44 - Kathleen
Stanley parted the crowd like Moses.
His being a big blond Caucasian man had cast a spell of confusion among the mob. Then, the brighter among the protesters noticed the woman he was heralding, walking toward the clinic. The crowd gathered closer, ready to plead for the life of my unborn baby… until they noticed my gray hair and lined face, clues pointing to a ripe past-children-bearing age.
More confusion.
Step by step, I inched toward the porch. The upper steps were occupied by a well-dressed, white-bearded man with impeccable teeth who wasn’t a local, because after forty years I knew almost everyone at Safe Harbor. That one was an importation, an ally of the protesters.
When I put a foot on the porch, I got a whiff of rotten breath that came from the bearded man. Stan
