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NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND
December 1906
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
What looked like a pile of rags just outside the door moved, and Faith Davenport found herself staring into the pale gray eyes of a boy around her age, wrapped in a ragged wool coat that had seen better days.
The boy shook his head, and when Faith looked closer, she saw that his dirty face wore the tracks of dried tears.
Many people found their way to First Steps, her parents’ shelter for those in need, but it wasn’t often that children appeared unattended. Faith was about to ask the boy where his parents were when he spoke up, as if he expected the question.
“My father’s ill, and I need something for him to eat. I heard about this place, and was hoping I could get a bit of bread to take back to him.”
Faith pushed her back against the open door and opened her hand to gesture inside, hoping she appeared as welcoming as her Aunt Catherine did when she greeted visitors to First Steps.
“Please come in and warm up. I’ll find someone to help . . .”
The boy interrupted her, shaking his head firmly as he frowned.
“No, miss. I mean, no, thank you. If I could just get that bread, I need to get back to my father.”
Everyone who came to the shelter for help needed to talk to one of the adults, whether it was Faith’s Aunt Catherine or Aunt Sarah, Faith’s parents, or one of the volunteers. Faith’s mother was attending to a young mother who was having difficulty with her baby as the baby’s father spoke with Faith’s own father, and as she glanced around the hallway inside the building, she didn’t see anyone else who could advise her.
She had opened the door to check on an expected delivery from a boy who worked for her Uncle Sam, but he had yet to appear. This boy, though, was shivering in front of her, and she wished he would just come in and sit, both to warm up and to speak with an adult.
At twelve, she knew plenty of how the shelter ran its business, but she also knew that she didn’t have the authority to make decisions.
She bit her lower lip, a habit her Grandmother Davenport often chastised her about, and stood up a little straighter.
“Wait here.”
There were loaves of fresh bread waiting to be taken to a variety of homes as well as the hospital, and when the cook returned to her post (where was she? Faith wondered), she would be understanding if Faith told her about the boy and his sick father.
After all, her parents had brought her up to look out for the needs of others, and if this wasn’t a time for her to do just that, she wasn’t sure when it would be.
She opened a drawer where a stack of clean folded napkins rested, and pulled one out, flapping it out to release it from its ironed creases. The loaf of bread at the end of the row on the counter was larger than the others, and Faith thought it was perfect, enough for the boy as well as his father.
Why didn’t the boy ask for any for himself?
After wrapping the bread carefully in the faded blue napkin, she carried the small package back to the door, grimacing when she noticed that she had left it wide open so the frigid air gathered in the small space inside the building.
She hardly felt the cold as she stepped outside, where the boy stood with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He wore a plaid cap that was too big for his head, and she wondered if it was his father’s.
It certainly wasn’t warm enough for this sort of weather.
“Here. I hope this helps him feel better,” she offered, holding the warm bundle out to him. When he raised his gaze to hers, she was surprised at the rise of tears behind her own.
Blinking quickly to keep them from falling, she tried to smile, but his expression was so tired and sad, as if he carried the weight of the world on his thin shoulders, that she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
He nodded and turned away, but Faith reached out without thinking about what she was doing.
Grasping his arm, she took a step closer to him as he glanced back at her, those gray eyes of his wide and fearful.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to know your name.”
His lips twitched downwards at the edges, and he whispered just loud enough for her to hear the word before he raced off, slipping a little on the frozen ground.
“Thomas.”
For the rest of the day, Faith wondered if Thomas would return, and if he might be convinced to allow Dr. Colt or his partner, Dr. Benton, to visit their home to check on his father.
The adults at the shelter appeared one after another, as she knew they would, and First Steps became lively as the dinner hour grew near. Visitors came by for a free meal if that was all they needed, and at this time of year, there were plenty who were hungry, even if they had a home and work.
But Faith wondered why the building had felt so empty when she searched for someone to help Thomas, and when she told the cook that she had given a loaf of bread to a boy earlier, the cook had only nodded, smiling her approval as she mixed cookie dough.
While she used a variety of cookie cutters to make cute shapes in the sugar cookies for the children at the shelter, as well as the adults who had a sweet tooth, Faith found her mind drifting off, thinking about the boy and his sad gray eyes.
Please, God, look out for Thomas and his father. If there is something more I can do to help them, please show me what it is.
Her silent prayers continued until her parents interrupted her thoughts, surprising her with a reminder that it was time for the three of them to go home.
“You’ve been such a big help, and I’m sure the day has passed quickly for you.”
Her mother was a short woman with a deceptively delicate appearance, for when she felt strongly about something, she took a stand and no one, no matter their size, could sway her. She doted on Faith and her little brother Johnny, who couldn’t keep still long enough to be anything but trouble at First Steps.
Her mother’s claim was correct, although Faith couldn’t be sure what she did, exactly, after meeting Thomas. Aside from cutting out cookie dough, it seemed as if she had drifted from one project or activity to another, as one adult or another directed her.
But the boy was in her thoughts and prayers, and she wondered why she didn’t speak up to tell her parents about him.
He felt like a secret, something special between herself and God, and it occurred to her that maybe that was why she was the only one who was available to help him that day.
She smiled during the carriage ride home as her father fussed over her and her mother, tucking a heavy wool blanket around them to keep them warm, at the very idea that she might be important to someone outside her family, someone who needed her.
Christmas was in a few days, and she wondered if she might be able to find a coat that would fit Thomas in the mass of donations at the shelter, resolving to look around for one the next day.
“I think we’ll stay home until the day after Christmas, seeing as we have company and we have several volunteers who can look after First Steps.”
Her father suddenly spoke up as they pulled up to the home they shared with her father’s parents, a sort of castle on the Cliff Walk that her grandmother practically designed herself decades ago.
His words made something in her chest flutter, and she shook her head.
“But . . .”
She waited on the seat, still tucked under the blanket, as her father helped her mother from the carriage, and wondered if either of her parents had heard her protest.
When her father reached back inside and offered her his hand, she leaned forward, a loose lock of her sandy blonde hair falling into her eyes.
“What is it?”
Instead of taking her hand, her father touched her cheek gently, and the warmth of his hand on her skin made her realize she had been holding her breath.
“Faith?”
Her mother’s own fair hair trailed behind her as she peeked around her father, the both of them wearing the same concerned frown, their foreheads creased identically.
Faith couldn’t help laughing a little at how much they were alike, when they seemed so different to people who didn’t know them.
“I’m sorry, I’m just tired.”
She rested her hand in her father’s, allowing him to assist her as she stepped down from the carriage. An icy blast of air whirled around her, stinging her cheeks and eyes.
Were Thomas and his father cold? Did they have a warm place to stay and blankets for the night?
“What if there’s an emergency, and someone needs help at First Steps? Shouldn’t we be there, even if it’s Christmas?”
Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and Faith closed her eyes as she basked in the comfort of her mother’s love and warmth.
“You’re very kind to think of others right now, especially with this weather. But we have plenty of volunteers and employees to assist, so you can enjoy spending time with Johnny and your cousins for a few days.”
Faith had a difficult time enjoying any time with her younger brother, who simply ran around getting into whatever appealed to him at the time. He roller skated in the basement, which made an awful racket on the stone floors, and slid down the bannister on the staircase, more often than not landing in a heap (and in tears) on the hard wood floor.
Her cousin Ruby, who was the same age as Johnny and a year younger than Faith, wasn’t much better. Johnny would steal ribbons from her hair, and she would chase him, screaming in pretend outrage as she laughed, using his actions as an excuse to run around herself.
Evie, Ruby’s little sister, was yet another year younger than Faith, and she was always too busy reading to pay any attention to Faith, Johnny, or Ruby.
Over the next couple of days, Faith busied herself in preparations for the holiday, helping Rachel, the Davenport family cook, in the kitchen with cookies and cakes, and agreeing with everything her grandmother said, mainly because no one else did and Faith wanted to please her.
“You’re a good girl, Faith. When I was your age, I could not have imagined that I’d be a grandmother now, with the most precious girl here at my side.”
Every hour she was awake, though, Faith thought of Thomas, and kept him in her prayers, an ongoing conversation with God in which she thanked him for his blessings and asked for his help.
Please keep Thomas and his father healthy and safe.
On Christmas Day, no one paid much attention when the telephone rang. Ruby and Johnny were racing up and down the stairs as Faith’s Aunt Catherine unsuccessfully attempted to get Ruby to sit on the sofa with Evie, who, as usual, had her head in a book, the tiny red-gold bun at the nape of her thin neck motionless as her eyes scanned the pages.
Their Aunt Sarah, as always, was attentive to each of them in turn, asking what they had been studying with their tutors and what exciting things had happened in their lives, as if she hadn't seen Faith at the shelter recently.
She and Uncle Sam lived farther north inland, not far from First Steps, and as Faith had grown older, she started to notice that while her aunt and uncle were very close and loving with each other, they seemed a little sad.
Every Christmas, after the large and loud dinner during which her grandfather howled with laughter and her grandmother admonished everyone with more humor than seriousness, Aunt Sarah would wander off by herself, finally stopping to stare out of the enormous window that faced the Cliff Walk. Uncle Sam would leave her alone for a short time, then join her, standing behind her with his arms holding her close.
This year, Faith watched this ritual unfold, and it occurred to her that while they both seemed to adore their nieces and nephew, they had no children of their own. She wasn’t sure why she noticed it now, when she had been aware of the fact for years now, but perhaps it was the way Aunt Sarah smiled sadly, as if she was incredibly tired, as she looked at each of the children in turn before walking away.
“Mama,” she whispered in her mother’s ear, after making her way back into the busy great room, where an enormous Christmas tree filled her sight, along with unwrapped gift boxes and colorful ribbons strewn across the floor.
Her brother was slumped against their father on one of the sofas, his eyes drooping as he struggled to stay awake, and their father’s hand stroked Johnny’s damp forehead affectionately.
Her mother and father had their hands clasped together as they sat side by side, and they looked at each other as if they were communicating silently between just the two of them, at least until Faith spoke quietly.
“Yes?”
Her mother’s voice was gentle, soft enough not to wake her brother but clear and interested as she turned her focus to her daughter. Faith sat on the arm of the sofa, looking over at her grandmother quickly first.
If the matriarch of the family saw her commit this grave error, she would never hear the end of it.
“Why is Aunt Sarah so sad?”
Her mother reached out and took Faith’s hand, blinking quickly as if she had something in her eyes.
“Her brother and sister have children of their own, and she loves all of you very much, and so does your Uncle Sam. But they would like a son or daughter as well, and so far, that hasn’t been in God’s plan for them.”
Faith bit her lip as she pondered this information. The God she knew, the one she prayed to and thanked every day, was good, and she had grown up watching that goodness fill her own life as well as her family’s.
It didn’t make sense that God would play a part of something that made someone wonderful like Aunt Sarah sad.
“What is it, Faith?”
She was too big to sit in her mother’s lap, but when her mother tugged her close, she slid down and found herself there, worried that she was much too heavy. Soon she would be as tall as her mother, and as her grandmother often insisted, she wasn’t a little girl anymore.
“Are you worried about them?”
Faith sighed and leaned into her mother, allowing herself to be wrapped in her familiar, loving embrace.
“Just pray for them, sweetheart, as we all do.”
When Aunt Sarah and Uncle Sam returned to the room, Sarah was sniffling just enough for Faith to notice, and she sent up a silent prayer asking God to comfort her aunt, and if he could, send her a child for Christmas.
She must have nodded off, because not long after her prayer concluded, she heard voices around her, louder than expected for the quiet holiday evening. When she lifted her head, she found her mother frowning up at her father, who was staring down at Faith with wide eyes, his head tilted to the side.
“What’s wrong?”
When she stood up, stumbling a little as she tried not to step on her mother’s small feet, she squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them, her vision a little blurry from her nap.
“I’ve just had a telephone call from First Steps. They’ve had a sad afternoon, with a boy who came in asking for a doctor for his sick father.”
Faith stood up straight, certain that this boy was Thomas.
He had to be.
“Do you know this boy, Faith? He asked for you when he came, and now that his father is in God’s hands, he won’t speak to anyone.”
Oh, no. His father . . . and he hadn’t mentioned a mother.
Was Thomas now alone in the world?
“Please, can we go and see him?”
It was a bitterly cold day, and no one wanted to be outside if they could help it.
But Thomas had come out to ask for help for his dying father, and now he knew no one but her.
“There is a bed for him at First Steps, and I’ve made sure he will be safe and comfortable there for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow . . .”
Faith’s heart seemed to leap in her chest. Would a day make a difference to Thomas? Maybe her father didn’t think so, but she knew it would. How long could she be alone, without her parents, before her own heart would break?
She clutched her folded hands to her collarbone and ducked her chin into them as if in prayer just as Aunt Sarah stepped closer, her brow furrowed and her cheeks still pink from the tears she had shed earlier. Uncle Sam moved silently beside her, his hand on her elbow as if to keep her steady.
“Is something wrong?”
Faith turned to see what her mother thought of the situation, and was surprised to find her staring down, as if she wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t like her mother at all to ignore others, and she was about to ask her if she was listening when her mother lifted her head and sighed almost imperceptibly.
“I think we should go and make sure he is settled, Arthur. And if it would help him feel better, we should allow him a visit with his only friend, who clearly will agree with me.”
Aunt Catherine appeared behind Aunt Sarah, her eyes bright.
“What am I missing?”
A loud snore from the other side of the room made Faith jump, just as her Uncle Will laughed.
“She would never believe it if we told her that she snores, would she?”
Her grandmother snored more loudly than her grandfather did, and as they both napped in chairs separated by a small table only large enough to hold the colorful Tiffany lamp that rested on it, she broke the moment of silence between them all as Faith waited for the adults to explain the situation.
More important, she waited for them to agree with her mother, so they could leave.
So she could see Thomas again.
“You’re right, and I wouldn’t be brave enough to tell her in any case.”
Aunt Catherine and Uncle Will laughed a little, but seemed to realize that everyone else had maintained their somber mood.
“Would you care to explain, Faith?”
Her father nodded to her as he looked at her aunts and uncles, so she lifted her chin and pressed her arms down as if she was reciting something for her tutor.
“There is a boy at the shelter who came a few days ago. He returned today, and his father . . .”
She frowned, finding the next words difficult, as if she had known the man herself.
“His father has died, and he is going to stay at First Steps. But I was the only person he talked to the first time he came, so he mentioned me, and I want to go see him, so please . . .”
“Faith,” her mother rested her hand over Faith’s tightly clasped ones, standing up beside her. “There’s no need to beg. I think we can agree this is a special circumstance, and if it offers the boy comfort to see you, we will go. It is a shame, for him to be so young and as you believe, with no family left in the world.”
Her mother turned her gaze to Aunt Sarah as she spoke, the words becoming, it seemed, more for her than anyone else, and Faith wasn’t sure why. It didn’t matter, though, because if her mother wanted to take Faith to First Steps, her father would certainly agree.
Aunt Sarah’s expression went blank for a moment, and Faith watched her slowly turn towards Uncle Sam. They stared at each other as Uncle Will and Aunt Catherine spoke animatedly together, and Faith couldn’t imagine how her brother and cousins could sleep through the growing commotion.
“I’m sure he’ll sleep like a perfect angel,” Aunt Catherine assured her father, who raised one eyebrow at the idea of Johnny as an angel. She and Uncle Will were staying here with the other children and Faith’s grandparents, but Aunt Catherine hugged Aunt Sarah for a long while before they broke apart and Aunt Sarah walked out the front door, her head down as she took Uncle Sam’s hand in her own.
Faith kept quiet as Aunt Sarah and Uncle Sam followed her parents outside after gathering their coats, and her mother bundled her into hers as she fell into a sort of daze.
The carriage ride was uncomfortably silent, and Faith swallowed against her growing concern that something was terribly wrong. When her fingers twisted in the heavy wool blanket that covered her mother’s lap as well as her own, her mother rested her hand over them, calming her with the simple gesture.
Aunt Sarah stared out into the sunset, the streaky orange sky hinting at a warmth that the surrounding air did not carry, and Uncle Sam watched Aunt Sarah, his arm around her shoulders as if she might fall away from him if he didn’t hold onto her.
Faith wasn’t sure what was happening, or why either of them wanted to come. Both of them helped at the shelter all the time, even as they had a business of their own to manage. Like Aunt Catherine and Uncle Will, they had met at First Steps, but Faith didn’t know much about the situations that brought them together.
But Thomas was foremost in her thoughts now, and if Aunt Sarah and Uncle Sam were willing to come and help in whatever way they could, she was grateful. Maybe Thomas would feel better about his loss when he saw how many people cared about him.
The outside of First Steps was quiet, which rarely happened during the day when Faith was there. She had never been at the shelter in the evening, and wondered if it was always so silent.
“Come now, let’s get you into a hot bath and a change of clothes. You must be hungry, too.”
Faith recognized the voice of a young woman, Nancy, who had just started volunteering at the shelter but had an emotional connection to others there, as she had been a resident with her own family when she was a child.
Her tone was authoritative but empathetic, as if she was practicing to be a mother herself one day.
But Thomas’ face was turned away from Nancy as if he had no interest in what she offered, but the way he twisted a worn gray cap in his hands told Faith all she needed to know about how he was handling the loss of his father.
Of his home.
Of his life as he knew it.
She tried not to run to him, knowing that it wasn’t ladylike to do so, but her feet seemed to move of their own accord and the tiny heels of her boots clapped along the wooden floor as she cleared the distance between them.
If anyone made a move to stop her, she didn’t notice.
“I’m sorry I took so long to get here,” she offered, nodding to Nancy, who shrugged and backed away to allow Faith to get even closer to Thomas.
He sat at the end of a row of chairs, close to where her parents maintained a desk with all of the paperwork that had to do with the shelter, and she sat down carefully beside him, in case he was no less inclined to speak with her than he was Nancy.
To her surprise, he immediately turned his tear-streaked face, which had a smudge of dirt along one cheekbone, to hers, and she watched his lower lip tremble just enough for him to notice before he sat up and lifted his chin.
“I wouldn’t have told her that I knew you if I thought she would ask you to come. It’s cold for a girl to be out, and on Christmas, too, miss.”
He was trying so hard not to cry, and Faith didn’t want to say anything to push him over that line. Instead, she smiled a little, surprising herself as tears rushed behind her eyes.
“Please call me Faith, and I’m not sorry at all that you told Nancy about me, I mean, that we had met before.”
She wanted to reach out and touch his hand, but both of them were tightly wound in his cap. It was a different one than he had been wearing the other day, and it occurred to her that it might be his father’s.
The idea made her swallow against the tears that wouldn’t go away on their own.
“Hello, I’m Arthur, Faith’s father, and this is her mother, Josie.”
Faith looked up quickly to find her father standing in front of Thomas, introducing himself by his Christian name as if Thomas was a man grown like himself. Aunt Sarah and Uncle Sam were hovering to the side silently, and Faith still wasn’t sure why they had come at all.
Thomas began to stand, but Faith’s father shook his head.
“Please sit, and rest. I understand you’ve been through some difficulties, and we’d like to help. You can stay here as long as you need to, so don’t worry about a thing right now.”
Her father reached out and laid a hand over Thomas’s entwined ones, and Thomas stared down at it, blinking as her mother spoke.
“And what is your name, young man?”
“Thomas, ma’am. Thomas Ryan.”
Someone gasped, but Faith couldn’t take her eyes off her mother’s face. Her mother’s eyes closed, and she bowed her head, her lips moving silently for the briefest moment. When she lifted her gaze again, she wore the serene smile Faith was used to seeing, but something was happening that Faith didn’t understand, and she frowned as she glanced behind her.
Uncle Sam was holding Aunt Sarah in his arms, and when Faith’s mother stood up, her smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look as she turned towards the two of them.
“Have I done something wrong, miss?”
Faith shook her head, turning back to Thomas, who was whispering to her as if he didn’t want to disturb the mysterious interactions of the adults.
“No, except you’re still calling me miss.”
He frowned at her, and his gray eyes stared into her own blue-green ones, as if he was looking for something in them.
Perhaps he only needed a friend, at least for this moment.
“Faith.”
She smiled at his serious tone, at how grown up he sounded when he was probably around her own age. Before she could ask him how old he was, though, a rustle of skirts interrupted her thoughts, and Aunt Sarah bent down with a tentative smile, looking very young herself as she seemed to struggle to find the words she wanted to say.
“I’m sorry to intrude, Faith, but I’d like to introduce myself, and your Uncle Sam, to Thomas.”
She sucked in a breath as soon as Thomas’s name left her lips, and Faith frowned, hoping someone would explain what was going on later, perhaps during the carriage ride home.
“I’m Sam,” her uncle leaned in a little, his hand on Aunt Sarah’s back as she remained silent. “And this is Sarah. Faith is our niece.”
Thomas stood suddenly, and Aunt Sarah and Uncle Sam stepped back a little to give him room.
“Everyone wants to help, which is very kind of you. But my father and I were on our own for a long time, and I’m sure I can make my way . . .”
Aunt Sarah touched his arm, and his voice, so firm and sure, trailed off.
“Please, we’d like to have you stay with us. We have no children of our own, and plenty of room.”
Faith’s heartbeat fluttered, and she was ready to say something to encourage Thomas, but she saw her mother’s face behind her Aunt Sarah, and something about her expression warned her to hold back.
“If you would prefer to return here, or live elsewhere, we wouldn’t try to force you to stay. But please, we’d like you to give us a chance.”
Uncle Sam turned away, but not before Faith saw a single tear fall down his cheek as Aunt Sarah clutched at his coat sleeve.
Thomas frowned again, and Faith wondered if he was as confused as she was. But if he lived with Aunt Sarah and Uncle Sam, they would be cousins!
It wasn’t as if she didn’t already have two cousins, but Ruby and Evie were so different from her, and she didn’t see them all that often because their family travelled regularly, and they lived in Manhattan more often than in Newport.
Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah lived near the shelter, so she and Thomas could spend time together and become friends.
As if he felt her smiling eyes on him, Thomas looked to her, and his confusion seemed to dissipate as he kept his gaze on hers.
“Yes, please. I think I would like that.”
His words might have been meant for Aunt Sarah and Uncle Sam, but he watched Faith as he spoke them, and as Faith offered a silent prayer of thanks, somewhere in her heart she knew that he would become the best friend she could ever hope for.