She lifted the strap. Walter nodded. The change in his face unsettled her. He no longer looked amused. He looked somewhere else entirely.
A long time ago. My dad gave it to me. Maya said. Walter's fingers tightened around his coffee mug. Your father, Marcus Bennett.
Walter inhaled slowly. Ruth standing behind him stopped moving. Maya looked between them. What? Walter stood with some difficulty and stepped closer.
He reached toward the silver heron patch, then stopped before touching it. May I? Maya nodded. His fingertips brushed the embroidery. The stitching was uneven.
One wing sat slightly higher than the other. Marcus had never been good with a needle. Walter's eyes turned glassy. Your father stitched this? Yeah.
Walter smiled. But there was sorrow in it. Of course he did. Maya frowned. You knew him.
It wasn't a question. Walter lowered his hand. I did. How? He looked at Ruth.
Ruth looked away. That told Maya there was more around the neighborhood. Walter said, "That doesn't explain that." She pointed to the bird. Walter stared at the patch again.
"Herren house." Maya's posture changed. She had heard the name her entire life, but mostly in fragments. Boxes of old receipts in Marcus' closet. Photographs of adults standing outside a faded storefront.
Phone calls at odd hours. A folding table covered in donated food. To Maya, Harren House had always felt like something from her father's life that existed before she was old enough to understand it. What about it? Walter eased himself back into the booth.
That bird was the mark. Maya sat across from him. The mark for what? Walter rubbed both hands over the top of his cane for people who knew where to go when everything else had gone wrong. Maya waited.
Ruth came around the counter and sat beside Walter. No one joked now. Walter continued, "Your father didn't have much. None of us did. But Marcus had a gift for making people feel like needing help wasn't the same as being helpless.
Maya looked toward the kitchen. The morning noise suddenly seemed farther away. He helped people find work, Ruth said. Temporary rooms, bus fair, groceries. Sometimes he just sat with somebody who'd lost everything and made sure they didn't go home alone.
Walter nodded. There were men who'd been laid off after 30 years. Women evicted after rent jumped. People sleeping in cars, pretending everything was fine because they were ashamed. He looked directly at Maya.