The Girl in the Torch (18 page)

T
HE NEXT MORNING
S
ARAH
was put in a police wagon and taken to a courthouse a few blocks away. As she emerged from the back of the wagon, a small group of reporters waited for her and shouted questions as she was led up the wide stone stairs to the entrance of the building, which was flanked by a row of massive stone pillars.

Newsboys hawking various morning papers called out their lead stories, most of them having to do with Sarah.

“Extra, extra! Read all about the Statue of Liberty mystery girl!”

“Girl linked to Chinatown slave ring!”

“Girl busted at Statue has her day in court!”

“Get the whole Lady Liberty story here!”

“Sarah!” a familiar voice called.

Sarah scanned the crowd and saw Tommy pushing his way toward her, wearing his full bag of papers slung over his back. He looked strange, and then she realized that it was because he wasn't wearing his cap, which was still on her head.

“Look,” he said. “You're famous.”

He held up a paper and showed her the front page, which featured the headline
THE GIRL IN THE TORCH
, accompanied by an illustration of her standing on the torch platform, her long hair blowing in the breeze coming off the ocean.

She stared at the image of herself. Her plan had worked. Now she had everyone's attention.

“Are you all right?” Tommy said. “The paper says you spent the night in jail.”

“It wasn't so bad,” she said. “And I got a hot meal.”

She took off the cap and handed it to him. “Sorry, I forgot to give this back to you.”

Tommy took the cap in his hands.

“All right,” one of the policemen said. “Move along.”

“Good luck in there,” Tommy said, adjusting the cap back onto his head.

The policeman gave Sarah a nudge and whisked her inside.

T
HE QUIET IN THE COURTHOUSE
surprised Sarah after the noisy bustle in front of the building. She could hear her own footsteps echo against the shiny marble floor as her escorts led her up a grand staircase to a small chamber on the second level.

The police sat her behind a table in a richly appointed office that was lined with dark wood paneling and bookshelves reaching up to the ceiling. A judge sat at the front of the room behind an imposing oak desk covered with books and papers. An American flag hung from the wall behind him, as well as several oil paintings of older men with serious expressions.

The judge had a round red face, white hair, and long bushy sideburns that ran down his cheeks almost to the tip of his chin. Sarah knew he was the one who would hear her story and decide what would happen to her. As soon as the door to the chamber was closed, the judge turned to Sarah.

“My name is Judge Ernest Conklin. Do you speak English?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Because I can get a translator to assist you if necessary.”

“No,” she said with a trace of pride. “I am fluent.”

“All right. Do you understand why you are here?”

“You work for the government,” she said.

“I am a judge, and it is my job to decide what to do with you. At this point the court is unsure of what criminal laws you may or may not have broken. But we are certain that you are not supposed to be in this country.”

Sarah nodded.

“Now, I need to determine the exact nature of your circumstances. And you must tell the whole truth. Lying about anything will only get you in much deeper trouble. So please tell me your story from the beginning.”

“The beginning?” she asked. There were so many places to begin.

“How did you get here?” he asked impatiently.

Sarah felt herself freeze up and start to bite her bottom lip in a nervous pulse. But she immediately stopped herself.
You are not a little girl anymore,
she told herself.
Just tell the truth. You have nothing left to lose.

“I come from a small village,” she began.

And then she told him the whole story. She spared no details as she described the massacre in her village, her voyage to America, her mother's death, living in the statue, the kindness of Maryk and Mrs. Lee, and some of the details of her harrowing night on the Bowery. She even confessed to stealing the egg from the tavern.

The only thing she didn't mention was Tommy Grogan. She couldn't risk getting him into trouble.

She finished her story and stood in silence, hoping that the judge would believe her and be understanding.

“Is that all you have to say?” he asked.

Sarah wanted to say more about why she and her mother had come to this country and the promise of America, but she couldn't find the words. The lines of the poem about the Lady echoed in her head and, for the briefest instant, she thought about reciting it.
“Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free.”
Didn't that one sentence explain everything? But she didn't.

“What will happen to me doesn't matter,” she said. “But you must believe that Mr. Maryk and Mrs. Lee did nothing but give their kindness to me. And the girls from China, they did nothing wrong either. They work in a factory. They should not be punished because of me. Please.”

The judge stared at her for a long moment, rubbing his fingers through his thick sideburns.

“Quite a story,” he finally said.

Just then the door to the judge's chamber opened and two guards led in Mrs. Lee and Maryk. His eyes were ringed with deep red bags and it looked like he had not slept. His clothes were creased and dirty and his shirt untucked. Yet as soon as Sarah saw him, her heart rose up in her chest. She wanted to run to him, to see if he was okay, but she knew she had to hold back.

Maryk glanced at Sarah. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, and she could not read his expression. He was probably furious at her for getting him into so much trouble. His entire face sagged in a defeated frown. She knew that her best friend in America was lost to her.

“T
HIS GIRL IS GOOD GIRL
. She did nothing wrong!” Mrs. Lee blurted. “I tell the truth.”

“All right, quiet down,” the judge said.

“She works in kitchen.”

“I said quiet down.” The judge banged his gavel on the desk.

Mrs. Lee was about to say more, but the judge pointed his gavel at her and she clamped her mouth shut. Maryk silently stared at the judge.

“Now, I've heard the girl's story,” the judge said. “It matches both of yours, so I'm inclined to believe it. Since we confirmed that all the Chinese girls living in your building are employed by the textile firm, you two are free to go.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Mrs. Lee said with a slight bow.

Maryk didn't move or say anything.

“That still doesn't answer the question of what to do with you,” the judge said, turning to Sarah. “While I appreciate the difficulty you've been through, the United States can't let just anybody who
suffers an unfortunate circumstance in their own country come live here. Do you understand?”

Sarah nodded.

“You have no blood relatives we could find to sponsor you here. And you do have a living relative in your home country. So I'm afraid I'm going to have to abide by the original ruling of the board at Ellis Island and have you returned to your country to live with your uncle.”

Sarah felt her eyes mist over, but she fought back her tears. She didn't want anyone to think of her as a hysterical child. A hollow feeling filled her chest and stomach.

For the first time in days, her mind focused on what life would be like in her home country with her uncle, and every thought made her shudder. She stared down at her feet and nodded.

“I understand,” she said.

“Excuse me, your honor.” Maryk spoke for the first time.

“Mr. Maryk?”

“What if she had a sponsor?”

Sarah raised her eyes to Maryk.

“The immigration department already tried to find her relations. . . .”

“I know,” Maryk said. “That's not what I mean. What if there was someone who was willing to become a guardian for her?”

“And who would that be?”

Maryk hesitated before answering.

“Well . . . me.”

Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat as he continued.

“Me and Mrs. Lee, of course. She could live in the building and work for Mrs. Lee at night to earn her keep and then go to school during the day.”

“She a good worker.” Mrs. Lee nodded.

“I have money saved,” Maryk said. “I could pay for whatever sponsorship fees there are.”

Overcome, Sarah looked at Maryk. She wanted to run up and give him a hug. But she knew she had to stand where she was. And Maryk wouldn't meet her glance. He kept his eyes on the judge. Sarah turned back to the judge and held her breath. The judge stroked his sideburns thoughtfully.

“Mr. Maryk, I know your intentions are probably good,” the judge said. “But you can't expect this court to give custody of a young girl to a middle-aged man with a drinking problem. You are not a blood relative and, frankly, you are not the type of person that we would consider a proper custodian for a child.”

“What about me?” Mrs. Lee added.

“Look, this is not how our system works. I would be removed from the bench if I allowed anything like that. And besides, she admitted to stealing. If she were to stay, I would have to have her locked away. This country does not welcome criminals. I'm sorry. My decision is final.”

He banged the gavel on his desk.

F
OR TWO DAYS AND NIGHTS
S
ARAH
was locked in a damp holding cell in downtown Manhattan, waiting for a ship that was bound to set sail for her old country. Because of her criminal status, she was kept apart from others and was let outside only once a day to stretch her legs in the courtyard of the building. No one was allowed to visit, so she spent her time in silence, counting down the hours until her forced departure and worrying about what life would be like living with Uncle Jossel.

Finally she was transferred by wagon to the New York piers. From there, a ferry would take her back to Ellis Island where the outbound ship would be departing. The sky was heavy and gray, and thick fog rose off the water. A sharp ocean wind blew in from the East River, and the people gathered on the dock to depart or say farewell pulled their hats, scarves, and jackets tighter around themselves and blew into their hands to keep warm.

Sarah was dropped off near the bottom of the gangplank, joining a larger group of ordinary passengers. She moved slowly, her
limbs numb and lifeless, knowing there was no way out now. A police officer led her over to another man, who checked her name off a list and then left her to wait with the others. The policeman returned to the wagon and stood talking with two other officers.

The ferryboat was moored in the misty water. The vessel's engine roared to life and the crew prepared to take on passengers and depart. Tommy, Miss Jean, Mrs. Lee, and Maryk stood in a sad clump on the pier, waiting to say their good-byes.

Sarah was cold and tired, but she was glad to see her friends after being alone for two days.

Miss Jean handed her a suitcase made of red-and-black-checkered cloth.

“These are just some of my old things,” Miss Jean said. “Most of them should fit, and those that don't right now will after you finish filling out.”

“These are your clothes?”

“My
old
clothes. They're yours now. Most of them are out of style anyway. But I figured they won't be where you're from. I also threw in some reading material, so you could practice your English.”

Miss Jean opened the suitcase to reveal a well-worn copy of the King James Bible sitting on top of the neatly folded clothes.

“Don't worry. It's one of those editions that has both the New
and
the Old Testaments. Just figured it couldn't hurt for you to get to know Jesus, even if it is just for reading practice.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said.

Miss Jean gave her a warm hug.

Sarah moved on to Mrs. Lee, who handed her a small bag filled with little tin pots covered with lids.

“I make you lots of rice and noodles, fish cakes, and dried fruit. Good food for you.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said.

“You remember how to cook like Chinese lady, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah said.

“Bao Yu wanted to be here but could not leave Mrs. Fat. She told me to give this to you.”

Mrs. Lee handed her a piece of ginger candy along with a small folded sheet of paper. Sarah opened the note and read the short message, which was handwritten by Bao Yu in the simple but clear letters that Sarah had taught her.

       
Thank you. I will not forget you.

       
Your friend,

       
Bao Yu

Sarah felt a small swell of pride that her student had already learned to write so well.

“Please tell her I will miss her,” Sarah said.

Mrs. Lee enveloped her in a quick, strong embrace. Sarah felt her bony frame pull her tightly and then let go.

“You be careful,” Mrs. Lee said.

Next in line was Tommy, who wore his floppy wool cap and
had his cloth bag slung around his back.

“I'm gonna miss you, Red.”

“Me too,” she said.

“So will Mr. Duffy.”

Tommy swung his bag forward, and Mr. Duffy popped his head out of the bag and let out a small bark. Sarah stroked the top of his head and he gave her hand a lick.

“Are you two going to be all right?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I'm not gonna be sleeping on the street anymore.”

“You're not?”

“Mrs. Lee is gonna let me stay at her place.”

“As long as he pay rent like everyone else,” Mrs. Lee chimed in. “And the dog sleep in backyard. No dogs in my house.”

“I'm glad,” Sarah said.

“I want you to have this,” he said, taking off his cap.

“Really?”

“Something to remember me by.”

“Thank you,” she said, fitting Tommy's cap onto her head.

“Always looked better on you anyway,” he said.

“I want you to have something too,” Sarah said.

She reached deep into the pocket of her coat, pulled out Ivan, and placed the toy bear in his hand. Tommy stared at the small treasure.

“Aw, I can't take him from you,” he said.

“I want you to have him,” she said. “Just don't forget to feed him.”

“I won't,” Tommy said.

They gave each other a hug good-bye.

Finally Sarah came to Maryk. He was neatly dressed in his brown uniform and hat, clean-shaven, and more clear-eyed than Sarah remembered ever seeing him. He gave her a small sad smile, one of the few times she had seen his face bent in that unfamiliar position.