When we arrived, a woman in her early sixties opened the door.
The moment she saw George, she covered her mouth with her hand.
Her name was Susan.
She was George’s neighbor.
It turned out that people had been looking for him for several days.
George would sometimes manage to return home, only to wander off again and become lost.
Susan had contacted his son, who was already traveling there as quickly as he could.
George’s son arrived that same evening.
When he learned that Emily had spent the entire week helping his father, he could not speak for several moments.
Then he hugged my daughter.
“You probably have no idea what you’ve done for our family.”
Emily began to cry.
So did I.
But the story did not end there.
I explained Emily’s absences to the school. Of course, she still had to make up all the classes and work she had missed.