“Can we open some first?” he asked.
“No, Eli.”
“Please, Mom. Maybe some people really just wanted to be kind.”
“They scared us.”
“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 beneath my arm. “Maybe Dad would’ve liked that part.”
I wanted to disagree, but no words came.
Eli shook his head. “No. I want to see why people came.”
I studied his face. “A few boxes.”
He gave me a small smile.
Box #2 held a note from Mr. Collins, Eli’s bus driver.
“Carina,
Nobody gave out your address. I need you to know that first.
People brought umbrellas and notes to the Route 47 stop after Jenelle’s post went around. Some left envelopes at the bus depot or gave them to me.
I should have called before bringing them here. I thought I was doing something beautiful for a boy I care about. I see now I should have knocked first.”
I lifted my eyes from the page.
“Mr. Collins did this?” Eli asked.
Jenelle blinked. “I didn’t know.”
That time, I believed her.
A familiar voice sounded from the sidewalk. “I owe you an apology, Carina.”
Mr. Collins stood near the mailbox in his rain jacket, twisting his cap between both hands.
Eli straightened. “Mr. Collins?”
The older man looked at him with gentle eyes. “Morning, kiddo.”
I lifted the note. “You put all this here?”
“Yes, ma’am. Two church volunteers and I. Before sunrise.” He glanced across the umbrellas. “I didn’t give anyone your address. I brought them myself because I drive Eli home.”
“Then why not call me?”
He swallowed. “I came by last night, but your lights were out. Then I got carried away. People kept saying, ‘That boy deserves to know.’”
Then Eli said, “You still could have knocked.”
Mr. Collins nodded. “You’re right. I should have.”
Box #3 smelled sweet, like sugar. Inside was a gift card from the ice cream shop by the library.
“For the boy who remembered kindness. One sundae a month. Sprinkles included.”
Eli blinked. “Do you think they mean any sundae?”
“Eli.”
“I’m asking…”
Against my will, I laughed.
Box #4 contained a voucher for a shoe store.
“For the kid who walked home soaked so someone else didn’t have to. Pick out waterproof sneakers.”
“The red ones with lightning?” Eli asked.
“You already know?”
“I’ve known for months.”
I looked over at Mr. Collins. “You know a lot about my son?”
“I know he thanks me every afternoon,” he said. “I know he lets the little kids get off first. Last winter, when another boy forgot gloves, Eli gave him one of his.”
Eli blushed. “It was only one glove.”
“That’s exactly my point,” Mr. Collins said.
Box #5 held a pass for the skatepark.
Eli’s smile slowly faded.
I rested a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Dad said he’d teach me how to skate.”
“I remember.”
“I still want to go,” Eli said. “But not the big ramp.”
Box #6 contained four dollars and thirty-eight cents from a seven-year-old girl named Maddie.
Continued on next page//
