Her bony, arthritic hands pulled on the soft, strong cord made from an old cotton dress. She struggled to pull herself up with her ‘good’ arm. Her ruffled dust cap was askew on her fine gray hair. “Anna, Anna!” Mary called.

“I'm here, Mom,” Ann answered from the kitchen. “I'm right here.”

Mary spoke a combination Polish-English. “I'm tired.” She put her hand on her forehead. “I'm so tired.”

Ann wiped her hands on her apron as she hurried into the sick room. The smell of the apple pie in the oven clung to her. She fluffed her mother’s pillow and covered her frail stroke-tormented body with a lavender and white quilt. “Try to sleep a little, Mom. Soon supper will be ready. Lee is having fish but I fixed some nice, baked chicken and mashed potatoes for you. Try to sleep some. The mail will be here soon. Maybe there will be a letter from Helen.”

The din of rattling dishes and the soft sounds from the kitchen radio drifted into the small bedroom. Warm summer sun spilled around the closed venetian blind. She was so tired, so very tired. She put her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Yes, Mary was tired. So very tired of it all. The warm summer
light filtered through the venetian blinds, almost like a projector at the moving picture show from so very long ago.

Playing the same scene over and over in her mind. Especially the
favorite parts of the movie scene...the day she found Helen
on her doorstep, a precious beautiful infant in a basket of pink ribbons.

It was a beautiful autumn day, a day like any other, Mary woke
with a start. Almost a nudge, really. Pulling the covers
away she stepped into her slippers, put on her robe, almost
in a hypnotic trance. Being drawn to the front door in the
middle of the night.

Walking down the stairs, not knowing what she might find, but
closer to the door, then opening.

Mary closed her eyes, afraid of what she might find.

Then a sound, crashing to her ears.

A cry.

Mary looked down to find a baby left in a basket
on her doorstep.

Inside the basket the baby had a note attached with
a safety pin. She looked desperately up and down the
street for any signs of life or who may have left the
baby on her doorstep.

Not a soul in sight.

Mary's eyes once again went to the baby in the basket, then
she took off the safety pin and opened the note.

"Dear Mary,

You do not know me, but I know you. I know you are a good
woman and will make a wonderful home for my baby. I
can't take care of her. I have to leave town because the man
I love was killed in the war. He never knew about the baby
and from what I hear from his friends, he soon forgot me
after he left. I can't stay here with a baby. The scandal and
how about my own family. You know them, but I won't reveal
their names because they deserve better than me. I brought
only shame and misery to their lives.

Mary, I beg of you. Give this child what I can never give

her. Love her. I called her Helen.

She is part of my soul. But now she is all of yours.

Thank you.

A friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mary's fingers touched the words that changed her life forever.

A little child on a doorstep that Anna never knew was not

her real sister. A long ago secret that must stay buried.

Not in shame but in love.