The spring storm started at about midnight and went on until just past three, and Scott knew this because he was awake the entire time. Thinking about Emily. He couldn’t resist the relief he felt to know that Mrs. Porter had moved out of town, and that he wouldn’t have to face her, too. She’d always been a kind woman, pleasant despite her circumstances, with a dullness in her soft gray eyes—the light having been replaced by sadness. For all the time that he and Emily had dated, her mother had always been off at one odd job or another, coming home harried and tired, but always with a smile on her face at the sight of her daughters. Mrs. Porter had always been kind to him, even as a child. He remembered the time when he was riding his bike down Willow Road and hit a rock, she had run outside to help him, inviting him to come sit on her front porch while she cleaned and bandaged his scraped knees, offering him a glass of cool, sweet lemonade with a reassuring smile.
