Angels Unaware

pointed up to the house. I didn’t understand his words but figured he wanted a room at the Hospitality Inn. Jewel had recently painted a sign that read: “George Washington Slept Here,” in the hope of attracting foreigners, and I wondered if this idiocy had actually worked. I felt sure that whatever money these foreigners had, if they had any at all, would quickly run out, and they would become one of our Special Discount guests.
I gave the old guy a good once over. He was sick. I could tell by the yellow in his eyes where there should have been white, by the ashen pallor of his face, and the trembling of his limbs. He barely had the strength to stand and leaned heavily on the boy, breathing shallowly. I was about to tell him no when Jewel came out of the house in a lather. Some clairvoyance informing her that I was just about to boot a vagrant off our property. She came down the steps like lady bountiful with a big broad smile, and took the old man’s hand, shaking it vigorously as if she were queen of England and he some visiting prince. Taking her aside, I asked, “Are you out of your mind, crazy woman? That man has got a sickness as sure as I live and breathe, and it could very well be catching and then we’ll all sicken and die. And I’ll be damned if I’ll nurse that old goat and expose myself to what could be black plague or something worse.”
“My father is not ill,” the boy stated in perfect, if heavily accented, English. “He is only tired. We have been travelling for many weeks.”
I held the boy’s gaze—his eyes dark blue, his expression haughty and proud. Neither of us blinked, and we might have gone on a long time like that, if Jewel hadn’t spoken. “How do you come to be here?” she asked, and he shifted his gaze to her.
“We came to New York from Italy and then into Pennsylvania. My father has a brother in the next town, but when we arrived there, he was gone. We knew not where. Our money is not much and the hotels in other places are very dear. A man we meet when we stop to get water tells us to come here. He says he has been here once, and there is a woman who will help us.” I almost laughed out loud when he said that, as if Jewel were some great abolitionist hiding colored people on their way to Canada.
The boy smiled at Jewel, revealing dimpled cheeks and even white teeth. I wasn’t impressed and made a great effort to show I wasn’t. Jewel, on the other hand, was pleased as punch at having her reputation precede her, and before I could put my foot down, she was leading the two up the steps and into the parlor, leaving me to go back to my butchering with renewed vigor and fit to be tied.
That night, Jewel insisted we cook the pig. I’d been hoping to save it until the strangers were gone. It wasn’t easy raising it or butchering it, and I wasn’t about to share it with people I didn’t even know. But Jewel said that would be rude and served it up anyhow.
For a sick man, that old Eye-talian sure could eat. I watched every piece that disappeared into his mouth, wishing I could pull it back up his throat. The boy, in contrast, ate hardly anything, and I got the feeling he was trying to make up for the other’s gluttony.
Cursing every moment, I made up two beds in adjoining rooms. When I’d finished, I asked Jewel in my most sarcastic tone if she wanted me to tuck them in and read them a fairy story as well.
Next morning, Jewel cajoled me into bringing the old goat his breakfast in bed. I fumed plenty, but in the end, I gave in because she promised I could throw them out in two weeks if they didn’t pay.
Being disgruntled made the tray heavy and I lumbered up the steps as if it weighed a hundred pounds. Knocking at the door, I waited. No answer. I put my ear to the door and knocked again Opening the door a crack, I made out the curve of the old man’s back beneath the blanket. Nudging the door open with my foot, I deposited the tray on the bureau. “Good morning!” I said brightly. Then, walking around the other side of the bed, I stopped short. I knew immediately that he was dead. I felt his neck for a pulse. There was none. I raised his wrist and let go. It flopped on the bed. The man was dead, and I was madder than ever at Jewel for letting him stay the night. Now who the hell was going to take him away? I’d be damned if I’d be the one to drag him downstairs. Damn Jewel. Why hadn’t she listened to me when I told her he was sick? He wasn’t family after all. We weren’t responsible for him. He could have gone to a nice comfortable hotel somewhere and dropped dead in luxury.
“He’s dead!” I hissed at Jewel when I got back downstairs. “He’s dead and piss, shit, hell, damn, what are we supposed to do with him now?”
Her lips quivered like they always did when I yelled at her. “Are you sure?”
“I know the quick from the dead, Jewel!”
She looked at me helplessly. “I just thought maybe he wasn’t completely dead.”
“Jesus H. Christ. He’s as dead as dead can be.”
She wrung her hands. “How are you going to tell his boy?”
I could have slapped her. “How am I going to tell him? I’m not telling anybody anything. You’re the one’s gonna march up there and tell him. You’re the one loves to minister to the sick and disheartened.”
“Oh, please, Darcy,” she said in her most plaintive manner. “If