“That night you met her,” Margaret added, “she was driving home to us with Daniel asleep in the car. She’d left with almost nothing. Just some clothes and whatever money she had in her wallet. She was terrified and ashamed, and she didn’t want to call us until she absolutely had to.”
My chest felt tight listening to them.
“When she ran short at your register,” Robert said, “she thought that was it. That she’d have to put things back, that she’d failed at the very first step of starting over. But then you helped her. You didn’t ask questions or make her feel small. You just helped.”
Margaret’s voice cracked a little. “When she got here that night, she couldn’t stop crying. She kept telling us about ‘the gas station man’ who told her to get home safe. She said it felt like the first time in years that someone treated her like a human being instead of a problem.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“We sent that check because you deserve it,” Robert said firmly. “You helped bring our daughter and grandson home. You gave her dignity when she felt like she had none left.”
I shook my head. “I can’t accept that kind of money. I was just doing what anyone would do.”