chuckles from the crowd. Two hours went by faster than his hat had the day he dropped it into the stream accidentally. It was out of sight before he'd taken three steps.
"That's it, Frankie. I bet you fellas are tuckered out." Evan put an arm around the lad and gave him a quick squeeze.
"Yup. Speechifying's real hard."
Evan laughed. "Yes, it is. Looks like the speechifying worked. Every boy has their sponsor—except one." Evan held out a hand. "Shake on it?"
Frankie's eyes lit up. "Yes, sir." As they shook, Frankie tossed out a question. "You gonna take Joey now you kept yer word?" He tucked both hands in his pockets and waited.
Evan put his hands in his pockets, too. "I haven't had a chance to think it all through yet, have you?"
Frankie didn't speak. He just looked at his shoes and wagged his head back and forth a little.
"What would you think if I rented a room next to mine for the two of you?"
"Can't do it, Mr. Evan. Got my guys to think about, you know." He tossed a side-glance at his new sponsor before resuming his downward gaze. "I think Joey's gonna need some time. He used ta have some real bad nightmares after I found him. Sometimes they come back."
Evan twisted his bottom lip to the side, scrunching up his lips as he considered the problem. He kept the fact his gut wrenched at Frankie’s revelation to himself. "That's a hard one."
"Yeah. But we been doin' good before you came." He rocked back and forth, heel to toe and back again as if he rolled on a log.
"Surviving is good." He offered a cautious response. If Frankie changed his mind and bolted with Joey, it'd be a hard road finding them again. "You never know when things might go south."
The boy-man took another soul-wrenching look into Evan's eyes. "What d'ya say we let Joey get ta knowin' ya first?” Frankie patted Joey’s shoulder. “He'll come around."
"What do you say I make sure all you boys get back to the Shanahan's each night for the time being? I hear they make sure you're all safe in the carriage house and their footman stays too."
Frankie gave a slight smile with grudging admiration in his eyes. "You been doin' some checkin' on us." Then he turned to face Evan and stuck out his hand. "Man-to-man, I give you my word. I'll help Joey get ready to come be with you."
He repeated their earlier test. "You good for your word?"
Stretching to his tallest, Frankie said, "Yep. You good fer yers?"
"You better believe I am." Evan accepted the boy's handshake without scoffing at a boy playing a grown up role. So much maturity, not yet a man but trying hard to act like one. It was his turn to admire Frankie. "If you'll help finish the cleanup and bring the newsies together, I'll let Miss Mirielle know our plan so she won't worry." Though I will, until Joseph is safe with me. But forcing the matter when the boys had shown themselves both trustworthy wouldn't rebuild a strong relationship with his son or his new ward.