« Ma’am? » I called, as gently as I could, walking toward her like you’d approach a frightened bird. « Are you alright? »
She turned slowly. Her eyes were red-rimmed but clear.
Maybe it was instinct.
« He’s cold, » she whispered. « I’m doing my best. »
She shifted the baby, tucking the towel tighter around his little body.
Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the empty house waiting for me. Maybe it was the way she held that child like he was all she had left.
I didn’t think. I just shrugged out of my heavy winter coat.
Ellen had bought it two winters ago. « You look like a walking sleeping bag, » she’d said, tugging the zipper up to my chin. « But you’re old, and I’m not letting you freeze on me. »
« Your baby needs it more than I do. »
I held the coat out to the young woman.
