by Pam Hillman
He remained focused on her, and she knew she’d snagged his interest.
“I’d get away from the cops and go right back to life on the streets. But one day something changed. I lost my sister and then got really sick, like you. Mrs. Brooks took me in and took care of me. She never judged me for what I’d done. She accepted me and loved me.”
“I had a sister.” Bobby looked down.
“What happened?”
“We got separated when we got here.” Bobby’s chin trembled. “I don’t know what happened to her.”
Livy tilted his chin up. “Bobby, what would you say if I told you your sister is here with us? She’s doing fine.”
“Jessie’s here?” His eyes widened.
“If her full name is Jessica. Would you like to see her?”
“Yes. Please.” An excited shine replaced the despair in Bobby’s eyes, and he bobbed his head, his shaggy red hair flopping over his forehead.
“Mr. Jake can bring her in here.” Livy met Jake’s gaze in the mirror. “She’s asleep, but under the circumstances, I don’t think Bobby can wait until morning.”
Jake carried the sleeping child in and placed her in the crook of Bobby’s good arm. She sighed and snuggled close. Bobby’s gaze riveted on his sleeping sister’s rosy cheeks and sweet-scented hair.
“Bobby, we’d like to take care of the other children just like we’ve been taking care of Jessica. But we can’t if you don’t tell us where they are.”
The sweet moment turned sour as the color drained from Bobby’s face. “I . . . I thank you, ma’am, for taking care of my sister, but I don’t know nothing.”
Livy bit her lip. If she didn’t get through to this boy, more children would be in danger. Jake put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up. He stepped forward. “Bobby, if you don’t tell us, what’s going to stop them from getting rid of the next kid who gets hurt or the next one who’s too young to work?”
His eyes grew wide again. “Butch got rid of a little girl a few weeks ago.”
“A toddler? About a year old?”
“Yes.” Tears swam in his eyes. “The boss said she was too little, and Butch took her. Her sister cried and cried. Until Grady whipped her and made her stop. She still cries at night when she thinks nobody’s listening.”
“The baby’s here. Luke found her and brought her to Miss Livy. Just like he brought Jessica.”
Bobby’s head jerked up. “Luke? His brother is at the factory, too.”
“He told us.” Jake hunkered down. “I need you to tell me which factory. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Bobby closed his eyes and hugged Jessica close. “The glove factory.”
* * *
The doctor arrived and shooed them out. Livy confronted Jake in the kitchen. “Gibbons runs the glove factory.”
“I should have known.” Jake jerked on his coat. “He’s been a thorn in my side ever since he got here.”
“You’re going over there, aren’t you?”
He slanted her a look. “What if I am?”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You need my help.”
“You’re wrong there. I don’t need your help.”
Livy glared at him. “How do you intend to get in?”
“I’ll find a way.”
“What’re you going to do? Break a window or kick down a door?”
He crossed his arms. “If I have to.”
“For your information, Gibbons has bars on the windows, and they’re too high up to see into. And there are only two doors, both padlocked.”
His eyes narrowed. “And how do you know all this?”
“It’s my job to know these things.” She looked away. “Or it used to be.”
“And what was your job, Livy?” He moved closer, green eyes flashing. “Maybe it’s time you told me the truth about yourself. You weren’t just a poor little street kid Mrs. Brooks took in, were you?”
“You’re right. I wasn’t. Before Mrs. Brooks saved my life, I was one of the best lock pickers in Chicago.”
“Not to mention an ace pickpocket too, right?”
Livy nodded. Might as well have it all out in the open. He was bound to find out sooner or later. Maybe if he knew the whole truth, he’d stop looking at her in a way that made her think about becoming a wife and a mother to little dark-haired babies who looked just like Andy.
He speared her with a suspicious look. “That first day I met you. Those boys did steal my watch, didn’t they?”
Livy raised her chin. “Yes. And I put it back, and you were none the wiser.”
His disgusted look twisted in her heart like one of the wires she used to pick locks. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but she couldn’t change her past, no matter how much she wanted to. “I’m sorry. I never meant to mislead you or anyone else. My past is behind me.”
He took a step toward her. “Is it, Livy? Is it really?”
Livy looked away, unable to bear the censure in his eyes any longer. “I know you don’t believe me, but Mrs. Brooks didn’t just save my life when she took me in. She led me to Jesus Christ and taught me that what I was doing was wrong.”
“How do you justify what you did all those years?”
The hot sting of tears gathered in her eyes. He still didn’t understand how children abandoned on the streets suffered, not even after seeing Bobby at death’s door, and then hearing that same child struggle with identifying the men who’d almost killed him.
“I didn’t know any better. All I knew was that I was freezing, my stomach was empty, and my sister had bled to death in a filthy alley right before my eyes, taking her babe with her. I wanted to eat, to live. That’s all that mattered.” She wanted to shake him. He knew nothing—nothing—about what she’d been through. She jabbed at his chest, unable to check the tears squeezing out the corners of her eyes. “Don’t talk to me about justifying my actions until you’ve walked barefoot through the snow or fought the dogs for bones to throw in a pot to have a little something to eat.”
When she stopped, the only sound was her harsh breathing filling the room. Jake stared at her, suffocating her with his silence. Was he repulsed by what she’d told him? It didn’t matter what he thought anymore. All that mattered was saving the children on the streets of Chestnut and in the hands of that monster Gibbons.
If telling the truth about her past opened people’s eyes to the plight of these kids, then she’d tell the world.
Jake turned away, gripping the window seal until his knuckles turned white. “Was it that bad?”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened her eyes again. “It was worse—much worse. I . . . I don’t have words to describe it.”
He glanced at her, a hint of compassion now in his gaze. “Can you give me another chance? I promise to listen to you, to Luke, and to the others this time.”
She pushed the memories to the back of her mind and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I’ll give you another chance on one condition.”
“What?”
“That you take me with you to the glove factory.”
* * *
“Would you hurry up already?”
Livy shot Jake a look filled with daggers, and he clamped his lips together. She pressed her ear against the lock, a long, thin wire in her hand. The temperature, already below freezing, kept dropping. It seemed like they’d crouched in the shadows for hours, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.
A click later, Livy threw a triumphant look in his direction. The lock popped open, and they slipped inside the darkened building. Once the door shut behind them, Jake lit a lantern and pulled the shutters low so that only a sliver of light illuminated the room. The light revealed an office, small and cluttered, with barred windows set high in the walls.
Livy hurried to a desk in the corner and pulled out a drawer. “I tried to get a job here not long after Mrs. Brooks and I arrived in Chestnut, but Gibbon
s said they weren’t hiring. He must have been using child labor the whole time.”
Quickly they searched the office, finding precious little about employees but plenty of orders and invoices detailing the various buyers the factory dealt with.
“Funny that Gibbons would have such good records of his customers but nothing on his employees,” Jake said.
They moved on to the factory floor. Other than the office, the building consisted of one huge room filled to the brim with machines and stacks of leather goods piled high. Row after row of sewing machines, packed close together, didn’t leave much room to maneuver. The stench of unwashed bodies and refuse permeated the place.
Jake’s stomach churned. He didn’t like the looks of this, not one bit. They rummaged around some more. Livy moved away, and Jake raised the lantern, trying to see what had caught her attention.
“Give me a little more light. Nobody knows we’re here anyway.”
Jake turned the lantern higher and followed Livy. Haphazard piles of foul-smelling blankets ran the length of the rear wall. He spotted small boxes and crates here and there, separating the pallets.
Livy’s gaze shimmered in the lantern light. “Looks like the kids were living in here.”
“Where are they now, then?” Jake wanted to punch someone, namely, Victor Gibbons. If Bobby had worked in this dump, then Gibbons didn’t care a fig about what happened to any of his workers, no matter what he said.
“I don’t know.” She riffled through a box and held up a wooden horse, missing two legs. Another box revealed a small sliver of a mirror and a tattered children’s book.
Jake picked up a shirt, small and threadbare. “What do you think?”
“Definitely a child’s.” Livy frowned.
“But without the children, there’s not any proof.”
“There’s Bobby.”
Jake laughed, a harsh sound in the cavernous building. “One street kid’s word against a man like Victor Gibbons? It’ll never fly.”
“It might if people saw the condition of this place.”
They headed toward the front door, Jake holding the lantern high so they wouldn’t trip over anything.
Livy grabbed his arm. “What’s that smell?”
Jake sniffed. Dread snaked through him. “Smoke.” He grabbed Livy’s hand. “Come on.”
He wouldn’t have thought twice about the smell of burning coal since the scent hung over Chestnut most of the year. But woodsmoke? They hurried toward the front door. Jake tried it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“It’s stuck,” Livy said.
Jake shook the knob again. “No, it’s locked. Someone’s locked us in from the outside.”
His gaze caught and held Livy’s in the flickering light of the lantern. “They’re going to torch the building.”
* * *
Livy froze. She’d seen what fire could do to a building, reducing it to ashes in minutes. The fear of fire had hovered over the slums of Chicago like a dark cloud, striking terror into the hearts of all.
Lord, please help us.
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Jake lifted the shades on the lantern all the way and exposed the darkest corners.
Livy’s frantic gaze swept the factory: the high, barred windows, the padlocked doors. Jake ran to the rear of the building, his shadow dancing against the walls. He checked the back door, but like the front, it must have been locked from the outside. The light bobbed as he raced back to her side. Livy clutched her stomach and focused on his tense face, illuminated by the lantern and the light from the fire.
Oh, Lord, help us. Please, Lord, get us out of here. I don’t want to die. Please.
“Come on.” Jake pulled her through the doorway separating the office from the sweatshop and slammed the door behind them. “That’ll buy us a little time.”
Livy’s gaze darted around the office before she broke free of Jake’s hold and raced to the locked door. She pounded against the wood. “Help! Somebody, help! Please get us out of here!”
Jake wrapped his arms around her from behind, capturing her fluttering hands against her waist. She stilled, willing her pounding heart to slow.
“Save your breath. There’s nobody close enough to hear,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes and shuddered against him, trying not to scream, trying not to run to the corner and huddle in a ball against the onslaught of fire that would surely come.
“We’re going to make it. Okay?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. He sounded so sure, so confident. She could almost believe he was right.
He kissed the top of her head and let her go. Shoving a desk chair underneath the window, he climbed onto the chair, grabbed the bars, and shook them.
Smoke curled under the door, drifting in sluggish curls toward them. Livy shivered. How harmless the smoke looked, but how deadly it would be when it wrapped itself around them and completely took over until they couldn’t breathe. She backed toward the corner. They were going to die. Right here in this room. Tonight.
The smoke would kill them long before the fire consumed their bodies.
Through a fog of fear as thick as the smoke slithering under the door, Livy watched Jake. He found a metal rod and pried against the bars, using the iron as a lever, trying to create an opening big enough to escape through. Sweat beaded and rolled down his face.
A whimper gurgled up her throat.
Lord, we need You now more than we’ve ever needed You. Please, Lord.
Jake stopped, lowering the heavy iron rod from the window. “It’s no use. The bars are bolted tight against the frame.”
Livy slid down the wall into a puddle.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Have mercy.
Jake hurried across the room, hunkered down, and grabbed her by the shoulders. His eyes, their green depths fierce in the flickering light, stunned her. “We will make it, Livy. Don’t give up.”
Livy shook her head. There was no need for words.
Desperate time stood still.
“Please don’t cry, Livy.”
The air left Livy in a rush, leaving a desperate feeling of yearning inside. Tears tracked down her cheeks. With shaking hands, she traced his features, her fingers lingering on his cheekbones, the stubble along his jaw, and finally, his lips.
Jake hauled her to him, covering her mouth with his in a burning kiss that rivaled the fire raging out of control not thirty feet away. All too soon, he jerked away, rested his forehead against hers, and gazed long and deep into her eyes. He didn’t say another word, but his expression glowed with a passion that seared her to the core.
A passion they would never have a chance to explore.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jake held Livy tight against him. He loved her, and he’d give anything to see her safe. If possible, he’d die to save her. “Lord, help us. If there’s a way out, show me.”
The smoke grew thick. The roar of the fire gained momentum with each passing moment. Livy slumped against him and coughed. She’d given up. His heart lurched. She couldn’t die. He’d beat a hole in the door first. His gaze darted to the only escape route.
The door.
“Come on. Head down. Crawl.”
He half dragged, half pulled her across the room. He caught a whiff of blessedly cold air. He pushed her to the crack between the door and the floor. Livy scooted close, sucking the oxygen in. Jake cocooned her with his body. Breathing. Wishing. Hoping. Praying.
God, did You bring us this far to let us die? Is this the end for us? What about Ma and my brother and sisters? Who’ll take care of them? And Mrs. Brooks and the orphans? They need Livy.
He blinked against the acrid smell of smoke, tears forming in his eyes. He focused on a hinge, shining black against the wooden door. He stared at the gap between the hinge and the door, his brain foggy and disoriented.
Suddenly the significance of the crack became clear.
He scuttled across the floor and grabbed the iron bar. Using brute force, he
shoved the end of the shaft into the space and pried.
God, give me strength. Do it. Do it now.
A nail moved, screeching against the wood. Adrenaline surged through Jake’s body, and he wedged the bar even tighter. Pressing his back against the floor, he used the leverage to force the hinge to give way, groaning with the effort.
Three more tries, and the nails popped out.
“Livy,” he rasped, “we’re free.”
She responded with a moan.
He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her away from the door. She clawed at him, trying to get closer to the air. He blocked her and used the bar to pry the door away from the frame.
A swoosh of fresh air slapped him in the face.
He scooted Livy’s small frame toward the opening. “Go.”
She crawled out, her movements sluggish.
Jake wedged his shoulders between the heavy door and the frame, forcing his way through. He paused, breathing in, regaining his strength to push on to freedom.
Livy stumbled toward the frozen creek.
“No. Not that way.”
She ignored him or simply didn’t hear him in her haste to get as far away from the burning building as she could. Jake strained to get through the opening he’d created, his body acting as a crowbar. He heard the nails on the top hinge screeching against the wood.
The door gave way and crashed against the foundation. Jake cleared the opening, chased by billows of smoke. He gulped in life-giving air, trying to see where Livy had gone. He stood, lumbering away from the building in the direction he’d last seen her.
“Livy!” His voice was no more than a croak.
A shout from behind him spurred him on. He had no way of knowing who’d spotted him, but if it was Gibbons’s men, they’d shoot first and ask questions later.
