There was a heaviness about James, like life had just beaten him down so many times he couldn’t find the strength to explain. “Where do you live?” I asked, stirring the pot. But he just shook his head and sipped on the tea I’d made.
When it was time to eat, I set the bowl in front of him, sat with him until he was done, and then went to bed. I didn’t know whether to lock my bedroom door, but I couldn’t get my mother’s voice out of my head. “Don’t be stupid, Celia.
So I did. But deep down, I knew James wouldn’t hurt me.
He seemed like a gentle bird who had flown into a storm and injured itself. He needed care. And warmth.
The next morning, I made us some eggs and toast and sat down with James. “Look, it’s not much, but I have some money for you. And a bus ticket.
It’s an open bus ticket. It may sound silly, but my mom got it for me when I moved here. It’s in case I need to get out of town in an emergency.
It’s for two towns over. You’re welcome to it. It should help to get you somewhere… safe.”
James looked at the money on the table and then stared at me for a long moment.
“One day,” he said quietly. “I’ll repay your kindness, Celia. You’ve done more than you’ll ever know.”
I smiled, thinking that I’d never see him again.
We paid our bills, saw our kids through school, and tried to keep the lights on when times got tough. That stormy night became just another story I’d occasionally tell. It was a passing memory that seemed so small compared to the whirlwind of life.
And then yesterday happened. It was a peaceful Sunday evening. I was curled up on the couch, half-watching a rerun of Jeopardy!, when I heard a knock at the door.
The kids were in their rooms, talking to some pen pal my daughter, Kennedy, had befriended, and Jason was yet to return from his fishing trip. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I peered through the window first. A man stood on the porch in a sharp navy suit, holding a leather folder under one arm.
He looked professional, polished, and like he belonged in a boardroom, not at my doorstep. My first thought was whether he was here from the bank. I was behind on paying my credit card.
I opened the door cautiously. “Hello, can I help you?” I asked. The man smiled, his eyes warm and familiar.
“Oh, I think you already did, Celia. Many years ago.”
It took me a second, but then it clicked. My hand flew to my mouth.
