He looked at her as if afraid she might disappear. Then he placed his small hand in hers. Her warmth felt like something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
In the small shed behind her stand, she wrapped him in a blanket and handed him bread. He ate slowly, embarrassed by his hunger.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She smiled faintly. “Call me Emily.”
That evening, she brought him to her modest house, where soup simmered on the stove. Lucas fell asleep on a folded blanket near the hearth. Emily watched him for a long time, thinking of Grace, of the pendant, of coincidences that no longer felt accidental.
The next morning thunder shook the windows. Emily handed Lucas a bowl of soup.
“My mom used to say when it rains, the soul needs warmth,” he murmured between spoonfuls.
Emily’s hands trembled. It was the same phrase her own mother had repeated every winter.
A knock came at the door. Mr. Howard stepped inside, rain dripping from his coat.
“Thought I’d check on the boy,” he said.
“He’s safe,” Emily replied.
The old man looked at Lucas closely. “This isn’t random,” he muttered. “Let me ask around quietly.”
“Please,” Emily said. “But carefully.”