The Stranger in the Storm: How One Act of Kindness Saved My Family

We went to the notary office downtown — the same one where my husband had once signed our mortgage. The clerk raised his eyebrows when I told him I wanted to transfer ownership.

“For how much?” he asked.

“One dollar,” I whispered.

He looked at me, puzzled. “Ma’am, your house is worth far more than that.”

“I know,” I said. “But this is what I need to do.”

When I looked up from signing the papers, Harold Brooks was standing in the corner of the office, holding a worn briefcase. He nodded once and handed the dollar to the clerk.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “You did the right thing.”

That was the last time I ever saw him.

The Fire on Maple Lane

Two days later, while unpacking boxes in our small rented apartment, I turned on the radio.