Quiet footsteps were heard in the alley. A petite elderly woman with a handbag wandered leisurely along the dusty path. Mrs. Ross stepped quietly over the uneven sidewalk. She must not stumble; otherwise, she could fall, and that could end badly at her age. She held the bag of groceries tightly in her hand.

It was still a long way to home. Of course, she could go by bus, but then she would have to pay the fare, and she didn’t have any extra money. Sick legs were bothering her more and more, and the elderly woman was walking even slower. The bag was getting heavier and heavier, and Mrs. Ross thought sadly of her son. If he were alive, he would never have left her alone.

When she finally reached her house, she sighed with relief. The woman walked inside and took off her worn-out shoes, but she did not even have time to go into the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Ross went out into the yard, opened the gate, and saw a strange 40-year-old man. He was looking at her with a heavy stare and was holding a small toolbox in his hands.

“Hello. Here on your street, people have problems with the gas, so I go around to identify the problems,” the man explained. Mrs. Ross looked suspiciously at the stranger. She was quite gullible, but everything can happen in life. It was better to keep herself safe, for she lived all alone.

“I didn’t call anyone. Why should I have an inspection?” Mrs. Ross asked. The man grinned through his mustache, saying, “You’ve got to be kidding me. I just need to see if your gas equipment is all in working state. Look, if you don’t, then it could be too late. Gas ain’t no joke. You might have a leak too, and you don’t know it.” The man spoke confidently, and Mrs. Ross hurriedly opened the gate, letting the man into the yard.

He entered immediately but glanced around the street anxiously before Mrs. Ross hurriedly walked towards the house, while the man kept looking around, carefully noting every detail. There were broken gardening tools by the fence, a pile of dry grass lay in the middle of the yard, and the steps to the house were crooked. On a small table, there was a closed can of paint, and a new brush lay beside it. It was evident that this house had no owner.

“What’s your name?” asked the elderly woman, trustingly opening the door to the house in front of the visitor. The man introduced himself as Zayn. “Come in, Zayn. Make sure everything is all right, or I won’t have anywhere to call afterwards. My phone was disconnected a long time ago. I couldn’t pay for it, so they cut off my connection,” sorrowfully lamented Mrs. Ross.

They entered the house, and Zayn, with a keen eye, immediately spotted a spare set of house keys hanging on a hook in the hallway. The man went into the kitchen and went straight to the gas boiler. He put his box on the floor with a smart look and proceeded to examine it. The elderly woman folded her arms across her chest and watched him anxiously.

After a few minutes, Zayn said that everything was fine with the boiler, but since he had already been here, he would also check the radiators in the rooms. The elderly woman would be absolutely calm, as gas is no joke. The elderly woman went ahead, and Zayn slightly lagged behind. Passing through the hallway, he quickly grabbed a bunch of keys from the wall and deftly hid them in his trouser pocket.

In one of the rooms, Zayn immediately saw a large antique icon in a gilded frame on the wall. He could see that it was an old thing and quite valuable. Thinking about how much it might be worth, Zayn pretended to check the radiators in the room for leaks while at the same time not forgetting to look at the interior of the room. All the furniture in the house was shabby and old. The chair by the table had a broken back, and the tablecloths were clean but had been used for decades. In the corner stood an old TV set covered with a gray cloth.

Zayn was a little upset to see such meager furnishings, but he had no choice. He really hoped that the icon was valuable enough to get into this house at night because of it. Finally, he finished his inspection and took the dust off his palms. “You can sleep easy. Everything is all right here,” Mrs. Ross breathed a sigh of relief. A stone dropped from her soul. She was so grateful to this kind man that she was ready to kiss him for joy.

“Oh, you made me feel better. I don’t know how to thank you,” at this point, the woman went pale. She did not ask how much his services cost and what to do now. She had almost no money left, and her pension was far away. Zayn saw that the woman was ready to cry and immediately realized what was bothering her. So he rushed to reassure her.

“No need to thank me. It’s my job, and I have to do it always and everywhere,” Mrs. Ross smiled appreciatively and decided to thank Zayn in her own way. “Please don’t refuse a lonely elderly woman. At least let me treat you to tea with pear jam. It’s so delicious, you’ll see.” Zayn felt uncomfortable. He was up to no good, and the elderly woman was so grateful to him as if he was a saint.

Before he could say anything, she had already dragged him into the kitchen. Mrs. Ross sat him down at the table and began to fuss. She put the old kettle on the stove and reached into the cupboard for a jar of jam. Then she took out a baguette and began to slice it. Zayn noticed that the handle of the knife was somehow wrapped in blue duct tape.

“Is there anyone to buy you a new knife or fix this one, at the very least?” Zayn asked to keep the conversation going. “Oh, Zayn, how can I have helpers? I’ve been living on my own for a long time. My husband died a long time ago. I have a son, but he died tragically when he was young. I have been living alone for many years,” and what happened to your son?”

Zane looked at the elderly woman with interest. Mrs. Ross sat down on a chair and sighed heavily. She wiped away the tears that had accumulated. “He died when he was 20 years old. I still blame myself for letting him study in the capital. I felt that this big city wouldn’t do him any good, and so it happened. He died in a fight defending some guy who was attacked by street hooligans. That’s the kind of misfortune that happened to him.”

Zane froze, and his heart beat faster. “And what was your son’s name?” he was afraid of the answer, but he asked nevertheless. “Henry. His name was Henry Ross,” Mrs. Ross wiped away a tear again. Zayn closed his eyes, sinking into a terrible memory. Yes, he knew the man. It was he who had saved him from the ruffians back then. It was Zayn who should have died then, but Henry took those ill-fated bullets in the chest instead of him.

The hooligans had done their dirty work and ran away, and Henry was left lying on the pavement. Zayn was holding his hand and remembered his last words very well. He said that his name was Henry Ross and asked him to give his mother farewell words of love. Zayn was frightened that the police would hang the crime on him and ran away. And now, twenty years later, Zayn was sitting in front of his savior’s mother.

The man was covered in sweat, his eyes blinking frequently to prevent tears of shame and sympathy from bursting out. He looked at the elderly woman and felt the bundle of keys burning through his pants. How could it be that he found himself in this house? Fate itself had brought him to this house where lived this lonely woman who ended up without relatives.

Mrs. Ross, meanwhile, poured strong tea for her guest, put aromatic jam on the loaf, and moved the plate closer to him. “Please treat yourself. I’m sorry I can’t feed you properly. I am not wealthy in treats myself.” Zayn was full of shame but began to eat heartily so as not to offend the elderly woman. She was so sincere and defenseless, and he thought to rob her.

Henry Ross, who saved him from certain death at the cost of his own life, had the same kind soul. Zayn struggled to finish his tea and was about to leave. Mrs. Ross got up to walk the guest to the gate. At the door, Zayn discreetly took the key out of his pocket and returned it to its original place. When the elderly woman followed him out into the yard, she saw Zayn standing thoughtfully in the middle of the yard.

“You know, I’ll come and see you tomorrow. You make the jam cakes you told me about, and I’ll help you out here in the yard. I can see that your staircase is all crooked. I’ll fix it and I’ll paint it, and the grass needs to be mowed. It’s so high, you can’t do it by yourself, but I’ll do it in a jiffy, and I don’t need any money. But I like your jam very much.” Mrs. Ross cried out, “Why don’t you have anything better to do than help an old woman you don’t even know? You have your own mother, so help her. Why should I take advantage of your kindness?”

“Do I deserve such a blessing?” Zayn grinned bitterly, ruffling his hair. “If you only knew how much you deserve it, and I couldn’t pay you back all my life,” he murmured softly and then said loudly so the elderly woman could hear him, “I don’t have any mother. I’m all alone, and I don’t have any relatives. So, I’ll help you, and you’ll treat me with a homemade meal. I don’t need money from you.”

Mrs. Ross looked at Zayn at a loss, not believing her happiness. Could it be that her son from beyond the world had sent her help in the person of this kind man? Otherwise, it could not be. After all, she had never met such kind people. She waved goodbye with a smile and hurried into the house to quickly put the dough for the pies.

Once in the room, she crossed herself in front of the icon and then began to do things. And Zayn walked down the street thinking of this kind woman who deserved much but settled for little. A fire burned in his eyes. He made a decision. This meeting was a sign to him. He would no longer steal but would find a normal job and help this woman who also saved his life. And he would be with her for the rest of his life.