The Final Promise
The cold New York wind whipped at his face. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. He had forced his brother to use his connections to find the location of his quarry, and after three months, he was finally here. The weather wasn’t much different from where his cottage and pub resided, but the air felt dirtier. He longed to return to his clean country air, but he had a purpose.
Sister Martha May June’s Orphanage for Wayward Souls
It was one hell of a name, but that didn’t matter. He removed the photo that was behind the paper. It showed a blurry black-and-white setting of children running around a courtyard, but there was one child in particular the photo was focused on.
A little girl with light hair and dark eyes. She had a solemn and sorrowful expression on her face as she sat on the building’s stairs, her head in her hand. Her eyes didn’t seem to be staring at anything in particular, and he wondered what was on her mind. Her eyes reminded him so much of his son—the boy he lost and finally found only to lose again. Those very same eyes had given him a pleading look just three months prior, as he lay on his deathbed. He was so close to death, but even then he thought not of himself, but of others.
Of this girl.
A gust of wind blew straight into his face. He shivered and readjusted his jacket around him, his suitcase bumping into his knee. He read the directions written on the paper one more time, and then set off.