hadn’t really understood what she meant as a boy, but as a man, he’d learned. It was incredibly rude to waste other people’s time.
“I gotta go. I left Mother at Lillian Bray’s for the garden club meeting. But I need to pick her up before she starts to worry.”
He headed toward the front of the shop with Molly trailing after him. He got within three feet of the front door and realized he was in trouble. A surprisingly large group of females had gathered in the front of the shop. Their numbers were so large that they had spilled out onto the sidewalk. The minute he made his appearance, they started clapping.
Earlier this morning, he’d felt like a pariah in this town, blamed for things that he hadn’t done. Now they were applauding him for doing absolutely nothing but catching a baby. Jane had done the work this morning.
His face heated as he edged his way toward the door, checking his watch again. But he needn’t have bothered because the door swung open with a little jingle, and Mother came into the shop arm-in-arm with an ancient, white-haired lady wearing rhinestone-studded eyeglasses.The old lady had been at Tuesday’s Purly Girls meeting but he didn’t remember her name.
Mother stared at him, blinking, as if she were trying to place him in time and space. The old woman with her gave him a sober look out of a pair of sharp brown eyes.
“Simon,” the old woman said, “looks like you didn’t throw all that medical training out entirely.”
“Do I know you?” he asked.
She flashed her dentures. “I’m Miriam Randall. You remember me, don’t you?”
He said nothing as the memories clicked. He remembered. Miriam Randall had been the eccentric and colorful chairwoman of the Christ Church Ladies’ Auxiliary. Which made the tableau in front of him all the more surprising, because Mother tended to look down on eccentric and colorful people. He was pretty sure there had been a time when Mother would have died before being seen arm-in-arm with Miriam Randall.
The little old lady reached out and grabbed one of his hands. Her palm was dry and slightly cool. Her hands were badly flexed with the telltale swellings common to rheumatoid arthritis, but her grip was strong and her eyes were darkly bright.
“Son, I’m mighty glad you’ve come back home. And it’s just a wonderful thing that you’ve arrived right on time.”
“Well, I didn’t do much. I—”
“Oh, I’m not talking about Jane’s baby, although I suppose it was handy that you were on the scene. Oh no, I’m talking about everything else.”
Mother cocked her head. “Simon?” she said in a quavery voice.
“Yes, Mother, it’s me.” Something eased in his chest, but not all the way. Mother stood there looking uncertain and confused.
“You know,” Miz Miriam said, “you might take down your defenses, son.”
“What?”
The old woman leaned in, and Simon felt an uncanny tremor move through him. Like when kids sit in a darkened room conjuring ghosts from out of their imaginations. He went cold for a moment.
“Sometimes,” Miriam said, “it’s not the things we’ve done that lead to regrets. It’s usually all the stuff we didn’t do.”
Her words cut a swath through him, triggering memories he had locked behind a steel door. He glanced away, right into Molly Canaday’s greeny-brown eyes. She was angry at him, he knew, but in spite of that, he found kindness there. He’d always found kindness in Molly’s eyes. Even when she’d been a little girl.
Miriam turned toward Mother. “You should be proud of your boy, Charlotte. He delivered a baby right here at the Knit & Stitch not twenty minutes ago.”
“Simon?” Mother, who never showed much emotion, had tears in her eyes. Simon didn’t know what to make of that. His own insides were threatening to unravel.
Mother took a couple of steps forward and ran her hands over his shoulders. It wasn’t a real hug. Mother didn’t do that sort of thing, not even in
“I gotta go. I left Mother at Lillian Bray’s for the garden club meeting. But I need to pick her up before she starts to worry.”
He headed toward the front of the shop with Molly trailing after him. He got within three feet of the front door and realized he was in trouble. A surprisingly large group of females had gathered in the front of the shop. Their numbers were so large that they had spilled out onto the sidewalk. The minute he made his appearance, they started clapping.
Earlier this morning, he’d felt like a pariah in this town, blamed for things that he hadn’t done. Now they were applauding him for doing absolutely nothing but catching a baby. Jane had done the work this morning.
His face heated as he edged his way toward the door, checking his watch again. But he needn’t have bothered because the door swung open with a little jingle, and Mother came into the shop arm-in-arm with an ancient, white-haired lady wearing rhinestone-studded eyeglasses.The old lady had been at Tuesday’s Purly Girls meeting but he didn’t remember her name.
Mother stared at him, blinking, as if she were trying to place him in time and space. The old woman with her gave him a sober look out of a pair of sharp brown eyes.
“Simon,” the old woman said, “looks like you didn’t throw all that medical training out entirely.”
“Do I know you?” he asked.
She flashed her dentures. “I’m Miriam Randall. You remember me, don’t you?”
He said nothing as the memories clicked. He remembered. Miriam Randall had been the eccentric and colorful chairwoman of the Christ Church Ladies’ Auxiliary. Which made the tableau in front of him all the more surprising, because Mother tended to look down on eccentric and colorful people. He was pretty sure there had been a time when Mother would have died before being seen arm-in-arm with Miriam Randall.
The little old lady reached out and grabbed one of his hands. Her palm was dry and slightly cool. Her hands were badly flexed with the telltale swellings common to rheumatoid arthritis, but her grip was strong and her eyes were darkly bright.
“Son, I’m mighty glad you’ve come back home. And it’s just a wonderful thing that you’ve arrived right on time.”
“Well, I didn’t do much. I—”
“Oh, I’m not talking about Jane’s baby, although I suppose it was handy that you were on the scene. Oh no, I’m talking about everything else.”
Mother cocked her head. “Simon?” she said in a quavery voice.
“Yes, Mother, it’s me.” Something eased in his chest, but not all the way. Mother stood there looking uncertain and confused.
“You know,” Miz Miriam said, “you might take down your defenses, son.”
“What?”
The old woman leaned in, and Simon felt an uncanny tremor move through him. Like when kids sit in a darkened room conjuring ghosts from out of their imaginations. He went cold for a moment.
“Sometimes,” Miriam said, “it’s not the things we’ve done that lead to regrets. It’s usually all the stuff we didn’t do.”
Her words cut a swath through him, triggering memories he had locked behind a steel door. He glanced away, right into Molly Canaday’s greeny-brown eyes. She was angry at him, he knew, but in spite of that, he found kindness there. He’d always found kindness in Molly’s eyes. Even when she’d been a little girl.
Miriam turned toward Mother. “You should be proud of your boy, Charlotte. He delivered a baby right here at the Knit & Stitch not twenty minutes ago.”
“Simon?” Mother, who never showed much emotion, had tears in her eyes. Simon didn’t know what to make of that. His own insides were threatening to unravel.
Mother took a couple of steps forward and ran her hands over his shoulders. It wasn’t a real hug. Mother didn’t do that sort of thing, not even in
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