The narrow lane that wound through the outskirts of Hallet Town was quiet now—overgrown with weeds and flanked by rusting fences. Most people had forgotten the man who lived at the end of it—the man with the crooked back and the kind eyes.
But for three women, now grown, that forgotten place was the center of a memory that would never fade.
His name was Mr. Jerome Ellis.
He wasn’t rich—far from it. He lived in a small wooden shack behind a crumbling shed with patchwork windows and a leaky roof. But every afternoon, without fail, he would set out three paper plates on a crate-turned-table and serve food—whatever he could scrape together—for three little girls who had no one.
Twenty-five years earlier, the neighborhood knew the girls only by whispers: Tammy, Tiara, and Joy. Their parents had died in a car accident on the state highway, and with no next of kin stepping forward, they’d bounced between foster homes often running away. They slept in….Read Full Story Here…………………
