A Greater Love by Rachel Ann Nunes Page A

T-shirt to reveal a slightly sunken chest and gently rounded stomach, where more scarlet-colored flea bites covered the skin.
    Miguel stopped her with a hand. “Wear it.”
    Sara looked at him, surprised.
    “She ain’t gonna mind. Not today.”
    Sara hesitated but finally complied, her delight brightening not only her face but the entire shack, making it so Miguel could almost forget their problems.
    “Let’s go get breakfast before Octávia comes back from wherever she got to,” he said. “I got money for milk.”
    “I am hungry. But I gotta wash my hands.”
    “Go on down to the spigot, and I’ll get the money and meet ya there.”
    Sara skipped the few steps to the door, almost dancing. Outside, a warm cloud of her breath filled the air in front of her face. Miguel paused only to scoop out all the money from Octávia’s hiding place under the mattress. His eyes widened when he saw that she had nearly twenty thousand escudos! Those twenty contos would last them at least a month, even if they didn’t beg for more, especially since he wouldn’t have to use the money to buy wine. Miguel put five contos in his stolen wallet and shoved the rest back out of sight under the mattress. His overwhelming fear ebbed away as his confidence returned. Money was power.
    He locked the shack with the padlock and started after Sara. She was already halfway down the path, her red-covered head bobbing cheerfully among the somber tones of the dilapidated structures and the powdery dirt. She stopped. “Comin’, Miguel?”
    He caught up to her quickly.
    Sara looked around. “We’d better hurry before Octávia comes back and wants me to go with her to the subway.”
    “That reminds me,” Miguel said casually. “I ran into her last night when I was out with Paulo. She ain’t goin’ beggin’ today. It’s just us. I forgot to tell ya. That’s why she ain’t gonna mind about your scarf.”
    Instant joy filled Sara’s face. “Oh, good!” she cried, hugging him. “I love it when she lets me go with you. She musta really got a lot of money yesterday. Or maybe she drank too much.” She paused. “Think she’s all right?”
     “Of course she is.” Miguel gulped water from his cupped hands, ignoring the dirt. Before taking her fill, Sara fastidiously rubbed her hands in the freezing water as the church missionaries had taught her last year. On warm days, she would even rinse out her hair as the ladies had always done before dragging them to church. Miguel had hated them to wash his hair in the cold water, even though his head felt better afterwards.
    The day sped by quickly. Miguel laughed more than he remembered doing since summer. They worked the ferry once, then went to the subway. There, Sara stood on the marble floor and sang instead of pretending to be lame, her high voice sounding like an angel’s. Coins tinkled consistently into the empty milk carton. Miguel left them there until eight had collected, then he began to hide the additional ones in his shoe until he could later put them into his wallet. He had learned young that begging was an art; too many coins didn’t evoke enough sympathy, two few had the same result.
    “Octávia will be happy,” Sara said. “Maybe when she sees how much we got she’ll let me sing again.”
    Miguel’s stomach felt ill. “Maybe.”
    Dark clouds were gathering so they went home early, before the rain came, stopping only to buy a quarter salmon, a loaf of bread and some cookies. It gave Miguel a sense of pride to purchase every single item. Now that Octávia wouldn’t demand his money, he would have more to spend. Maybe he could save up to buy Sara a coat.
    His sister looked tired and Miguel made her ride on his back. She was tiny, but the added weight made him stagger. Obstinately, he continued carrying her until they reached the shack.
    Sara held their bag of groceries while he undid the lock, her eyes troubled. “I wonder where Octávia’s been. I mean, we got the only