The Diary of Rebecca Elizabeth London (on hold)

8

June 21

More walking today. Will we ever make it back home? I am seriously doubting it, but I do not doubt James, so my doubts have begun to fade away and I am much happier.

June 22

I wondered if Mother or Father had called the police to report me missing. It did not matter, because they didn't find Molly, and they would not find us. This I was certain of. We walked until it turned dusk. I wanted to find a spot to rest for the night, but James had a feeling that we should keep walking. I was happy that he had followed that feeling, because an hour later he led us to a little church, promising that someone would help us there.

It was fairly late when we knocked upon the door. It opened almost immediately and an older priest greeted us with a kind smile. "James," he said, "it's good to see you again." And to me, he said, "Ah, you must be the lovely Rebecca that I've heard so much about."

Thoroughly confused, I looked back and forth between the two of them.

Sensing my hesitation, James simply gave me a big smile and whispered, "Long story. Tell you later."

I nodded a little and then to the priest, I said, "Yes, that's me."

"Come in, come in," he said, moving to the side. The house was warmly lit and whatever was roasting over the fire smelled delicious. Noticing my approval, he smiled and said, "Beef stew. It's almost ready. I had a feeling I might have visitors tonight."

The priest, whose name was Father Reuben, generously let us take showers and gave us clothing. By time we were both done, dinner was served. It tasted every bit as good as it smelled. I had never been so grateful for a hot meal in all my life.

As the night wore on, we were never asked why we were there. It didn't matter to him. All he saw were two people who needed his help, and so he offered it freely.

"Thank you," I quietly told him.

"You're welcome, child," he said. "But you shouldn't be thanking me. This kindness is just me repaying your father for his generosity."

"My father, sir?" I asked. I couldn't believe it.

James apparently couldn't either. "Her father?" he asked.

Father Reuben smiled at me and nodded. "Yes, your father, Miss London. Much of the money this parish has to offer the poor has come from him. While he has never wanted any contact with them himself, he always makes it very clear that's where the money should be going. And we are happy to oblige."

"My father..." I mused over this new information. I was seeing everything in a new light, and I had to say, I liked what I saw.

After a little more light-hearted conversation, Father Reuben said, "I'm afraid I only have one guest room."

"That's okay," James said. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Positive. At any rate, the couch is better

than the street," he teased, grinning at me.

I lightly swatted his arm and laughed. "Do be serious for once."

He gave me a solemn look and said, "I am perfectly serious." Then he started laughing, which set me off again.

The priest looked us over and smiled. "I'm going to bed. Try to behave yourselves. Mass is at 8 am tomorrow if you're interested." And off he went to his room.