Of all things, Eduardo laughed. “I am not Spanish, I am Texan,” he said.
“Then what are you doing in New York?” Noah asked, adjusting his grip on the bridge again so that he could lean closer to Eduardo and assume a more conversational posture.
Eduardo let out a long sigh and looked down at the water. “I needed the money for my family.” He was silent for a moment, then he laughed and glanced back at Noah. “I was fired from the ranch where I worked because I was caught with another vaquero.”
“No!” Noah exclaimed, tempted to laugh himself. What were the odds of encountering another man like him in such a situation?
Eduardo went on with, “It is not what you think. I have a wife and three children back home in San Antonio. Or I had them. I love them. Very much. But I have loved others too. The trail is lonely,amigo, and I take comfort where I find it.”
“Yes, of course,” Noah said. “I understand completely.”
He pulled himself even closer to the railing, contemplating climbing back to the other side to give his muscles a rest, as Eduardo went on.
“I came to this city because of a promise a friend made, but there was no job when I got here,” he said, lowering his head. “I struggled. I’ve lived rough. I do not like the cold. And today, I received a letter that my wife does not want me anymore, that she has gone with another man to Mexico. She has taken my children with her. All she left was an address where I should send money. I have nothing now.”
“I am sorry,” Noah said. He risked his own safety to let go of the railing with one arm and to clap a hand on his shoulder.
Eduardo smiled weakly in the moonlight, then laughed. “I wish to die because I have no one. You wish to die because you have someone and it is too painful. It is strange, no?”
Noah pulled his hand back to anchor himself to the bridge. “Life is strange,” he said quietly.
“So is death, I think,” Eduardo said, looking down at the river with him.
They were both silent for a long moment before Noah drew in a breath of courage and looked at Eduardo.
“We do it together,” he said with resolve. “Then neither of us will be alone.”
“Sí, amigo.” Eduardo nodded in return. “Ontres?”
“On three,” Noah agreed. “One—”
“Dos—”
“Three.”
Neither of them moved. The cold breeze whistled around them. Everything else was silent.
Then they both laughed.
“My name is Noah,” Noah said, his head bowed sheepishly. “I don’t think I told you that.”
“Noah,” Eduardo repeated. “Like in the Bible. The man who built an ark and rose up over the flood to live another day.”
Noah smirked, wondering if his new friend had made the comparison on purpose. “Something like that,” he said.
They were silent for another long moment, looking down at the swirling, black water.
Finally, Eduardo said, “Do you know, Noah, it seems to me that a man who would go to all the trouble to help you see doctors, even doctors who shock you with electricity, is a man who is dedicated to you. It is not as though he does not know your mind is sick.”
“He does know,” Noah sighed. “I think he knew almost from the start.”
It was true, looking back at the things he had done when he’d first come to New York—the way he’d thrown himself at Marcus, and the way he’d dragged Beckett into his madness…. How could Beckett not have known he was sick? Surely, Marcus had warned him off and told him all about the ways Noah had vexed him. And yet, Beckett had taken him in, embraced him, found him work, introduced him to his family, and tried desperately to get him help. Those were not the actions of someone who’d been surprised or forced to take action.
Noah glanced up at Eduardo. “You get used to the cold after a while. And there are always men who are willing to hire strong workers. I…I know a few, if you wouldn’t mind working in a glassworks.”
“I know nothing of glass or factories,” Eduardo said, shaking his head. He paused, peeked down again, then said, “I would be willing to learn.”
“You seem intelligent,” Noah pointed out.