He probably knew how others viewed Ms. Abby. Yet, he saw her as a real person who could teach him things.
I was raising a great kid! I thought, and my earlier concerns faded. Gerry kept going to Ms.
Abby’s and came back with something new each day. He was learning a ton, and he seemed so happy. Maybe he’ll grow up to be a pastry chef.
I was picturing my son on a baking show when he ran in, waving an envelope. “Look, Mom! Ms.
Abby’s paying me!”
My eyebrows shot up, but I stayed quiet as he pulled out a $10 bill from the envelope. “What do you mean paying you?”
“She said since she’s eating too, I should get some cash,” Gerry explained, grinning at the bill. “That’s… kind of her, I suppose.
But buddy, I’m not sure. She’s already buying ingredients and teaching you. Did you do any extra tasks for her?”
He shook his head.
“Nope, I just mix stuff,” he said, scratching his head. “Oh! I also help dry dishes after she washes them.
It’s tricky because she doesn’t have a dishwasher…”
Gerry rambled on while I tried not to overthink it. It felt off to let him keep her money. But was there any harm?
The next week, though, things got stranger. Gerry came home with another envelope, this time with $20 inside. I couldn’t ignore it now.
Something wasn’t right. An old, likely retired woman had to be on a tight budget. Why was she paying him?
What was going on over there? So, I sat him down, keeping my tone gentle. “Gerry, buddy, I really need you to tell me what’s happening at Ms.
Abby’s. Why does she keep giving you cash? What’s going on at her place?”
“It’s for the help I’m giving her.
Right? The chores, like you said? Isn’t it?”
“Maybe, but she’s already spending on ingredients and guiding you.
Taking more from her doesn’t feel right. Are you sure it’s just baking? You can tell me.”
“No, Mom!
She just… she just likes baking with me,” he said, but looked away. He started fidgeting, like he always did when he was hiding something. “Gerry…” I said firmly.
“Okay… we’re doing something else. But it’s a surprise. It’s good, but I can’t tell you.”
“No, Gerry.
You can’t keep secrets from your mom,” I said, getting serious. “I don’t think you should go back until I talk to her.”
“Wait! No!
Mom, you’ll mess up the surprise! Please!” Gerry begged. “I’ll give back the money, but please don’t.
The surprise is almost done!”
I sighed and nodded, but I wasn’t dropping it. I mulled over the situation while Gerry was at school the next day. I’ll admit, my mind wandered to dark places.
What if Ms. Abby wasn’t just being “friendly”? What if she had other motives?
After driving myself crazy, I called Mrs. Gretchen, who lived a few houses down from Ms. Abby.
I asked if I should stop Gerry from going over there. She laughed after I explained. “Annalise, come on.
Ms. Abby’s not some creepy old lady like the kids think. Be happy you’ve got a son who likes hanging out with older folks.
Send him to my place if he wants to do chores.”
That didn’t help. I needed to know what was really happening. But I didn’t want to let Gerry down, so I made a plan.
When Gerry got home from school, I told him I’d walk him to Ms. Abby’s. He was a bit puzzled but shrugged as we headed over.
When we got close, though, he ran inside, and I didn’t even get a chance to talk to Ms. Abby before he shut the door with a quick wave and a “bye” to me. Instead of heading home, I circled the house.
The drawn curtains were an issue, but at the back, I found a small gap where I could peek inside. What I saw made my jaw drop. Gerry was there, but he and Ms.
Abby weren’t in the kitchen. They were at a table, with papers—maybe photos—spread out in a circle. Ms.
Abby was there, too, looking over his shoulder and giving him instructions. Something about the scene sent chills down my spine. Was this some kind of strange ritual?
It was so bizarre, but I finally had proof they weren’t just baking! I couldn’t stay hidden anymore, so I went to the back door and found it unlocked. I burst in, ready to protect my son.
“What in the world is going on here?” I shouted, storming toward them. Ms. Abby’s face went pale as a ghost.
“Annalise, I… I wasn’t expecting you…”
I ignored her. I saw the papers on the table were photos, and my heart sank at what they showed: me and Gerry, all over town. Some were straight from my social media, but others were candid—at block parties and around the neighborhood.
A few were just of him, and I was horrified. God, what had I let my son walk into? I didn’t have time to figure it out.
I had to act fast. “I’m calling the cops!”
“No!” Ms. Abby begged, but I was already dialing.
Gerry’s eyes were wide, his face red with embarrassment. But I didn’t care. I was his mom, and I knew better.
I was outside with Gerry when the police arrived. Two officers stepped out, and I explained what I knew, which wasn’t much and probably confused them. Still, they took my worries seriously and went into Ms.
Abby’s house. “Mom,” Gerry tried to speak for the hundredth time. “Quiet, buddy,” I said.
“I know you think it’s fine. But it’s not.”
We waited several minutes in silence before one officer came out. She had a soft smile, which confused me, and said I needed to hear the old woman’s explanation.
I didn’t want to go back in with Gerry, but I wasn’t leaving him with a stranger, even a cop. “Annalise, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Ms. Abby began when I stepped inside.
“Really? Then maybe don’t tell my son to hide things from me as a ‘surprise,’” I snapped, and the officer shot me a tired look. Ms.
Abby’s hands trembled as she reached for a photo on the table. “I know I should’ve told you sooner, but… I didn’t know how,” she said in a heavy voice. The officer gave her a kind nod, and I felt my anger bubbling, but I held my tongue, waiting for her to go on.
Ms. Abby took a shaky breath and looked at Gerry. “Your son… he reminds me of my own grandson,” she said softly.
“He passed away a few years ago, with my daughter. He was about Gerry’s age, and I’ve been alone since.”
All the air left my chest. But I wasn’t ready to let it go.
“I-I’m sorry for your loss, but that doesn’t explain the money and the photos of us.”
She nodded, looking down. “Gerry mentioned your birthday coming up, and one of the best gifts I ever got was a scrapbook. He loved the idea.
He collected those photos from the computer, I think, and some neighbors. I gave him money to print them at his school’s library.”
My anger faded as everyone looked at me. I glanced at Gerry, who was slightly smiling, though disappointed.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Gerry?” I asked. “I wanted it to be a surprise, and I took photos from your private box,” Gerry said, shrugging. “Ms.
Abby said I should say the money was for helping with baking.”
“That was my mistake,” Ms. Abby added. “The truth would’ve been better.
But… your boy has been a blessing these past few weeks after years of shutting myself away. I was just trying to help him as much as he’s helped me. It felt nice to have a secret like I did with my grandson.”
My heart tightened, and my face warmed as the truth hit me.
I’d gotten it all wrong. Worse, I’d let my fears run wild. The officers left after I apologized over and over.
I took a deep breath once it was just the three of us. “I’m sorry for ruining the surprise, Gerry,” I said to my son, who I knew had already forgiven me. Then I turned to the older woman.
“I’m sorry for thinking the worst about you. Maybe we can finish the scrapbook together. As an apology?”
Ms.
Abby’s face brightened, and her eyes got teary. “I’d love that.”
And just like that, my world felt right again. But even better, we saw Ms.
Abby start to open up soon after. She began tending her plants, chatting with passersby, sharing cookies with other kids, and even helping watch them once word spread she was great with children. Block parties were a bit much for her, but she sent food with me.
She might never be the chattiest person, but this was more than enough. My son helped her get there, and that kind of heart shows he’s truly a wonderful person.
