Lucy’s Wish (2 page)

She tugged her ragged shawl up to cover her head. Her hair felt damp and greasy. How long had it been since she'd had a bath? Lucy couldn't remember.

She smiled at Baby, cradling the doll in her arms. One side of Baby's face was covered with a spiderweb of cracks. And there was a hole in
her cloth body, where Lucy had to keep poking the stuffing back inside. Lucy didn't care. She had found Baby in a trash bin. She knew that Baby needed her, and she needed Baby. The cracks, the faded dress, and the hole didn't matter. From the moment Lucy saw Baby she loved her.

Lucy rocked Baby and sang to her. It was a soft, sleepy song that Lucy's mother had always sung to her. “Rock, rock, my baby-o. Rock, rock, my baby.”

But Lucy's song melted into tears as memories of her mother swept over her.

She angrily brushed the tears away. Crying didn't help. Lucy remembered the time when Mum had told her that Father had been killed in an accident. It was four years ago. Lucy and Mum had clung to each other and sobbed, but their tears hadn't brought Father back.

Lucy shivered and hugged Baby tightly. She thought about the terrible day when Mum had died of cholera. That was four—or was it
five?—weeks ago. Inspectors from the Metropolitan Board of Health had hurried into Lucy and Mum's room. The inspectors were afraid that the disease would spread. Cholera had already killed more than two thousand New Yorkers. Even before the inspectors left, the landlord, Mr. Beam, had ordered Lucy to leave the building.

He had clutched her shoulder as he pushed her toward the doorway. “It's a matter of business. I've got to clean up that room and rent it to someone who can pay,” he'd said. His eyes were not on Lucy, but on the inspectors.

Lucy had been so frightened that her heart had pounded. She'd clenched her hands to keep them from shaking. “But, sir, I've got nowhere to go,” she had pleaded.

Mr. Beam had glanced nervously at the inspectors. He had lowered his voice and answered, “I can't worry about your problems. I've got enough of my own. The Board of Health like to have ruined me last February.
They blame the landlords for the cholera that swept through this city.”

He had cleared his throat with an angry
harumph!
and added, “Meeting their demands to clean up and make repairs cost me a great deal of money. I've nothing to spare, so don't be coming to me for help.”

Weak from fear, but with no choice, Lucy had wandered out to the street. She had plopped down on a curb, heedless of the hooves of the horses and the heavy wagon wheels that rumbled near her toes. She had wept in sorrow, but her tears hadn't brought Mum back. They hadn't helped at all.

As Lucy's sobs became dry shudders, she had looked up and seen the Olneys' butcher shop across the street.

Sometimes Mum, with Lucy in hand, had stopped by the shop. Sometimes she had managed to come up with enough coins to buy a small piece of meat or a soup bone. And sometimes
Mum had played with and talked to the Olneys' son, Henry.

Mrs. Olney looked unhappy whenever anyone asked her about Henry. “Never been right in the head since he was born,” she said. “Can't nothin' be done about it.”

Mum had treated Henry the way she treated everybody else. Henry tried to talk to Mum, and Mum seemed to understand. When she paid attention to Henry, he smiled and laughed.

Once Lucy overheard another neighbor say, “I'm always kind to the lad. I tell myself, ‘There but for the grace of God go I.' ”

Under her breath, so that only Lucy could hear, Mum had whispered, “I tell myself, ‘There go I.' ”

Later, when they were alone, Lucy had asked Mum, “Why is Mrs. Olney always so cross? Why doesn't she ever talk to Henry?”

Mum had shaken her head sadly. “Mrs. Olney wanted a strong, healthy child who could work in
the shop and learn his father's trade. She's so bitter, she can't see that Henry has feelings like everyone else.”

Lucy thought about the blue-and-green marble Mum had found and had given to Henry. He had laughed and clapped his hands with joy. “You know what Henry likes, and you can talk with him,” Lucy had said. “I wish Mrs. Olney would try.”

“Maybe someday she will,” Mum had said. “For now, you and I will be Henry's friends.”

Lucy shook away the memories and slowly got up from the curb. She crossed the street, darting between the carts and wagons, and entered the butcher shop.

Mr. Olney was not in sight. Mrs. Olney stood behind the counter. Gruffly she said, “G'dafternoon, Lucy. Sorry to hear about your ma. She was a good woman.”

Lucy nodded, too frightened to speak.

“Well, what's done is done. That's the way of
life. So let's get on with it,” Mrs. Olney said. “Did you come to buy a small chop? A pat of ground beef?”

Trying not to look at the blood-soaked wooden chopping block, Lucy spoke up. “I have no money to buy food, and I have nowhere to live. I've come for a job. I'll sweep. I'll scrub. I'm ten years old—big enough to do hard work.”

Mrs. Olney's lips turned down, and she gave a loud sniff. “You're just a slip of a girl, Lucy Griggs. You're scarcely big enough to lift and carry a bucket of water. But if it's hard work you want, I've got plenty of that for you. In turn, you'll get two meals a day and a pallet to put down by the fire.”

“Thank you,” Lucy whispered.

Hot tears rushed to her eyes, but Mrs. Olney snapped at her. “No time to waste on tears. Understand? Get a scrub brush, a large rag, and a bucket from the back room. Those Board of
Health inspectors might poke their noses round here, so the floor and walls will need to be scrubbed down.”

Henry followed Lucy. As she bent to pick up a bucket, he reached out and gently touched her tear-damp face. Lucy couldn't tell what he said, but she heard the question in his voice.

“I'm sad, Henry,” she told him. “I've lost my mum and I miss her. I'm sad.”

Henry seemed to understand. His face looked sad, too. But in an instant he brightened. He pulled the shiny blue-and-green marble from his pocket and pressed it into Lucy's hand.

Lucy tried to give it back. “Mum gave this to you,” she said.

Henry smiled and nodded as he backed off, his hands behind him.

“You really want me to have this,” Lucy said, surprised at the joy in Henry's eyes. “Thank you, Henry. It's a beautiful gift. I'll keep it forever.”

“Where are you, girl?” Mrs. Olney's voice was sharp.

Lucy quickly tucked the marble into her pocket, picked up the bucket and rags, and ran to fill the bucket.

Lucy worked hard each day from well before light until late at night. But, remembering what Mum had said, she always found time to talk to Henry. She could understand some of Henry's speech. She could make him smile. Sometimes, together, they played with the marble.

Then one morning Lucy awoke ill and feverish. Everything went wrong that day. She spilled a pitcher of milk, and then dropped and chipped Mrs. Olney's heavy china platter.

“You'll have to go,” Mrs. Olney grumbled. “I can't waste any more time coddling the likes of you. One problem child's enough to care for.”

Shaken, Lucy begged, “Could I say good-bye to Henry?”

“As if he'd understand!” Mrs. Olney snapped. “Can't you see how busy I am? The last thing I need right now is the two of you underfoot. Get your things and go!”

Lucy ran, clutching the marble in her pocket.
I won't forget you, Henry
, she promised.

In her shelter Lucy shuddered at the unhappy memory. She held Baby even more tightly.

She was startled when a low voice outside broke into her thoughts. “Lucy! Hsst! Lucy!”

L
ucy recognized the voice, so she pushed aside one of the boxes. Her friend Joey, a wiry, dark-haired boy, smiled at her. “Good. You're still here,” he said.

Lucy smiled in return. “Thank you for helping me last night,” she said. “When Mrs. Olney threw me out, I didn't know where to go.”

“Lots of kids sleep in alleys,” Joey answered. “It's just lucky I knew about this place and got you here before anybody else found it.” He crawled into her shelter. “Feeling better?” he asked.

Lucy nodded. “The apple and bread you gave me must have helped.”

“So you're not hungry anymore?”

Lucy's stomach gave a hollow rumble. Both she and Joey burst out laughing.

He reached inside his ragged jacket, pulled out a banana, and held it out to Lucy.

Lucy knew that Joey had no money to buy such a treat. She suspected that the banana had disappeared from a peddler's cart. But she was too hungry to ask questions. She grabbed the banana and gulped it down.

Joey's eyes twinkled with mischief. “If you could make a wish, what would it be? A full stomach? A clean bed in a real house?”

Lucy surprised even herself as she said, “I'd wish for someone to love me.”

Joey blinked and smiled sadly. “I can't give you that wish, but I can give you the next best thing.” He tugged a scrap of paper from his pocket.

“One of my chums who lives in the tenements got a letter,” he said. “It's from a lad name of
Bertie Jarvis. He used to be one of us, living on the street. Then he went west on an orphan train.”

“What's an orphan train?” Lucy asked.

“They're trains that take kids who live on the streets to homes on farms out west. Now, listen. I'm not good at reading, so I was careful to remember the words. The lad wrote that the people who took him in were treating him swell. He said, ‘Tell the others. Come west on the orphan trains. Get a new mother and father. It's a good life.' ”

Lucy's heart leapt. A new mother and father? For an instant she could feel the warmth of her own mother's arms around her. No other woman could ever replace Mum. But if the new mother was part of a family … a family with a little sister for her … “Are
you
going west?” Lucy asked.

“What? Go to some strange place I never heard tell of? Not me,” Joey answered.

“But a mother and a father …”

“Who needs a mother and father?” Joey asked.
“I like New York City. I'm free here to do whatever I like. I don't want to go nowhere else—especially to a farm where I'd have to work.” He made a face. “Feed the pigs. That's what they'd have me do. Feed the pigs, and that's not for me.”

“I want a mother and father,” Lucy said. “And a little sister. They could make my wish come true.” She rubbed her nose hard so tears wouldn't come. “How can I find out about the orphan trains?”

Joey grinned and handed her a scrap of paper. “I got my chum to write down the address of the Children's Aid Society. The people there send orphans to homes in the West.”

Thankful that Mum had taught her to read, Lucy studied the address.

“I know where the offices are, and I'll take you part of the way,” Joey said. “But after that you'll have to find your way to the Society's offices by yourself. I got myself in a bit of trouble with an officer on that beat, so it's best I not show my face around there for a while.”

Lucy scrambled out of the shelter and stood up. The hot sun beat against her back. “That means I won't be seeing you again,” she said.

For a moment Joey looked so lonely that Lucy wished she could hug him. But Joey wouldn't know what to do with a hug.

“I hope,” he said in a rush of words, “I hope you get your wish, Lucy.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said. “But don't tell it to anyone. Wishes are supposed to be kept secret.”

“Then it's my secret, too,” Joey said. He gently punched her shoulder and gave her a smile.

“Joey …,” Lucy began. She wondered how she could find the words to thank him for all that he'd done to help. But before she could, Joey turned to leave. “C'mon, Lucy. We ought to get moving.”

Lucy smoothed her hair from her eyes, wrapped Baby snugly into her shawl, and followed Joey in the direction of the Children's Aid Society.