Chapter One—Philadelphia, October 1975

“May I help, Mrs. Williamson?”

Lavinia Williamson continued folding the laundry and replied without looking up, “Thank-you, honey, but I am doing just fine.  Have you finished your homework?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why don’t you go to your room and read one of those books your daddy bought you last week.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lavinia heard the slight disappointment in the nine-year old girl’s voice, and listened to the fading footsteps as the child retreated down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom. Lavinia sighed.  She had her own troubles.  Her own children needed more than she had to give, especially Terrence whose asthma meant frequent trips to the ER at Dr. Porter’s hospital.  He had helped her with some of those bills and had made sure that her son got good care.  She had been thrilled at the extra income when the doctor asked in June that she work full time and she had a good idea of the situation in which she would find herself.  .  Lavinia felt that a good Christian woman should tend to the doctor’s daughter.  She promised herself that she would, when she was less tired. 

Lavinia could tell that the child was lonely.  It oozed out of her and, at times, Lavinia feared she would get pulled into the child’s neediness.  She kept as much distance as she could.  Lavinia was an excellent housekeeper.  The home was spotless, the clothes and linens always laundered, ironed and stored away, the pantry full, and tasty nutritional; meals were left warming each weeknight for father and daughter.

Lavinia knew what her pastor would tell her, but a man who earned his living preaching, with a wife to tend to his needs and to his children, could not possibly understand how drained she was.  There was not another single piece of her heart to spare after her own family took their shares, and she could not bear to absorb one more person’s pain, no matter how young and blameless.

As she moved from linen closet to bedroom, putting the folded laundry in its proper places, Lavinia took only cursory notice of the house’s now usual quiet.  She turned on lights in the hallways and living room, in her attempt to liven the house and make it less foreboding.