“For Eli.”

“Stay back, bud,” I told him.

“Mom, it has my name on it.”

“I know. But we don’t know who put it here. So I’m going to open it first.”

He gave a small nod.

I crouched and lifted the lid.

Then I screamed.

Inside sat a tight bundle wrapped in blue fabric.

For one terrible second, it looked foreign and frightening.

Then I spotted the wooden handle, the silver button, and Eli’s name written in my husband’s handwriting.

Eli dropped down beside me. “That’s Dad’s,” he whispered.

“It is.”

“How did it get here?”

He glanced at the boxes, then toward the neighbors. His face lost its color.

“Mom, we need to call someone. Maybe the police. This is scary.”

“I know. We’re not touching anything else until I know who did this.”

“Wait! There’s a note,” Eli said.

I looked again. A folded sheet of paper had been slipped beneath the umbrella strap.

“Read it,” he whispered.

My hands trembled as I unfolded it.

“Eli,

I promised I would return this. I didn’t know it would come home with a crowd.

Thank you for covering me when I felt invisible.

Jenelle.”

“That’s the lady,” Eli said. “She said her name was Jenelle.”

Before I could respond, a silver car pulled up along the curb. A pregnant woman slowly stepped out, one hand resting beneath her belly.

“That’s her, Mom.”

I walked toward her with Darren’s umbrella pressed against my chest.

“Are you Jenelle?”

She nodded. “Carina, I’m so sorry.”

My stomach tightened again. “How do you know my name?”

“Someone commented it under my post on Facebook. They said they were a neighbor.”

I looked back at Sarah, who suddenly seemed very interested in the sidewalk.

Then I turned back to Jenelle. “You wrote about my son?”

Her expression fell. “I wrote a thank-you post.”

“No. My son is twelve,” I said. “He gave you something that mattered to both of us. Now people are filming him like this is entertainment.”

“I didn’t share your address,” Jenelle said quickly. “I swear. I used his first name only. No school. No street.”

“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 moved out from behind me. “Is your baby okay?”

Jenelle’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, sweetheart. She’s okay. I’d just had an ultrasound, and the doctor told me to watch her movements closely. It scared me.”

He nodded. “Good.”

I swallowed and looked at her again. “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 at her cheek. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Eli. I’m sorry, Carina.”

A teenage boy raised his phone again.

Jenelle spun toward him. “Stop filming this family. This is their home, not a stage.”

This time, everyone obeyed.

After the sidewalk finally emptied, I turned to Eli. “We’re taking all of this inside.”

Continued on next page//