A pair of new shoes II

　　All that week the sun continued to scorch the land. I watered my garden in the cool of the mornings, with e ach cupful willing the plants to grow and bear fruit. T his morning ritual of mine became my morning prayer. As I stooped in the garden with my pitiful cups of water, I prayed for Jack and Alice to find work; I prayed for Jack's safety on the road; I prayed for Jack's safety o n the road; I prayed for the forlorn, beaten land, and for the young man who had come and gone and had asked f or so little.

　　The week after his stop at my gate, I watered, as u sual. A hot, fitful breeze sent sheets of torn and dirt y newspapers scudding across the yard and into the cara gana(锦鸡属植物) hedge. Trapped in the branches, the papers flapped and rustled like large alien birds. As I crosse d the yard to gather them up, a flash of white in the m ailbox caught my eye. Jack, I thought immediately and h urried to the box.

　　The envelope bore no stamp, no name, and no address , but contained a message penciled on a scrap of brown paper:

　　To the lady in the garden:

　　I got a job at a warehouse after you fed me and let me rest.

　　You helped me feel and look respectable. Now, let m e help you.

　　Folded within the paper were three one-dollar bills . I stared at the money in my hand and saw again the yo ung man with tousled hair and dusty shirt. My lips bega n to quiver, but this was not the time for crying. "Ali ce, honey, please hurry," I called, as I ran into the h ouse. "You are going shopping for the best pair of shoe s you can find. You will be the neatest girl in Acme's lineup tomorrow morning!"

　　"Mama, are you awake? Are you ready for your birthd ay dinner?"

　　I open my eyes and see I am surrounded by the peopl e I love: gentle Alice, now gray and heavy; young Rebec ca, vivacious(活泼的) and pretty, and all the others, old and young.

　　"You were telling yourself a story, weren't you, Ma ma?" Alice says, teasing. "It must have been a happy st ory, Mama, you had a smile on your face."

　　As I struggle to my feet, Rebecca's new shoes slide off my lap and fall to the carpet with a soft thud.

　　by Elsie Phillips