In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [65]
He breathed a sigh of relief. She was a vagrant like himself, seeking temporary shelter and warmth. He felt a pang of pity as he looked at her. He couldn’t guess how old she was, but he knew she was too old to be living rough like this. He wished he could help her, but he could not even help himself.
“Ah’m sorry, ma’am, if Ah startled you,” he said, remembering to be polite to his elders and betters.
A cackling sound came from her throat. It made his hair stand on end until he realized she was laughing. “I think it’s the other way about, young man. And do I detect a mountain accent?”
Theo felt himself blush. His almost-impenetrable accent had caused him no end of problems since he’d left home. He couldn’t figure out why folks had so much trouble understanding him, until he realized they spoke differently, and then he’d begun to try to copy them.
He slid hurriedly off the table, tucking his shirt-tails into his pants, running his hands through his thick dark hair until it stood on end like a cockscomb. “Ah didn’t see you when Ah came in last night. Ah’m sorry, Ah would’ve left you alone. Ah wouldn’t want to interrupt your sleep.”
She chuckled again. “At my age you don’t care much about sleep anymore. It’s all I’ve got to look forward to. That long, last sleep.”
They stared at each other in silence, neither understanding what they saw. He thought she was obviously as poor as he was, yet she spoke with an educated accent. She thought he was like a rough young animal, thin and wild.
“We are alike, you and I,” she said at last, reading the pain and fear in his eyes. “But for different reasons.” She clambered slowly out of the lawn chair and Theo hurried to assist her. He flinched as he touched her. Her hand was icy, purple, bloodless, and her breath smelled of bourbon.
“Where y’ headin’, ma’am? Cain’t Ah do anythin’ to help you?”
“Can you think of anything?” She stared up at him, tiny as his sister Grace had been.
He blushed again, bewildered. “No, Ah cain’t, ma’am. Ah ain’t got nothin’ to offer you. ’Cept’n my arm, to aid ya down the street.”
She nodded, thoughtfully. “That’s very civil of you. Thank you, but I can manage.” She shuffled slowly to the door of the conservatory, leaning heavily on a silver-banded cane. “You must be hungry,” she said, turning as she reached the door.
“Ah guess so, ma’am. Yes, Ah am.” Theo’s stomach rumbled loudly as she reminded him. “Ah’ll find something, though, sooner or later.”
“Sooner is better, I think,” she said, nodding to herself. “Wait here, will you?”
She closed the glass door with its broken panes as carefully as if it were crystal from Venice. Theo stood where she had left him, shaking his head in wonder. A call of nature brought him back to this world and he found a discreet corner of the garden in which to empty his bladder.
Buttoning his filthy old denims, he found a metal bucket of water, cracked the ice on it, and dashed the water over his face. He didn’t flinch. All his life he had washed in cold water, even ice-water like this, in winter. He smoothed his hair as best he could and adjusted his clothing until he was as neat as a lad who had slept in his clothes for several months could be.
The old woman returned a few minutes later, pushing an ancient baby carriage that had once been very grand. Its glossy navy coachwork and soft creamy leather interior had once been suitable for the baby of a very rich family. Now it contained a fresh baguette, a dish of butter, and a pot of very hot coffee, the smell of which almost brought Theo to his knees.
“Where d’y’ git all this?” He was afraid she had stolen it.
“Oh, the people here know me.” She smiled