School Janitor Dies Alone in Poverty, Next Day His Children Each Find a Million Dollars in Their Accounts — Story of the Day

Roman worked as a janitor in the later years of his life. When he dies, he dies alone – he and his wife are separated, and his children live with her. But what happens when they discover a large sum of money transferred into their accounts?

Roman gathered all the cleaning equipment that he needed. Some of the children had graffitied the entire Avengers team across the back wall of the administrative building. He had been so impressed by the artwork that it hurt him to cover it up. But he didn't have a choice.

The principal would have no issue making an example of the children, giving them detention, and whatever else crossed his mind when he was dishing out the punishment.

Instead, Roman took out his old and battered Polaroid camera from his large overcoat, something that his mother used to use back when he was a young boy, and took a photo of the artwork. He decided to keep watch over the area after the paint was removed, and when he discovered who the artists were, he would give them the photograph as a memory of their talent.

Roman clicked the photographs, a second one to keep for himself, and then rolled up his sleeves, ready to tackle the paint. The principal had given him strict instructions.

"Remove the paint, Roman," Mr. Donovan had said. "If soap and water don't cut it, you'll just repaint the wall. Do you understand?"

Roman nodded to the man.

"Yes, Sir," he said. He wondered how Donovan's attitude toward him would change if he knew who Roman was. He didn't even know that the school – St. James' Boarding School – was named after him. Donovan just hated these kids. Even Roman had to admit that they were made of wealth, but they were children who had been shipped off to a boarding school at the edge of a small town.

Roman knew that for most of these children, their parents just wanted to send them away to learn – out of sight being out of mind. He had seen it for himself, whenever the school had important activities where invitations were sent out to parents, there were very few who actually made the effort to come to the school and see their children.

"They're a bunch of misfits, all of them," Ophelia always said, especially if someone had given her attitude or questioned the meal options during mealtime in the cafeteria.

Ophelia was the head cook, or 'private cook' as the school brochure said. She loved her job, and Roman knew she did, even though she would complain about the students whenever the opportunity arose.

"They're not that bad," Roman said one day when they were sitting on an old bench just after the lunch rush. They were surrounded by pine trees and fallen pinecones. Roman remembered loving this spot for his entire life.

"They truly are. You're just feeling sorry for them because you grew up here," she could say. Ophelia was one of the few people who knew the truth about Roman.

"That may be true," Roman said. "But they're lonely. They don't know love and support from their parents, at least not in the conventional way. So, that's what I do."

"And they listen to a janitor?" Ophelia asked, her eyebrows raised enough to tell Roman that she would burst into laughter at any moment.

"Some of them do, I'm telling you," he said. "It's the little things. The little bits of advice and care. You should try it, and you'll see for yourself."

"And how would I do that?" she asked.

"I don't know," he ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "Maybe pay attention to the children who ask about the food."

"But that drives me crazy!"

"Not the ones who tear you apart about the meal preparation and whether things are gluten-free. No, the ones who ask about the food combinations and the herbs and spices."

"Oh, I get it. You think we have aspiring chefs here?" she laughed, the laughter finally releasing and taking over her body.

"Hey, Lia, this is where they can dream, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever you say, Roman."

The next day, when Roman was trudging across the school lawns from his cabin, he felt very winded. He knew he had been getting tired much quicker than he used to. But he knew that age was catching up with him. It was just one of those things, and even if he wanted to try and slow it down, it was impossible.

Roman needed to sweep the hallways and check the bins before he got ready for the lunch hour. He knew that Ophelia preferred when he was there – ready to mop up any spills immediately. If not, the students walked over everything, creating a mess that often took him hours to clean up, which always delayed his entire routine.

He also needed to get into town and buy himself a new coat. His current coat looked like it had been attacked by feral cats - all worn and frayed at the edges. He looked like a man who didn't have any money to his name.

"Roman!" Donovan boomed from his office as Roman walked by with his broom.

"Yes, Sir?" Roman asked, sticking his head in the room. "Do you need anything?"

"No, just checking that the graffiti has been removed?"

"Yes, it's all wiped out. It didn't take much," he said.

"Oh, I know that tone. You disapprove, don't you? You would have preferred to keep it on the wall? Right, old guy?" he laughed coldly.

"Well, I just think that it was creative, and these kids should be allowed to be themselves," Roman said.

"If we allow that, your job would be more difficult. You would have a lot more work to do. As it is, since we threatened them with detention, didn't the graffiti stop in the bathrooms?"

"Yes, Sir," Roman said.

He hated it. He hated all of this. This school was his, and it had been built with his family's blood, sweat, and determination decades ago. Roman was the person in charge, but Donovan didn't know that. In fact, nobody did. They knew that a 'St. James' was in charge, but nobody had ever made the connection with Roman, and he was perfectly happy with that.

He made all the significant decisions through email from his computer in the cabin - his computer being the only new thing within those walls. But more than that, he just let Donovan take control.

He knew it sounded foolish, and his family had gotten enough drama over his decision. But the truth was that Roman did not believe in taking positions of power. Instead, he wanted to be behind the scenes. He had grown up as a privileged and entitled young man – all which had begun as a student at this school.

When he left school, he was eager to get into a world that was kinder to people with deep pockets. But as he grew character, he learned that there was little joy in doing so.

After Roman's father grew too old to be the school principal, Roman's uncle had taken over.

"Of course I will. I have to keep the St. James legacy going on in all its glory," his uncle had said.

Roman was grateful because it meant he could travel and live before settling down and deciding what to do with the school. When Roman had had his fair share of world wonders, he moved back to the town, wanting to watch how his uncle ran the school without getting directly involved.

When Roman moved back, his fiancée, Blair, accompanied him.

"It will be an adventure," Blair said when he told her about moving back.

"I don't know if it will be your scene," he said. "Yes, it's an elaborate boarding school for rich kids, but at the edge of a small town, it's not your usual hangouts."

"I know," she said. "But it will give me enough time to paint."

And paint she did. Roman watched her take over their apartment, painting different landscapes and portraits of people she dreamt of.

This isn't enough for her. It's not going to be enough, this small-town life, he thought one evening, watching her paint.

But Blair lasted longer than he thought. They married on the school grounds in the fall, reminding Roman of his childhood, running around the school and stamping into the giant piles of leaves the staff had swept up.

Roman swept the hallway and got himself tidied up for lunch hour.

"Ready to deal with the kids?" Ophelia asked as she tucked her hair beneath the thick hairnet she wore.

"Yes, I love listening in on snippets of their conversations," he said. "Not in a weird way, but in one that reminds me of adolescent problems."

"You miss it?"

"Adolescence? No! But it makes me nostalgic for my children's years here."

"And how are the little St. James' children?"

"Not so little. Seth is twenty-one, and Bailey is twenty-three. They said they would visit town by the end of the month. Let's see."

As Roman added water and Ophelia's cleaning solution to his mop bucket, he doubled over in a coughing fit.

"Hey, you okay there?" Ophelia called out from behind the food counter.

"Yes," he spluttered. "I think I'm coming down with something."

"Do you need to sit down or want some water?"

"No, I'll be fine in a minute," he said.

Roman felt excited when the bell rang loudly across the school campus. It was strange to be excited about mopping up spilled food. He knew that. But it was also so much more. He enjoyed being around these children because it reminded him that he was a father despite not seeing his children so often.

"I don't understand why you just won't call it a day at the school and get out," Seth told him on the phone a few months ago after Roman had had a coughing fit.

"I'm happy here, Seth," he said hoarsely.

"But you're alone there."

"And so are these kids," Roman said.

Seth hung up shortly after that. Roman knew that his family was tired of it all – but the truth was that he didn't have anyone else, even though Blair still called and checked up on him, and his children were around – they were closer to Blair.

And whenever Roman visited them during the school holidays, he always felt like he was on the outside, looking into his family.

*

Roman stood in the corner, next to the food counter, and spoke to the students as they walked past. He heard some grumbles about the food options as trays were carried to tables.

After a while, he began to walk around, picking up discarded lunch trays and mopping up spilled milk and orange juice as he went along.

"Thanks, Mr. Roman," a little girl said when he asked her to pick up her feet so that he could mop under her table.

"You're most welcome, Zoe," he said. "How's your little teddy bear? Did you manage to get the mud off him?"

"I did what you said. I washed him with warm water and soap. He looks new again!" she grinned.

"Listen, Roman, I get it. I understand why you want to stay here, and I think you're brilliant at getting through to these kids. But I just can't do it anymore," Blair told him one morning when they were at their apartment close to the school.

"What do you mean? Can't do what?" he asked.

"I can't be stuck in a little town anymore. You said it at the beginning, and I truly believed that we could have made it work, but the thing is – my painting is doing so well. I'm getting all these offers from Galleries, so I can't have the small-town life anymore."

"I understand," Roman said somberly. "What about the kids?"

"I know how important their school life is to you – and that you want them to walk through the same childhood that you had. So, let's keep them in the school. They can come for the school holidays with me, and I'll try and come back every few weekends. When school is over, they can decide where they want to be."

Roman watched Bailey help Seth put his school blazer on. He knew it was only a matter of time before Blair realized she needed more. He was lucky that they had lasted long enough to have their children and have them settled at the school already. He felt fortunate that she was not taking their children away from him.

"Okay, I understand. Let's talk about it later, okay?" he said. "Come on, kids, let's go!"

Roman walked around the school grounds after lunch. He had to pick up all the litter before returning to the toilets. He prided himself on ensuring that the bathrooms were cleaned at all times during the day; it would make his mother proud.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Roman asked a boy who was trying to hide himself between the trees.

"Yes, but it's chemistry, Mr Roman," he said, making a face.

"Oh, I hated chemistry, too," Roman said. "But it's useful when you get older."

"How so?"

"Well, it helped me work out the best cleaning solution – you know, by mixing different products," Roman said.

"It really helped?"

"Yes! Do you know how dangerous it is to work with these chemicals? And mixing them together? They could lead to terrible skin burns," he asked.

Roman took off his gloves and showed the boy his hands.

"And see," he said. "My hands are happy and burn-free."

"So, I should get to class then?" the boy asked, pulling at his backpack.

"Yes, come on," he said. "I'll take you to class."

Roman walked the boy to his class, apologizing for being late.

"Sorry, Sir, he was helping me carry my cleaning things," Roman told the teacher.

Then, he winked at the boy and walked away.

"So, Mom's not staying with us anymore?" Bailey asked when they were all sitting down to dinner at the apartment.

"I'll be here most weekends, honey," Blair told her, cutting the fish on Seth's plate.

"But not when we go to school?" Bailey asked.

"No, not on school days. It will be fine! You, Seth, and Dad will move to the school. Did you see that there's a little cabin away from the grounds?"

"I saw it!" Seth said, excited to understand something in the conversation. "We kicked a ball there during sport."

"So, we'll leave here and go there?" Bailey repeated, her thick eyebrows furrowed in a frown.

Roman would have laughed at her and her reaction if the situation were not so bleak. He loved how serious she was at most times, even when choosing which chocolate treat she wanted on the Saturdays when they did their grocery shopping.

And the moment her eyebrows furrowed, he knew she was desperately trying to understand whatever situation was unfolding before her.

"Listen, baby, it will all be fine," he said. "Mom has to move because she needs more time to paint, and she cannot do that here. So, she has to do it for work. Do you understand?"

Bailey nodded. And he could see that she was trying her hardest to work it out in her little eight-year-old mind.

After Roman sorted out the bathrooms, scrubbing off the fresh graffiti in one of the stalls – something about a Liam x Jess Forever and Forever – he walked back to his cabin.

It was small, but it was enough. And it had been enough for children when they lived with him. For the longest time, Roman wondered whether they felt inadequate because they did not have the same reputation as he did. He had walked the halls as a St. James prodigy, whereas his children did not know that everything beneath their feet and around them was theirs.

And that one day, when he died, they would know that.

*

Blair thought that he was stupid, and she said so many times.

"It's foolish not to tell them who they are," she said one weekend while visiting the children.

"I don't want them to be tied up to this place. I want them to leave and live their lives first and then come back here if and when they choose to. There's no need to rope them into something that could change all their dreams."

"So, you'd rather have them walk around as the Janitor's children? Don't you think they get bullied for that?"

"Of course not. At least they haven't said anything to me. Did they say something to you?" he asked.

"No. But I imagine it's difficult for them, especially when we can afford to send them to the school as normal students, not for free because their father cleans the toilet," she retorted.

She was bolder than Roman had ever known her to be. There was something different about her – she was more confident and comfortable with her skin–something Roman was proud of her for. But he didn't like the way she belittled him. And he knew that she wanted him to move out of the cabin. She hated that it was rundown and dreary. But it was comforting.

At least this time, the children ran outside the cabin while Roman made dinner and didn't have to listen to it.

"Don't hate it. We are comfortable here, and the kids are not short of anything. Don't make me feel inadequate, Blair," he hissed.

"I'm sorry. You're right," she said, picking up the knife and cutting it into a French loaf.

When Roman got to the cabin, he first took off his shoes and washed his hands. He was exhausted and needed to sleep for a few hours before considering doing anything else. He changed out of his overalls and sat at the table, getting a bottle of water out.

Roman switched on his computer and began to look through his emails. He found one from Donovan about the proposed budget for the upcoming school year. He was impressed with the school's financials – despite the hard hand that Donovan ran the school with, he did an excellent job of ensuring everything ran smoothly.

It allowed Roman to remain hidden, away from the St. James legacy in its glory. Instead, he remained in the background where he preferred. In his own way, living in simplicity in a cabin that was aging quicker than he was.

Roman pulled up his insurance details – he needed to ensure everything was in order and that Bailey and Seth were sorted when the time came. He did not know why he was checking through these details, but there was just a nagging feeling in Roman, wanting to ensure that everything was sorted out.

Just before logging off, Roman sent emails to both of his children.

Thinking about you, love Dad. X

Roman had just put his feet up on the couch that was there since he was a child, when there was a knock at the front door. He was sure that he left the door unlocked.

"Come in!" he yelled from the couch.

"Hey!" Ophelia said, pushing her way in. "Dinner is going to be hundreds of pizzas and s'mores thanks to The Occult Exhibition tonight. So, I have some time off," she said.

Ophelia set her bag down on the old and unstable table that creaked beneath its weight.

"There's a traybake in here," she said. "Your dinner is sorted."

"Thank you," he said, stretching.

His body wasn't feeling like his own, his arms were stiff, and his chest was growing tight. But as usual, he chalked it off to exhaustion. He had had an early start that morning, getting things ready for the exhibition over and above his standard chores.

"Thanks for taking care of me," he said.

"Hey, you remind me of my Dad," Ophelia said. "And anyway, if I'm going to be stuck at this school until I can save my way to a fancy culinary course, I may as well make a good friend."

She sat down on the couch opposite him, kicking off her shoes. Roman had forgotten that she was saving up for the French culinary school. That was the only reason she had still stayed at the school as the cook – the pay was good, and it allowed her to save up.

Roman made a mental note to ensure that Ophelia would also be taken care of if something happened to him. She was also alone in this world.

He stood up, walking over to the table again. He switched on his computer again.

"What are you doing? Making plans for your double life?" she laughed.

"Something like that," he said. "Well, now that you're here, why don't you make us some tea?"

Ophelia obliged. Meanwhile, Roman did the necessary, ensuring that while his children got the insurance payout and the school, Ophelia would also get a large sum.

Later, after they had drunk the tea and eaten the traybake, Roman and Ophelia walked around The Occult Exhibition all along the school halls.

"This stuff is a little spooky," Ophelia said, pointing to a shrunken skull covered in resin.

"I mean, sure. But it's also proof of another life. Different ways of life and different beliefs, you know?" Roman said.

"Yeah, but it's still spooky. I'm going to make sure that Donovan orders all the pizza. These kids will be getting hungry soon."

Roman looked up and down the hallway. There were dozens of artifacts.

"Excuse me, Mr Roman?" a student said, tapping his arm.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Did you mean that? That it's proof of another life?"

"Absolutely! Why do you ask?" he asked.

Roman tried to place her. She looked about sixteen, but like Bailey, she seemed very serious about everything.

"Because I love this stuff! But I know that my parents would be terrified of it all."

"The only reason they would be terrified is because this is all new to them – The Occult is insanely interesting, but it can be scary if one doesn't know about it."

"Do you know much about it, Mr Roman?" she asked.

"Not really," he shook his head. "But I've read about it, and it's fascinating. My parents didn't really like this type of thing either."

"So, what should I do?"

"What would make you happy?"

"To keep reading about it. It's like a fun history lesson, but without having to remember anything," she said.

"Then keep doing that."

All the students were in the gym, crowding trestle tables piled high with pizza.

Roman had to go outside and get the campfires going for the s'mores. That's how Donovan wanted to end the night. He heard footsteps beyond the trees as he placed the last wood pile in the fire.

"Who's there?" he called to the shadows.

"It's me, Mr Roman," came a small voice.

"Ben?" Roman called. He knew the voice belonged to the nine-year-old because he was always getting into trouble for making messes or drawing on walls.

"Come on out, Ben," he called.

"Okay," Ben said.

Ben came out from between the trees with his backpack slung on his shoulders.

"Why do you have your backpack?" Roman asked him.

"Because I want to run away," Ben said.

Roman knelt in front of the boy.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because there's no Mom or Dad here," he said.

"So, you want to go to them? To your parents?"

"No," Ben shook his head quickly.

"Then?"

"I want to find new parents. They left me here, and they didn't come back," the boy said, his lower lip quivering.

"Ben," Roman began, putting his hands on either side of the boy. "They left you here because it's school time, and when the holiday comes around, they will be waiting to pick you up."

Ben looked at him with solemn eyes. At first, Roman didn't know if he would cry or if he was just processing what Roman had told him.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes, you'll see them soon! In two weeks. Do you think you could wait until then?" Roman asked.

Ben nodded.

"Okay," he said.

"Right, let's go and leave your backpack in your room, and then I'll bring you back for s'mores."

Roman carried Ben back to the dormitories. He wondered what would have happened if he wasn't outside.

Would he really have tried to leave the school? Roman thought to himself.

As Roman got into his bed that night, he thought his body would give in to the exhaustion. There was a pain deep in his chest, and it extended to his left arm, throbbing all the way to his fingertips. He knew what was coming. He had watched it happen to his father.

Roman struggled to take a deep breath in. His chest constricted.

He tried to get off the bed, but he could barely move.

Roman blinked back the pain for a few minutes.

Suddenly, he saw black. And then, it was all over.

"Seth, are you coming with me or not?" Bailey demanded, throwing clothes into a suitcase as she spoke to her brother on the phone.

"I am. Chill," he replied.

"Our Father just died, Seth. I cannot 'chill,'" she said, frowning into the mirror.

"I'll be over in the next hour," Seth said. "Get your things ready in the meantime."

Bailey wanted to cry, but she was more in a state of shock. She had woken up that morning to read an email from her dad, and then an hour later, her mother stuck her head through Bailey's door and told her that he was found dead, alone, in the cabin.

Thinking about you, love Dad. X

Bailey knew that she should have gone to see him the last time she was home for the weekend from University.

It was too late now.

Bailey sat on her bed, looking at the clothes she had thrown into the suitcase. None of them made sense – there was a pair of pajamas that didn't fit her anymore, a torn sweatshirt she used when working out, and badly scuffed shoes.

She picked up her phone again and scrolled through Instagram. She first saw the school account with a photograph of her father dressed as a scarecrow. She assumed that it was from Halloween the year before.

To the best Janitor, rest in peace, Mr. Roman. was the caption.

Bailey went into her mother's art studio. Blair was busy painting a landscape of a forest that looked just like the lines of trees behind the cabin at the school.

"Mom?" she called.

"Yes?" Blair answered, turning around to face her.

"Are you coming with me?"

"I don't know. Should I?"

"Yes. I want you to," Bailey said, crossing her fingers behind her back. She hoped her mother would go with her and Seth to the school.

"Okay, I'll pack a bag," Blair said.

*

The first thing they did when they got to the town was book into the motel. Bailey wanted to stay at the cabin, but Seth and their mother thought it would be too morbid. Especially because when the principal phoned, he said that Roman had died in the house two days ago.

Only when he didn't show up for duty did Ophelia, the cook, go to the house and find him in bed. Bailey said that there wasn't any official death note yet because, according to the principal, they were waiting for his family to identify the body.

"I hope that the paperwork isn't going to be too much of a hassle," Blair said as she set her clothes on hangers in the motel.

"Please, Mom," Bailey said. "Don't start with that."

"You're right. Sorry, Bails."

"Can we just get going to the school?" Seth asked from the corner of the room.

He had been very quiet on the trip, and Bailey knew he was feeling her same regret – that they hadn't spent enough time with their father since leaving school.

When they got to the school, Bailey and Seth went to the cabin while their mother went to the principal's office.

"It's strange being back here," Seth said, rubbing his temple.

"I think so, too," Bailey agreed. "It's weird to think that we grew up here."

They walked up to the cabin and opened the heavy door. Inside, a young woman sat at the table with a cup of tea.

"Ophelia?" Bailey asked.

"Yes. You must be Bailey and Seth?" she said, looking at them.

Seth nodded, and Bailey smiled.

"You found our Dad, huh?" she asked.

"I did. He was going to miss the lunch rush, which was very unusual for him," Ophelia whispered.

"Thank you for coming to check on him," Bailey said.

But even as she said it, she was ridden with guilt.

It should have been me finding him, Bailey thought.

"So, which of you will make all the decisions about the school?" Ophelia asked.

Bailey was a bit surprised by the question. She assumed that Ophelia asked about the funeral arrangements or a memorial for the students to attend.

"We both will," she said.

*

After they had gone over the details of their father's death with the principal and then gone over to the morgue for Seth to identify and sign off on Roman's body, the three of them went back to the motel.

"I need to get some food," Seth said, his stomach grumbling loudly.

"Me too," their mother said. "Let's go to the diner where you guys used to always order waffles and milkshakes."

Bailey got up from her spot on the bed and put her shoes on. She just felt as though everything was too final. She wanted more time.

A few friendly faces recognized them all when they got to the diner.

"We're so sorry for your loss," one of the waitresses said.

"Your father was the best person I knew," another man said.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Blair said, looking at Bailey and Seth.

"No, it's not. This is nice hearing these things. It means that he wasn't alone and that people cared about him," Seth said.

Bailey put her arm around him.

The next morning, Bailey went for a run around the town. She wanted to get out of her head; this was the only way she knew how. She returned to the motel to shower when she felt she had covered enough ground. They would go back to the school after breakfast and pack up the cabin.

When Bailey let herself into the room, Blair was gone, and Seth was under the covers but on his phone.

"Where's mom?" she asked.

"Went to get coffee and pastries for breakfast," he said.

"I'm going to shower," she said.

"Don't waste all the hot water, Sis," he mumbled.

Bailey showered and changed into her clothes in the bathroom. As she was about to dry her hair, she heard Seth yelp.

"What?" she said, yanking the door open.

"I just got a transfer of $1 million," Seth shrieked.

"What?!" Bailey exclaimed, running over to his bed. "From whom?"

"The reference says Dad," Seth said, looking up at her. "Check your phone!"

Bailey picked up her phone and saw the same notification.

"Dude," she said.

"You too?" Seth laughed.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I wish I knew," he said. "Mom has some explaining to do."

*Bailey and Seth were waiting for Blair to return. As far as they knew, their father had lived a very simple life, barely saving up enough money to go on holiday or spend lavishly. He always taught them not to waste any food or money.

When the door opened, and Blair walked in, carrying their breakfast – Seth jumped up from his bed.

"We've both got transfers for $1 million. Each. And the reference was Dad," he said. "What does that mean?"

"Oh," their mother said. "I guess it's time for that conversation."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bailey asked.

"It means there was so much more to your father than you could ever know. He wanted to tell you all of this as soon as you guys had a plan for the future."

"Tell us what?" Seth asked.

"Your father was the janitor of St. James', yes. But he was also the person in charge of the school. He owned it – St. James' is a family legacy, and it will come to you both."

"Explain, please," Bailey said, helping herself to a cup of coffee that Blair had left on the table.

"I don't understand," Seth said.

"You are St. James' children. The school was founded by your great-grandfather and has been passed down through the generations. The school was originally a place for all the town's children, but as time passed, they wanted it to become a little more lavish – and somehow, along the way, it became a boarding school that got its reputation for the elite."

"And Dad knew all of this?" Seth asked.

"Of course, he did. But he didn't want to be another person taking parents' money and not paying attention to the students. When we initially moved here," Blair explained. "It was your father's turn to take over. He didn't want to do that. He said it made no sense for him to sit behind a desk and just dictate."

"That sounds like him," Bailey sighed.

"And then what?" Seth asked.

"And then, I began to paint here while he learned more about the school and what changes were made in the years since he had left. There was no janitor then, and the school was searching for one. But one afternoon, your father raked up all the leaves on the front lawn. And then he just kept going back for more."

"So, that's how he decided to be a janitor? Seriously?" Bailey asked.

"Your father had a business degree, missy," Blair said. "But yes, somehow he felt that although he didn't want to be the principal or have a role like that, he wanted to be a custodian."

"Like a keeper of the school?" Seth asked.

"Exactly. And more than that, he saw himself in these kids – lost and feeling abandoned by their parents, thrown into a small town. So, he wanted to be that figure the kids could talk to."

"And they did that? They spoke to him?" Bailey asked.

"Over the years, the children adored your father. Don't you remember?"

"I do remember some kids hanging around when we would get back to the cabin, but we were friends with almost everyone in school back then," Seth said.

"It was probably because of Dad – that's why they wanted to be friends with us," Bailey laughed.

*

As the three of them walked across the school lawn to the cabin, they saw that the number of flowers, cards, and drawings had grown overnight.

Bailey's heart swelled. She loved that everyone had loved her father.

"We need to do a memorial," Seth said. "These children need to say goodbye."

Seth pushed the door open, and they found Ophelia sitting at the table again.

"Your Dad," she stood up quickly, the chair scraping across the floor. "Your Dad left money for me," she said.

She grabbed Bailey's hand.

"Please, I didn't ask for it. You must know that," Ophelia said.

"From what we've learned about our Dad today, he probably had every intention of you having it," Seth said as he sat at the table.

"He knew my dream was to attend culinary school," Ophelia said. "I've been saving up."

"Then use that money, Ophelia. Use it and get out of here. Live your dream," Bailey told her.

*

The school held a memorial for their father two days later, and Bailey knew he would have loved it. The students sang hymns, and a few gave speeches about him. A little boy seemed shattered, and Bailey wanted to talk to him.

"Hi," she said, kneeling in front of him. "I'm Bailey."

"I'm Ben," he hiccupped.

"Did you know my Dad?" she asked.

Ben nodded and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"He told me that I didn't need to run away. And then he carried me to my room," the boy sniffled.

Bailey reached out and hugged him.

A few months had passed, and Seth had told Donovan all about how he was next in line to take over the care of the school. They had also changed their surnames to St. James – Blair had told them that their surname, Walker, was their grandmother's maiden name and that their father had taken it over when he was avoiding the benefits of being a St. James.

"He hates being told what to do by someone younger than him," Seth chuckled. "But I'm going to make sure that Dad's name is remembered in that school."

"You want to go back? Move there?" Bailey asked him over Chinese takeout.

"No, not yet. I'll make the decisions, with your input, of course, and maybe one day I'll be ready and more actively involved."

"You're going to give Donovan hell, aren't you?" she giggled.

"Oh, you know it, Sis."

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Enjoyed this story? Here's another one! When a father talked to his daughter about her wedding, she asked him not to walk her down the aisle. Feeling hurt, the man decided not to pay for her wedding and took to social media to ask strangers if his decision was correct. Read the full story here!

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