They could hear the knock on the front door. Whoever was there didn’t ring the doorbell for some reason but rather pounded on the door. J.D. and Teri had been in the kitchen talking with Samantha while Lily played upstairs. The noise interrupted their conversation about Chicago winters.
It’s gotta be something to do with the guests.
J.D. knew they never got unexpected visitors. Teri just wasn’t the sort to tell friends and family to come by whenever. And by now, friends and family knew well enough to either schedule a visit or at least call ahead. So he opened the door, expecting someone looking for the mother and daughter, hoping that it wasn’t some angry ex-husband or ex-boyfriend.
A man in a baseball cap and coat, probably in his mid-thirties, stood at the doorway holding a jar with money in it. J.D. was going to be polite and tell him “no thanks” but then noticed the taxicab still running in their driveway. Nobody was behind the wheel.
“Is Samantha there?” the guy with the thick Chicago accent and round, scruffy face asked.
J.D. turned around to call out for Samantha but she had walked to the entryway with Teri.
“You Samantha?” the cabdriver asked her.
“Yes,” she said in an uncertain tone.
“This here’s for you and your little girl.”
Samantha moved closer to the doorway so she could see what was in the man’s hands. She didn’t take it right away, but rather stood carefully behind J.D., disbelief on her face.
“How did he know where to find us?”
J.D. didn’t know who this “he” happened to be but he could imagine.
“He didn’t,” the cabdriver said. “He asked me to check the shelters near UC Medical, looking for a mother and daughter named Sam and Lily. Eventually I got to the one on Dillon Street. Apparently you slipped a note through the door, asking them not to tow your car and letting them know where you were going.”
Samantha looked at J.D. with a tinge of guilt, but he admired her thinking. If he had turned out to be some kind of crazy person who kidnapped mothers and daughters and imprisoned them in the basement, someone would eventually come around looking for them.
The driver stepped in and gave the glass jar of money to Samantha. There was a note attached to its side.
“Do people usually trust you to go driving around delivering jars of money?” Samantha asked.
The man chuckled. “I owe him. Joe helped me out of a rough spot. There aren’t many people willing to do that kinda thing these days.”
“Yeah, he helped us, too,” Samantha said.
“Make sure you read the note,” the cabdriver said as he started to head back to the vehicle.
J.D. took the money jar from her so she could open up the folded letter.
“Dear Sam,” she read out loud. “It looks like I’m gonna have to leave, and I don’t think I’ll be back this way. The ‘wish jar’ is for you and Lily. Turns out my wish is for both of you to have all your wishes come true. God bless. Your friend, Joe.”
Samantha glanced at them with those dark, heavy rings under her eyes and a look of bewilderment, the same kind she had when J.D. brought them to the house. Then she stepped out the doorway quickly.
“Did he say where he was going?” she called out.
The driver paused by his taxi. “Joe’s dying. I dropped him off at the hospital this morning.”
Samantha turned to them, the note still in her hand. “I’ve gotta go see him.”
J.D. understood. Whoever this Joe guy was, he was a kindred spirit helping these two out.
Samantha opened the jar and grabbed a wad of bills.
“Can you take me there?” she called out to the driver, who was still standing there as if he knew she was going to ask him for a ride.
“Sure.”
For a moment, Samantha stood there, her glance moving to the stairs and the second floor.
“You go ahead,” J.D. said. “She’ll be fine. Teri and I will give her lunch and take her to the park for a couple of hours.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He watched her rush down the sidewalk and climb into the cab. J.D. looked back at Teri, the glass jar still in his hands.
“Want to see what Lily wants for lunch?” he asked.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to count and see how much the girls have.”