There was a much-used sofa, faded plush chairs, and a few beanbags in the room. A large plasma TV hung on the wall, running a cartoon. The kids sprawled on the furniture, some still eating. Two came forward to look at the books, but waited respectfully.
“It’s okay. Clary brought them for all of you.” Leefe began to pull the books out of the box. “Kids, help me put these where they belong, please.” Without a complaint, all the children scrambled up to help.
Clary felt something warm against her hand. A small blond boy touched her with his fingers, his pale blue eyes searching her face. She took his hand, adding a smile, and he leaned against her.
“That’s courtesy of your uncle Joe and aunt Maureen.” Leefe pointed at the TV. “The good behavior is because of the food.”
Clary turned, unsure what Leefe meant.
“I’ll explain outside.” Leefe picked up the empty box. “Do you mind if I keep this? Nothing is wasted here.” They walked into the hallway, and she pointed up the wide steps. “The babies and toddlers are napping upstairs with Albie, my assistant. The cut-off age for this facility is eight, or second grade.” They stepped outside onto the wide front porch.
“The food,” Leefe continued, moving two chairs together. “That always gets a homeless child’s attention. They may not eat anything else other than what the city provides. For example, that was probably Devi’s breakfast because she was late this morning. She’ll be okay, but quieter than usual until that fruit catches up with her. These little kids talk about food like some families talk about toys, clothes, phones, whatever. Food is the most protected and sought after item in their life.” She bent, retying a shoelace, her face hidden. “It’s taken us around nine years to get this up and running. I’d have given anything for a place like this when I was their age.”
Clary sat in one of the chairs. “They’re only here in the daytime? Where do they go at night?”
“Wherever they can. This really is Survival 101. They live in cars, alleys, deserted houses, or stores. In the summertime, they use big cardboard boxes, doorways, whatever. The old empty factory buildings over by the lake are full of squatters. This city’s in pretty good shape, at least now. The bigger cities have far worse problems.”
“I saw a group of kids, ten to twelve years old at Mojo’s. If the cut-off age here is eight, where do the older kids go? Jesse said she’d been watching them.”
Leefe nodded. “I’ve seen Jesse’s list. Some were here when they were younger, and I know most of their families.”
“How do you know how many kids will be here?”
“Beverly gives me the figures every month from CPS. We have to account for the money because most of it’s private.” Leefe looked at Clary, as if to make a point. “The winter is slower. It’s usually just Albie, me, and the preschoolers. About half of the kids are in school and have school lunches, but we do breakfast and dinner. Summer is always busier because I often have around thirty or more children a day for three meals, so we eat in shifts. Sometimes volunteers come in to help.” Leefe sank into the chair next to Clary. “That ties into what I do for the police. When I’m out at night I keep track of as many families as I can. These kids are not just poor. They truly are homeless because their families are fractured or suffering from illness and addiction. It’s everything you can imagine.”
“We have school lunches in Iowa.”
“No, that’s different, and tied into school meals.” The kids laughed at the TV and Leefe turned to look into the window.
“Because I teach, I know information is private at many levels, but give me a for instance. What if they get sick?”
“We keep a sick child here and one of us stays all night. South Port’s medical and dental communities help, but private companies chip in too. For instance, one of the local garden stores came over a couple of weeks ago, and we planted green beans to show the kids how to make a vegetable. That was fun.”
Clary looked at her watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Are you sure you can’t go with me?”
“Yes, but ask again.”
“I could use more information, if you’re willing. Stop by on your way home after work tonight. I promise coffee…or whatever else you want.”
“Whatever else I want?” Leefe said with a smile. “I won’t be out of here until eight, but coffee at Maureen’s would be great.”
Was that a slightly flirty smile, Clary wondered. “Oh, your art class. I’ll do it, but I wear clothes, don’t I?”
“What?” Leefe looked surprised. “I never even thought of that. Of course you wear clothes.”
As she walked away, Clary hummed to herself. The dull feeling smothering her for so long gave way to a nice push of energy, and it felt good to be around the chatter and laughter of kids again. She was positive Leefe could bridge the homeless information for Piper. Clary looked back at the day care. Actually, this was fascinating. How long had it been since something had fascinated her…besides teaching?
*
Leefe walked through the television room. Devi was propped up in the corner with a new book, pretending to read to little Jacob, making up a story to go with the pictures. She and Albie read to the children every day, but it was Devi that loved words as much as she did.
Some of the kids were asleep, and she took note of them. If their families were on the move, or in dangerous places, they were often awake all night. Arguments and fights were notorious for injuring them. Jacob was one of the victims, and she kept an eye on him. He’d come here last year with a broken wrist after he’d been caught in his parents’ fight. Now his father was in jail, and his mother overwhelmed with the older kids. They were squatting at one of the old factories.
She looked back at him. There were dark circles under his pale eyes, and his almost-white blond hair hung over his face. He could use a haircut. She remembered how he’d touched Clary. Usually, he hid when there were adults in the room. Jesse had said Clary was “pure magic” around children and maybe she was.
She went into the office to finish the weekly report for the city, jotting down the names of the ones who had been sleeping. Those were the families she’d look for first on her next time out. She placed the scissors on the desk as a reminder to cut Jacob’s hair.
When she was the age of these children, the Ellis family had a house, although it was dirty and infested. She checked her hands. If nothing else, she now had food, a clean body and clothes every day. That these kids were clean and fed—what could be better? That was why she had them sweep floors, shake rugs, and scrub the bathroom. A broom, a mop, and a rag were wonderful simple tools. They needed to know how to live after they grew up, and she wasn’t sure anyone else would teach them. This morning, they’d each taken a turn with floor wax and were shocked when it shone and smelled good. How many would remember this moment years from now? Maybe Piper’s classes would give her an idea of how the older kids were doing.
She booted up her laptop, organizing what was left of the day. After Albie was gone, she’d take the little ones outside for sunlight and fresh air and play cards with the older kids. It was a great way to teach them their numbers.
Most of this town would never understand how she or these children had lived, nor would she wish it on anyone. The group that included Joe, Maureen, and Beverly got it. They’d started this day care, along with other like-minded citizens. Clary was a lot like them. She paid attention and had brought books. Maureen and Joe often stopped by with things or food and took time with the kids, even eating a meal with them now and then.
Too bad she hadn’t thought of posing nude in the art class. She’d have returned Clary’s teasing, and had a little fun. Actually, what she’d had in mind were those olive green shorts and the collarless shirt Clary had worn the first day she’d seen her. She stared at the computer and then typed Clary’s name into Google. The first hit was the local newspaper’s story on “Teacher of the Year,” with a link to the acceptance speech. She clicked on it.
“
Wow,” she said under her breath as she read Clary’s words when she’d accepted the award. “Not what to learn, but how to learn,” Leefe read aloud. Maybe Clary would give her some tips for the kids about the alphabet, or numbers and colors. Leefe looked further and read about Clary’s swimming team in high school and her higher education information. Her parents looked familiar, but she’d probably seen them in Maureen’s photos. There were photos of Clary’s sister’s wedding, and a younger Clary who certainly looked more carefree than she did now. Leefe rested her elbows on the desk, head in hands, staring at the photos. Clary hadn’t looked very happy on Maureen’s deck last weekend, but that incredible smile was back today. She went to the next photo. Clary was right. She did look like her parents.
Leefe searched further. There were newspaper accounts about Sharon that she’d read before, but she found three more articles when she put Clary’s name in the mix. Wait, she thought, and went back several pages. Clary had been to England? Leefe shoved her chair back. Sharon had talked about a cousin overseas at a university, but she couldn’t recall anything else. Except how proud Sharon had been and how much she’d loved her.
Leefe sighed. She’d done everything for Sharon she could at that time, but it hadn’t been enough, and Jesse Lowden hadn’t been a cop then, far from it.
Chapter Eleven
On her way to Clary’s that evening, Leefe stopped at the art store, picked up some silver chains, and then took the alley behind the shop, a walk she loved. From up here on the bluff, it was downhill to the beach and her house. June evenings turned Lake Michigan alive with blues and greens, ending with a strip of dark gray just before a thin white line where the sky met the water.
The bright day had sunk into a rusty dusk around her. Black shadows fell across the town square ahead. She squinted, seeing a dot of red in the square’s darkness. Leefe walked faster. Was she seeing red tennis shoes? She began to run, ignoring the ache in her side.
Devi was curled against the base of a statue with her arms protectively over her face.
“No,” Leefe said, seeing blood on the bricks. She went to her knees, put her head down to the small face, and felt the weak breath. Very carefully, she lifted Devi’s arm an inch or two. A shallow scratch ran across Devi’s cheek into the little shirt, and blood was crusted on her long eyelashes from a cut above her eye. Leefe’s hands shook as she called nine one one, and then Clary.
Had no one seen this little girl? People were closing businesses and walking toward their cars. Turning, she realized that Devi was in the darkest part of the shadow, and farthest away from the sidewalks and streets. If she hadn’t come out of the alley, she might not have seen her.
Lights and sirens blasting, Jesse arrived first, followed by an ambulance that drove across the bricks. Clary pulled up, parked behind Jesse’s cruiser on the street, and ran toward them.
“What happened?” Clary said, breathless.
“I don’t know. I was on my way to your house and saw her red tennis shoes. Somebody hit her, or maybe she fell? I think the cuts are shallow, but why isn’t she waking up?” Leefe looked back at the alley, feeling as if she’d swallowed her heart.
Devi’s mother sometimes picked up men in that alley, and her father often caught the night shift at a small company that made skids, about a block away. There was an older brother that had gone through her day care, but Leefe saw none of them in the gathering crowd. It was hard to breathe, and something gave way inside her. Her eyes smarted. A warm arm pulled her close, and she leaned into Clary’s body.
“Take her to St. Cat’s. Notify Dr. Bergs on your way in,” Jesse told the EMTs and turned to Leefe. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Leefe explained her trip from the day care center to the town square. Jesse nodded and then glanced at Clary’s arm around her.
“Why did you call Clary?” Jesse said.
“I was going to stop for coffee at Maureen’s on my way home. We talked about it today.”
Jesse scowled at both of them. “You saw each other earlier?”
“I took some books to the day care.” Clary dropped her arm and backed away as the medics moved the gurney to the ambulance.
“You should have called me.” Jesse leaned close to Leefe, her voice low. “This is a homeless kid. It’s my job.” She tapped Leefe’s forehead.
“I did call you.” The always-lurking anger rose up inside Leefe.
“No, you called nine one one, not me,” Jesse said, her face all sharp.
Leefe clenched her jaw and stared into her eyes until Jesse turned away.
“I’ll look for the mother, or her father down at the skid place, and catch up later.”
“Ride with Devi,” Clary said, hand on Leefe’s back, guiding her. “I’ll bring your backpack and meet you at the hospital.”
Leefe climbed into the ambulance, heart pounding as sirens cut the air again, and it began to move. The EMT had a stethoscope on Devi’s small chest as the big vehicle bumped off the curb. She reached for the little hand just as Devi opened her eyes and began to cry.
*
The evening was fully gray as Jesse walked back from the alley toward Clary, the light from her flashlight bouncing off the walls. Clary slung Leefe’s pack over one shoulder and waited.
“What was that about?” Clary said as they walked to their vehicles.
“What?”
“That insulting tone of voice you used on Leefe.”
“She knows what to do in these situations. She has her orders.”
“Leefe wasn’t on a job for you.”
Jesse stopped at her squad car. “What’s the deal with you, all close, and your arm around her?”
“Damn it, Jesse. She was about to cry. That’s what my arm was doing around her. What’s wrong with you?” They stood close.
“Leefe doesn’t cry. You’re wrong about that.”
“How do you know she doesn’t cry? And stop talking like you own her. She cares for that little girl,” Clary said. “I like the way she stood up to you.”
“Have you been training her?”
“No, but it’s worth consideration,” Clary snapped, and then stepped back with a deep breath. “Let’s not argue. I’ll go to the hospital.”
Jesse lost her scowl, collapsing onto her car seat. “I’m sorry I’m crabby. I’m tired.”
“How’d the dinner go last night with Piper’s parents?”
“Piper’s mother hates it that she’s living with a woman. Me.” She looked away. “It makes it hard on Piper, believe me.”
Clary nodded. “I believe you. Call if you find Devi’s family.”
After Jesse drove away, Clary got into her car, talking to herself. She was sorry about Piper’s mother but she was still angry at Jesse. “The hell you say, Lowden. You were just plain rude.”
*
Once again, the hospital ER was busy. Clary spotted Leefe on a blue plastic chair. She could hear a child wailing above the noise.
“Is that Devi crying?” Clary said as she watched feet under the cubicle curtains and tried to eavesdrop.
“Yes, but they haven’t said anything yet. I was thinking of the first day they brought her to the day care about two years ago, too small for her age, and scared like she is now. Believe it or not, it’s only the second time I’ve heard her cry. She’s tough.”
“How old is she?”
“Almost six.” Leefe stared at the floor. “I shouldn’t care so much.”
“I saw how you care today.” Clary gave Leefe’s hand a light squeeze. “She’s almost six and is only now learning her colors?”
“Who would teach her?” Leefe turned with a straight look. “Her mother hustles guys for drugs, and her father works any job he can find. He’s never around. You should see how they live.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve had a lot of kids at the day care, and she’s the first child that’s captured me like this. You teach. Did this ever happen to you?”
“Not in the classroom, but once upon a tim
e there was a child,” Clary said, and wondered if Jesse had told Leefe about Hannah.
The curtains parted, and an older doctor with a mask hanging around her neck stepped out. “Leefe, what on earth? Did Devi fall?”
“I’m not sure, Dr. Bergs. I wasn’t with her. I was going down the Main Street alley after I closed the day care, and she was on the bricks by the statue.”
“We have to report this. Has anyone located her parents?”
“Jesse’s group is looking. The older brother stopped by for Devi tonight at the day care and said they were on their way to the Food Plant to pick up something to eat later tonight.”
“Okay, go inside. She needs to see someone she knows. I want you to sign as the person who brought her in.” She turned. “You are…?”
“This is Maureen’s niece, Clary Stone. I called her,” Leefe said.
Dr. Bergs smiled. “What would we do without Maureen? She’s a wonderful woman.”
“I’m staying at her house this summer while they vacation with my parents.” Clary returned the smile as they moved into the cubicle.
Devi was sobbing softly, hands across her face, and Clary stopped. The gurney was so big and the child so small.
Dr. Bergs entered something on the computer in the room. “No broken bones, but we have to watch out for a concussion. She’ll probably have a black eye as well from that cut. I’d like to keep her tonight and monitor her.”
“Fine with me,” Leefe said, holding Devi’s hand. “I’ll stay if you need me.”
“It would be good. There’s a cot up there for you. I’ve dealt with her parents before, and—” Dr. Bergs stopped. “I can’t say any more, legally. I know you know her parents.”
Leefe nodded. “No signs of abuse or—?”
“No, and she’s grown over an inch since I saw her in December.” Dr. Bergs washed her hands at the sink.
“I’ve been pushing exercise, vegetables, and fruit. I’m glad to hear she’s grown.” Leefe turned to the doctor. “When did you see her in December?”
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