She chuckled. “I have to. It keeps me going.”

“Me, too.”

She didn’t add why it kept her going. It was great for asthma attacks. If she had it soon enough, and strong enough, it could stop an attack dead. But Banks didn’t need to know that.

Halloween came, and Clancey walked the neighborhood with her little brother. He wore his costume. She went, as she’d told him she would, in her working clothes. There were still a few older people nearby who handed out candy, including the Martins, an elderly couple who were kind enough to let Clancey and Tad ride to church with them every Sunday. Tad got enough candy to last him for at least a week. Clancey only had one small chocolate bar and left the rest for him.

She was having some problems with her chest, but she kept using her medicines and taking over-the-counter stuff at night to fight the congestion. November meant colder weather, and she still didn’t have a proper winter coat. Oh, if only they handed them out for twenty-five cents, she thought whimsically. At least Tad had a good coat, even if it was used. She wrote his name all over the inside of it, just in case it got lost, and he made sure that he didn’t leave it behind when he went to school.

Clancey worried about Morris getting out. There hadn’t been any word about it, but it was on her mind. If he got early release, he might be home by Christmas. That didn’t give her long to plan. Whatever happened, she had to protect Tad.

One Sunday at church, not too long after Banks had driven them home from the movies, Brenda stopped Clancey as she was pushing elderly Mr. Martin out to the car in his wheelchair, with Mrs. Martin and Tad at her side. The elderly couple lived two doors down and attended the same church Clancey did. They’d invited her and Tad to ride with them over two years ago, a tradition that continued into the present. They were like the grandparents Clancey and Tad no longer had.

“I just wanted to say hello,” Brenda told her with a smile. “I never get time to talk to anybody at church.”

“I know what you mean,” Clancey said, smiling, too. “This is Rafe Martin,” she introduced the old man, who smiled and shook hands with Brenda. “And this is his wife, Vera.” The old lady smiled and nodded. “They’re our neighbors, and they’re kind enough to give us rides to church every week.”

“Which is no chore at all, since this kind young lady pushes me in my wheelchair,” the elderly man chuckled. “I don’t know what we’d do without her. She even brings us food when we’re sick.”

Clancey flushed a little but didn’t comment. Poor people looked out for each other.