shut the lid.
“Thank you, Fiona,” I managed shakily.
“Let’s take them over to your house and get Logan. We need to get to the food pantry early.”
Piper had saved and signed each of her books for me.
Emotions began to swirl, but I pushed them down. Maybe when Piper was better, I’d have time to pull out each emotion and analyze it, but for now I tucked them away. We went next door and found Logan sipping his coffee.
“Are you ready?” he asked, looking excited.
“Sure. Let me put these upstairs before we go.” I’d put them in my room and go through them later.
My room .
I realized that this room at the end of the hall did indeed feel like my room. Just as I felt at home at Piper and Ned’s.
One week.
I’d only been here a week, and yet so much had happened that it felt longer.
I went downstairs, and the three of us walked across the street, through the school parking lot, to the school room Amanda’s Pantry used every other week.
I patted my pocket and realized I’d forgotten my phone. Most days I’d run back and get it—I hated feeling unconnected. But since coming here, I’d been overwhelmed by connections. Giving myself a break from the phone didn’t seem like a bad idea.
I paused a moment and looked at the school. It looked like so many other schools. The windows of each classroom were decorated for the new school year. The top floor windows had construction paper letters that spelled out W E L C O M E F A L L.
I thought about all the years Piper had come here, not just for the food pantry, but also to read to the kindergarten class.
Logan reached out and squeezed my hand. “Are you okay?”
I smiled and nodded, though we both knew that was a lie. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be honest; it was simply that I couldn’t be.
Logan and Fiona were old pros at setting up for the day. I followed their lead, though I suspected I was more in the way than helpful.
The first person through the door that day was a young mom and a young boy. I’d never been around enough kids to guess his age, but he was definitely a few years younger than Fiona.
“Hi, I’m Jerome,” said the gap-toothed boy clutching a manila envelope.
I grinned. “Hi, Jerome. I’m Siobhan.”
“D’you know Ms. Pip?” he asked.
I nodded. “I do.”
“Good.” He thrust an envelope at me. “Would ya give her these?”
“I will,” I promised.
“Good,” he said again. “She’s been sick, so me and the club wanted her to see our grades ’cause they’ll make her feel better. Mr. Kyle said we’re all rock stars, and I said, no, we’re all math stars.”
He walked over to Fiona, presumably to share his math-star status with her, and his mother smiled at me. “Ms. Pip found out that Jerome was having trouble with math, so she talked to one of the teachers, and he put together a math club. They meet once a week. There are fourteen kids in it now. They met all summer. Last week was their first test of the year, and . . .” She nodded at the stack of papers. “Every one of them got an A. They wanted to be sure Piper knew.”
“I’ll take them over to the hospital tonight,” I promised.
“Any news on a donor?” she asked.
Every time my phone rang, my heart leaped, thinking this was it, a message from my doctor. Every time it wasn’t.
I shook my head.
“We all got tested and joined the registry in her name.”
Logan reached under the table and took my hand. I nodded. “I’m sure she’s touched. And I know that she’s going to feel so much better after she sees the math tests.”
“You tell her we’re all praying for her,” Jerome’s mother said.
That set the tone for the day. A lot of the clients knew Logan and stopped to talk to him. That was always a relief because they didn’t ask me any uncomfortable questions.
Every time Fiona heard me introduce myself as a friend of the family, she looked disappointed.
The last visitor of the day was a beautiful teenaged
“Thank you, Fiona,” I managed shakily.
“Let’s take them over to your house and get Logan. We need to get to the food pantry early.”
Piper had saved and signed each of her books for me.
Emotions began to swirl, but I pushed them down. Maybe when Piper was better, I’d have time to pull out each emotion and analyze it, but for now I tucked them away. We went next door and found Logan sipping his coffee.
“Are you ready?” he asked, looking excited.
“Sure. Let me put these upstairs before we go.” I’d put them in my room and go through them later.
My room .
I realized that this room at the end of the hall did indeed feel like my room. Just as I felt at home at Piper and Ned’s.
One week.
I’d only been here a week, and yet so much had happened that it felt longer.
I went downstairs, and the three of us walked across the street, through the school parking lot, to the school room Amanda’s Pantry used every other week.
I patted my pocket and realized I’d forgotten my phone. Most days I’d run back and get it—I hated feeling unconnected. But since coming here, I’d been overwhelmed by connections. Giving myself a break from the phone didn’t seem like a bad idea.
I paused a moment and looked at the school. It looked like so many other schools. The windows of each classroom were decorated for the new school year. The top floor windows had construction paper letters that spelled out W E L C O M E F A L L.
I thought about all the years Piper had come here, not just for the food pantry, but also to read to the kindergarten class.
Logan reached out and squeezed my hand. “Are you okay?”
I smiled and nodded, though we both knew that was a lie. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be honest; it was simply that I couldn’t be.
Logan and Fiona were old pros at setting up for the day. I followed their lead, though I suspected I was more in the way than helpful.
The first person through the door that day was a young mom and a young boy. I’d never been around enough kids to guess his age, but he was definitely a few years younger than Fiona.
“Hi, I’m Jerome,” said the gap-toothed boy clutching a manila envelope.
I grinned. “Hi, Jerome. I’m Siobhan.”
“D’you know Ms. Pip?” he asked.
I nodded. “I do.”
“Good.” He thrust an envelope at me. “Would ya give her these?”
“I will,” I promised.
“Good,” he said again. “She’s been sick, so me and the club wanted her to see our grades ’cause they’ll make her feel better. Mr. Kyle said we’re all rock stars, and I said, no, we’re all math stars.”
He walked over to Fiona, presumably to share his math-star status with her, and his mother smiled at me. “Ms. Pip found out that Jerome was having trouble with math, so she talked to one of the teachers, and he put together a math club. They meet once a week. There are fourteen kids in it now. They met all summer. Last week was their first test of the year, and . . .” She nodded at the stack of papers. “Every one of them got an A. They wanted to be sure Piper knew.”
“I’ll take them over to the hospital tonight,” I promised.
“Any news on a donor?” she asked.
Every time my phone rang, my heart leaped, thinking this was it, a message from my doctor. Every time it wasn’t.
I shook my head.
“We all got tested and joined the registry in her name.”
Logan reached under the table and took my hand. I nodded. “I’m sure she’s touched. And I know that she’s going to feel so much better after she sees the math tests.”
“You tell her we’re all praying for her,” Jerome’s mother said.
That set the tone for the day. A lot of the clients knew Logan and stopped to talk to him. That was always a relief because they didn’t ask me any uncomfortable questions.
Every time Fiona heard me introduce myself as a friend of the family, she looked disappointed.
The last visitor of the day was a beautiful teenaged
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