Girl in Falling Snow

by F. M. Parker

  Alice paid her landlady the second half of the week’s rent. She went back onto the street and bought a meal at a restaurant and as before, a sandwich for the following day. In the late evening, she made her way toward the house. The street was nearly deserted with the temperature low and falling and threatening storm clouds scudding past overhead.

  Alice left the street and turned up the walkway to the house where she had the room. She slowed as she saw two men standing among the big elm trees in front of the house. A few steps more and she recognized the Jarvis brothers. Both were grinning and watching her. She stopped, worried. The two men were not at the house by chance.

  She was exhausted after working ten hours and wanted to get to her room. The only other entrance to the house was the rear door and she had no key to it. Further the rear yard was overgrown with shrubbery and more secluded, should the Jarvis brothers catch her there, she would be in even greater danger. She must get past the men and enter the house by the front door. As she moved forward, she reached into her coat pocket and drew the cobbler’s sharp knife from its sheath and held it hidden beside her leg. She hoped that she would not have to fight the men, but she would defend herself.

  As she drew near the men, one called out, “Hello, Pretty Face.”

  “Al, you’re sure right about that,” Ed said and grinning widely. “She’s sure a looker. She’ll be even prettier on her back.”

  “Pretty Face, we’ve brought a little whiskey,” Al said. “We aim to have a party with you.” He pulled a bottle from a coat pocket and held it out for Alice to see. “Now you just take a little sip of this and show us which room is yours and we’ll get the party started.”

  “I don’t like parties,” Alice said. Instantly she knew that she should not have spoken to the two. She hastened her step to get past them.

  Al and Ed moved to block her way. Al spoke in a harder voice. “Now don’t be like that. A party with us is great fun. Other girls have liked it. Here, have a little drink and it’ll make you friendly.”

  “Get out of my way,” Alice said firmly.

  “Not until you have a drink with us,” Ed said.

  Alice angled her course to pass around the men. They quickly blocked her path. They stepped close.

  “If you touch me, I’ll cut you,” Alice brought the knife into view and shoved the blade out toward the men. “Now let me through,” she ordered with her fear and anger soaring.

  “She’s a feisty one,” Al said. “Not like the others.”

  “Now why would you want to pull a knife on us when we’re being real nice to you?” Ed said. “Just be nice to us, that’s all we’re saying.” He stepped closer.

  Alice moved the knife back and forth in front of the men. “I’m telling you, let me alone!”

  “She’s bluffing about cutting us,” Al said to Ed who was slightly closer to Alice. “Just take the knife away from her.”

  Ed made as if to grab Alice, but then halted an arm’s length away. As Alice’s attention was drawn to Ed, Al leapt at her.

  Alice caught Al’s movement and instantly recognized the ruse being played on her. She whirled back toward Al and swung her knife, felt it strike and slice flesh.

  Al let out a yelp of pain and jumped away from Alice. He held up his right hand, the thumb dangling by a strip of flesh.

  “Oh! Goddamn, she’s cut my thumb off.”

  Alice, alert for Ed to charge upon her, shoved the sharp blade out toward him. “You’re next if you come close.” She was surprised at the success of her strike. This was the first time she had cut someone with the knife.

  “I’ll kill you,” Al snarled and staring at his cut hand and the blood beginning to steam down. “I’ll cut your bitch throat from ear to ear.”

  “If he doesn’t, then I will,” Ed hissed and glaring at Alice.

  “Do it now,” Al shouted at his brother.

  “No. Not now. First, we’ve got to get you to the hospital and get your thumb sewed back on. If they can.” He looked threateningly at Alice. “We know you and we’ll find you,”

  Seeing a chance to get past the men, Alice bolted toward the house. She looked over her shoulder. Ed had made a few steps after her and then stopped and stared at her back. She dashed to the house and inside. With the door cracked a bit, she watched the men hasten out of the yard and off along the street.

  Trembling with anger and fear, Alice hastened to her room. She remembered the feel of the knife cutting the man, and was amazed at how little regret that caused her. That lack of concern brought a great uneasiness. These past months on the streets had changed her into something much different from what she had been when she had boarded the ship to travel from Liverpool to America. She did not like that change, yet knew it was needed for her survival.

  She could not remain here where the Jarvis brothers could find her. They would try to kill her, she was certain of that. She must leave even though the rent was paid for a week. Even worse, she could never again work at the Irvine clothing Company. She took up her personal blanket, already rolled and tied. For a moment she looked about the cozy, warm room. Damn both Jarvis men to hell. She left closing the door behind her.

  *

  The winter wind complained with a keening whistle as it was cut by the broken window glass of the abandoned and collapsing old two story house. Alice barely noted the sound for her attention was focused ahead as she crept up the rickety stairs with the broken banister toward the attic.

  She had investigated the bottom floors of the house and found them empty. The attic remained to be investigated. She adjusted the blanket roll on her shoulders to be able to flee swiftly. In the confined space of the attic she might not be able to run and escape, so she slid the knife from its sheath in the pocket of her coat and brought it out and held it ready. The need to use the knife again, loomed real and darkly in her future.

  The rotten wood of a step squeaked under her foot and she halted instantly with her heart speeding its beat. She cocked her ears, straining to catch any sound that might signal someone was present above. Seconds passed and no sound came to her other than those of the wind and the groaning and creaking of the decaying house. She climbed the next two steps and cautiously lifted her head above the attic floor.

  In the weak light coming from the single small window, she saw the room was long and narrow. The ceiling was peaked and consisted of the underside of the roof. Cobwebs that had been spun by summertime spiders now hung in tattered strands from the dusty wooden rafters. In the end of the room most distant from her, dark shadows masked what could be lurking there. She climbed into the attic and stared into its far recess. A form wrapped in a red blanket and barely visible lay on the floor. Someone had beaten her to the possible refuge.

  Alice started to back away. Then she stopped. The form was small, a child most probably, who like herself was searching for a place to find shelter during the coming night. If that was correct, then there was less danger threatening her. Further there was more than ample room for her to spread her blanket without crowding the lone occupant.

  “Hello,” Alice called, hoping the person would allow her to remain until the storm ended.

  No response came from the blanket wrapped figure.

  “Hello. May I share the attic with you until tomorrow?” Alice questioned.

  Still there was no reply or movement from the blanketed form on the floor.

  “Are you all right?” she called in a louder voice.

  Again there was no reply. Alice slowly crept closer and looked down at the still form. She knelt intending to waken the person and touched what she judged to be the shoulder. The figure within the blanket was hard and rigid. Alice jerked her hand away.

  For several seconds she stared down at the blanket wrapped figure. She had to know the condition of the person for certain. Was he or she dead or alive? Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and began to pull the thin blanket away from the figure.

  The last fold of the blanket fell away and A
lice saw a boy of seven or eight hugging a doll-like girl half his size in his arms. Their gaunt bodies were dressed in grimy, raggedy clothing. Both had fair skin and light brown hair. The girl’s eyes were closed. The boy’s blue eyes were staring down at the girl. Alice thought his expression was one of worry and love. She wanted to believe they were brother and sister, that the brother, unable to feed and protect his little sister and unwilling to leave her, had lain down and died with her. Alice knew the tykes were dead.

  The girl’s eyes opened, and swiftly widened to round circles of surprise when they fell upon Alice. “Help me,” she cried out. “Big Brother has been holding me tight for a long, long time and won’t let me loose.”

  Alice flinched back at the dead girl suddenly coming alive. “Oh, my God,” she exclaimed with sudden understanding of the girl’s predicament. The boy had died and his body had become rigid in death and from the cold temperature. The girl had become imprisoned within his arms.

  “Yes. Yes. Let me help you get loose from him.”

  She took hold of the boy’s stiff arms and pried them a few inches apart. The girl wiggled free and Alice hastily released her hold on the boy’s arms.

  The tiny girl looked angrily at the boy. “Big Brother never was mean to me like that before.”

  “I’m sure Big Brother never meant to hurt you,” Alice said.

  “He wouldn't talk to me even when I yelled at him and I don't like it when he won't talk.”

  “Your brother is dead and his spirit has gone to heaven.”

  “Big Brother dead!” The girl began to cry. “Our mom died and went to heaven,” she said through her tears.

  She scooped the tyke into her arms. “Don't cry for you'll make me cry,” she said.

  “All right,” the girl said. She sniffled a few times and then wiped her tears away with a coat sleeve.

  “I love Big Brother for most times he was good to me.” She said and looking down at the boy.

  “I’m sure you did.”

  “Do you think he’ll be hungry in heaven?”

  “I don’t think so. What’s you name?”

  “Gracie.”

  “Gracie is a good name. I'm Alice. Let’s go down stairs and sleep there.”

  Gracie looked at the boy and then at Alice. “I want my blanket.”

  “Yes, we’ll need it to keep warm tonight?”

  Alice removed the blanket from the still form of the boy.

  “Alright. Let’s go.”

  “What about Big Brother?”

  “We’ll find a policeman and tell him about your brother and he’ll have somebody come and take care of him.

  Gracie took hold of Alice’s hand and held it tightly. “I’m really hungry. Do you have something to eat?”

  “Yes, a sandwich that you can have. Tomorrow I’ll find us a more food.” Alice did not know how she would accomplish that.

  *

  Alice awoke when first daylight came into the room of the deserted house where she and Gracie had spent the night. Gracie lay against her for both were wrapped in the same blankets. The girl appeared ill. Beneath the dirt smudges, her face was flushed. She coughed raggedly. Alice felt her cheek and found it hot.

  Gracie roused at Alice’s touch. “I don’t feel good,” she said.

  “I know. I’ll go and get us some food and then you’ll feel better.”

  Alice climbed out of the blankets and tucked them in snugly around Gracie. She was anxious to go searching for food. She must be resourceful, daring in her hunt for they must eat. If that required her to be a thief today, then a thief she would be.

  “You rest and keep warm, Gracie. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  “I’ll be right here waiting for you,” Gracie said, a trusting expression lighting her hollow cheeked face.

  Alice took up the notebook, the watch and knife and put them into her coat pocket. She hastened across the room and out through the sagging doorway.

  *

  Alice shivered as the cold, blustery wind, swirling up scraps of paper and bits of dirt from the street, swept over her. She halted, lowered her chin down against her chest, pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders and waited for the gust to pass.

  The wind slowed and dropped its load of trash. Alice lifted her head and watched the street awakening to life in the early morning. Men, women and children all bundled up in coats and hats were coming out of the doorways of the two and three story aged, brick tenement houses and onto the street. Vendors with much used trucks loaded with their wares were setting up stalls along the edges of the street. Arriving last were a few horse drawn wagons with their beds full of produce from the farms and orchards outside the city. Several businesses, tucked into the bottom floors of some of the tenements, were opening their doors. The voices of vendors hawking their wares began to sound out along the street. A block away, a young, blue uniformed policeman nodded to people as he moved along the street.

  She focused on the nearest vendor, a short, fat butcher with his meat wagon. He was removing smoked hams, sides of bacon and links of sausages from the bed of his wagon and hanging them on hooks fastened to a wooden frame where they could be seen by the passers-by. She shifted her view past the butcher to the bakery located not far away. The baker, a stooped, gray headed old man, was placing a loaf of fresh bread and half a dozen sweet rolls on a white cloth spread on the broad inside ledge of the front window of the bakery. The window was open half a foot to allow the aroma of freshly baked bread to drift out onto the street and so entice buyers. Alice should be able to out run both the butcher and the baker.

  She lifted her face and breathed in deeply, smelling the tantalizing aroma of the meat and bread brought to her on the wind. Her stomach growled with hunger, her mouth moistened and she swallowed.

  Alice looked beyond the bakery to the policeman moving away along the street and swinging his club on its leather tether. He was the greatest threat. He could quickly become the hound and she the rabbit. Should he catch Alice, Gracie would have no food and would die. The policeman reached the corner two blocks distant and turned around it and out of her sight.

  Alice was not alone in her keen evaluation of the events happening on the street. Two boys, street kids like herself for she knew this by their worn and soiled clothing, stood farther along the street and silently surveying the people passing by, and the vendors calling out the names of what they had for sale.

  Nearer to Alice, two girls about seven years old came out from the narrow slot of an opening between two buildings. They stood on the sidewalk with their raggedy clothed shoulders touching as if each girl needed the others support to stay erect. They scanned the street. As Alice observed the girls, a well dressed man and woman approached the two tykes. One girl saw the adults coming in her direction and began to sing. The second hastily joined in, singing even louder than the first girl. As the man and woman drew nearer the girls’ voices rose more strongly. Alice heard the words from a song she had heard before, “Big Rock Candy Mountain”.

  In the Big Rock Candy Mountains There's a land that's fair and bright Oh, the buzzin' of the bees in the peppermint trees 'Round the soda water fountains Where the lemonade springs and the bluebird sings In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

  Still singing strongly, the girls held out their hands to the man and woman passing close by on the sidewalk. The pair halted and looked down at the pair of waifs. The woman spoke to the man and he took coins from a pocket and placed one on each outstretched dirty palm. The girls ran off squealing joyfully along the street.

  The generosity of the man and woman and the happiness of the tiny girls, removed some of the weight from Alice’s heart. Thank you, she silently mouthed the words for the girls who had forgotten to do that in their happiness with the money.

  She turned back to the two boys. The larger one, half a head taller than his companion, was idly cutting shavings from a short piece of wood with a jackknife. Alice knew that like herself, the two boys were watching for an
opportunity to somehow acquire something to eat.

  A horse drawn wagon rolled by with its harness chains jangling and iron wheels rattling on the cobblestone street. Its wooden bed was filled with bushel baskets heaping full of red apples. The two boys came quickly alert. The larger boy leaned close to the smaller one and pointed at the wagon and said a few words. The lad nodded and darted out into the street and ran beside the wagon, and reaching over the wooden sideboard, grabbed an apple.

  The driver caught sight of the lad stealing the apple. He twisted swiftly around in his seat and lashed out with his horse whip. The leather whip popped like a firecracker as it took an inch of skin from the side of the boy’s face, barely missing an eye. The lad yelped with pain, and clutching the side of his face, jumped away from the wagon.

  “You damned little thief, that’ll teach you,” shouted the man and grinned, pleased at the accuracy of his strike with the whip.

  “You damned bastard,” the larger boy yelled with high anger. “I’ll teach you something.” He sprang after the wagon, closed upon it with fast strides, raced past it and up behind the horse. The man slashed at the boy with his whip and caught him across the shoulders. The boy gave no sign that he had been struck. His right arm swung and he jammed the stick, upon which he had been carving, into the horse’s rump.

  The injured horse bolted away with a clatter of iron shod hooves and drawing the wagon along the street at a frightening pace. The driver hauled back mightily on the reins and shouting, “Whoa. Whoa.” This had no effect on the runaway horse. People scattered, dashing for safety from the street and onto the sidewalk.

  The tail gate of the wagon jolted loose and fell. Baskets followed and a tide of apples spilled and rolled on the street. Men, women, and children rushed from the sidewalk to the fallen fruit and hastily began gathering it up. The last Alice saw of the horse and wagon it was careening around a distant corner balanced on two side wheels.

  Alice looked for the boys. They had disappeared.

  She checked the butcher and the baker. Both men were watching the people milling about and talking loudly. Now was her chance and she must not fail. She sprang away along the street. As she raced past the meat wagon she snatched a foot long length of sausages from a hook. She dashed on to the bakery where she halted, reached in through the partially open window and grabbed a sweet roll. Clutching both items, she raced off with flying feet along the street.