Emily's POV
The alarm dragged me from something that wasn't quite sleep. I'd been drifting in that gray space between unconsciousness and anxiety, where unpaid bills multiply and eviction notices pile higher.
My hand found the clock and silenced it. 5:47 AM.
The bedroom was still dark, the window showing only the faint orange glow of streetlights. Somewhere outside, a garbage truck groaned and hissed.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold against my bare feet—a shock that felt almost cleansing. I sat there for a moment, staring at my reflection in the mirror across the room.
Pale skin. Tangled honey-blonde hair that needed a cut I couldn't afford. Dark circles under my eyes that no amount of sleep would fix anymore.
I looked away.
"Mommy?" Lily's voice drifted through the wall.
I straightened immediately, muscle memory kicking in. Another day. Another performance of Everything Is Fine.
"Coming, sweetheart!"
Lily's room was warm despite the peeling wallpaper and the rug worn thin in the middle. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her curls messy and tangled around her face. She looked so much like her father, it made my heart ache.
"Is Grandma okay?" Her voice was careful, testing.
I knelt beside her bed, brushing a curl from her forehead. "She's still sleeping. How about you? Did you sleep well?"
She nodded, but her fingers worried at Mr. Hops' ear...the stuffed bunny Tom had won for her at a carnival three months before he died.
"She called me Sarah again yesterday," Lily whispered. "I think she forgot who I was."
My chest tightened. Sarah was my mother's sister, dead for fifteen years.
"Grandma has bad days," I said, keeping my voice steady. "But she loves you so much. You know that, right?"
Lily nodded, but her eyes stayed worried.
"Now," I said, forcing brightness into my tone. "Your mission today is to make sure I don't burn breakfast. Think you can handle that?"
A small smile. "You always burn the eggs."
"Exactly. So I need supervision."
She giggled, and the sound loosened something in my chest.
By the time we reached the bus stop, the morning had turned cold and gray. I knelt to adjust Lily's too-small scarf, trying to hide the worn out ends from her sharp eyes.
"Mommy, look."
Her voice was so quiet I almost missed it.
She lifted her foot.
The sole of her shoe had a hole the size of a quarter, the edges worn and frayed, her sock visible underneath.
My throat closed.
"Oh, honey..."
"It's okay." She lowered her foot quickly, like she regretted showing me. "It doesn't hurt much. Only when I step on rocks."
How long? How long had she been walking around like this? How long had she hidden it from me, not wanting to add to my burdens?
I cupped her face in my hands, forcing myself to meet those worried blue eyes.
"Don't you worry about a thing, sweetheart. I'll get you new shoes, okay? I promise."
"But Mommy, the bills—"
"No buts." I kissed her forehead. "You let me worry about that. Deal?"
She nodded, but the concern didn't leave her face.
The bus pulled up with a hiss of brakes and a cloud of exhaust.
"Bye, Mommy! I love you!" She waved from the steps.
"I love you too, sweetie!" I waved until the bus disappeared around the corner.
My smile died the moment she was gone.
I looked down at the cracked pavement, by bus stop sign.
New shoes. I'd find the money somehow. I always did.
---
Back home, I threw myself into my morning routines. Mom was awake but disoriented, staring at the television absentmindedly.
"Hey Mom, how are you feeling this morning?" I asked as I hugged her gently, whispering reassurances I didn't believe myself.
After settling her with breakfast and her morning pills, I rushed to get ready. I quickly changed into my scrubs, the fabric worn thin from too many washes.
As I rushed out the door, already late for my shift, I nearly tripped over a pile of mail I'd been avoiding. Bills, more bills, and... wait. What's this?
A thick, cream-colored envelope stood out among the white ones screaming "PAST DUE" in angry red letters. It carried no return address, just my name in elegant, handwritten script.
Curious, I tore it open, my hands trembling as I read the letter.
Dear Ms. Greene,
I represent a client who wishes to remain anonymous at this time. We have a unique employment opportunity for a caregiver position that we believe you are perfectly suited for. The position offers a salary that would more than cover your current financial obligations and secure your daughter's future.
If you are interested in learning more, please come to the address below on Wednesday at 2 PM sharp. Discretion is of utmost importance.
Yours sincerely,
Charles Bennett, Esq.
I read it again. Then a third time. My pulse quickened, the words blurring together as my mind raced. Who would send me something like this? And why?
The rational part of me screamed scam. Too good to be true. But the desperate part, the part drowning in overdue bills, Mom's pending medication I couldn't bring myself to go collect because of the cost, the hopelessness…wanted to believe it.
---
At work, I moved through my shift on autopilot. The nursing home smelled like antiseptic and boiled vegetables and something else I'd never been able to name—the smell of time running out.
"Your tea's too cold." Mrs. Carroll glared at me from her wheelchair, her papery hands clutching the armrests. "I asked for hot tea."
"I'll make a fresh pot." I kept my voice level, professional, even though I'd served the tea less than two minutes ago. Even though my feet ached and my back screamed and all I wanted was to sit down for five consecutive minutes.
"See that you do. And this time, try to get it right."
In the kitchen, I gripped the counter and counted to ten. Then twenty. At thirty, I felt steady enough to fill the kettle without throwing it.
"Rough morning?" Sam appeared beside me, already in his scrubs for the afternoon shift.
"Mrs. Carroll thinks I'm trying to poison her with cold tea."
"Ah." He nodded knowingly. "It's a Tuesday. She always thinks someone's trying to poison her on Tuesdays."
Despite everything, I laughed. It came out cracked and exhausted, but real.
"You look beat, Em." Sam's dark eyes held genuine concern. "When's the last time you had a full night's sleep?"
Five years ago, I thought. The night before the phone call.
"I'm fine," I said instead. "Just tired."
"You're always tired." He leaned against the counter, watching me prepare Mrs. Carroll's third cup of tea. "Have you thought about taking some time off? Even just a weekend?"
"Breaks don't pay bills." The words came out sharper than I intended.
Sam held up his hands in surrender. "Just trying to help."
"I know. I'm sorry." I pressed my fingers to my temples, where a headache was building. "It's just been a week."
"Yeah." He squeezed my shoulder briefly before heading out. "Hang in there."
The tea was still steaming when I delivered it to Mrs. Carroll. She took one sip and declared it too hot.
In the break room, I counted the contents of my tip jar and the crumpled bills from my purse. Twenty-three dollars and forty-seven cents. Not enough for the medication. Not enough for rent. But enough for shoes.
---
I walked three blocks to the discount store. The children's section was picked over...mostly sandals left, and winter boots two sizes too big. But there, on the clearance rack: pink sneakers with little stars on the sides. Size 2. Lily's size.
$19.99.
I clutched them to my chest like treasure.
"You look like you're carrying gold," the cashier said, scanning the tag.
"Close enough," I said.
Three dollars and forty-eight cents left.
---
The apartment was too quiet when I got home at eleven forty-seven PM.
I stood in the doorway, exhaustion weighing down my bones, and tried to process what I was seeing. The living room was clean. The dishes were washed. The scatter of Lily's homework that always littered the coffee table was gone.
A note sat propped against the salt shaker.
Emily,
I hope you don't mind, I let myself in with the spare key. Fed Lily and your mom dinner (just spaghetti, nothing fancy) and put them both to bed. Lily's homework is done. That girl is smart as a whip.
I saw what happened with Mr. Grissom yesterday. I'm so sorry, honey. I know things are hard right now, but you're not alone. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you reach out.
You're a good mother, Emily. Don't you forget that.
Love, Mrs. J
The tears came before I could stop them.
I pressed the note to my chest, overwhelmed by the simple kindness of it. In a world that took and took and took, here was someone giving freely.
I set the shoe bag on the table next to the note. A small victory in an endless war.
My phone was in my hand before I could second-guess it.
She answered on the fourth ring, her voice thick with sleep. "Hello? Emily? Honey, is everything alright?"
"I'm sorry for calling so late." The words came out in a rush. "I just got home and saw your note. I can't thank you enough..."
"Hush now. That's what neighbors do. What friends do."
"I don't know what I'd do without you." My voice broke.
"You're stronger than you think." Her voice was firm. "Now, was that all? Or is there something else? I can hear it."
I hesitated, then pulled the letter from my purse.
"Something strange happened today. I got a letter. About a job. A caregiver position."
"Well, that's wonderful! Isn't it?"
"I don't know." I stared at the elegant handwriting. "It's from a lawyer. They won't say who the client is. They want me to come to some address Wednesday at 2 PM. It feels wrong. Like a scam."
Mrs. Johnson was quiet for a moment.
"What does your gut tell you?"
"My gut says I'm desperate enough to walk into danger if it means keeping a roof over my daughter's head."
She chuckled softly. "Oh, honey. I hear you. But what if it's real? What if this is that miracle you asked for?"
"And what if it's not?"
"Then you walk away," she said simply. "But you'll never know unless you try. Go see what it's about. You're smart. If something feels wrong, you leave. But don't let fear rob you of a chance."
Her words settled over me like a blanket.
"You really think I should go?"
"I do. And I'll watch Lily and your mom Wednesday afternoon. You focus on yourself for once."
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. "Thank you."
"Get some sleep. You've got a big day coming."
After we hung up, I sat at the kitchen table for a long time, staring at the letter.
I placed the shoes outside Lily's door, a small surprise for the morning. Then I dragged myself to bed, the letter tucked safely in my purse.
Tomorrow. 2 PM. Whatever waited for me at that address, I had no choice but to find out if this was a blessing or just another cruel joke.