He nodded, then threw his arms around his mother. “I love you, Ma. I’ll take care of you.”
Ma managed a snort and held him close. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
“You should go rest now, Ma.” He pulled on her hand, and when she rose, he led her back to the bed. “I can work like Pa did. I could be a street sweeper, maybe.”
After she lay down, she patted the thin mattress. “Come lie with me, Eli. We’ll stay warmer curled up together.”
With his mother’s arms around him, and her words repeating softly in his head—I could never let him go—he drifted back to sleep. Ma loved him. Everything would work out.
Five days later, Eli and his mother left the only home he’d ever known. They had one small bag his mother tied around her waist and hid beneath her thin coat. All the clothes they owned had been layered over their bodies to help fight the chill weather. “If the culls think I’m with child, we might be safer,” Ma said as she took his hand and they stepped into the moist, cold fog.
“Where are we going, Ma?” he asked, pulling up the rough wool collar of his threadbare coat.
“To the devil, I fear,” mumbled his mother. Her coughing had grown worse. There were deep purple bruises under her eyes, and her skin was so pale it was almost translucent.
“It would be warmer,” quipped Eli, giggling at his own joke. But his humor hadn’t brought the usual chuckle from Ma. Her eyes were darting about the street as the sun set.
His mother squatted before him, holding both his thin arms with a surprisingly strong grip. “No matter what happens to me, Elijah, I will make sure you are taken care of.” Then she hugged him tightly, and he could hear the rattle in her chest. Panic poked at his belly. The landlady’s husband had sounded like that when he was taken to hospital and never came back.
When she stood, Eli slipped his hand into hers again, wishing they both had gloves. That night, they found shelter between some barrels in an alley. It was behind a tavern, and a tiny thread of light spilled out onto the slick cobblestones.
Eli snuggled against his mother, and she wrapped her cloak around him, leaning her cheek against his head. “Only for this one night,” she whispered as he fell asleep to her rhythmic rasp. “Then we’ll have a proper bed.”
In the morning, the tavern owner chased them off. Once again, they wandered the streets of Limehouse.
“Ma, you don’t look so good. We should find a new place to live.” Eli knew the sheen on her face, especially in the cold air, must mean a fever. Her body would shake sometimes, and she’d grip his fingers really hard.
“There,” she pointed. “The Dog’s Bone. We’ll go in there.”
He smiled at the name. It reminded him of the funny wiry-haired dog that lived with the landlady. The place was warm and crowded, and Eli could smell something cooking. He sucked in a deep breath, and his mouth watered.
Ma found a corner in the back of the large room. When she sat down, pulling Eli onto her lap, they were hidden by the oak table in front of them. The noise of the laughing patrons droned in his ear, and soon, he was asleep.
“Wake up!”
Eli woke with a start when someone shook him. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, peering up at the pretty woman with a round face. He stretched, his hand hitting something soft behind him.
“Ma,” he cried, jerking around. “I didn’t mean to—” Eli stared at the empty eyes of his mother. She was pale and still, her vacant hazel orbs staring at something beyond him.
“No!” He rubbed her cheek with his palm. “No, Ma. Wake up.” Eli squeezed her shoulders and rocked her back and forth until her head thumped against the wall.
The nice lady tried to pull him away. He threw his arms around Ma, shaking his head. “She’s only sleeping. She’s so tired. We’ll be okay.”
A larger set of hands wrapped around his waist and picked him up, pushing his face against something hard, covered in wool. When the hard thing spoke, Eli realized it was a man.
“Let’s get you to another room, boyo,” said the deep voice. “We’ll let da doctor care for yer mother.”
The giant man set him in a chair in front of the hearth. There was a large black pot hanging over a fire. The stranger scooped a ladle of something into a wooden bowl and set it in front of Eli. “Eat and get yer belly full so we can talk.”
Eli looked toward the back of the room. He couldn’t see the corner anymore where his mother lay. His stomach growled. “I have to get Ma something to eat. She made me eat her share. Then she’ll get better.”
“The most important thing ye can do for yer mother right now is eat. If ye get sick too, she’ll be all the more worried.” The man patted Eli’s head. “Go on, boyo. It’s a good venison stew.”
Another growl of his stomach convinced Eli the man was right. Gripping the spoon with his fist, he made short work of the feast. Then he looked up at his new friend. He had red cheeks and hair, but his eyes were very blue. His hands were gigantic, his body even bigger, but it was the smile that beckoned to Eli.
He smiled back at this strange-speaking person. “Are you a foreigner?” he asked. Pa had talked about foreigners from faraway places that came through the docks. They all talked differently from Londoners.
“In a sense, aye,” said the man. “Name’s Paddy O’Brien. Who do I have da pleasure of speakin’ with and how old are ye?” He held out a great paw.
