New York City
“I can’t help but notice your accent, Patty.” Rebekah sat across a little table from Patty and Noah. Joseph sat beside her and Peter, with his newspaper, sat on a stool in front of a long bar. “If I may say so, you sound as far away from home as we are.”
“We are,” Patty began. She was interrupted as the server appeared with their orders. Thick toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, chicken soup, and the promise of apple pie for dessert. Without waiting, Patty tucked into her meal, as did Noah, no sooner than the plates left the server’s hand.
Rebekah and Joseph exchanged a look. They joined hands and bowed over their shared plate. “Heavenly Father,” Joseph started. “Thank you for the blessing of this food, for this journey, but mostly, thank you for our company, Patty and Noah. May we all continue to walk in Your light. In Jesus’s most holy name...”
Everyone at the table answered. “Amen.”
Patty and Noah, with a few bites missing from their food, had joined in as Joseph said grace. When it was over, Patty did a funny thing with her hand, Noah did too.
Rebekah smiled. “You were saying?”
Patty nodded. “Aye, yes. Forgive me rudeness. An empty stomach will make you forget lots of things, I’m afraid.”
Rebekah nodded.
Patty picked up a piece of toast and nibbled at the crust. “I’m from Ireland. County Down.”
Peter sat up straighter and shifted in his seat. “I thought your name sounded familiar. Some folks with the last name of O’Shaughnessy traveled with our parents, our late parents, on a wagon train in the late 1860s.”
He stood up and plucked a chair from another table. “I’ll squeeze in if you don’t mind.”
Noah looked up at him and grinned. His little lips glistened with broth from his steaming mug of soup. Peter reached over and tousled his hair. “Our given name is O’Leary. No doubt we come from the same country, but I’m not sure rightly where in Ireland we hailed from.”
Rebekah clapped her hands and did a little bounce. “We may even be family!”
“Perhaps.” Patty’s sad eyes gleamed. “I was from a Catholic family. I married a man named Shadrach, who was Protestant.”
Rebekah glanced from Patty to Joseph to Peter. “I don’t understand, forgive me. What is this Catholic and Protestant?”
“The way we worship God.” Patty took a bite of the buttery toast, and spoke over the mouthful. “Our families, of course, didn’t approve. So Shadrach came to America where he said nobody would care about our religious differences.” She forced a swallow, then followed it with a drink of coffee. “He came over first and worked his job on the docks, then sent for me. It was a happy time; then he took sick right before Noah came along.”
Noah finished his soup while his mother talked. Peter motioned to the server for more, which brought a smile to the lad’s face.
“We didn’t have much,” Patty continued. “But what we had was ours.”
“That sounds ideal.” Rebekah smiled dreamily.
“It was until it wasn’t. Until Shad took sick. He grew worse and worse until he died, left me a widow in a strange country.” She looked at her son. “Noah is also of a peculiar sort since he never speaks. People fear what they don’t understand, do they not? Me boy makes people point and stare.”
Everyone sat in uncomfortable silence.
Patty took another bite. “It wasn’t long until we lost everything and Noah and I found ourselves living in the streets. Nobody will hire me, the mother of a mute. They think I’m a witch.”
She closed her eyes and touched her forehead, her chest, and each shoulder, just as she had done before. Noah did the same. She ended with an amen.
“Which I am not.”
Rebekah’s curiosity got the best of her. “What is that?”
“A witch? That is a person who—”
“Oh,” Rebekah giggled. “No, not that.” She fumbled her fingers in front of her. “That.”
“It’s a prayer. A reminder that Jesus died for me on the cross too. And that He lives in me still.” She offered a shy smile. “It’s called crossing yourself. Like the cross on which He died.”
Rebekah smiled. “I see.”
Patty finished the last of her toast and went to work on her eggs. “Some offered me work at the tar-paper shacks that line the docks, said that is all I would be good for. But I cannot. It would be a sin. I would rather live off the scraps of others than work there.”
Rebekah’s eyes were wide. “What happens there? In the tar-paper shacks?”
Patty shook her head. “You’re good people, innocent people. You need not know about the goings on in the likes of those places.” She shook her head harder. “They be nests of vipers.”
Peter picked up his paper and folded it.
“You have been keeping your paper close to your heart, Peter O’Leary,” Patty commented.
He laid the paper in front of her. “We are here to look for her. She is from our village back home in Indiana.”
At least he called Indiana home.
“And you love her,” Patty said. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
Rebekah had never seen, in all the days since Peter found her, her brother flush such a crimson shade before.
“I—uh, I...”
Patty shrugged. “I might be a lowly street urchin in the eyes of society, but I can read people.” Patty looked directly at Peter. “I can read you. And you love her. Deeply.”
“You’re right.” Peter hung his head. “I do. And you know as well as I the harsh realities of this world. I must rescue her, or at least give her the option to be rescued.”
Patty finished her plate. The server brought over the promised slices of apple pie. Little Noah banged the table excitedly and kicked his bare feet.
“And you two,” Patty continued, looking at Joseph and Rebekah. “You two are to be married. But something is causing you distress, no?”
Rebekah’s smile faded and her shoulders sagged. “In our custom, we must sew our own wedding dresses. And those of our bridesmaids.” She looked into Patty’s clear, honest eyes. “I don’t sew very well.”
“I tell her her dress will be lovely, no matter what.”
“If it stays on,” Rebekah muttered. “I fear it won’t.”
“I don’t know much about sewing either, or I would offer to help in payment for your kindness.” She stuck one dirty finger on the plate to pick up the residual crumbs. “As it is, I can only offer you a safe place to sleep tonight. And I tell you, a safe place on the streets is worth its weight in gold.”
She glanced at Noah. “And we know that from experience, don’t we, Son?”
Noah picked up his apple pie plate and licked it. He pursed his lips together as Rebekah had seen Thomas do when he was really serious. All eyes, he nodded big nods.
“Ready to take them home for the night?” Noah stood up and nodded. “Then let’s go.”
***
“This is it?” Joseph’s voice was a whisper. “Lord above, take care of these people.”
Rebekah was speechless.
Peter said nothing at all.
“I know it isn’t much, I don’t pretend that it is. It isn’t even a home. But nobody dares come here because of the shakiness from the train—they call it the El.”
Sure enough, Patty and Noah had carved out a cozy little bolt hole beneath the elevated train tracks. “Said the train has been running elevated like this since 1870. I would have thought people would hurry to make their homes here. I was wrong.”
“Thank you,” Joseph said, his Pennsylvania Dutch accent sounding even more musical against the backdrop of the English world.
“Yes, we are much obliged,” Peter added. “Do you mind if Joseph and I walk around a bit?”
“Please, go find your love.” Patty smiled. “You’re welcome to return here.”
Butterflies took flight from the recesses of her stomach as Rebekah listened to the two men she loved.
Joseph strode over to where she stood.
They’re going to wander the streets of New York City.
What if they get lost?
What if they don’t come back?
“We will be back soon.” He brushed the side of her face with this thumb. “God willing, with Katie in tow. Rest well.” Without asking permission, he leaned forward and dotted her forehead with a kiss.
Her insides flamed to life. She had so many things she wanted to say to him. Confide in him. But exhaustion and sheer bad timing stilled her tongue. Instead, she reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. “Please be safe.”
He flashed a heart-rending wink, before disappearing behind Peter into the New York darkness.
What if they don’t find her?
What if they do find Katie...and Joseph realizes his love for her?
Is that why he’s really on this journey?
Rebekah shook her head to stop the little voice, that sounded surprisingly like Katie herself. “I feel so silly,” she said aloud. “Silly and...” She let her voice trail off. “Not very Christian.”
Tears sprang into her eyes. “What’s wrong with me?” She dipped her head into her hands and let the cleansing tears come.
A tiny hand on her back made her jump. Noah’s sweet face was there and his little hand patted her back.
“Don’t you worry, Rebekah,” Patty said. “I could tell you that your Joseph loves you like Peter loves Katie, but me words won’t do anything to ease the fear in your heart.”
“What will?” She sniffled.
“Talk to him. Always, show him your heart. He will do the same.” Patty lit a candle and gestured to her bolt hole. “Come on inside now.”
Rebekah did as she was told and crawled in before Noah and Patty. They followed. She pulled a hidden piece of fabric down to block out the night’s chill. “There now,” Patty said. “Home sweet...home.”
“Thank you, for this. And for sharing your wisdom.” Rebekah settled in against the back of the well-constructed little cave. Exhaustion gripped her bones and threatened to turn her eyelids to stone, but her quilting bag seemed to be calling her name.
“Also, I am sure it seemed odd for me to be talking to myself...”
Patty laughed loudly, a surprising sort of laugh that took them all by surprise. Noah made a little sound too.
“You’d be surprised at how many people talk to themselves, Rebekah Stoll. Hide and watch and you’ll soon see everyone does it. Only the ones who are different in other ways, like us, are scolded for doing so.”
Rebekah nodded. It felt nice to nod and not hurt. The memory of Joseph’s fingers kneading her neck popped into her mind without warning and made her blush.
Noah curled up in Patty’s lap and began to hum. She hummed too, and patted his back. Soon, he was breathing deeply and fast asleep.
“You keep looking at your bag,” Patty observed.
“I have to finish it, or I never will.” Rebekah swiped at one eye with the back of her hand and reached for the rumpled bag with the other. “If you don’t mind, I think I will get started on this dress before I fall clean asleep.”
“Please, me home is your home tonight, Rebekah. Do as you wish.” Patty leaned back into a groove in the wall that Rebekah hadn’t noticed before and closed her eyes. It appeared she and Noah had their routine down.
Suddenly, Patty’s eyes sprang open. “Oh my. I almost forgot!” Carefully, so as not to wake her sleeping boy, she rummaged in her rags. “I wanted to give you something. For your dress.”
After some rummaging, she spoke. “Aha. Here is it.” Slowly, she removed her hand from the rags, a long piece of green lace in tow.
Rebekah gasped. “That is beautiful. I’ve never seen its equal.”
“It’s for you.”
Rebekah accepted the cloth. Silky lace, green in color, laid delicately over her hands.
“It came across the ocean from Ireland with me.”
Rebekah reached toward Patty, the silk lace covering her hands like a prayer shawl. “I cannot take this.”
Patty shook her head. Noah stirred and she went back to patting. “Oh you must. Please. Use it on your wedding dress, such a beautiful custom to sew your own dress. Didn’t your brother say your family came from me country, as well?”
Rebekah’s eyes misted with gratitude and she nodded. Dropping her hands into her lap, she studied the fabric carefully. “Thank you, Patty. Where did this come from?”
“It came off me mother’s mantilla, and is made from Spanish lace she was given as a wedding present to her from me father’s mother on their wedding day.” Patty’s face softened at the memory. “The legend says that me grandmother got the mantilla on a pilgrimage to Rome.”
All of the foreign words confounded Rebekah. “I beg your pardon?” she asked with a smile.
Patty snuggled into her rut in the wall and closed her eyes, still absently patting Noah. “A mantilla is what me mother wore on her head, like a veil, whenever she stepped into God’s house. A church.”
“Why?”
“Because she loved God. She says it shows her respect.” Patty kept patting, eyes shut. “It was her only possession when she died all too young.”
Rebekah didn’t press for details.
“What is a pilgrimage?”
“A holy journey. To sacrifice time out of your own doings and travel to see the Church of Rome.” She smiled in her near-sleep state. “You’re on a bit of a pilgrimage yourself, if you think of it.”
Rebekah’s heart pounded in her chest. “It sounds like an honor.”
“It is.”
Rebekah searched the fabric for the perfect place to place the green silky lace. “What did you do in Ireland? Before you became a wife and mother, I mean.”
“I was learning the healing arts. To be a nurse, they’re called here.” She yawned. “Which is how I try to keep us healthy. I couldn’t keep me Shad healthy though...” Patty’s words trailed off.
I do believe she fell asleep midsentence.
Rebekah reached for the candle between them and moved it closer.
Perhaps I can get this mostly finished today.
Her thoughts tangled like the patterns in the lace as she sewed. Wouldn’t it be something if Patty and Peter and Noah and I were related by blood somehow? Through our Irish blood? She is wise and has been dealt such a hand in life...
Dealt such a hand. Rebekah wondered briefly where she’d picked up that phrase before. Perhaps in passing English conversation. Perhaps even here.
Her fingers worked the needle over and through the blue fabric and the green lace, placing and sewing and praying.
Father God, please keep Your hand over Joseph and Peter as they scour the streets of New York City by moonlight in hopes of finding Katie. Please keep Katie safe and well out of harms reach. Please enlighten her heart in the way that only You can, to show her truth. Truth of Peter, Joseph, and me.
Her heart panged with the thought of there being any kind of truth between Katie and Joseph, but she ignored it. No more selfish thinking, Rebekah. None.
She continued her prayer. Please God, pave a road before Patty and Noah, and do it for Your glory and honor as they both seem to know You so well.
Please take care of my father and my family as they endure my father’s sickness without him, me, or Jeremiah. Bless them with peace and help this entire journey to come to a fruitful, perfect ending that does Your will.
In Jesus’s name.
She thought briefly about the odd movement Patty and Noah did at the diner, and smiled.
Amen.
When she was finished, the candle was almost spent. Sweat dripped down Rebekah’s nose as she stuck her precious little needle into the pincushion her mother had sewn for her. Filled with raw corn kernels, she’s sewn it to look like an ear of corn. Rebekah loved it dearly.
She held the dress up before her. Both sleeves done in cornflower blue and sewn onto the bodice. Cuffs and collar done with red and black, from the old man at the depot. “Those were going to be booties for his grandchildren.” Her heart warmed.
The bodice itself complete and sewn onto the skirt.
She turned it over. The green lacy prayer shawl made a perfect addition as a shawl over the back and shoulders of her wedding dress. Her eyes misted again. The women who held this lace were strong, faithful women, seeking God in countries I’ve never visited, never known. Yet a piece of their strength found its way here, through the dim streets of New York City, and onto a wedding dress, pieces of which I’ll pass down to my daughter someday. She can use these very pieces to make a quilt for her babies...
Tears of love and humility flowed down Rebekah’s cheeks with cleansing passion. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome.” Joseph’s voice interrupted her holy thoughts.
She laughed then covered her mouth. “Hold on, let me put my dress away.”
Carefully, she tucked it into her quilting bag, then stowed it safely behind her. “Okay, come on in.”
“You mean, you knew I was here and still had it out?” Joseph’s joking voice gave a warmth to the little bolt hole that wasn’t there before.
“I was thanking God, Joseph,” she giggled, taking care to keep quiet.
Neither Patty nor Noah stirred.
“Oh, I see.” Joseph climbed in and situated himself at the mouth of the little cave. “Or maybe I already knew that.” He shrugged. They shared a quiet laugh.
Rebekah sniffled. Emotions were raw and seemed to be bursting at the seams to be exposed, which left her teary, thankful, and scared, all at the same time. “Did you have any luck?”
Joseph shook his head. “Nobody would really speak to us and those that did didn’t make much sense.” He glanced at the fabric covering that acted as a door and dropped his voice. “Peter is sleeping outside, though I’m not sure he’ll sleep at all, truth be told. He is beside himself.”
“Did you walk far?”
“As far as we dared without getting lost. This town is really something. The only thing that reminded me of Gasthof Village was the smell of horses.” Joseph took off his boots and sat them carefully beside the door. He placed his hat over the top of them and leaned back again. “We walked past something called a Met Opera House. The words were strange, Romani something or other.” He shrugged. “I always considered myself a fair to good reader in school, but the words here don’t make much sense to me. The name was strange too. Featuring Minerva Dika. At least I’m assuming that’s a name.”
“And no sign of Katie anywhere? Or the woman she’s traveling with?”
“Not at all.” Joseph’s eyes fluttered. “Even took a stroll down the docks to look for anything or anyone that might help us find her. Every ship had a name, strangest thing. Winston Wilbur, Augusta Victoria, Jenny Two.” He yawned a great yawn. “Strangest thing.”
Rebekah’s shoulders fell. She was certain the boys would find something to lead them to Katie or at least her whereabouts. She wasn’t used to Peter or Joseph being unsuccessful in any mission, and didn’t like the helpless emotion that followed.
With a puff, she extinguished the nub of a candle.
“Gelassenheit,” she whispered. “God’s will be done.”