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“You wrote about my son?”
“Then how did they find us?”
“The Route 47 bus stop,” she said. “I mentioned it in the post. Mr. Collins recognized Eli and offered to return the umbrella. I didn’t know about the boxes until this morning.”
“So you started it, and strangers finished it.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “And I should have thought harder before I started.”
Eli stepped out from behind me. “Is your baby okay?”
Jenelle’s eyes filled. “Yes, sweetheart. She’s okay. I’d just had an ultrasound, and the doctor told me to watch her movements closely. It scared me.”
“I gave him the umbrella to return.”
He nodded. “Good.”
I swallowed hard, then looked back at her. “Kindness doesn’t mean people get to walk into our lives without knocking.”
“I know. Your son told me that the umbrella was from his dad. It struck something with me, Carina.”
“No, you don’t. Eli still sleeps with Darren’s sweatshirt when there’s thunder. That umbrella wasn’t a prop.”
Jenelle wiped her cheek. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Eli. I’m sorry, Carina.”
I swallowed hard.
A teenage boy lifted his phone again.
Jenelle turned sharply. “Stop filming this family. This is their home, not a stage.”
This time, everyone listened.
***
When the sidewalk cleared, I turned to Eli. “We’re taking all of this inside.”
“Can we open some first?” he asked.
“No, Eli.”
“Please, Mom. Maybe some people really just wanted to be kind.”
“They scared us.”
“This is their home, not a stage.”
“I know. I don’t like it either.”
“Eli, they turned your dad’s umbrella into a town project.”
Eli looked at the blue umbrella tucked under my arm. “Maybe Dad would’ve liked that part.”
I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.
Eli shook his head. “No. I want to see why people came.”
I looked at him. “A few boxes.”
He gave me a tiny smile.
“I want to see why people came.”
Box #2 held a note from Mr. Collins, Eli’s bus driver.
“Carina,