“That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.” Bellamy leaned against the outer wall of the pub and tried to ease the tension that had come from talking about Zaira. “You know we’ve taken in two orphans?”
Riley nodded. “Zaira told us about it at the party.”
“I’m sure you’re also aware there are many more children who’ve lost both parents to cholera and are now roaming the streets.”
“Aye, Zaira expressed the same concern.” Riley’s expression turned grave. “Since talking with her, I’ve had one of the inspectors go to the orphanages and have discovered there aren’t enough beds for all the children, but we’ve instructed the nuns to at least feed the children even if they can’t provide shelter.”
“What if we can do more for them than that?” Bellamy could admit their apartment was more crowded now that Seamus and Moya were staying with them. He’d startedsleeping on the floor and had let the children bed down on the sofa—one on each end.
But the two were doing well considering all they’d gone through in their short lives. Seamus was trying hard not to be a bother and to make himself useful. All his initial resistance to staying was gone, and he’d hinted a time or two that he was worried about having to leave and live on the streets again.
Jenny had also been good for them. She was a natural mother and had won them over from the first moment she’d met them. She seemed happy to have them there, so much so that last night he’d warned her against getting too attached since he was still looking for their father. She’d assured him that she would take care of the children as long as they needed, but that they would be better off with their father when he was found.
“What do you have in mind?” Riley leaned in, giving Bellamy his full attention.
An idea had been formulating in Bellamy’s mind over the past couple of days. “Naturally I have a lot of connections and know a lot of people.”
“That you do.”
“With my knowledge, I believe I can be helping to find families for some of the homeless children.”
Riley nodded slowly. “Go on. Tell me more.”
“Many people are eager to do something. They just don’t know what.”
“And you think more families might be willing to house children?”
“After hearing about our taking in Seamus and Moya, I know some who already want to do the same. I’ll put out word of the need, if you’re agreeable.”
“I like the idea, and I do think we can make it work, but first I need to discuss with the committee rules to protect the children.”
Bellamy liked how Riley operated. He was open-minded but also smart.
“In the meantime, why don’t you put together a list of families who would be willing to take children in.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.” Riley stuck out his hand for a shake. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and hopefully we can start taking immediate steps to get orphans off the streets and into homes.”
Bellamy shook Riley’s hand before they parted ways. As Bellamy returned to the pub, he made quick work of hauling the beer to the shed, where it would have to remain until they were notified that they could start selling it again. Without the beer, they would have even fewer customers. But if they only suffered a loss in profit when the cholera was over, they would consider themselves lucky when so many had suffered the loss of loved ones.
As he rolled the last keg across the alley, laughter wafted through the open window of the upstairs apartment. It belonged to only one woman. Zaira.
Against his wishes, his pulse spurted faster. He’d been telling himself he didn’t miss her and didn’t want to see her. But now that she was here, he needed just one glimpse of her beautiful face, just one smile, just one word.
He finished storing the keg, then he headed up to the apartment.
Jenny was sitting on the sofa with Moya on her lap, and Seamus sat beside Zaira on the floor, demonstrating how totie a shoelace, something Jenny had taught him when she’d given him boots, the first pair he’d ever owned with laces.
Seamus had already proudly shown Bellamy his new feat. Now he beamed as he tied the laces for Zaira. She was chattering with Seamus and Moya, sparing Bellamy only the barest of glances and ignoring him almost completely.
He didn’t care. He leaned against the doorframe and watched her as openly as he wanted, not holding himself back from admiring the graceful curve of her neck, the few curls dangling loose by her ears, the slope of her cheeks, the slight dimple in her chin.
He didn’t paint many portraits, but she had the kind of beauty he would relish recreating. Every time he was with her, he saw something more in her that he wanted to capture on canvas, and today it was the relaxed, comfortable way she interacted with the children.
Would Zaira be a good mother?
He suspected she would be. She was compassionate and nurturing and soft-spoken, unlike his own mam, who’d been busy and distracted when Oscar hadn’t been fighting with her.
