It had never occurred to me that she carried part of the load.

For fifteen years she had lived right across from the little shelter.

She had given Lucas rides to appointments and sometimes let him do his laundry in her basement.

But her help had always happened quietly, inside the narrow space Patrick’s threats left everyone willing to stand in.

“Why didn’t you call anybody?” I asked her.

“A housing agency?

A social worker?”

She folded her hands.