Snow fell hard and fast, making Tommy squint into swirling winds. When he reached Glenwood, he tied up Clover and stormed the door, throwing his shoulder against it, bursting in. “Yale!” he screamed, out of control as his voice echoed in the marble foyer. The fineness of the space startled him, and he told himself to tamp it down, to remember that he was in an asylum and shouldn’t act similar to many of the patients.
As he started toward a doorway to his left, the sound of a shotgun cocking stopped him, drawing his attention to the backside of the foyer. Standing behind a desk, a man leveled his gun at Tommy.
“Stop there, fella.”
Tommy knew instantly he wasn’t the first person to arrive wanting to break someone out, or possibly the gun was more often used to keep people in. He put his hands up and inched forward. “I’m unarmed, and I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
The man lowered the gun for a second, then raised it right back.
“Please.” Tommy stepped forward. “My sister’s here. She shouldn’t be. She broke her arm, she’s four, turning five, and she’s slow, but she doesn’t belong here.”
“Same old story,” the man said. “You know how many people come here looking for loved ones? Looking for kids they pretend are loved ones? Then sell ’em off to work farms? You know how many people come by here every blessed day?”
Tommy inched forward, every step allowing him to see more of the man hidden by a shadow cast from the landing above the desk. He was younger than Tommy had thought, and he realized he recognized him from somewhere.
They sized each other up.
“I know you,” Tommy said.
The boy leaned further into the light, peering. “And I know you.”
It took Tommy a moment, running the boy’s face through his mind. Jail? Church? Somewhere with Hank and Bayard? He started to shake his head, but then a flash of recognition struck.
“Rupert’s,” they both said at the same time.
Leon. The boy Tommy had given his shirt to.
Leon lowered the gun. “How’s Pearl?” His whole demeanor softened, and he looked more like the thin boy Tommy remembered.
Tommy couldn’t stop the smile from coming. “Pearl’s fine, fine. You should visit her at the post office.”
He nodded. “Work here, live here now. And I only get a whack when I don’t do my job. Got my own cot. Three meals a day.” He looked down at himself.
“You filled out, for sure. Barely recognized you.”
“Steady food’ll do that. But I can’t shirk my work. Not for nothing.” Leon’s eyes sparkled with tears as though pained. “Not even for you.”
“You must know that some of these people don’t belong here.”
Leon’s breath stuttered. “I do. Started as an inmate myself.”
Tommy eyed Leon’s rifle. “I won’t hurt you or anyone. I promise. Least of all my sister Yale. She needs me. I need to get her home.”
Leon shook his head. “Can’t let her leave. But you can see her. I owe you as much as I can do, and that’s it for now. They won’t let it pass if she went missing. There’s no excuse except the death of a patient for someone leaving without permission from the docs or courts.”
He led Tommy to the back rooms and stopped in front of a slim door, opening it. The light from Leon’s lantern illuminated Yale’s sleeping body. Tommy rushed to her side and knelt.
He pressed the back of his hand against her head. Cool. Her breathing was normal, but she barely stirred. “Yale.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.
“They give her sleepin’ juice.”
Tommy lifted her splinted arm, her bell bracelet gone.
“Heard ’em say clean break, splint’s good. She’ll be fine, they said. Maybe a crooked arm’s all. But they drug ’em all to keep ’em quiet until they decide what to do with ’em.”
Tommy shook his head. He stood, lifting Yale’s featherweight body. He turned toward the door.
Leon set the gun on him again. “Put her down.”
Tommy shook his head.
“Haven’t shot anyone in a week. Finger’s itchy.”
Tommy looked at him caressing the trigger, remembering Rupert’s gun had a broken trigger. This one looked intact. “After what . . .” Tommy knew giving someone a shirt was hardly payment for his life if that’s really what would happen.
“People like me disappear. No one notices,” Leon scoffed. “So easy when no one cares, when ya ain’t got family or anyone to come charging through the door in the night to rush ya back home. Like ya did for Pearl, like yer doin’ now.”
Tommy understood, having felt like that when he was shoved in the cellar at the Hendersons’. No one would ever have known if he’d died there. Still, that didn’t change what Yale needed. “I have to take her back. Her mama’s sick about her. I’m sick about her.”
Leon kept the gun steady. “Think about why I knew who ya came here fer.”
Tommy froze.
“Five hundred patients, and I knew exactly who ya wanted.”
Tommy understood. Leon had been warned someone was coming.
“Yer not the first person asking questions about yer sister.”
Tommy exhaled at the protective way Leon sounded when he described Yale. “All the more reason to get her home to our mama.”
He nodded. “Put her down. She’s safe fer now.”
Tommy swallowed. “You’re watching over her?”
“You watchin’ over my Pearl?”
“’Course I am.”
Tommy looked down at Yale’s placid face, so quiet and peaceful compared to when she’d been carried away on the stretcher. Tommy feared she would be hurt like so many were in Glenwood.
Yet Leon . . . Something about him made Tommy trust him. He felt it deeply that the boy would continue to keep an eye out for Yale.
“Snow started again. Best git back or you’ll get caught up, freeze to death. Then yer mama will be short another kid.”
Tommy thought of Katherine being sick, that no one knew where he’d gone.
He set Yale back in bed and smoothed the blanket over her. He kissed her forehead and clasped his hands. “Please, God, take care of her.” His simple prayer gave Tommy an idea.
He got up and followed Leon back to the entrance.
Leon dug through a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. “This here paper’s the one they keep askin’ fer when the doctors arrive. Notes on yer sister, I think.”
Tommy glanced at the report. “It was wild. It needs a diaper.” He couldn’t read anymore. “It?” Tommy’s voice cracked. “They call her it?”
Leon nodded. “They still call me it half the time, even as they hand me a gun. But I see beyond that. I see her.”
“Thank you.” Tommy felt a surge of gratitude and trust.
“You have to git.” Leon gestured to the window. “Snow’s dumping heavy.”
“Just a minute.” Tommy pulled a sheet of paper toward him. “Can I use this?” He lifted the pen from the inkwell.
“Suppose.” Leon’s brow furrowed.
Tommy drew a deep breath and bent over the paper, letting what he felt was God or just some sort of universal understanding sweep through him. “You’re safe in the arms of your creator. In your generosity for others, you’ll find God returns his gaze tenfold. Courageous love for your fellow sisters and brothers is worth more than anything else you can own. You’re brave and kept in the hearts of those you help.”
He tapped the paper trying to call up the right scripture. The words wouldn’t come, as he fought the urge to rush back to Yale and pull her out of that bed. He tore the paper in half and wrote a second piece. “Yale, child of strength and sorrow, your face lights up and shines on the world like sunrise in summer. We will be back for you. You are safe and loved.”
Tommy folded the first paper and handed it to Leon.
Leon furrowed his brow as he stared at the paper, making Tommy suddenly realize Leon probably couldn’t read. It made sense given his past and current circumstances. He grabbed Leon’s hand. “It says thank you for your endless well of kindness for those who need it. This one’s for Yale. Hide it away until someone you trust can read it to her. Please.” Tommy thought of all the small things that happened since he’d tucked a prayer away earlier that day: Aleksey promised to help, the boardinghouse couple lent the horse, and now Leon.
Leon pushed the note away. “They catch me with those, they’ll tie me up.”
Tommy felt the weight of that statement. But he felt another flood of warmth, of trust in something he couldn’t name. “I understand. Just remember what it says then, and if you think you shouldn’t keep it, burn it. God . . . something bigger than us will protect you. I know it sounds ridiculous, but . . .” Tommy wanted to say over and over how grateful he was that it was Leon at the desk when he’d arrived.
Leon started to say something but stopped.
“What?”
He exhaled deeply. “Don’t really believe in God. Not with my life. But right now, seeing ya again like this, I can’t help thinking someone… I don’t know how, but something pulled us together twice.”
Tommy melted inside. He felt the same. “You being here is a miracle.”
Leon took the papers. “You’re Pearl’s miracle. I wanted to be, but ya were. Ya are.”
“You’re a good soul, Leon,” Tommy said. Besides Pearl, Leon was the first person he’d met in a long time who he thought of as good, not looking for a way to take advantage of anyone else. Looking back, Tommy had thought the same thing at Rupert’s when they met, but he’d been so angry at how life was going he hadn’t held the recognition of good with him beyond those moments. Now he saw. Now he held these little things tight.
“Same to you,” Leon said.
“Keep her safe,” Tommy said, and he left, planning to gather everything the Arthurs owned so he could get Yale and leave, all of them together, even Leon, if they had to take him, too.