Inside, I grabbed two sandwiches, a couple of hot teas, and this cheap fleece blanket they had stacked near the register. When I got back to the car, Kristy’s eyes were wet again.
“I’ll pay you back,” she insisted. “I promise… I’ll…”
“Just keep your little one warm.”
She wrapped Amelia tighter, and the child’s fingers curled around the fabric. “Why did you stop? When nobody else would?”
I thought about that for a moment.
“Because someone needed help. You don’t just walk away like that. That’s enough reason, isn’t it?”
“Most people don’t think like that anymore.”
“Maybe they should,” I said serenely.
We ate the sandwiches in silence while I drove, and Kristy gave me directions to an address on the far side of town.
The house was small and dim when we finally pulled up, tucked at the end of a quiet street.
Thank God.”
Kristy turned back to me one last time. “You saved us. You really did.”
“Take care of each other,” I said softly.
They disappeared inside, and I drove away feeling oddly peaceful.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and I remember thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’d done something that actually mattered.
I thought that was the end of it. But fate had other plans.
***
A black SUV. Big, expensive-looking, parked directly across the street.
The engine was off, but the headlights glowed faintly, like it had just arrived. I stared at it for a while. But the vehicle wasn’t moving.
It was just sitting there. Waiting.
My stomach clenched. Who parks like that?
Who just sits there watching?
A part of me wondered: Had Kristy’s husband found out I’d helped her? Was this him, watching from the shadows, deciding what to do next?
I moved away from the window, suddenly aware of how exposed I was. Should I call Adam? Should I call the police?
Then the doorbell rang.
Once. Twice. Then again and again, urgent and insistent.
My stomach tightened.
Adam was out jogging in the park nearby, and Cleo was still asleep upstairs. I tightened my robe and crept toward the door, every safety lecture Adam had ever given me running through my head.
I opened it slowly.
Two people stood on my porch — an older couple, probably in their late 60s. The man wore a beige overcoat and polished shoes, and the woman had on a neat blue dress with a strand of pearls.
They looked nervous but calm, like they’d rehearsed this.
“Good morning,” the man said with a polite smile. “Are you Marta?”
“Yes.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Can I help you?”
The woman clasped her hands together, and her expression softened.
“We’re Kristy’s parents. The young woman you helped last week. On the highway.”
My breath caught.
For a split second, I thought something terrible had happened. “Is she okay? Is Amelia..?”
“They’re safe,” the man said quickly.
“We’re here because of you.”
“Because of me?”
“May we come in?” the man asked gently. “Just to talk for a moment.”
I hesitated. “Do you have an ID?”
The man didn’t look offended at all.
In fact, he nodded approvingly and pulled out a leather wallet. Both of them showed me their licenses. Everything checked out — names, photos, the resemblance to Kristy.
“Alright,” I said, stepping aside.
“Come in.”
They wiped their shoes carefully on the mat and followed me to the kitchen. I put the kettle on. It felt like the right thing to do.Continue reading…
