A week later, Lorraine found herself standing behind a table decorated with pitchers of lemonade and plates of cookies. It was a busy day for the Church, and Miss Moran rushed to each task as if her life depended on it.

   Her mother was not far behind. She was helping to organize the Church's yard sale, a local event in which all the members of their Church could bring their old nic naks, furniture, clothes and accessories to be sold for a low price to someone who needed it more. The funds would go towards the needs of the Church, which currently included fixing an expensive, stained-glass window that was broken in the last storm.

   "Here you go, Miss Pickard. Thanks for helping us out!" she chimed, watching as the young brunette sipped a glass of fresh lemonade.

   "Lorraine, I need you to help me with rest of these cookies, dear," her mother called. Her arms were wrapped around a stack of containers in which new batches of oatmeal cookies had been placed.

   Lorraine dashed to her mother's side, taking one of the containers. She set it on the table neatly and opened the container; in front of her, little Susie Wilkins was staring at the fresh batch.

   "Momma, I want a cookie," she pleaded, tugging on her mother's skirts.

   Her mother grimaced. She wouldn't look directly at Lorraine or anyone else for that matter, but Miss Moran could hear her say, "I'm sorry, dear, we don't have the money."

   A pang of pity struck Lorraine hard. She already knew that the Wilkins family was going poor, but she hadn't thought it could be that bad. The young clairvoyant had wanted so desparately to help Mrs. Wilkins, and Susie, but there were some things that even she couldn't see.

   A few months prior, Susie's father had joined the war effort. After a week in the army, two men came to Mrs. Wilkin's door; her husband had gone MIA, missing in action, and there was little hope that he would be found. Since then, Mrs. Wilkins had took a job at one of the local factories in order to feed her family.

   "Susie," she spoke, in a louder tone than she meant.

   "Yes, Ma'am?"

   "I'd like to give you a free cookie, just for being here today," Lorraine said, smiling.

   "But- but what about everybody else?" she asked, hugging her Raggedy-Anne closer to her chest.

   Lorraine's gaze drifted to the people around her. Only Susie's mother had taken noticed of the situation. "I doubt anyone's going to complain about you getting a free cookie. And if they do, you just send them to me."

   Susie smiled. "Thank you, Miss Lorraine."

   "You're welcome, dear." Lorraine started to walk back to her mother when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned to catch a somber gaze in Mrs. Wilkin's eyes.

   "Thank you, girl. It means the world to her," she paused. "If you ever need anything, just come to me. I'll be glad to help."

   Lorraine tilted her head to one side. Her eyes brightened and her lips relaxed as she watched Mrs. Wilkins walk away. Then, just when she thought she'd seen the most beautiful thing in the world, she saw Susie pass the cookie to her mother. "I want you to have it."

   The clairvoyant's eyes squeezed shut. She cried silently to herself. Why do you have to go and be so sensitive? she asked herself. Lorraine tried blaming all her tears on the war and her teenage hormones, but something else had been raging inside her for four years, and it had become a burden that she feared she could not cope with.

   "Lorraine? Lorraine Moran?" a voice questioned.

   Lorraine glanced up at the familiar voice. "Ed?"

   "Hey, why the long face?" he'd asked.

   "Oh, it's nothing. Just-- personal things," she muttered, folding her hands in her lap neatly.

   "Sure you don't want to talk about it? I've been told I'm a good listener."

   "I don't think that's a good idea," she admitted, pulling away from him.

   "Look, I know you hardly know me, but maybe it's better that way. After all, I can't be biased toward you, and you can be biased toward me, either. I'm sure it's nothing too big for me. I've heard some stories."

   She grinned, despite her red, puffy eyes. "Why do we keep meeting like this?" she asked.

   "I don't know, but I'm sure God knows."

   She stiffened. "I don't see you around the church much."

   "I- I don't want to make excuses, but my father was drafted into the war. I have myself, my mother, and my two sisters to support. I just- haven't had time for it, lately," he paused. "To be honest, my father was never much of a church goer. He went only when mother pleaded with him. She takes the girls, but I stopped coming a long time ago."

   "That's a shame," Lorraine stated, meaning it wholeheartedly. "We could really use a worker like you."

   "You don't even know how I work, Lorraine Moran."

   "I wish you'd just call me Lorraine," she said, ignoring his statement.

   "Lorraine it is."

   She laughed. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open. Lorraine could hear her father saying, "You'd better shut that fly trap, girl, or your face will be stuck like that."

   "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice edged with concern.

   "You, Ed. You're funny. I'd be tempted to say that you're the most humorous person I've ever met."

   He puffed up his chest proudly. He uttered a joke that he recalled from the paper; Lorraine had already read it, but laughed anyways. The two chatted on until Lorraine's mother came to get her, telling her that there had been an accident and one of the girls had dropped a whole plate of cookies.

   "Sorry, Ed, I've gotta go help with cleanup. I'll see you around."

   "Wait!" he'd yelled, grabbing her arm. Mrs. Moran huffed disapprovingly. "Uh, sorry," he stuttered. "I just thought I might ask..." his gaze drifted to Mrs. Moran. "I'd like to take Lorraine to lunch sometime, with your permission...and hers."