The sun peeked from behind the gray storm clouds, casting a few golden rays across the gurney as two solemn men, dressed in dark gray suits, slid Granny Winslow's body into the black hearse. Neighbors, young and old, gathered on their porches and cement stoops, some shedding a few tears, others silent - each remembering how this frail, Italian woman had touched their lives.

Fifteen-year-old Mary Hunter leaned against the grime-covered window, tears streaming down her face, as the funeral director's limousine drove away from the curb. Her shoulders drooped as she pressed her hands against the glass pane, reaching out to Granny's spirit. A heavy sigh slipped from her lips as she whispered goodbye to the only woman who'd ever loved her.

Mary didn't need to turn around to see her father's reaction to Granny's death. She knew there wouldn't be any. All Bill cared about was his job, television, and his beer. He'd never mentioned her mother in fifteen years except saying she died during childbirth and how he resented the responsibility of caring for her child and thus, provided the bare minimum.

Parenthood, especially single parenting, hadn't ever been part of his plans. In those first few days of Mary's existence, his fingers wrapped lovingly around a beer can instead of the tiny pink fingers of his daughter. His anger flared when her crying interfered with the violent yelling of the WWE Wrestlers, his favorite nighttime show. He might never have fed the baby if it hadn't been for the bottles of formula that he propped against a pillow.

His marriage to Kathryn didn't provide stability to Mary's young life, either. At nineteen, Kathryn hoped Bill would be her ticket out of an abusive home environment. She soon discovered being married and raising a child was just another version of hell. As her resentment grew, so did her harsh reactions to the child. Mary soon learned to become invisible and fend for herself.

Granny Winslow occupied the upstairs apartment and welcomed the opportunity to care for the young child. They would sit for hours while Granny told stories about her childhood in Italy, coming to America, and living in the row houses of Little Italy in New York City. When she spoke of the love of her life, Frank Winslow, her eyes would sparkle like the stars in the sky. They'd moved west in search of a better life, but Detroit's gun violence claimed his life at an early age.

Armed with only one suitcase, Granny had climbed aboard a train headed west, settling in Hayden, a small peaceful town along the Mississippi River.

Today, loved by many, Granny had passed away, leaving Mary alone and once again at the mercy of her father.

**************

In her sophomore year, Mary met Jon. Her English teacher, Doris Blanchett, asked if she would be interested in tutoring a fellow student. At first, Mary was reluctant because writing was her escape, a place where she could live happily ever after.

Thoughts of sharing her private place terrified her. However, Jon's offer of $10.00 a session was too enticing to pass up.

Jon's dad was a career military man. Having lived in five different countries and seen a dozen more, Jon allowed her to see a new world through his eyes. His warm heart and infectious humor soon coaxed Mary out of her shell. They became best friends. Over time, they also became lovers.

Bill Hunter was a working alcoholic and a creature of habit. Rising every day at 4 a.m., he worked a twelve-hour shift, stopped at Joe's Bar to tip a few with the boys, and stumbled into the house around 9 p.m. With the remote in hand, he would shovel his reheated dinner into his mouth, usually falling asleep with his food half-eaten. On Saturdays, the living room was his domain.

****************

"Mary, make yourself useful. Get me another beer." Bill assumed his usual weekend position. Sprawled across the thread-worn sofa, he flipped through channels in search of another football game. Betting sheets, beer cans, and an empty pizza box, all remnants of last night, lay at his feet.

"Did you hear me?" Her dad's voice bellowed across the room.

"Yes, Dad, I heard you." Mary paced back and forth, watching out the window for Jon, hoping to escape her father's wrath. It was Saturday afternoon. Kathryn was visiting her parents for the weekend, and her dad was taking full advantage of her absence. He'd tossed his empty beer cans everywhere, and the only time he left the sofa was to go to the bathroom.

"A man could die of thirst by the time you get me that beer."

"You won't die of thirst, Dad." She handed him the beer and returned to the door to watch for Jon.

"You're just lucky I ain't feeling well, or I'd get off this sofa and teach you a thing or two." He chugged the can of beer and burped; the awful sound reverberated like echoes in a canyon.

"Maybe you oughta take a nap, Dad."

"Why? So, you can go sneaking off with the hoodlum you've been hanging around. Next thing I know, you'll be having your own brat."

"Don't worry about it, Dad." Mary ran her hand protectively across her stomach. She was three months pregnant, and today Jon was taking her away from this place. They'd put a deposit on a one-room apartment in the next town, and he'd applied for a job packing groceries at the Piggly Wiggly. They loved each other, and despite how difficult it was, Mary knew they could make it together.

"Don't think you'll be bringing no snot-nosed kid into my house. You get yourself in the family way, and you are on your own." Wiping his mouth on his shirtsleeve, he burped again. "I don't need another mouth to feed, that's for sure."

"I know, Dad. I've heard it before." Mary crossed her arms, protecting her unborn child.

"Don't be getting sassy with me." He swallowed the last of his beer and tossed the crunched aluminum can at her. "You remind me of your mother."

A chill ran down Mary's spine. The thought of hearing one of her father's ugly rants about her mom sticking him with a kid was more than her frazzled nerves could handle.

Where are you, Jon? 

It was 1:45 p.m., and Jon had promised to pick her up at one o'clock. She'd hid her suitcase under the bushes to prepare for their escape. Not being on time was so unlike Jon; he was never late.

Oh, Jon, has something happened? 

Her father's loud grumbling crashed into her anxious thoughts. She pulled her focus from the street and Jon to her dad's snarling face. Her stomach flipped in disgust. Last night's pizza sauce and slobbered remnants of beer stained the front of his t-shirt.

"What's a man got to do to get fed around this place? Kathryn's gone this weekend; you could at least fix me something to eat."

Nervous sweat trickled down Mary's back. It was two o'clock, and Jon still wasn't here. She knew something must be wrong.

Deciding pacing would not make Jon get there faster, she walked toward the kitchen. "A cold cut sandwich, okay?"

"Didn't they make you take Home Economics in school? A cold sandwich isn't a decent meal." He stopped to watch the action on the television before yelling at Mary again. "While you're in the kitchen, bring me another beer."

After making a sandwich, Mary put it on a plate with chips, grabbed another beer, and carried it to her dad. He grunted in approval as she placed it on the table. She was thankful that this would be the last day she ever had to listen to his repulsive grunts. She wanted to scream at him, but she knew better. One wrong word and the back of his large hand might reach out and send her sailing against the wall. Instead, she remained silent, praying that Jon would arrive soon.

The telephone rang. Mary's feet couldn't move fast enough as she scrambled to reach it. She was positive Jon was calling with an explanation. Mary's voice was sharp as she answered. "Jon, where are you? I was worried."

The voice at the other end wasn't who she expected. "Mary, it's not Jon."

"Oh, Alec, I'm sorry. I was sure it was Jon calling. He's late, and he's never late."

"He won't be coming, Mary."

"Of course he will. We have plans, special plans. Jon wouldn't do that to me."

After a slight hesitation, Alec responded, "I know about your plans."

"I know! You're Jon's best friend; you should understand what this means."

"I do; believe me, I do." Alec cleared his throat before he spoke again. Mary could hear voices talking in the background. "There's been an accident."

Fear gripped Mary's throat. She struggled to speak. "An accident! What kind of accident, Alec?"

 "A truck ran a red light." Alec paused to gain control of his ragged breathing. "Jon—they said—."

"Alec—where's Jon?" Tears were streaming down her face as she gulped for air. "Where's Jon? Is he hurt? Are you at the hospital?" Her words spilled from her mouth, one right after another as panic claimed her.

"I'm—sorry—" Alec's words were choppy. "I didn't want—"

Mary shrieked into the phone, "No, no, don't say it, Alec. Please don't say it." She slumped to the floor and slipped into a sea of darkness.

 "Mary? — Mary?" When she didn't answer, Alec dropped the phone. He turned to face Jon's family but couldn't speak. Alec hated them. He'd destroyed an innocent girl with their lies.

"It was the right thing to do, Alec." Jon's father hung up the phone and patted Alec's shoulder. The boy cringed under the touch and pulled away. All he could think about was his escape from friends who were now monsters in his eyes. He wanted out of there. He weaved his way through all the suitcases sitting in the foyer and stepped outside.

Standing on the front porch, Alec shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and stared at the young man sitting in the car. His stomach turned as the bile climbed into his throat. Jon was his best friend, but, right now, he hated him, too.

There was so much Alec wanted to say, but all he could muster was, "It's done."

With a heavy heart, he walked away without telling Jon goodbye. His friend was alive, but to Alec, their friendship was dead.

**************

Frantic, Mary tried to reach Alec or the Saladino family, but there was no response to her phone calls. The next day, she received a package from Jon's sister, Cassidy. Inside, she found a photo album with pictures of Jon and a brief note explaining how the Saladino family had decided on a small cremation service for immediate family only. It also said their dad had accepted an immediate transfer to Italy.

Curled in a fetal position, Mary had wept for her loss of Jon. In the end, she'd cradled her stomach with her hands and cried for the unborn child. Their life was over; their planned future was a wasted dream. 

The note hadn't asked about the baby. Their future was as dark as the starless night outside. 

Why would you let this happen, God? 

That was her last thought before her weary body succumbed to a night of restless sleep.

****************** 

Twenty-six long years had passed, but that day seemed like yesterday to Mary. Her life had shattered with one torturous telephone call. Jon had been her survival line in an otherwise hopeless world.

 If it had not been for Doris Blanchett, the English teacher that introduced her to Jon, Mary knew she would have killed herself. Pregnant and living on the streets because her father kicked her out, she rapidly deteriorated.

Doris Blanchett found her sleeping in a box, offered her a home, and provided the safety line to live again. She arranged prenatal care and surrendered the two baby girls to the nuns for adoption.

Mary knew adoption for the girls was the right choice, but her heart would never be the same. She wanted someone to provide a better life for them. One a sixteen-year-old girl could never manage to give.

Afterward, Doris helped find college scholarships to provide Mary with a better future. She stood by her side, understanding the difficult road Mary would be forced to travel.

Graduating Alpha Beta Kappa from Nursing School, her first job had been caring for Doris. Cancer ravaged her frail body, but she always managed a smile when Mary sat with her. She died holding Mary's hand and telling her how much she meant to her, the daughter she'd never had. It had stunned Mary to discover she'd inherited the house, stocks, and more money than she ever thought possible.

Mary didn't have to work ever again with the inheritance, but she helped others, as Mom Blanchett had done, which was her purpose in life. That was the reason she found herself where she was today, caring for Faith and little Annie.