Beggar's Miracle

by Joy Ross Davis

  He couldn’t bring himself to tear up the letter. He believed in these young men and their right to play a simple game of football every week, to be members of a team, to feel their hearts lightened by the sport of it. He could not back down.

  “Well, that’s it, then, isn’t it?”

  With a bit of an effort in maneuvering the steps with the boxes, he managed to get them into the back seat of the car.

  He went back into his office, stood for a moment, then flipped off the light.

  “Forgive me, Lord,” he said as he descended the stairs, “for disobeying the rules of the church, but my heart won’t let me do anything else,” he said. “If I’m in the wrong, I hope you’ll let me know. If I’m not, I hope you’ll let me know that in some way, too.”

  The sickness he felt inside made his hands tremble. He leaned against the car and rubbed his forehead with his hands.

  “What have I done?” he muttered.

  A soft sound broke through his fear and shame.

  Percy looked around but couldn’t find the source. With his bad leg throbbing now, he bent and checked under the car.

  And there, huddled and shivering beside the back tire, was a small bundle.

  Percy lay flat on the ground and stretched his arm as far as it would reach until his fingertips brushed across a fuzzy coat.

  He stretched again, trying to reach even further, but he couldn’t get hold of it. He moved, then, to the other side of the car.

  “This’ll be a cinch.”

  He ran his hand up the inside of the tire, but he felt nothing. So, he peered underneath and saw it wedged between the tire and the rear axle.

  “How did that happen?” Percy mumbled to himself.

  Percy stood and thought.

  Perhaps his idea would work. The animal seemed stuck and needed a bit of a shake to release it from the clutches of the car.

  He grabbed the side rear with both hands, spread his legs to support his body and cleared his mind for the task.

  He grunted and, straining every muscle in his body, hoisted the side an inch of so off the ground.

  “C’mon,” he said, his face contorted with the tremendous weight.

  When he heard a yelp from under the car, he eased it back to the ground and stumbled backwards, losing his balance and tumbling to the wet road.

  A moment later, a tiny ball of fur poked his head from under the car.

  “Well, there ya are, now,” Percy said. “Got stuck, eh?”

  He picked up the ball of wiry fluff and got to his feet.

  The little thing whimpered.

  With his already-dirty coat, he wiped off its face and stared in disbelief at a puppy, the spitting image of his beloved Mr. Jones.

  He bundled it tightly in his coat, felt the little thing snuggle next to him for warmth, and waited until he heard the steady breathing of sleep.

  As he climbed into the car, he whispered a prayer of thanks.

  With the dog snug in his coat and still sleeping, he patted his coat.

  “Let’s go home,” he whispered. “Home, little Jonesy.”

  13

  Golden

  In the six months since her first encounter with the golden light of the swans, Bitty Brown had been transformed. She had learned to talk.

  She and Bluebelle went every day to visit the swans as they glided across the pond, and each time, they would swim to her and nuzzle her legs. Occasionally, in unison, they would look up at her. When they did, she could not tear her gaze from them. The radiance would stream from their eyes, filling her body with delicious warmth. She would open her mouth as they did this now and let the light flow down her throat.

  Then, after only a moment or so, they would swim away, honking sometimes in a sort of plaintive cry. Several times, when Bitty stared after them, she felt uneasy, as if the pair wanted desperately to tell her something.

  Bluebelle didn’t seem affected at all, although Bitty had noticed that her coat seemed to fluff up more than usual as she made figure eights, twining in and out between her legs as the swan cast their beautiful light on her. And when the swans swam away, Bluebelle immediately jumped into her arms for a snuggle, especially to nuzzle her face and mouth.

  They were hardly ever separated, Bluebelle always snuggled at her feet at night or prancing along beside her when they walked or finding a cozy spot in the kitchen when they helped Fiona.

  “My little love bug, Bluebelle,” Bitty called her.

  Bitty had grown accustomed to having Bluebelle close and to the magic of the swans. On one occasion when she’d make her daily trip to visit them, Bluebelle had run off chasing a bird.

  There was no magic that day.

  In her heart, she felt so closely tied to the swans that she knew they had some secret to share with her. This secret she considered one of her treasures for she, alone, knew of the golden glow from the swans, and she, alone, knew that they wanted to tell her something.

  She kept that secret treasure hidden away inside her mind. The other treasure she still kept in a worn bag, always within reach.

  Though she could speak now, she rarely said anything since her habit had been to remain silent. Her own speaking voice seemed like some sort of alien sound that came from her mouth. It was unpleasant, and so she confined her words to a very few, though she always greeted Fiona in the mornings.

  Love had her in its spell.

  And every time Percy came near her, her heart fairly burst from her chest. She dreamed of him often. Sometimes, in her dreams, he walked up to her and said, “Bitty Brown, I want you to be my wife.”

  She knew that he loved her, but she wanted more. She wanted to be his wife.

  But there was that nagging voice in her head. Even though she lived in this beautiful house now, she knew that she was not good enough for Percy. Her past had been fraught with too many hardships and humiliations for someone like him to be attracted to her.

  But she did not stop dreaming. In her most wonderful dreams, those that took her into a world of utter joy and contentment, she imagined that she was Percy’s wife, and that her mother had somehow found her, and that she and Fiona were great friends who lived with them at Dunaghy Manor, a family, a real family.

  Bitty sighed. Her heart ached with the desire to be Percy’s wife and with the fear that she would never again see her mother.

  She told this to the swans every day, Bluebelle close at her feet. They watched her when she whispered to them, then swam away, their heads tucked together as if they were whispering.

  She stood in her room now and regarded her reflection. The big fluffy cat lay stretched out on the bed behind her.

  Her once wild mass of dark waves now lay smoothly to her waist. Her face, once caked with grime, now gave off a sparkly peach-colored tone without a speck of dirt, revealing long black lashes and bright sky blue eyes. Her hands and nails, scrubbed and buffed, were perfectly white. Even her small feet practically glistened with cleanliness. The regular baths had washed away all of the surface dirt. No one who looked at her would suspect that the dirtiness was only inside of her now. She did not look like a slave from the laundry.

  She decided, as she surveyed the reflection, that she was not ugly as she’d once thought.

  She had begun, a few weeks ago, to see this change from horribly ugly to not quite so ugly. Now, as she watched herself, she thought,

  I could be pretty some day, never beautiful like Lady Emalyn, but sort of pretty.

  She heard a knock on the door. The knob turned and Fiona stuck her head inside.

  Bitty smiled.

  “Well, now, just look at you,” Fiona said. “I see our Lady Bluebelle is still making herself quite at home on the bed.” She reached down and scratched her under the chin. Bluebelle purred.

  “Let’s pick out something beautiful for you to wear,” Fiona said. “We want to make a good impression at the party this afternoon, and we’ve a drive ahead of us to get to Dublin, so we need to get moving. She’s expectin
g us about 2:00.”

  As Fiona searched through the closet, Bitty whispered,

  “I hate Dublin.”

  Fiona stopped and reached out for her. She wrapped her arms around her.

  “And why would you hate Dublin, sweetie? You’ve told us so little since you’ve been here. What happened in Dublin to make you hate it so?”

  Bitty felt her heart begin to race. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “I…I came from there.”

  “Yes,” Fiona said. “You lived at the orphanage—that despicable Laundry—didn’t you?”

  Bitty’s mouth dropped open.

  “Oh, darlin’, we figured that out long ago. We never knew what your life was like, but we knew it must have been terrible. I’m so sorry for all that you had to endure. But you’re safe here now, my love. You never have to leave. This is your home.”

  “Does…does…Percy know?”

  Fiona smiled at her, a gentle, loving smile.

  “Yes, dear, he knows. It doesn’t matter at all to him. He’s just happy we found you. Come on, now, let’s get something nice to wear. We have to be leaving soon.”

  Fiona walked to the wardrobe, then turned back to her.

  “I wondered if you’d like to wear one of these,” she said. “They belonged to my Emalyn, and they might be a little out of style, but she loved them so.”

  From the top shelf Fiona pulled down a box.

  When Bitty looked inside, she saw a pretty gray hat with a bright peach-colored flower on the side. She lifted it out gently.

  Bluebelle hopped down from the bed to get a look.

  “It’s beautiful,” Bitty said.

  “Go on, then, try it on.”

  Bitty stood in front of the mirror and put on the hat carefully, almost as if it were a treasure. She turned and faced Fiona.

  Fiona’s hands went to her mouth.

  Bitty took off the hat immediately and apologized.

  “Sorry.”

  Fiona took a deep breath, grabbed a dress from the wardrobe, and told Bitty to put it on if she liked it.

  “It’s perfect,” Fiona said. “Now, come here, child. Let’s braid your hair. One long braid.”

  Bitty did as Fiona told her, the big cat curled in between her and Fiona.

  When she’d finished braiding, Fiona put the hat gently in place.

  “Now,” she said. “Now, you look beautiful. Just like my Emalyn. So much like her.”

  Bitty glanced at the doorway to see Percy standing there, his mouth somewhat open, his eyes fixed on her.

  Something seemed to shift in him, something almost unnoticeable to anyone except Bitty.

  He walked to her slowly, picked up her hand, and kissed it lightly.

  “You look beautiful, m’lady,” he said. “A shining rose, you are. My rose, forever.”

  Suddenly, the room seemed awash with a golden light that came from the smile of Bitty Brown.

  14

  Dublin

  Bitty didn’t blame her mother, not really.

  She decided that she was bad already—dirty inside—even at four years old when her mother left her screaming on the dock in Dublin while she sailed away to America.

  It’s why she put me with the Sisters. She knew I was dirty.

  “What’s bothering you, child?” Fiona said. “Today is a day to be happy. We’ll have a grand time here at Lady Eliza’s house, a big feast and a tour of the greenhouse. It will be lovely.”

  Bitty didn’t want to get out of the car. Without her Bluebelle, she felt displaced, frightened at having to meet all the people and this Lady Eliza, whoever she was.

  Percy stuck his head in, his dog, Jonesy beside him on a leash.

  He held out his hand.

  “Let me help you,” he said and smiled at her, and as soon as his hand touched hers, the warmth spread over her.

  She climbed out of the car and stepped onto a lovely manicured lawn with a rock path that led straight ahead to the greenhouse.

  Surrounding it were blooming trees, thick shrubs, and vividly-colored plants. Lined with all manner of bright flowers, the rock path seemed like something out of a fairy tale.

  “Lovely,” she said as she stepped onto the path.

  But the beauty of it was marred by something she couldn’t see, a sense of horror that filled her entire being.

  “Your hand is cold,” Percy said as they walked. He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?”

  She nodded but not even the warmth of Percy’s hand could bring a smile to her face.

  Bitty looked at him and tried to smile, but she couldn’t. Something was wrong here. She longed to be back at Dunaghy Manor with her swans and Bluebelle.

  Suddenly, Bitty froze dead still and looked up the hill to her left to the old three-story building perched there like a withering old monster: the Sisters of Mercy Orphanage.

  She opened her mouth but could not speak.

  She glanced first at Fiona then at Percy.

  She dropped her hold on Percy’s hand, clutched her treasure bag to her chest, and began to back away from them.

  They’ve brought me back here. It was all a trick to get me back to the Laundry.

  Rage built inside her, rage at the place, rage at the people she’d trusted, rage at the world for taking away her life at her new home.

  Rage, sheer rage, overwhelmed her until, at last, she opened her mouth and screamed. Then, she collapsed onto the rock path.

  “Bitty Brown,” the voice said. “Please, Bitty, open your eyes.”

  Percy held both of her hands in his.

  He bent and kissed her on her lips.

  “Please, open your eyes. Let me know you’re all right.”

  When her eyes fluttered open, Bitty saw the handsome Percy sitting beside her, a look of concern on his face.

  “I should have told you, should have warned you,” he said. “Can you forgive me, Bitty?”

  “Shush, now,” Fiona said and waved him away. “Let the child rest. She’s had a shock.”

  And then Bitty remembered. They’d brought her back to the Laundry.

  With her treasure clutched in her hand, Bitty sat up and glared at the two of them.

  “Leaving,” she said. “Can’t go back there.”

  Though she felt dizzy, she was determined to get away from this place. She would never be a slave to the Laundry again. Never. Even if she had to live on the streets.

  She tried to stand but flopped back down.

  Then, the dog jumped on the bed beside her and whined. She patted him on his big puppy head. She would miss Jonesy, Bluebelle, and the swans. Oh, the swans. Her lovely magic swans. And warmth, she would miss warmth. Her cozy bed. The warm kitchen.

  Tears poured along her cheeks.

  Bitty sobbed at the betrayal of the two people in the world she believed had cared for her.

  “Bitty,” Percy said and took her hands again. “Please, don’t cry. It breaks my heart to see you so sad.”

  He brushed her hair away from her eyes.

  “Look at me, Bitty. Tell me what you think has happened here.”

  Bitty looked him square in the eyes.

  “Traitor,” she whispered.

  After a few seconds, Percy spoke.

  “I haven’t betrayed you, Bitty. How could I betray you? You are my shining rose, my true love.”

  But his words did not move her.

  She directed her gaze to Fiona.

  “And you,” she said.

  Bitty broke down again, shoulders shaking with the violent sobs that racked her small body.

  When Jonesy barked loudly several times, Bitty stopped her crying and watched as he jumped from the bed and onto the window seat.

  He turned his head to her and barked, then turned back to the huge window and barked again. Then he began to whine.

  He pawed at the window.

  “Jonesy, come,” Percy said.

  The dog hopped down from the window seat and sat at his
feet.

  “Good boy,” Percy said and patted him on the head.

  And though the dog obeyed, he did not take his eyes off Bitty.

  Her eyes, as well, were locked momentarily in his gaze.

  She took a deep breath, wiped her face, and sat up straight, all the while keeping her eyes on Jonesy. Without reason, the tension slipped away, the sadness and rage melted out of her.

  She would be all right, even on the streets.

  Bitty straightened her long hair as it flowed down her back in dark waves.

  “Child,” Fiona said to her.

  She put her hand on Fiona’s cheek and smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said and hugged her so tightly that neither of them could get a breath.

  Then she stood and wrapped her arms around Percy’s neck, kissed him on the cheek, and smiled at him, as well.

  She placed the hat carefully on her head, bent down to give Jonesy a rub behind his ears, and faced them one more time, her treasure clutched to her bosom.

  A rap at the door startled her.

  “May I come in?”

  Fiona turned the handle.

  “Eliza, how good to see you.”

  The woman wore dark sunglasses but did not have her cane. A heavy tweed coat covered her to her ankles. A woolen scarf hung around her neck and wrapped around part of her face. A woolen cap, her hair bound underneath, sat tilted on her head.

  “I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get up here,” Eliza said and coughed, her voice sounding a bit raspy. “Things have been rather hectic in the greenhouse. Our heating unit isn’t working properly, so I’ve had some men checking on it while all the visitors have been coming in and out. I came as soon as I had a free moment.”

  Eliza hugged Fiona, then took a few steps forward. She laid a hand on Percy’s elbow.

  “How are you, Percy?” she asked.

  “I’m well, thank you,” he said.

  Fiona closed the door and moved beside Bitty. She took a deep breath and winced.

  “Eliza,” she said, “this is our special girl. We brought her to see your lovely greenhouse today. This is Bitty Brown.

  Eliza turned her head toward Fiona.