Free Lady Maybe by Julie Klassen

injuring either of them?
    She forced a smile. “Becky, have you rescued Danny for me? Is that what you’ve done?”
    The girl stared at her.
    “Oh, Becky!” she enthused. “Mrs. Beech was wrong—see how good you are with children! Why, you have saved Danny.”
    She held out her arms to embrace Becky, heedless of her tender limb. Becky stiffened. Hannah gingerly wrapped her arms around the slender girl, Danny between them. At least she prayed it was Danny. She had yet to get a good look at him.
    “Dear, dear Becky. How will I ever thank you? When I returned to Mrs. Beech’s and found all the children gone—I thought my heart would tear in two. You remember how that feels, I know, poor dear. Having lost your own little girl.”
    “My little girl,” Becky repeated.
    “Yes. Gone to heaven. Safe with God. And now you have saved my son. My Danny. How grateful I am.”
    Becky looked down at the child, now squirming in her arms.
    Hannah’s heart surged to glimpse the dear face. “Hello, Danny! How glad I am to see you again. What good care Becky has taken of you. Let me see how big you are.” She placed tentative hands on each side of the little body, clamped tightly to Becky’s midriff.
    For a moment the thin arms remained locked.
    “He must be growing heavy, Becky. I’ll give you a rest, shall I?” Again she forced a smile and inserted her fingers between child and slender girl.
    Finally, Becky yielded and Danny was in her arms at last. Ignoring the pain, Hannah held the boy awkwardly in the crook of her splinted arm and turned him toward her, hungry for a goodlook at him. His face, pinched in discomfort, his nearly bald head, and blotchy cheeks were a masterpiece of beauty to her. It was all she could do not to crumple to the ground in relief.
Thank you, God, thank you, God, thank you, God.
She molded his small warm body to hers, patting his back, instinctively beginning to sway in the ancient dance of comfort.
Thank you!
    A glance at Becky dampened her euphoria. The girl, barely more than a child herself, now hugged herself alone. Face blank, eyes haunted.
    Compassion tugged at Hannah. “Becky, what will you do now? Where will you go?”
    The girl shrugged. “Don’t know.”
    For the first time Hannah noticed the small carpetbag at the girl’s feet. Likely all her worldly possessions. “Will you try to find a new place?” Hannah asked.
    Again the shrug. “Mrs. Beech gave me no character. Perhaps I’ll work for Mr. Simpkins yet.”
    “Becky, no . . .” Hannah urged. She thought a moment, then bit her lip. “Is your milk still flowing?”
    Becky nodded. “I fed Danny, didn’t I? Fed him first so he’d not go hungry.”
    Cupping Danny’s bottom with her good hand, Hannah reached out the other, extending from the sling, and awkwardly patted Becky’s arm. “And I am truly grateful.”
    What should Hannah do? A part of her wanted to distance herself from this pitiful girl as soon as possible. To be on her way, just her and her son. But the reality was her own milk had dried up. And she could ill afford to buy milk to feed Danny. Let alone feed herself.
    She didn’t even know where she was going or how she would support the two of them. How on earth could she support a third person as well?
    Becky looked up at her, the anticipation of disappointment dulling her small dark eyes. “And you, Miss Hannah? Where will you go?”
    “I don’t know, either.”
    Becky waited a moment longer, brows high. When Hannah said no more, she deflated, shoulders slumping.
    What should she do? Find Fred and ride with him back to Bristol and show up at her father’s door—likely only to be turned away? Or go to one of the same poor houses or workhouses where the other children had gone? She shuddered at the thought of any of those fates.
    Hannah took a deep breath. “You may come with me, if you like, Becky. I can’t guarantee we’ll eat or where we’ll sleep, but if you’re sure you won’t be able to find