Kay’s Story (Part Eight)

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Looking for the beginning of Kay’s Story?

 

• Kay (Part one) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
• Kay (Part Two) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
• Kay (Part Three) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
• Kay (Part Four) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
• Kay (Part Five) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
• Kay (Part Six) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)
• Kay (Part Seven) (thinkinlikegavroche.wordpress.com)

Kay’s feet were killing her. That was the main disadvantage to running a cash register all day long; no sitting down. The store seemed more busy than usual, but Friday was always the craziest day of the week anyway, so it was hard to tell.

She pushed a stray strand of mousey brown hair behind her ear and groaned internally as she glimpsed her next customer. Mrs. Peabody, town gossip extraordinaire. Her gray hair was impeccably coiffed and she wore a pink woolen sweater that she had knitted herself. At five feet tall and about sixty years old, she seemed as much a part of the landscape as the library, bank, or town hall.

“Why hello Kay, dear! Such a dreadful thing, that baby you found out back? I don’t know what this world is coming to! Why, in my day there were orphanages a plenty for unwanted children like that. Probably some young thing that got herself pregnant acting like a hussy. Young women have no idea what it means to be a lady nowadays. How is that baby doing anyway? Probably has all sorts of problems from getting dumped like that. Well? How is it?”

“Oh, she’s doing really well actually—“

Mrs. Peabody didn’t wait for Kay to finish. “Well, Dearie, I heard talk that you’ve been spending a lot of time over at that hospital. I hope you aren’t getting attached to that foundling. A good girl like you needs to get herself a husband soon and you don’t need any distractions. Just mind that you don’t get too involved. There are plenty of good organizations out there for children like that, I’m sure.”

Kay bit her tongue hard enough that she actually tasted blood. She scanned the gallon of milk and moved on to the case of fruit. Kay thumped it down into Mrs. Peabody’s cart a little harder than she usually would have.

“Miz Kay! I prefer to juice my fruit at home and not while I’m still in the store! Mind how you handle the produce.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Peabody. You know, the world is changing. Single women can adopt now, too. I don’t see how I’m hurting anything, caring about a child no one wanted. Matter of a fact, I dare say that you can find some fine examples of that in your Bible. It’s called love.”

For the first time Kay could remember, Mrs. Peabody looked speechless. Her mouth moved wordlessly for a moment and then she sputtered out a curt, “Good day.”

Kay turned to her next customer with the sinking feeling she might have said a bit too much for her own good.

To be continued…­

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