Katie Strolled Past Shop Windows, Indulging Her Eyes with Culinary Delights, Imagining What Her Meager Purse Could Afford—It Soon Became Clear: She Had to Cut Back.

Kate Harper drifts past the shop windows, eyeballing the pastries and taking mental bites. She lets her mind wander, wondering what her skimpy wallet might actually buy. The answer is always the same: she must tighten her belt.

She once juggled three parttime jobs; now only one remains. After her mothers funeral she is left with not a penny to her name. In short, shes on her own. She has never married, and she is still studying for an accounting qualification.

Oddly enough, numbers have always made Kates stomach turn, but her father insisted she learn the trade. You wont get far without a solid profession, he said.

I like looking after people, you knowmaking their lives a little easier, cheering them up, Kate tells him meekly one evening.

Doctor, perhaps? That would be respectable. Doctors always earn respect, her father snaps.

No, I want to be a sister of mercy a…? she stammers.

Are you talking about a nurse? he asks, frowning.

Almost. I want to care for others, to be there for them, she tries again.

Caregiver? Cleaner? Have you lost your mind? You need a proper, prestigious job! Think of Napoleonaim high! he bellows, pacing the cramped kitchen.

Kate swallows the outburst and returns to her books. Numbers haunt her nights, swirling in her dreams, waking her in a cold sweat. She wants to tell her father that not everyone has to be a conqueror, that she just wants a simple life of helping, not battling.

When Grandma Margaret falls ill, Kate is the one who stays by her side the most. Aunt Gail grimaces, backs away, mutters that the room smells off. Kate cant understand why anyone would think a smell could be bad when its her grandmothers hands, always warm with the scent of fresh scones, garden herbs and honey. She tries to be gentle, reading stories, wiping her forehead, asking permission to do the laundry. Let me help, she says, determined.

When Margaret passes, the house erupts in wailing. Aunt Gail collapses, halfconvulsed, crying, Take her away quickly! Im scared of the dead! Kate slips into the bedroom, finds her grandmothers hand halfslumped, her face a faint smile. She presses her cheek to the cold skin and sobs.

Girl! Are you scared? Get out of here! her father bursts in.

No, Dad, Im crying because Ill miss her terribly. Shes at peace now, free of pain, in a beautiful place, Kate whispers.

What are you talking about? Beautiful? Shes dead, he replies, bewildered.

Kate wants to tell him that in a fleeting moment, when she shut her eyes over her grandmothers hand, she saw a golden field of wildflowers, a sunlit path leading to a white mansion with columns, and heard her grandmas voice: Thats it, dear. Im home now. Dont weep, my sunshine. She keeps the vision to herself, fearing it would upset her father.

She goes back to her accounting classes, but soon quits. She feels suffocated, as if shes living someone elses life. Then her father leaves home for another woman, and her mother, already fragile, collapses into endless tears and falls ill.

Kate begs her father to return, at least until her mother recovers. He mumbles something incoherent, turns pale, and finally says, Lifes short; you have to take everything it offers, before walking out the door.

Now Kate and her mother are alone. The relatives who once called her the eccentric one are surprised when she stops whining, stops complaining, and fights for every odd job she can find. She trains as a nurse, administers her mothers injections, tends to her, encourages her with a steady hand.

Unfortunately, her mothers nervoussystem illness progresses, leaving the woman unable to walk. Aunt Gail, passing by one day, hurls a tirade: Whats wrong with you, Kate? Youre still youngshould’ve found a husband by now. Youre just crawling around like a mouse, first after Grandma, now after Mum. Youre the one to blame; the men in this town abandon their wives, the fathers are nothing but goats. You should be ashamed!

Kate, usually shy, snaps back: Dont speak like that, Aunt Gail. Mum loves Dad deeply; she cant live without him. Hes her water, and without water you die. Ill care for her because shes my mother. Theres no man who can replace her. Mothers are our angels on earth. Dont insult my father; whatever happened, its his path. Hes still my dad, and I wont let anyone speak ill of him.

Aunt Gail stammers, Right, you fool, and waddles off.

Months later, Kates mother dies in her arms. A distant laugh drifts through the open window, lilac perfume fills the air, and on the bedside table lies Mums handkerchief, now empty of its owner.

Grey, sluggish days stretch ahead. Kate often looks up at the sky, seeing either angel wings or strange embroidered flowers that remind her of the patterns Mum used to stitch.

The house feels oppressively silent. Kate feels like a butterfly trapped in a cocoon, oblivious to the news outside. She wants to apply to the local hospital, but with only one job left and her strength waning, even walking feels like a chore. Without her mother, life feels unbearably bleak.

Kate! Hold on, Ive got news! calls Mrs. Eleanor Powell, her elderly neighbour, as she steps out of the flat. Dont listen to the gossip. Stay positive. Get some hens for the summer cottage, or take a trip to the coastcollect shells, hold one to your ear and youll hear the seas whisper. Find joy everywhere.

Kate nods and keeps walking. Down the stairs a young woman in a sleek white coat and trendy boots appears, exuding the scent of expensive perfume. She gives Kate a sharp look and snaps, What, you staring? Think youre better than anyone? Look at yourself!

Excuse me, youre very beautiful, and those perfumes are magical, Kate stammers, apologising. Im sorry, that was rude of me.

The woman turns to leave, but a voice behind her says, Hey, wait. Im sorry, my dad is seriously ill and Im lashing out. I need help, okay? Ill pay whatever you ask.

Its a scam, a lady in a long coat and pricey earrings snarls, pushing a shopping trolley. Dont trust her, shes a beggar pretending to be a mother.

The young mother with the stroller looks down, eyes welling, and whispers, My wallet fell out on the way home; I cant find it. Ive only got a few pennies left.

Kate feels a pang. Hold on, take this, she says, handing over the last of her cash. Buy some food and an icecream for the boy. She watches the woman disappear with the handful of coins, smiling as the child grabs a treat.

Later, a postal notification arrives. The sender: Matilda Nix, address: the small village of Willowbrook, the same place Kates grandmother hailed from. Kates hands tremble as she opens the parcel: a handstitched towel, a sachet of dried raspberries, dried mushrooms, tea, goldenwrapped sweets, a toy pig, and an old postcard.

Dearest Kate, the note reads, This is Matilda Nix, a lifelong friend of your Grandmother Margaret. We grew up together in Willowbrook, playing by the lake. One day we promised to send each other a package after a set number of years. I knew Id be gone soon, so I made sure this reached you. Im sending you an icon of the Virgin Mary; may it protect you. Your grandmother was a goldhearted woman and prayed for you to meet a worthy partner. No one should be alone. If you havent found yours yet, keep faith.

Kate clutches the icon, tears streaming, whispering, Forgive me, Ive been a failure, a loser, left with nothing but love for those Ive lost.

A knock bursts at the door. A young neighbour in a white jacket, Vicky, stands there, eyes wide. Hi, Im Vicky. My dads in the hospital, and the doctors keep refusing to give him an injection. Theyre swearing, and I dont know what to do. Could you help? Ill pay whatever you ask.

Kate explains she isnt a doctor. You cant just give an injection, its dangerous, she says. Vicky persists, Please, you seem kind. Ill pay.

Kate follows Vicky to a surprisingly upscale flat. The man in the bed looks about fiftyfive, stern, eyes cold. Vickys father, Victor, turns away as she tries to explain. Kate steps forward, speaking softly about perseverance, about how nothing ever truly ends, and how theres always someone to live for. Vicky nods, repeating, God will take care of us.

They all sit down to a mushroom soup made with the dried mushrooms and raspberries Kate brought, followed by raspberry tea. Later, Kate and Victor marry. He has enough money to live comfortably, yet she continues to work at the hospital, convinced its her calling.

Whenever she meets a patients desperate eyes, she whispers, God will take care of you. Just keep the faith.