Desperate

The door was yanked open, and a wealthy man stood in the doorway, anger in every line of his face and body.

    “What is it?” He demanded.

    “Please, sir. I need work. I’m willing to do anything. I could work in your stables or in your kitchen.”

    “You’re a stranger. Why would I let you in my house?” He looked me over, frowning. “You look like a thief.”

    “I promise I won’t take anything from you except what I’m owed.”

    “What you're owed? Who are you to say what you're owed?” He scowled at me. “There’s no muscle on you. Your skin and bones. You wouldn’t last long and then I’d have to hire someone else.”

    I stepped closer. “I’m stronger than I look, sir.”

    He sniffed. “Sorry, boy. All things considered, you’re a bad business proposition. Now, get off my land or I’ll set my dogs on you.”

    He slammed the door in my face, and I stumbled backward away from it.

    How could he be so heartless?

    I knew the Great Depression and the War were hard on many people, but was everyone so untrusting?

    I walked with my head bowed down the drive to the road.

    Sorry, Ma. I’m trying. Trying to be the man of the house and scrape up some money. If only Da hadn’t walked off and left us……

    I knocked on the muted red door of the fourth house that day and could hear it echoing. I waited for the sound of footsteps as I smoothed out my clothing and pulled my cap down against the evening chill.

    Seconds seemed to drag on until finally the door was pulled open and an older woman stood, scowling, before me. “What be you wanting?” She asked.

    I pulled my cap off, stepping closer. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. I was hoping I could speak to the master of the house. I need work.”

    “You and every other ragamuffin these days. Be off with you.” She frowned at me again and went to close the door.

    “Please, ma’am. I haven’t eaten in nearly two days.”

    She stopped, looking me over closer. I met her gaze and saw something shift behind her cool grey eyes. She opened the door wider again. “Very well. Come in then. A quick meal and then you’ll be on your way. You got that?”

    “Thank you, ma’am. I’m most grateful.”

    I stepped into the house, immediately noticing the warmth encompassing me and the smell of something delicious coming from farther in the house. I stood in a hall, two carved wooden doors led off from here, one on each side. The hall led into a midsized room filled almost completely with an elaborate double staircase. I spotted another set of doors opposite the steps.

         The woman stepped around me. “Come with me. Mind you don’t track dirt across my clean floors.”

    She walked off down the hall and I checked my boots. They were ratty, old, and only slightly dirty. I brushed off some loose dust and then followed the woman past the staircase and through the set of doors I had spotted beyond them. We walked through a few more rooms and down a flight of steps before we arrived in the kitchen.

    “Sit down there.” The woman ordered, pointing to a rough table with a bench alongside it. I dropped to the seat, sighing in relief. The delicious smell filled the air and sent my stomach growling. I clamped my arms around it to try and muffle the noise but to no avail.

    I heard a few pans clattering and then the woman lowered a plate of food before me. A thin cut of meat, a roll, and a pile of corn – more food than I had seen all together in one place in months. The woman held out a fork and I grabbed it, stabbing the meat, ripping off a chunk. Flavor erupted into my mouth, and I closed my eyes in delight.

    The woman sat beside me. “You were serious. When was the last time you had a proper meal, boy?”

    I finished the rest of the meat in two bites. “It’s been months, ma’am.”

    “Don’t you live with your family?”

    “No, ma’am. Left home last winter. I was old enough and there were too many mouths to feed. I’ve been looking for work so I can send money back, but it’s been hard. What with the Depression and all? Lots of guys looking for any job they can find.”

    “You’re living on your own? How old are you?”

    “Nearly eighteen. My Ma has five children. I’m the oldest.”

    “What of your father?”

I dropped my gaze to the few kernels of corn left on the plate. I pushed one around my fork.

    “My Da left us.” I glanced back up at her. “That’s why I have to find work. My Ma is counting on it. I’ve traveled all around, worked lots of odd jobs. I can do most anything.”

    “I’m sorry, son. I don’t know if the family that lives here needs any more help.”

    I lowered the fork and turned on the bench to face her. “Could you ask? Or could I talk to the man of the house?”

    “I’m afraid Mr. Winchester is away on business. He is a bank manager, and this Depression hasn’t been easy on him either.”

I sighed and picked up the roll. “Just thought I’d check.”

The woman stared at me a second then stood. “You need any more food?”

    “No, ma’am. I should be going. Thank you. For the meal and for listening to me.” I stuffed the roll into my shirt for later and stood as well. I bobbed my head in thanks and walked to the door just as it opened, and a middle-aged woman entered. I stepped back and out of her way. She stopped when she spotted me.

    “Gertrude, who is this young man?”

    “Madam Winchester, this is…” The older woman turned to me. “I never got your name.”

    “Billy Stanton, ma’am. From Richmond.”

    “What are you doing in my kitchen, Mr. Stanton?”

    “He came to the door looking for work, madam. He was starved so I offered him some food.” Gertrude explained.

    “I see. Did you have some? Food that is?”

    “Yes, ma’am. I did, thank you.”

    “Good. What about work. Have you found any?”

    “No, ma’am. I haven’t.”

    “Hmm. Well, our gardener is getting too old and could use a strong young assistant. It doesn’t pay much, I’m afraid, but it would be better than nothing and it’ll keep you fed. It also promises future promotions if you wished to remain. I was just going to head into town to post an ad in the newspaper. You’ve saved me a trip.”

I stared at the woman in shock. In the span of about an hour, I received the first square meal I had had in way too long and a job offer. From complete strangers.

    “Well, Mr. Stanton? What do you say?” Madam Winchester asked. “Do we have a deal?” She held out her hand, an eyebrow raised.

    I glanced between her and Gertrude who gave me a small nod of encouragement.

    I turned back to the younger woman, wiped my hand off on my trousers, and clasped her much smaller one tightly.

“Yes, ma’am. We do.”

The End