Gabriella huffed, expanding her narrow chest. “Mademoiselle Fiona will find us trouble.”
I didn’t answer. She was right. For now, however, we were all safe, and these two little boys needed help.
Gabriella asked them a few more questions, and Bleu answered. “They earn a little from each fight, no matter who wins, and then they buy food,” Gabriella said to me.
Fiona beckoned us all to the table in the kitchen. She’d cut up cheese and bread as well as slices of apple. Beaumont made a sound similar to a growl and took his brother’s hand. Bleu gave him an assuring nod before they sat next to each other at the table.
Fiona and Gabriella wiped their hands with a damp towel. Unfortunately, it did little to remove the layers of grime. Their fingernails were overlong, with black under them.
“That’s good enough for now,” Fiona said.
Gabriella made a very French guttural noise and said something about throwing away the towels.
The boys ate with their fingers. Expected, of course, given the food itself. However, unlike the adults we’d had in this apartment thus far, these two attacked the food like starved animals. They were, in fact, starved animals. These poor mites, I thought. No one in the world cared for them. I’d had Grandmother, at least. What would have become of Fai and me if Grandmother had perished along with our parents?
The endless ache of hunger. I remembered that too. The emptiness had made us listless and apathetic, too weak to think. However, I knew from experience that with even a little food, their energy would return.
When they had emptied their plates, Fiona whisked them off to the bathroom. Gabriella, with another one of her disapproving sighs, followed.
I gathered the dishes and washed them in the white ceramic sink. Afterward, suddenly fatigued and hungry, I made myself a cup of tea and buttered a chunk of bread, then sat at the table, thinking about money and how it made all the difference between a convenient life and one of hardship. We all loved the same, rich and poor, and grieved and yearned for more or less, but one couldn’t deny the significance wealth or lack thereof mattered in life. It’s useless to think one way or the other. Philosophies about economics meant nothing. Especially when one was poor.
What would we do about these little boys? God only knew what was in Fiona’s mind. She was very much like her father. Her kind heart would decide, without thought to consequences.
After eating, I wandered out to the sitting room, unsure about what to do to help. The day had been warm, so Gabriella had closed the curtains to keep the room cooler. I drew them apart and opened the windows to bring in fresh air. Steam from the bathroom had smudged the glass.
I walked down the narrow hallway to the bathroom and bedrooms. Just outside the bathroom door, I listened to the high-pitched sound of Bleu speaking in French to Gabriella.
I leaned against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. While I agreed they were much too young to be fighting in the streets, what would we do with them? They couldn’t stay here. Or could they? What about when we returned home?
The bathroom door opened and Fiona slipped into the hallway. She startled at the sight of me. “You gave me a fright. What are you doing?”
“Nothing really, merely wondering what you think we’re to do now,” I said gently. “Did Gabriella tell you what they said about their mother?”
Fiona nodded. “They’ve been living like that for a year. Can you imagine?”
“I can.”
She flushed and looked chagrined. “Yes, you can. Stupid me.”
“You’re not stupid,” I said. “Far from it. Does Gabriella know if there are places we could take them? Orphanages?”
“But an orphanage? Think of poor Phillip. He had to live in one and almost didn’t make it to adulthood.”
I knew Phillip had grown up in an orphanage but didn’t know details. Men didn’t share that kind of thing with each other.
“We have to do something. They can’t go back out there to the streets.” Fiona’s bottom lip trembled. “I wish Mama and Papa were here. They would know what to do.”
“What would they do?” I asked. “We must think like them. If we can let that be our guide, perhaps we’ll know. For now, I’m going out to buy them new clothes.”
“Thank you, Li.” She leaned close and to my amazement, stood on her toes to kiss my cheek. “I know I must be an inconvenience to you in every way.”
“That’s not the way I’d describe it. Or you.”
She touched the side of my face with the backs of her knuckles. “I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t leave them there. It’s not right, what’s happening to them.”
“I know. But was it our problem to solve? Is it?”
She scrutinized me with narrowed eyes. “Is it not our duty to care for those who cannot care for themselves?”
I flushed under her gaze, knowing she was thinking of what her father had done for me and my family. “Duty?”
“As Christians?”
“Well, yes.” I shuffled my weight from one foot to the other. Our Christian duty was to give to those less fortunate. However, did it mean we were to bring them back to our Parisian apartment for good?
“Papa would tell us to bring them home. Yes, I’m sure that’s what he would do.”
“Home?” I tilted my head, watching her. Did she mean to Emerson Pass?
“Yes, we will take them home with us to Colorado.” Fiona spoke firmly. A new light had come to her eyes. I knew it well. All the Barnes siblings had it when they were just about to propose a preposterous idea. “My family will take them in. We’ll give them a new life.”
A burst of laughter rumbled out of me before I squelched it. “We can’t take them home to America. They’ll be unhappy, away from everything they’ve ever known. Anyway, how would we get them out of the country and onto a boat home?”
One corner of her mouth turned downward. “I know it seems impossible, but I don’t care. I’m not leaving them to go back to being abused by those men. They need us.”
“Us?”