A Little Help from Above by Saralee Rosenberg

sister.”
    Shelby was nearly rocked off her seat. Her mother had miscarried?
    “You know”—Mrs. Weiner smiled—“you remind me so much of her.”
    “I do?” she perked up.
    “Yes. I can’t believe the physical resemblance. You even sound alike. Nice and loud!”
    “Excuse me?” Shelby’s tone changed.
    “Let’s just say your mother was a pistol. She didn’t take crap from anyone. Especially my husband. I actually used to look forward to her visits because she always gave him hell.”
    Now Shelby beamed.
    “In fact one time, I think you’ll enjoy hearing this, she came in and all of a sudden I heard screaming from one of the examining rooms. I ran down the hall, positive my husband’s temper had gotten the better of him. But when I opened the door, I nearly fell over.”
    “Why?” Shelby was on the edge of her seat. “What happened?”
    “Your mother had grabbed him by the tie and was screaming in his face. He was practically choking to death, but she wouldn’t let go. I had to unfurl each little finger…”
    “That’s the most wonderful story I’ve ever heard.” Shelby clapped. “Do you remember what she was angry about?”
    “Well I wasn’t in the room, of course.” Irma sighed. “But I believe it had to do with how bad she was feeling. She knew something was wrong, and all he probably came up with was his usual diagnosis, One-a-Dayitis. Eat better and take vitamins. That was his cure for everything.”
    “So she almost strangled him? That’s incredible!”
    “It was gutsy, that’s for sure. In those days doctors were considered gods. Nobody questioned them about anything. Especially a woman. It was unheard of.”
    “But she was right and he was wrong.” Shelby knew the rest of the story. “Dead wrong.”
    “Yes.”
    Shelby’s eyes welled up. Maybe this was a cute little story to Mrs. Weiner, but to her it was a revelation. Her mother hadn’t gone quietly to death’s door. She’d practically killed a man with her bare hands while screaming for help. Suddenly she understood the families of murder victims who read the police reports and learned their loved ones had put up a struggle. It didn’t change the outcome, of course, it just somehow gave people comfort knowing the victims had fought back.
    “I thought you’d like that story.” The embarrassed social worker smoothed out her skirt.
    “What else do you remember?” Shelby said sweetly, wanting desperately to sit in this wonderful woman’s lap.
    “Perhaps another time, dear. I have rounds to do. But let’s keep in touch.”
    “Of course.” Shelby tried to hide her disappointment.
    “There is one other thing,” Irma stood up. “When I heard who they’d brought in this morning…I…this sounds awful. But a part of me was happy it was them.”
    “Are you serious?” Shelby felt as if she’d been stabbed.
    “I know. It makes me sound like a monster, which I assure you I’m not. But you have to understand how much pain your family caused my family.”
    “Excuse me, but I think it was the other way around.” Shelby sniffed.
    “Forget it. I was wrong to say anything. Believe me, I am praying for their recovery.”
    “No wait.” Shelby got up to reach for the woman’s arm. “Please tell me what you meant.”
    Irma seemed surprised by Shelby’s curious expression. “Well, you knew, of course, that your father sued my husband for malpractice and in the process destroyed his reputation.”
    Shelby shook her head no.
    “Needless to say, the case dragged on for years.”
    “Then what happened?” Shelby asked, sorry she didn’t have her notepad handy.
    “In the end he was exonerated. So we thought, okay, now we’re finally going to be able to get on with our lives. Then your father hit him with a million-dollar civil suit.”
    Shelby was clearly thrown. “I knew everything that went on in that house, and trust me, it was more than a ten-year-old should have to know. But I never heard a word about any