A Woman with a Baby Asked to Borrow My Phone on the Street
2 Days Later, the Police Showed Up at My Hotel Door
After 30 years teaching third grade, retirement left my Greenville home eerily quiet. My son David encouraged me to try something new, so I joined a pottery retreat in Charleston. Nervous, I arrived at a charming studio, my early attempts at bowls comically lopsided. On day three, carrying two decent creations, I wandered the historic district.
A young woman with a fussy baby asked to use my phone. Cautious, I dialed for her on speaker. She said, “It’s moving. One hour. You know where,” then hurried off. The cryptic call nagged at me. Two days later, police questioned me—she was Eliza, tied to an
investigation, and had vanished. On my last night, a note slid under my door from “E,” saying she and her baby were safe, her call sparking a federal case. I came to shape clay but left knowing small kindnesses can ripple far beyond our sight.