A Greater Love

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  A short time later, they arrived at the wharf where a lady was again selling delicious-smelling Belgian waffles under a large umbrella. Sara stopped and stared, a slice of pink tongue wetting her lower lip. Miguel felt his own mouth water, but he didn’t dare spend their ferry money for such an expensive treat.

  A well-dressed girl hardly older than Sara passed by with her mother. “Oh, Mãe, I must have a waffle. Please, please, please buy me one!” When her mother hesitated, the little girl shouted and stomped her foot. “I want one. Right now!” Her mother sighed and handed the lady a bill in exchange for a large waffle. From a container, the mother squirted an ample amount of honey butter, which melted quickly over the deep grooves in the warm pastry. Her daughter grabbed it greedily and bit into with a sigh. When her mother asked for a taste, the girl shook her head, pushing the pastry into her mouth as fast as possible.

  “Come on, Sara.” Miguel tugged on his sister.

  She continued to stare, and he wished he could buy her one. His stomach told him it was already after lunch time. “Stay right here.” He moved closer to the cart. “Please, Senhora, how much for that broken one there?” She drew her gaze away from the spoiled child, her face hardening as she looked at Miguel. He held out four small coins on his dirty hand. “It’s for my little sister.”

  The lady glanced behind him at Sara and her gaze softened. “Well, I can’t sell it anyway,” she muttered. She took his coins, spread a thin coating of honey over the broken waffle, and handed it to him.

  Miguel took it to Sara, keeping part for himself. “Mmm, it’s the best thing I ever tasted,” she said. He nodded in agreement, mouth too full to reply.

  Still munching the waffle, they paid for their ferry tickets with nearly all the rest of the money they’d earned in the subway. Just in case Lucky wasn’t allowed on the ferry, Miguel hid him in his sweater.

  “I love boats!” Sara exclaimed as they boarded with the other passengers and headed for the open deck despite the cold.

  “So do I.” As usual, Miguel felt the pull of the water on his spirit. He couldn’t explain the joy it brought him; somehow, it was like coming home. His hand went instinctively to his chest where he’d kept his toy ship. He touched only the card and felt a distinct loss. Then his cold fingers grazed the smaller lump of the gold charm that had belonged to his mother, and he was comforted.

  “Look, Miguel!” As she did every time he took her on the ferry, she pointed at the Monument to Christ the King looming over the river on the far side. “There He is.” On top of the lofty cement structure stood an enormous statue of Jesus Christ, his arms held out in silent appeal, beckoning, welcoming. Miguel had seen it many times from the ferry, but today it seemed as though Christ himself called them to the far side of the river, to their new home.

  He sighed and forced himself away from the edge of the boat. “We’d best get to work. We gotta get some money for bus tickets. We ain’t walkin’ all the way to where we’re goin’.”

  “Where’s that?” asked Sara.

  “Cova da Piedade,” he said. The Cove of Piety sounded like it would be sympathetic to two orphans. Besides, Miguel felt as though the name held importance. Of course it was written on the slip of paper he had shown Senhor Fitas, but hadn’t he heard the phrase somewhere before then?

  On the other side of the river, Miguel had to ask someone which bus went to the Cova da Piedade. He wished he could read the destinations for himself.

  “Sit close to the front,” the driver told them, “and I’ll tell you when to get off.” He looked suspiciously at the bump Lucky made under Miguel’s shirt, but he didn’t ask questions. Fortunately the puppy was sleeping and didn’t move or make a sound.

  Miguel stared through the window as the bus began its furious pace through the city. The main road was made of asphalt, the sidewalks of cobblestones. Along the street, small businesses filled many of the ground floors of the tall buildings. The bus plunged on its course, seemingly heedless of any danger to pedestrians, stopping occasionally to allow people to leave or board. Each time the bus slowed, Miguel glanced at the driver. Once or twice the man met his anxious gaze in the mirror and shook his peppered head.

  At last the driver turned and nodded. “There’s another stop, further up, but this is the main one.”

  Miguel smiled his thanks and pushed Sara out of her seat and down the aisle toward the middle door. He’d studied the process: board the bus on the front, exit through the back. Sara, so taken up with the new sights, could hardly take her eyes off the people around her.

  “What now?” she asked when the bus drove away.

  Miguel scanned the area, glad the rain had abated. Across the street, on the corner where a road rose in a gentle incline to the right, stood a fenced church with a cross above the entrance. Far to the left of the church was a park, set in slightly from the main street. A sizable crowd of people gathered there, despite the wet weather. Miguel couldn’t see what kept them out in the cold, but a bright light beamed above them, radiant in contrast to the dull light of the cloud-covered sun. The light seemed to call his name.

  “Let’s walk a bit.” He was still carrying Lucky, awake now, despite the puppy’s efforts to reach the ground. “Be still, Lucky! I can’t let ya down. You could get lost.”

  They walked back the way the bus had come. When they came opposite the park, Miguel grabbed onto Sara’s hand and they dodged through the busy traffic to the other side.

  “Look, a playground!” Sara pointed to a sandy area surrounded by black iron bars as high as Miguel’s chest. “Can we play, Miguel? Just for a while?”

  He was more intent in finding out why people gathered to the right of the playground, opposite a huge gazebo. What could possibly hold their interest? But there was no reason Sara couldn’t enjoy herself. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll come find you in a minute. I wanna see what’s over there.”

  Sara glanced at the play equipment longingly, then back at him. “It’s too cold, anyway. See? There’s no children.”

  Without knowing how he knew, Miguel understood her real reason. “I ain’t gonna leave ya, Sara. Brothers take care of their sisters.” He would rather die than leave her.

  Her smile exploded again. “Lucky and I’ll wait at the swings for ya.” She scooped the puppy out of his arms. With a little wave, she crossed the cobblestone pathway in the park, opened the gate to the playground, and leapt into the sand. Thick hair swept out of the red scarf at the impact, spilling in all directions over her cold-reddened face and thin blue-clad shoulders. Her bright laughter reached his ears.

  “It’s absolutely beautiful,” he heard a woman say behind him. “I’ve never seen such a thing. You simply must see it for yourself.”

  Miguel followed the speaker with his eyes. The older woman had her hand on the back of a younger one, and together they passed him and headed toward the group of people. He still couldn’t see what attracted them, but he followed closely as they drifted to the front of the crowd. People edged over to allow them through, and Miguel heard no murmuring complaints. Instead, people smiled and bowed their heads reverently as if in church.

  “Oh!” sighed the younger woman. Miguel craned his neck. The lady saw his efforts, and moved to the side, allowing him to edge by.

  The contents of the display hit his senses all at once: the Baby Jesus and Mary and Joseph; the light shining around them; the smell of wet hay and straw; soft music coming from some hidden place. Wonder swept through him, bringing with it an odd warmth. The Baby and His earthly parents appeared as Miguel had always imagined they might really have been on that night so long ago.

  He continued to stare, all ideas of robbing from the crowd vanishing like the dirt on his hands when he rubbed them in water. He knew of Jesus because his mother had told him stories, and later the various religious people he met had reinforced his knowledge. Even Octávia had heard of the miracle Child. Miguel had also seen nativity scenes before, but in this one the life-sized statues looke
d almost real. He especially liked the star that blazed above the stable, beckoning to everyone.

  The rain began again in a slow drizzle, and people wandered away to their homes. Someone tugged at his arm. “Miguel, I’m cold.” It was Sara. She stopped tugging when she saw the nativity. “Oh, it’s beautiful! It looks just the way I thought it would.” Lucky squeezed through the bars of the short wooden fence protecting the display and sniffed each of the statues.

  Miguel slipped his hands out of his warm pockets and took Sara’s frozen ones in his. The cold brought him bitterly back to the problem at hand: a place to stay. “Come on, Sara. Let’s go. It’s startin’ to rain again.”

  They walked in the streets, holding their blanket overhead, until they found a nearby mini-mall and supermarket that had underground parking.

  “Is your stomach growlin’, Miguel?”

  This was Sara’s way of telling him she was hungry. It was in her nature not to complain, but the food they’d eaten earlier was long gone. “Kinda.”

  “Do we got any money left?”

  “Not much.”

  Inside the grocery store, Miguel made Sara drink milk in an aisle while he kept watch. She wasn’t happy about stealing the milk, but she was too hungry to resist. Lucky was even less happy about his hiding place inside their blanket, and he struggled to get out. Miguel held onto him tightly. After Sara finished the milk, they went to the checkout counter and bought bread. At the last minute, Miguel slipped in a small chocolate for Sara. The smile on her face was worth their last few escudos.

  Miguel spread the blanket out to dry before settling on the floor in the underground parking lot to eat the bread. Cold emanated from the cement, but at least here it was dry. “How ’bout we sleep here tonight?” he said. Seeing her face fall, he added quickly, “Just till we find somethin’ better. It won’t be for long.”

  She nodded and bit into her chocolate. “Want some?”

  “No.” He did, but there was hardly enough for one person. He chewed his hunk of bread, torn from the loaf, watching the people come and go from their cars to the store. Instead of keeping people home, the rain had drawn more people than ever to this shopping mall with the covered parking. It gave him an idea.

  Leaving Sara with the bread and Lucky, he crossed to the stairs that led to the upper mall entrance where the grocery store was located. There, he accosted a woman who carried two heavy sacks of groceries. “Please, Senhora, can ya spare a coin? Or a little food?” She grunted and pushed past him. Undaunted, Miguel turned to the next woman. “Please, Senhora, do ya got some food to spare?” She gave him a coin, which quickly disappeared into his stolen wallet. “May Jesus bless you,” he called after her. He continued his pleas, being rebuffed more times than not, but a few people took pity on him.

  A young couple came down the stairs, holding hands. Each carried a plastic grocery sack. “Please, can ya spare some change?” he asked. Compassion filled their eyes as they saw his battered face, and they glanced at one another in dismay.

  “Come,” the man said, “let’s get you something to eat.”

  Miguel smiled. “Gee, thanks! But can my sister come? She’s just over there.” He pointed.

  The couple nodded, and Miguel sprinted away, afraid they would leave. “Come quick, Sara,” he called. He scooped up the blanket and grabbed the small remaining piece of bread from her hand, hiding it out of sight under the damp cloth. She watched him curiously. “Hurry, they might leave.”

  To his relief, they still waited. The woman’s brown eyes became pensive when she saw Sara. “Such a beautiful child,” she murmured. “Where is your mother?”

  “She’s a little sick right now,” Miguel said hurriedly, “so we come to help her out.”

  The couple glanced at each other. Miguel knew they thought his mother was a drunk, like Octávia had been. Resentment filled him, but he tried to keep it from his face; it didn’t matter what they thought, as long as they gave him something.

  He and Sara trailed the couple into the mall, where they stopped at a counter selling pastries of all kinds. “What would you like?” the man asked. Sara’s eyes grew wider than Miguel ever remembered seeing them. She stared for a long moment before pointing out an oblong pastry with white and brown frosting swirled on top. Miguel nodded his agreement.

  “Two mil folhas,” the man said. Thousand pages. Made of many thin layers of flaky dough and delicious dark-yellow filling, the name of the pastry was appropriate.

  The woman handed them the pastries while the man paid. Sara bit into it immediately, sighing with pleasure, and Miguel followed suit. The couple smiled, and grasping hands again, they walked off. The woman glanced briefly over her shoulder at Sara, and Miguel stepped in front of his sister to hide her from view. People always seemed drawn to Sara, but he suspected their intentions. He could take care of her.

  “They was nice,” Sara said, licking yellow cream off her lips with the tip of her pink tongue.

  “Yeah.” The pastries were worth more than the few coins he’d been given.

  They went back to the parking garage to beg for more money, but the security guard made them leave. A short time later, they sneaked back inside, but they had no success. Again, the guard found them and ordered them out into the rain, which now poured relentlessly from the gray sky. Sara coughed and shivered, and her wet hair hung in thick strings around her face. They ran back in a third time and stayed hidden between the cars. Huddling together, Miguel and Sara sat on the blanket. It was still wet, but better than the cold cement.

  Sara fell asleep, coughing hoarsely, but Miguel fought his exhaustion. Several times, he had to wake Sara and move before the guard saw them. He wondered when the man would finally leave. The dark of night settled and the cars thinned as the stores closed. Soon there was no place to hide from the guard’s eyes.

  “If I see you children here again, I’ll call the police,” the guard said gruffly. “Go on home and don’t come back. Your parents’ll be none too happy to go get you at the police station, I’ll bet. I’ll be on the lookout for you, so don’t bother to try your tricks again. Get out, now!”

  Miguel hurried out meekly, unable to stop the desperation seeping into his heart. Where could they go so late? Tears mixed with the falling rain. Oh, why did Octávia have to up and die? He held the blanket over Sara and looked around. A white cloud billowed in front of his mouth where his warm breath hit the cold air.

  A main road ran next to the mall. On the other side, Miguel saw a large field with trees in the distance. Perhaps they could find a place there to shelter from the rain, something more permanent than a parking garage. When there was a break in the four lanes of traffic, he hurried Sara across. The grass from the field wet the few parts of their bodies that were still dry. Miguel felt his teeth chatter and clamped them tight. Sara began to lag behind. He tried to carry her, but it wasn’t long before he slumped to the ground. “Can ya just make it to the trees?” he asked. She nodded, lower lip quivering.

  Then he saw a building ahead, blending in with the night. “Look, Sara. Look!” With renewed energy, they pushed forward. When they arrived, they discovered a small, ancient wooden structure, roughly rectangular in shape. On one side there was a small glass window with a jagged crack running vertically up its stained center. Miguel peered inside and saw a tiny dark room. He could just make out a cot, an old black stove, and some tin pans strewn about haphazardly. No signs of life showed through the single window.

  He rounded the side and found a larger window, higher up and this time without glass, and he stood on his toes to peek inside. By the smell, he knew it was a barn. His eyes strained to take in the contents in the dim light. Finally, he could see a cow chewing on her cud contentedly in a corner stall, as clucking chickens searched the ground for spare grain or settled in their nests on the far side. There was no loft, but a tall stack of bundled hay and another of straw stood in the corner. It looked warm inside.

  The doors to both the barn and the
room with the cot were secured with thick padlocks. Miguel peeked in the window at the cot again. The presence of the animals signaled that someone must come at least daily to visit, and he didn’t dare break into this room, no matter how he longed to use the stove. Who knew if someone might come back later in the night to claim his bed?

  Sara coughed in her hand, and Miguel abruptly opted for the warm-looking barn. “Come on,” he said, leading her back to the barn window. “I’ll boost ya up.” He dropped the blanket inside, then hefted the small girl. She jumped down herself, with a little coaxing.

  “You hurt?” he asked anxiously.

  “No, not much. But it’s dark, Miguel.” Her voice trembled.

  “Here’s Lucky.” Miguel knew the dog would immediately make his sister less afraid.

  Miguel tried to climb inside, but his frozen limbs didn’t have the energy to pull himself up into the window. His sore ribs throbbed at the effort.

  “Miguel?” asked Sara. Lucky began to bark.

  “Look around and see if you can find an old crate or somethin’ to throw out here. I can’t get up.”

  He heard her move about, searching. A chicken squawked suddenly. “What happened?” he called.

  “Lucky’s chasin’ the hens. But I found a board.”

  “Throw it out.”

  Miguel moved aside, waiting until the board showed in the window, then leaped to catch it. Propping it against the barn, he walked up the board until he could pull himself to the window. He tumbled inside, landing on straw. Already he felt warmer.

  “Let’s make a bed with the straw,” he suggested, walking over to one of the bales. They pulled the straw away from the window and nearer the cow.