Joel pressed his cheek to Kay's belly. "Happy New Year," he murmured.
Snow piled on my shoulders. It melted and seeped through my clothes.
By the time I was on the verge of passing out from the cold, the door finally opened.
Kay and Joel emerged hand in hand. She gave me my orders.
"Go help them carry the fireworks."
I staggered to my feet. As I passed Joel, my legs buckled and I pitched forward.
Joel's hand shot out instinctively—but Old Mrs. Gilbert cleared her throat, and he slowly pulled it back.
I slammed into the sharp edge of the steps. Blood flooded my eyes.
Johnny pinched his nose and backed away in disgust. "Beggar blood is full of germs. Grandma, make her leave."
My mind drifted to when Johnny was born.
He came early, so frail he looked like a kitten. It felt like he might stop breathing if I looked away for a second.
The doctors told me to prepare for the worst. I sobbed until I couldn't breathe, then dragged my still-bleeding body up the mountain to the temple everyone said granted miracles—crawling on my knees, bowing with every step.
After that, I couldn't let him out of my sight. I fed him, changed him, did everything myself.