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I Gave My Coat to a Cold, Hungry Mother and Her Baby – a Week Later, Two Men in Suits Knocked on My Door and Said, ‘You’re Not Getting Away with This’
Penny’s voice wobbled.
She sniffed, smiling and crying at the same time.
“Let us do something.”
“So we came to say thank you,” she finished. “Properly.”
Stephan nodded.
“What do you need, Mr. Harris?” he asked. “Anything. House repairs. Rides. Groceries. Say the word.”
I shook my head, embarrassed.
“I’m alright,” I said. “I live small. Don’t need much.”
Penny leaned forward.
“I wouldn’t say no to an apple pie.”
I scratched my jaw, thinking.
“Well,” I said finally, “I wouldn’t say no to an apple pie. Been a long time since I had a homemade one.”
Penny’s whole face brightened.
“I can do that,” she said. “I used to bake with my mom all the time.”
Her eyes flicked to a framed photo of Ellen on the mantel.
“Is that your wife?” she asked.
“I’ll bring the pie in two days.”
“She looks kind.”
“She was,” I said. “She’d have liked you showing up here with a baby and trouble.”
Penny smiled, cheeks pink.
“I’ll bring the pie in two days,” she said, standing. “If that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay,” I replied. “Just knock before Stephan gives me a heart attack again.”
Stephan winced.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Fair enough.”
I caught myself humming while I washed the dishes.
They left with promises and handshakes and a sleepy little fist wave from Lucas.
The house felt different after they left. Not louder. Just less empty.
I caught myself humming while I washed the dishes. It startled me.
Two days later, the doorbell rang right as I was debating whether cold cereal counted as dinner.
When I opened the door, the smell of cinnamon and butter floated in before Penny did.
She stood there with a pie wrapped in a dish towel. Lucas slept in a carrier on her chest, his tiny mouth open.
“I hope you like apple,” she said. “I used my mom’s recipe.”
I took one bite and had to close my eyes.
“If I don’t, I’ll lie,” I told her. “Come in.”
We sat at the kitchen table. I got out the good plates, the ones Ellen always saved for company.
The crust flaked when I cut into it. Steam curled up into the air.
I took one bite and had to close my eyes.
“Lord,” I said. “You weren’t kidding. This is the real thing.”
She laughed, shoulders relaxing.
“If you say that after the second slice, I’ll really believe you,” she said.
“He just doesn’t want me to have anything.”
We ate and talked. This time she told me more.
Her parents had died when she was still young. Stephan and David had stepped in, filling the space as best they could.
“They act tough,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But they cried more than I did when Lucas was born.”
She talked about the upcoming court dates. How her ex had suddenly discovered he cared about being a father when a judge got involved.
“He doesn’t want Lucas,” she said. “He just doesn’t want me to have anything.”
She stared at her plate.
“What if I mess up again?”
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “What if the judge believes him? What if I mess up again?”
“Listen,” I said, leaning forward. “I watched you out there in the cold. You’re scared and you’re tired, but you were still holding that baby like the whole world depended on it. That counts for something.”
Her eyes filled.
“You really think so?” she asked.
“I know so,” I said. “I’ve seen parents who didn’t care. You aren’t one of them.”
She looked at Lucas.
“Then maybe I can learn something from you.”
“Sometimes I wish I had someone older to talk to,” she said. “Someone who’s already messed up and survived it.”
I snorted. “Oh, I’ve messed up,” I said. “You’re looking at the reigning champion.”
She smiled.
“Then maybe I can learn something from you,” she said.
“I’ve got coffee,” I replied. “And a table. Those are my qualifications.”
She glanced around the kitchen, at the extra chair, the stack of crossword books, the little ceramic rooster Ellen had loved.
“I’m going to bring you a berry pie on Saturday.”
“I’m going to bring you a berry pie on Saturday,” she said suddenly. “If you don’t mind.”
I felt a laugh rise up in my chest, warm and unfamiliar.
“Mind?” I said. “I haven’t looked forward to a Saturday this much since Ellen used to bribe me with pancakes to weed the yard.”
She laughed too.
“Then it’s a plan,” she said, standing and slipping on her coat. “You make the coffee. I’ll handle the sugar.”
I walked her to the door. The air outside was sharp, but the sky was clear.
“Drive carefully,” I said. “And tell your brothers they still owe me an apology for the dramatic entrance.”
She grinned.
What do you think happens next for these characters? Share your thoughts in the Facebook comments.
If you liked this, you might enjoy another story about a woman who sheltered a young mother and her baby during a snowstorm, only to wake up to a white limousine in front of her house.
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