“She never asked questions in front of anyone,” Claire explained.
“She just handed them an apron.”
The women washed cucumbers.
Peeled garlic.
Filled jars.
And eventually, they talked.
Some were frightened of their husbands.
Others had nowhere else to go.
Grandma listened.
Sometimes she helped them find somewhere safe.
Sometimes she simply gave them dinner and a bed.
“She used to tell me that a woman needs somewhere she can speak without being told she’s imagining things.”
Claire turned the silver ring over.
“One summer, a woman asked Grandma to keep her wedding ring. She couldn’t bear wearing it anymore, but she wasn’t ready to throw it away.”
Grandma wrapped it in cloth and put it safely in a drawer.
Years later, when Claire began helping women herself, she remembered that moment.
“Helping women?”
“You know the community group I volunteer with?”
I nodded.
I’d always assumed she helped with neighborhood projects.
