He found us in the kitchen, all dressed and in our coats. “Y’all going to church?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.“We’re going out for breakfast,” I said. “And then I’ve got to go see somebody. Although church doesn’t seem like such a bad idea at this point.”It took Sim a few minutes to notice Jordan, who was staring up at him in wonderment, as though he were looking at a brown bear in a bathrobe. “This is a little friend of ours from the neighborhood,” I explained. “We’re going to get him some pancakes. Jordan, say hello to Sim.”The boy wouldn’t speak, though. He just looked down shyly at his galoshes and moved closer to Cliff.“There’s nothing to eat here,” Taylor said to Sim. “If you want, we can bring something back.”“Naw, I gotta go with y’all. Mr. Woody said I should stay close.”We waited downstairs while he dressed. The street had that enchanted feel to it, soft, heaven-sent snow beginning to blanket everything. But that’s the kind of weather that’s dangerous in Chicago.
