Situated in a wooded area just a few miles outside of Chicago, Illinois, was a large homeless encampment. It is here that there once lived a man named Mig O'Brien.

Tall and very thin, his long, wavy black hair framed a pale face with sunken cheeks and dark brown eyes. He wore a threadbare red shirt, baggy black trousers, a long, tattered black coat and a pair of scuffed up black boots. The fingers of his gloves had worn through long ago.

Orphaned at the age of two, and diagnosed with a learning disability a few years later, Mig suffered much physical, verbal, and emotional abuse while growing up in the foster care system.

As a result of his experiences, he became very shy and timid. Because of his struggles and inability to adjust, he was never adopted. By his early twenties, Mig was unable to find and keep steady work. Alone and with no money, he made his home in the encampment instead. It was a small makeshift dwelling fashioned from old tarps and rusty sheets of metal.

Inside, there was a large piece of cardboard, a couple of old pillows and some shabby blankets that served as his bed. Next to it, was a camping lantern, his knapsack, along with other belongings of his scattered about the hovel. To keep warm, cook food and boil water, Mig and his neighbors used what were called hobo stoves.

They built them by removing the tops of old tin cans, poking little holes close to their upper edges, and making a bigger opening on their sides near the bottoms for fuel and air. To lower the risk of a fire to flammable materials on the ground, the cans were left in their place. To bathe and wash their things, they all relied on the nearby river.

Many of the residents were desperately poor families and numerous children had been born there. To survive, most of the adults and teenagers scrounged, begged or worked at odd jobs when they could in the city.

It is here amid such hardships, on a chilly November night in 1984, that our story begins.

"Waaah!..."

"What...what's that?", Mig muttered in his sleep.

"Waaaaah! WAAAAAH!"

At this, Mig's eyes popped open and he sat up. Was that a baby crying? No, he had to have been dreaming...right?

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

.Suddenly feeling very alarmed, Mig scrambled to get outside as quickly as he could. Sure enough, there was a baby swaddled in a towel and left a few feet away. Without hesitation, Mig scooped it up and scurried back inside.

"There, there, ssssh, it's okay", he whispered. "Don't cry."

Pulling back the towel, Mig carefully examined the baby. It was a tiny boy with brown eyes and a full head of dark brown hair. Clean, his umbilical cord tied off and cut, and wearing only a diaper, he seemed to be just hours old. Mig couldn't find any clues whatsoever of who the baby was, from where he'd come, or why he'd been abandoned. There hadn't even been a note pinned to the towel he'd been wrapped in.

Mig swaddled the newborn in one of his warmest blankets...but the wailing only continued. He held him close and swayed gently from side to side.

"Ssssh...sssh"

"Mig?...Mig, what's going on in here?", came a tired yet concerned voice. Then suddenly, there were quiet footsteps, a rustling of the tarp and a brief gust of wind. When Mig turned around, there was his neighbor Bennett.

Tall and thin as well, Bennett had gray-green eyes and his hair was a tangled mess of long, dark brown curls.

"Mig, what are you doing?..."

"Not so loud!", Mig interjected softly.

"Fine, but why is there a crying baby in your hovel?", Bennett hissed.

"He was left outside", Mig explained. "I couldn't just ignore him." Bennett sighed.

"Of course not", he agreed.

"Whoever left him didn’t leave a note", Mig continued. "The poor thing probably doesn't even have a name."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Bennett shook his head and turned to leave.

"Bennett? Where are you going?", Mig asked.

"To wake Tatiana", Bennett replied. "We have to get this little guy fed. I'm sure she'll help out."

Mig nodded and gave the baby in his arms a small smile.

"It's gonna be alright", he told him. "Bennett, Tatiana, and I'll do whatever we can for you."

Bennett returned a short time later with Tatiana. She was a slender woman with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a gentle expression upon her face. Like Mig and Bennett, she too lived in the encampment. Recently, Tatiana had been pregnant but she'd suffered a miscarriage.

Nonetheless, after learning of this baby, she readily agreed to help Mig to look after him. In addition, Tatiana had brought over some more blankets and pillows, along with what little baby supplies and clothes she'd managed to gather for her unborn child.

With a blanket draped over herself and the newly-dressed baby for modesty, Tatiana nursed him. The loud cries which once filled Mig's hovel were soon replaced with soft suckling. Though Mig felt relieved for the time being, he was still very worried.

"What a terrible thing to be born and then rejected", he thought.

"He's got to have a name", said Mig in the dim, flickering light. Curiously, Bennett raised an eyebrow.

"Got any ideas?", he asked.

"Well, I've always liked the name Emile", Mig replied.

"That's beautiful", said Tatiana as she moved to burp the baby.

Among Mig's belongings was a basket which he normally used while scavenging. Lining it with some old, faded blankets of his, he placed Emile inside.

"Sweet dreams, little one", Mig whispered.

Two Hours Later...

Mig and Tatiana stirred, awoken by Emile's whimpers.

"Go back to sleep, Mig", Tatiana told him as she got out of her bed. "He's probably just hungry again."

"It's okay", Mig replied. "I wasn't really sleeping. I was just resting my eyes, that's all. Besides, it's likely Emile needs to be changed by now too." Tatiana chuckled.

"Since when did you learn how to change diapers?", she asked.

"I have to learn sometime", Mig shrugged. "It might as well be now."

For a moment, Tatiana stared at Mig blankly.

"Mig, you're becoming too attached", she said. "I mean, you've already named this baby and you aren't even his father. You're..."

"You agreed you'd help me, didn't you?", Mig asked.

"Looking after him for a night is one thing", she said, picking Emile up. "Being a parent is another."

"WAAAAAH!"

"Come on", said Tatiana. "You can help me change him before I feed him, okay?"

Mig's POV

Several minutes passed but eventually, we both managed to get Emile cleaned up and fed. It was as I held him afterwards, that I truly began to wrestle with myself about what to do next.

"What's wrong with you?", scoffed a voice in my head. "Take that baby to a hospital! They'll make sure he..."

"Mig, suppose no one adopts this boy?", another voice interrupted. "What if he ends up having a childhood like yours where he's passed around? Beaten, put down, and shouted at? Suppose he has a learning disability and struggles to read and write like you always have? Do you want him to be taunted or rejected again and again? Emile has already been abandoned once...it's clear that you love him!"

"I won't give up on him, Tatiana", I said aloud.

"What do you mean?", she asked.

"I want to raise Emile as my own", I told her.

"Mig, how...how will you take care of him?", Tatiana gasped. "He needs so much!"

"I'll do whatever I've got to do for him!", I replied. "Please, he'd only need to be nursed until he's at least a year old. You'd be a great mother figure for him. You already are. Maybe Bennett could continue helping us too."

"Mig, why do you want to keep Emile so badly?", Tatiana asked. "I don't understand."

"I've always wanted a child of my own, you see. Emile is all alone just like I was when I was small.

I'd never wish such a thing on anyone. That or the abuse I've suffered. I know I have very little to offer, but I want to at least give him the love I didn't have", I said.

Tatiana's eyes fell upon Emile once more as he sucked at his fingers in his sleep. Many times, she'd wondered about her own baby boy or girl. How they'd have looked, what would've made them smile and laugh, and what they would've grown up to be. These were things she thought of every day.

Now, she found herself wondering the same about Emile...and he did indeed need a family's love. Perhaps if they each tried their hardest, Mig raising Emile could be possible.

"Okay, I said I would help you and I will", Tatiana replied.

Bennett's POV

Raising Emile was clearly something Mig wanted very much. Doing so, however, wasn't going to be easy by any means. Each of us understood that if Emile was spotted he would be taken away. So, we did our best to keep him hidden within the encampment.

"Ssssh, Emile, it's okay", Mig whispered.

"WAAAAAH!"

"Is he hungry?", I asked.

"Tatiana just nursed him", Mig replied. "I changed him before that." Nodding, I reached over to feel his forehead and cheeks.

"He doesn't have a fever or seem to be ill at all", I said.

"WAAAAAH!"

"Ssssh, hush...", he continued. Rubbing at Emile's back, Mig softly began to sing.

"Sleep, little one.

As you dream, make a wish.

Don't tell a soul.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

For the wish must be secret, if it is to come true.

Whilst you drift off to sleep, let your worries melt away.

Don't you fret, don't you fear.

For I'm with you night and day.

Snuggle close, my little one.

Keep my love in your heart.

I'll hold your hand in mine, then we won't be apart."

From then on, Mig sang his lullaby to Emile quite often. In turn, it soothed the baby greatly.

To support both of them, Mig did whatever odd jobs he could find. He also begged and scavenged with the others.

So, Tatiana cared for Emile while he was away and I helped as much as I could as well. As the seasons came and went, Emile's crawling became standing and toddling about Mig's hovel. His whimpers and cries became babbling and simple sentences. All the while, Mig, Tatiana and myself nurtured a strong, loving bond with the boy.

Mig's POV

Despite my disability, I could still read and write a bit. I also knew that I needed to at least pass on what I'd managed to learn.

Among my possessions were a few picture books. One about counting, one of shapes and colors, and another of the alphabet. It was with these that I began to teach Emile as soon as he was old enough.

"E", I explained, pointing to the letter and then to him. "E is for Emile."

Listening attentively and studying it for a moment, he smiled.

"E...Emile!", he exclaimed happily.

"Very good!", I replied.

When Bennett and I scavenged, there were often times when we found pieces of cardboard just big enough to write on with a marker. In the years that followed, he, Tatiana and I used this as a method to teach Emile to read, write, and spell as best as we could.

Joined by lots of the other adults, I also gathered up various shirts, scarves, hats, gloves, pairs of pants, socks, shoes, and other things for us from donation bins when no one was looking.

Emile's only toy was an old stuffed dog I'd found and brought back to him which he'd named Delia. His most prized possession was a discarded banjo which Bennett had come across and taught him to play.

Emile's POV

At fifteen-years-old, the story of how I'd come to be with Mig was something he'd never kept from me. Though I knew I was a foundling, my biological parents had never been much more than a brief, passing thought. Mig, whom I called Da, Tatiana, whom I called Momma, and Bennett had all taken care of me and given unconditional love. In my heart and mind, they were my true family. That being said, there were things I was still curious to know.

What was the city like? Would I ever get to go there?

January, 1999

Bennett's POV

Winter was upon us once again. Snow covered our roofs, blanketed the ground, and the freezing wind howled outside for days. Even with the small fires we built, it was very difficult to stay warm.

Mig developed a cough which he kept dismissing as a symptom of a cold. However, it only worsened as the weeks passed. In addition to this, he came down with chills and a fever. Then, one day, as we were trudging back with branches, twigs, and rubbish to fuel our stoves, he crumpled to the ground in an exhausted heap!

"MIG!", I cried, rushing towards him.

"Here, put your arm around my neck", I said as I helped him to stand back up. His legs shook as we both walked slowly back to his hovel. Then suddenly, I looked up and saw Emile and Tatiana running towards us.

"Da!", Emile called out.

"Come on, let's get you both out of the cold", said Tatiana. Inside, I helped her get Mig into bed.

"Our fuel", he said. "I dropped it and..."

"It's okay, Da", Emile replied, kneeling down next to him. "I'll go and get it." Mig nodded.

"Thank you, son", he said, gently squeezing Emile's hand.

Moments later, when Emile returned, he got a fire going in their stove. Meanwhile, using some bottled water, I dampened a washcloth and gave it to Tatiana. She dabbed Mig's face and allowed him to sip the rest of the water. Before long, Mig drifted off to sleep. As Tatiana and I left that evening, we hoped and prayed that he'd be well soon.

Mig's POV

"Da?..., wake up!"

When I opened my eyes, Emile was at my bedside. He smiled as I sat up.

"Are you hungry?", he asked. I nodded, turning my head briefly and covering my mouth to cough. I looked on as Emile got up, went over to the stove, and filled two small bowls. What he brought back was a thin broth made from garlic mustard and dandelions.

"Thank you, this is very good", I told him as we ate.

"I went out and picked everything while you were asleep", he explained. "I'm glad you like it."

"Yeah, I...(COUGH!, COUGH!, COUGH!!!)"

Emile's POV

It didn't take long for those few coughs to become a complete coughing fit. Still, Da managed to finish his supper and drink some water before he laid back down. His eyes slipped shut as I prepared another washcloth, folded it, and placed it on his forehead.

"Don't worry, Emile", he said. "I'll be just fine." Unfortunately, he wasn't.

"Da, you've got to eat", I pleaded. "Come on, just a little more..."

"I'm really not hungry", was his constant reply. "Please, Emile, I...I just want to rest".

"Alright", I sighed, helping him to lay back down and cover himself. Yet, with his high fever, even peaceful sleep was impossible.

"I...I'll try harder, I promise...", Da muttered shakily. "I'm doing my best! No, please...stop!"

Groaning softly, I rolled over in my bed on the opposite side of the hovel. His hair glistened with sweat and Da tossed and turned.

"No...no!", he moaned.

Getting up, I went to his side, pushed back his wavy locks, and took his hand.

"Sssh, ssssh, Da", I whispered. "It's okay,...sssh... ."

He shuddered, his eyes opening and darting about frantically.

"It's okay", I repeated. "You're here with me."

After a moment, he nodded. I could see in his eyes, nonetheless, that he remained very troubled.

With makeshift masks over their mouths and noses, Momma and Bennett came by as often as they could. They brought blankets, food, and various suggestions and remedies from our other neighbors. Despite all that everyone tried, Da's fever, cough, nightmares, shortness of breath, and loss of appetite continued.

Da became so frail and tired, he could no longer go to the city to provide for us. It was now completely up to me.

Though I had always wanted to experience it, I'd never dreamed it would be in a situation like this. Still, I pushed aside any worries and fears I had of what Chicago had in store.

Da, Momma and Bennett had already done so much just so I would survive and have a chance to know a family's love! It was my turn to do the same.

The next morning...

I awoke to rays of sunshine streaming through the cracks in the entrance of our hovel. That and Da's utterances as he stirred.

"Please", he whispered hoarsely. "Water..."

Getting out of bed, I pulled some bottled water from his knapsack before helping him to sit up and drink.

"I'm sorry, Emile", he said between sips. I shook my head.

"You're no trouble, Da, don't apologize", I told him.

"Just promise me you'll be careful", Da replied.

"I promise", I said. "Do you need anything else right now?"

"I...I just want to...(COUGH,...COUGH!!!)"

As he slumped back into his nest of tattered blankets, I felt helpless. Covering him up and tucking him in just enough, I watched as Da closed his eyes and sleep took over once more.

After getting cleaned up and dressed, I busied myself tidying up as best as I could. All the while, I listened to Da's quiet snores.

"Please God", I whispered. "Please heal my Da."

I stopped in at both Bennett's and Momma's to check in on them as well. Like they always did, each of them assured me they'd be helping Da.

To calm myself and be entertained as I walked, I tried imitating the different bird calls I was hearing. For some, being alone out here would be pretty scary. I personally found it to be quite peaceful.

In my hurry and bustling around, breakfast had been far from my mind. As a result, I arrived in Chicago with a growling stomach and smarting feet.

Wandering the cold, slushy, rubbish-strewn streets, I seemed invisible amid the throngs of people. What's more is how noisy it was! From the chatter, shouting and cursing, to the honks of car and bus horns.

Looking around, I could see buildings both big and small as well. There were all sorts of things on display in store windows. Clothes, toys, even musical instruments! All of which were lovely and brand new!

Wide-eyed and curious, it was hard to pay much attention to anything else. That is, until a delicious smell reminded me of how hungry I was.

My attempt to follow it led me to a large, fancy-looking building. Through the windows, I saw tables, chairs, lots of people and several different foods and drinks! Through bits and pieces of various conversations, I picked up some new words too.

Lobster, salmon, crab, mashed potatoes, biscuits and soda. Whatever all of that was, I ended up wanting some for Da and I. Stepping back, I peered up at the painted words on the front of the building and tried to sound them out.

"Morris's Sea...food rest...ur...ant."

Trying my hardest to ignore my stomach's gnawing pains, I decided that the first step to getting rid of them was to go inside.

So, as other people made their way in and out, I scurried forward hoping not to draw much attention as I came through the doors. Once I'd made it inside, however, I felt a great uneasiness engulf me.

Everyone at this place was dressed so nicely! Nothing faded, torn, or patched! Before I had a moment to process such things, I heard swift footsteps. Then suddenly, someone roughly turned me around!

Standing over me was a broad-shouldered man in a white dress shirt, black pants, black shoes, and an apron.

"What are you doing here, boy?", he asked sharply, placing his hands on his hips. I was so frightened that I couldn't say a word and just stared.

"Answer me!", he spat. "What do you want?"

"Please sir", I said. "I came in here because I was hungry."

"Well, you won't be getting anything here penniless and in those rags, that's for sure", the man scoffed. "Go on, get out of here!"

Bennett's POV

Both Tatiana and I were with Mig when he awoke.

"Thank you both for helping Emile look after me all this time", he said.

"It's alright", I replied. "We're happy to help any way we can." Mig nodded.

"I hope Emile is okay", he said. "I think maybe it was wrong to let him go to Chicago alone. Especially since it's his first time away from us all."

"You mustn't stress yourself so", I warned gently. "It'll only make you feel worse. We all just want you to concentrate on getting well, Mig."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon", Tatiana added from her place in front of the stove. Mig tilted his head slightly and sniffed the air.

"Ginger?", he noted.

"I picked some just before you woke up and made you some tea to help bring down your fever", Tatiana explained.

Pouring some into a mug and stirring it, she turned, moving towards Mig's bedside and helping him sit up.

Mig's POV

The mug was warm in my cold, clammy hands. Blowing on it and sipping it, the tea's bitterness caused me to make somewhat of a face.

"Sorry about the taste", Tatiana apologized.

"It's okay", I told her, trying to smile.

"I bet it feels really good on your throat after all the coughing you've been doing", Bennett added.

"It does", I said. "Thanks."

Tatiana's POV

Though watching Mig drink his tea gave Bennett and I some relief, we were both very concerned. After a while, we managed to get him to eat a bowl of broth. It was only once Mig was resting again that Bennett and I stepped outside to discuss our feelings.

"I'm glad we were able to get him to eat at least a little here and there today", I whispered. "He's losing so much weight."

"I know", Bennett replied. "We just have to keep encouraging him as much as possible."

"He's still feverish though", I sighed. "So pale and burning up to the touch. If we could just find out what he's got then maybe..."

"You know none of us can afford to take him to a doctor, Tatiana", Bennett interrupted. "Everyone here has always just had to make do as best as they could."

Emile's POV

Further wandering took me to a small building called a bakery. I remembered Da telling me of such places before and the different breads, cakes, donuts and cookies that were made inside them. This one was named after someone known as Jeannie.

Many times, Da had come back with little leftovers after sweeping up inside and outside of bakeries for money. Maybe I could do that too!

With the snow crunching beneath my boots as I went, I slowly opened the door and stepped inside. The bakery, warm and comfortable, looked to be a happy place. I hoped it was also a friendly one.

Though I earned whispers, curious looks, and a point or two from some of the customers, they didn't seem to be unkind. Then, startled by a voice from behind the front counter, I looked forward.

"What can I do for you, dear?", asked a woman with short, silver-colored hair and hazel eyes. Of medium height, she wore a simple light green dress, an apron, some gloves and white socks and shoes.

"Ma'am? Is your name Jeannie?", I asked nervously. At this, the woman smiled widely and chuckled.

"Yes, it is", she said. " Ms. Jeannie Shaw, to be exact." I nodded.

"My name is Emile", I replied. "I was wondering if you needed someone to help you out. Maybe sweep up each day or shovel the snow from the steps?"

"I suppose I could use some help keeping things tidy around here", she said. "Yes, the job is yours...but first let's get you something to eat. I can't show you what to do if you can't concentrate.”

"Thank you, ma'am", I said.

"Please Emile, call me Ms. Shaw", she added.