A Greater Love (12 page)

“You still got Mamãe’s necklace?” he asked.

“Yes. Want it back? I was scared I was gonna lose it.” Sara slipped it off and gave it to him.

“It’s both of ours,” he said, dropping it over his head. The gold was still warm from his sister’s skin and it comforted him. “I’ll save enough money to get a jeweler to cut it into two necklaces, one for each of us. It’s plenty long.”

“It has a ship. Like your other one only smaller.”

“They stole it from me.” He felt like crying. “And her picture.”

“Oh, no!” She began to cry.

“Don’t, Sara. We’ll remember what she looks like.” Indeed, he only had to glance at his sister to recall the most important details of his mother’s face.

Sara wiped her eyes on the edge of the blanket and moved closer to him. “Did Octávia go to heaven?”

“I don’t know.”

“We can say a prayer for her. Like them church ladies taught us. We never did write to that one, did we? And now we lost the address to them boys.”

That made Miguel feel almost as bad as losing his mother’s card. Maybe he should have asked Senhor Fitas to help him write a letter, but he hadn’t wanted to admit to the old man or to Sara that he needed help. Now it was too late.

They bowed their heads and moved their lips in a silent prayer for their aunt. Afterwards, they sat close together, with Lucky scrunched blissfully between them. Miguel’s head, face, and ribs ached where Carlos had hit him, and he felt cold. But at some point, his exhaustion overcame the discomfort, and he slept.

Chapter Twelve

 In the morning, dark clouds billowed threateningly, and Sara began to cough. Miguel felt achy himself and knew they needed to find someplace warm to stay. To make matters worse, his head and ribs still throbbed and the left side of his face was even more swollen than it had been the night before, leaving him temporarily without sight in that eye.

“Come on,” he said.

“We could go see Senhor Fitas. He’d help.”

Miguel turned Sara to face him. “We can’t, Sara. If he knows about Octávia, he’s got to turn us in. I think it’s the law or somethin’. Just give me a little time to think. I’ll come up with somethin’.”

Sara put her hand trustingly in his and followed him from the woods. It warmed them up some to be moving, but rain soon sprinkled the streets. They held the blanket above their heads and ran. People passed by, a bobbing sea of umbrellas, every color of the rainbow. The sight lifted Miguel’s spirit and gave him energy.

On and on they went through the wet streets, with Lucky at their heels, stopping only to buy some bread, milk, and cheese from the money in the wallet Miguel had given Sara the night he sent her from the shack. They ate in the subway, where they were free from the rain and wind. Miguel spread their damp blanket on the cold marble and they settled onto it.

He set out teaching Lucky how to beg for scraps while Sara sang. Her normally high voice had a hoarse twinge, but it still warmed Miguel’s soul. Coins fell to the blanket.

What should they do next? Miguel knew some people slept in the train station but were always kicked out when discovered. As orphaned children, they would be taken to the authorities, and he couldn’t risk that. His stomach churned with the intensity of his thoughts.

Sara’s voice stopped abruptly in mid-song, eyes growing wide and frightened. He looked in the direction she stared. Paulo! And he was alone.

Miguel pushed off from the wall, jumping in his direction. He grabbed the taller boy by the neck of his coat and dragged him to the side, ignoring protests from the passing commuters.

Paulo gagged, his eyes twisting in fear. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I shouldn’ta done it! But my brother owed some money. They was goin’ to take him to jail. I had to help him. Please, don’t hurt me!” He cringed against the yellow ceramic tiles on the wall, holding his hands over his face.

“You owe me,” Miguel growled through gritted teeth.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry! But look here! I got somethin’ for ya.” Paulo put a shaky hand into his coat pocket. Miguel wondered if the boy believed the meager change he carried would save him from the beating he deserved. But Paulo didn’t bring out money. “Here.” He shoved something at him. Miguel stared. His mother’s picture! The laminated identity card had been bent, but the small photo remained untouched. He grasped it so tightly his fingers hurt.

Paulo relaxed slightly. “I got it for ya. To show I was sorry.”

“You just wanted to save your own skin.”

“No, honest. I’ve got a warnin’ for ya, too. Them boys is out lookin’, and when they find ya, they’re gonna beat you good and take Sara. You ain’t safe here.”

Miguel’s fists went limp. “Where can I go?” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but he was more frightened than he’d ever been before. Afraid enough to wish Octávia was still around to tell him what to do.

Paulo straightened to his normal height. “I’d go across the Tejo if I was you. I got cousins that live in some shacks there. Maybe you could find a place. Some of ’em got farms and animals, and lots of grape vines. Maybe if ya worked, they’d let ya sleep there.”

“Oh?” Miguel encouraged, though he had no intention of going to a place Paulo recommended.

“Sure. My cousin told me ’bout it, in case I wanted to visit. You gotta go ’cross the river, past Almada and some place called the Cova da Piedade. There’s more cities after those—I can’t remember the names, but get off at the Cruz de Pau. After that it’s a long walk, but someone can probably give ya directions.”

“Get outta here,” Miguel said. Paulo didn’t wait for a second invitation. He dashed away and disappeared into the crowd.

Miguel faced Sara’s wide eyes. “Come on, we gotta go.”

“Where?”

“Across the river. We’ll find somethin’.” Now that he knew the boys were looking for him, he wanted to get away as fast as possible. He eyed the coins on the blankets. With what he still had in his wallet and what Sara had earned singing, there would be enough for ferry tickets, and they could pick up a few more coins on the way over. With luck, they would find a place soon, far away from their old life.

A short time later, they arrived at the wharf where a lady was again selling delicious-smelling Belgian waffles under a large umbrella. Sara stopped and stared, a slice of pink tongue wetting her lower lip. Miguel felt his own mouth water, but he didn’t dare spend their ferry money for such an expensive treat.

A well-dressed girl hardly older than Sara passed by with her mother. “Oh, Mãe, I must have a waffle. Please, please, please buy me one!” When her mother hesitated, the little girl shouted and stomped her foot. “I want one. Right now!” Her mother sighed and handed the lady a bill in exchange for a large waffle. From a container, the mother squirted an ample amount of honey butter, which melted quickly over the deep grooves in the warm pastry. Her daughter grabbed it greedily and bit into with a sigh. When her mother asked for a taste, the girl shook her head, pushing the pastry into her mouth as fast as possible.

“Come on, Sara.” Miguel tugged on his sister.

She continued to stare, and he wished he could buy her one. His stomach told him it was already after lunch time. “Stay right here.” He moved closer to the cart. “Please, Senhora, how much for that broken one there?” She drew her gaze away from the spoiled child, her face hardening as she looked at Miguel. He held out four small coins on his dirty hand. “It’s for my little sister.”

The lady glanced behind him at Sara and her gaze softened. “Well, I can’t sell it anyway,” she muttered. She took his coins, spread a thin coating of honey over the broken waffle, and handed it to him.

Miguel took it to Sara, keeping part for himself. “Mmm, it’s the best thing I ever tasted,” she said. He nodded in agreement, mouth too full to reply.

Still munching the waffle, they paid for their ferry tickets with nearly all the rest of the money they’d earned in the subway. Just in case Lucky wasn’t allowed on the ferry, Miguel hid him in his sweater.

“I love boats!” Sara exclaimed as they boarded with the other passengers and headed for the open deck despite the cold.

“So do I.” As usual, Miguel felt the pull of the water on his spirit. He couldn’t explain the joy it brought him; somehow, it was like coming home. His hand went instinctively to his chest where he’d kept his toy ship. He touched only the card and felt a distinct loss. Then his cold fingers grazed the smaller lump of the gold charm that had belonged to his mother, and he was comforted.

“Look, Miguel!” As she did every time he took her on the ferry, she pointed at the Monument to Christ the King looming over the river on the far side. “There He is.” On top of the lofty cement structure stood an enormous statue of Jesus Christ, his arms held out in silent appeal, beckoning, welcoming. Miguel had seen it many times from the ferry, but today it seemed as though Christ himself called them to the far side of the river, to their new home.

He sighed and forced himself away from the edge of the boat. “We’d best get to work. We gotta get some money for bus tickets. We ain’t walkin’ all the way to where we’re goin’.”

“Where’s that?” asked Sara.

“Cova da Piedade,” he said. The Cove of Piety sounded like it would be sympathetic to two orphans. Besides, Miguel felt as though the name held importance. Of course it was written on the slip of paper he had shown Senhor Fitas, but hadn’t he heard the phrase somewhere before then?

On the other side of the river, Miguel had to ask someone which bus went to the Cova da Piedade. He wished he could read the destinations for himself.

“Sit close to the front,” the driver told them, “and I’ll tell you when to get off.” He looked suspiciously at the bump Lucky made under Miguel’s shirt, but he didn’t ask questions. Fortunately the puppy was sleeping and didn’t move or make a sound.

Miguel stared through the window as the bus began its furious pace through the city. The main road was made of asphalt, the sidewalks of cobblestones. Along the street, small businesses filled many of the ground floors of the tall buildings. The bus plunged on its course, seemingly heedless of any danger to pedestrians, stopping occasionally to allow people to leave or board. Each time the bus slowed, Miguel glanced at the driver. Once or twice the man met his anxious gaze in the mirror and shook his peppered head.

At last the driver turned and nodded. “There’s another stop, further up, but this is the main one.”

Miguel smiled his thanks and pushed Sara out of her seat and down the aisle toward the middle door. He’d studied the process: board the bus on the front, exit through the back. Sara, so taken up with the new sights, could hardly take her eyes off the people around her.

“What now?” she asked when the bus drove away.

Miguel scanned the area, glad the rain had abated. Across the street, on the corner where a road rose in a gentle incline to the right, stood a fenced church with a cross above the entrance. Far to the left of the church was a park, set in slightly from the main street. A sizable crowd of people gathered there, despite the wet weather. Miguel couldn’t see what kept them out in the cold, but a bright light beamed above them, radiant in contrast to the dull light of the cloud-covered sun. The light seemed to call his name.

“Let’s walk a bit.” He was still carrying Lucky, awake now, despite the puppy’s efforts to reach the ground. “Be still, Lucky! I can’t let ya down. You could get lost.”

They walked back the way the bus had come. When they came opposite the park, Miguel grabbed onto Sara’s hand and they dodged through the busy traffic to the other side.

“Look, a playground!” Sara pointed to a sandy area surrounded by black iron bars as high as Miguel’s chest. “Can we play, Miguel? Just for a while?”

He was more intent in finding out why people gathered to the right of the playground, opposite a huge gazebo. What could possibly hold their interest? But there was no reason Sara couldn’t enjoy herself. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll come find you in a minute. I wanna see what’s over there.”

Sara glanced at the play equipment longingly, then back at him. “It’s too cold, anyway. See? There’s no children.”

Without knowing how he knew, Miguel understood her real reason. “I ain’t gonna leave ya, Sara. Brothers take care of their sisters.” He would rather die than leave her.

Her smile exploded again. “Lucky and I’ll wait at the swings for ya.” She scooped the puppy out of his arms. With a little wave, she crossed the cobblestone pathway in the park, opened the gate to the playground, and leapt into the sand. Thick hair swept out of the red scarf at the impact, spilling in all directions over her cold-reddened face and thin blue-clad shoulders. Her bright laughter reached his ears.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” he heard a woman say behind him. “I’ve never seen such a thing. You simply must see it for yourself.”

Miguel followed the speaker with his eyes. The older woman had her hand on the back of a younger one, and together they passed him and headed toward the group of people. He still couldn’t see what attracted them, but he followed closely as they drifted to the front of the crowd. People edged over to allow them through, and Miguel heard no murmuring complaints. Instead, people smiled and bowed their heads reverently as if in church.

“Oh!” sighed the younger woman. Miguel craned his neck. The lady saw his efforts, and moved to the side, allowing him to edge by.

The contents of the display hit his senses all at once: the Baby Jesus and Mary and Joseph; the light shining around them; the smell of wet hay and straw; soft music coming from some hidden place. Wonder swept through him, bringing with it an odd warmth. The Baby and His earthly parents appeared as Miguel had always imagined they might really have been on that night so long ago.

He continued to stare, all ideas of robbing from the crowd vanishing like the dirt on his hands when he rubbed them in water. He knew of Jesus because his mother had told him stories, and later the various religious people he met had reinforced his knowledge. Even Octávia had heard of the miracle Child. Miguel had also seen nativity scenes before, but in this one the life-sized statues looked almost real. He especially liked the star that blazed above the stable, beckoning to everyone.