San Francisco
My eyes opened the next morning at Bess’s Place. Bacon sizzled on the cookstove, and the aroma of strong coffee drifted on the air from the large pot. Bess stood near the stove, her back toward me, as her son, Johnnie, sat on a three-legged stool, where he’d been watching Hazel and me sleep.
“Good morning, Johnnie,” I said as I sat up on the pallet, my neck stiff from the hard floor.
“He doesn’t speak,” Bess said without turning.
Johnnie continued to stare at me with his large brown eyes but didn’t move a muscle.
“He doesn’t speak? How old is he?”
Bess flipped the bacon and glanced at her son. Her troubled face was filled with regret. “Seven.”
“Does he hear?”
Bess finally turned and nodded at the pallet. “Best get that rolled up and put into my room before Sam comes in. He won’t like that you slept in here last night.”
“He doesn’t know?” I shook Hazel awake gently, then got off the pallet.
Bess frowned. “How would he?”
I shrugged, confused. Didn’t he sleep with his wife in their room?
Hazel moaned. “I don’t want to get up.”
I didn’t want to make Sam upset, so I physically lifted Hazel off the pallet. “Time to wake up, sweetheart.”
The door to the front room opened, and my heart leapt as I glanced up. But it wasn’t Sam who entered. It was Paddy.
He tipped his hat at me, kindness in his green eyes.
“Good morning,” I said to him.
“M-m-morning,” he stuttered, letting out a frustrated breath at the end of the simple word.
Bess took a plate off the back of the stove, where it had been warming, and put it on the table, then smiled at Paddy. “Your food is getting cold.”
Paddy seemed relieved to be done talking as he moved across the room and took a seat at the table.
With tenderness, Bess placed her hand on Paddy’s shoulder.
I started to roll up the pallet, but the back door opened, and Sam Kendal walked inside.
He looked from me to the pallet to Bess, his jaw tightening. “I told you I didn’t want them sleeping in the kitchen.”
“Where else was I supposed to put them?” Bess asked without looking his way.
“Not here.” His voice was gruff, and he was taller and more muscular than I remembered. The movie had portrayed him as a typical villain with a mustache, shrewd and calculating eyes, and a menacing scowl. Sam Kendal was nothing like the actor who played his part. His handsome face had a well-trimmed beard, his eyes were hooded and concerned, and he did not scowl.
Without another word, Sam went to the table and took a seat across from Paddy.
Johnnie jumped off his chair and climbed into Sam’s lap, his gaze never leaving mine.
Sam put his arm around Johnnie as Bess brought another plate to the table.
She didn’t lay her hand on her husband’s shoulder or offer hima tender look like she had Paddy. Instead, she was stiff and cool as she set his plate down.
“Get ready so you can help serve in the front room,” Bess said to me. “Your sister will be safe enough in here with Johnnie while we work. Paddy will keep an eye on them.”
