Bartleby had already boxed up the dessert in question, plus treacle biscuits. From the look on Smitty’s face, the redoubtable lad had tried and failed to force the baker to take the coins. Able knew Smitty never cared much for failure.
He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, pleased that he did not flinch. “Smitty, down the street, I see a one-legged tar propped against the building. He can use the coins, since our baker is a hard man to convince.”
“Aye, master.”
“When you’re done, Mrs. Perry probably has hot bread with butter waiting in the kitchen.”
“Could we take some to the beggar?” Nick asked. “I never cared much for hunger.”
“Nor I,” Smitty said. “We can convince Mrs. Perry.”
“I daresay you can,” Able said.
Smitty nodded and gestured to Nick, who followed with a grin. Able watched them go, pleased as always how good Smitty was at commanding others. Nick followed him without question.
“Thank you, Ezekiel,” Able said as he took the parcel. “Every little bit helps.” Able gave the baker a small salute and hurried home to Meridee, his heart lighter.
He saw the boys down the block, squatting beside the beggar, handing him the coins and then talking. He hurried up the steps, sniffing warm bread when he opened the door. This meant a stop in the kitchen, where Mrs. Perry handed him the well-buttered heel, his favorite slice, and gave him the next piece for Meridee.
“Two lads will be in here soon to petition some bread for a beggar,” he told her.
“He might like a sandwich,” Mrs. Perry said, and turned to the pantry. “Maybe two.”
“You’re a wonder,” he said. “Thank you for helping us, of late.”
“Where would we be, if left to our own devices?” She pointed to the door. “She’s holding Ben in the sitting room. He’s asleep.” Able watched her expressive face. “Master Six, she looks content.”
“Good.”
He ate the heel, then eyed Meri’s piece. Mrs. Perry scowled at him, and suddenly, things felt right again. He gave her a wink and walked to the sitting room, opening the door quietly in case both mother and son were asleep.
Mrs. Perry was right. Meri was awake, but he saw her contentment. She pursed her lips at him, which told him worlds about her mood. He kissed those pursed lips, which opened into a far more satisfactory kiss, and sat beside her on the sofa.
“I can carry him upstairs for you,” he whispered.
“In a minute. I like this,” she said softly. “It’s nice for his brain to be less busy.”
Able handed her the buttered bread, removed his shoes and propped his feet on the ottoman, tickling her bare toes, which made her smile. She ate the bread. “Just what I needed.”
“Mrs. Perry seems to know.”
“So do you,” she said. She licked her lips, then nodded. “You may take him upstairs.”
Able carefully extracted their son from Meri’s arms and bedded him down in his room next to theirs. He looked in the empty chamber that had belonged to Jean Hubert, their escapee from a prisoner of war hulk in the harbor, who had inexplicably decided to leave them, after many months of service to St. Brendan’s. Jean had left behind a magnificent pen and ink drawing of the Loire River valley, and a note thanking them for their hospitality. Cheeky Frenchman.
The door to Nick and Smitty’s room was open. He peered in, mainly to assure himself that it was shipshape, then returned to the sitting room. Meri’s eyes were closed, the sock she was darning on the floor. He picked it up, smiling at her tiny stitches, and set the sock, one of his, back in the never-empty mending basket.
He sat down, and in the peace of their sitting room, admired her loveliness. He thought that’s what he did. When he opened his eyes, shadows had lengthened across the room and she was eyeing him.
Silent, he watched her face, pleased to see a certain game quality now. He held out his hand to her and she came to him, curling up in his lap and resting her head against his chest.
“I want to be happy again.”
He held her closer, kissing her hair. “We will be.”
She smelled of lilac talcum and little boy, a combination that made him smile and then chuckle. “What’s so funny?” she asked in that gruff voice of hers she used when she felt playful. He could have gone down on his knees in gratitude to hear it again.