voice was bright. Cheerful. But I could see her chest heaving. I could see the way her arms trembled on the handle.
Just then, the mower hit a hidden clump of weeds, jerked, sputtered, and died with a long, tired groan.
Mrs. Higgins sighed and stared down at it like an old friend who had finally let her down.
I hesitated.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but I did.
The sun was baking the back of my neck. My back throbbed. My feet were swollen inside my sandals. And the very last thing I wanted, on the worst day I’d had in months, was to play the hero for somebody else.
A hundred thoughts rushed through my mind in a single second. The foreclosure. The empty closet. The bills tucked under my arm. Every way I had failed. Every way I was still failing.
For one heartbeat, I almost turned
around and went back inside.
But then I looked at her again. She was blinking fast, one hand pressed against her chest, struggling to catch her breath.
And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk away.
“Mrs. Higgins, do you want me to grab you some water?” I called, already walking toward her.
She waved me off, pride stitched into every line of her face. “Oh, heavens, no. I’m perfectly fine. I just need to finish this before the HOA starts their rounds this afternoon. You know how they are.”
I tried to laugh. “Don’t remind me.”
She grinned, but she didn’t let go of the mower.
“Seriously,” I said, stepping onto her lawn. The grass tickled my ankles. “Let me help. You shouldn’t be out here in this heat.”
She frowned at me, then pointedly at my stomach. “It’s too much for you, dear. You should be at home
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