Grandma took in a young guy who had nowhere to crash. But in the middle of the night, she caught him sneaking toward her bed and FROZE when she saw what he started doing…

She led Ethan by the hand, gently asking him along the way what he liked to eat, if he’d join her for fried potatoes for dinner, or oatmeal in the morning. He could go to his room later to pick up his things and arrange to rent it to a neighbor who had already asked about it. For now, he could try on some of her son’s old clothes.

She hadn’t had the heart to throw them out or give them away, and now they’d come in handy. Ethan was very shy and reserved—it was clear he felt awkward. He seemed almost embarrassed to eat so many potatoes, but Margaret Anne kept piling more onto his plate.

Later, they sipped lemon balm tea with honey and mint cookies. The TV was playing a concert, and they sat together to watch. Ethan enjoyed the songs they listened to.

Margaret couldn’t shake the feeling that Ethan looked at her like a stray dog who had suddenly been shown kindness. Then she made up the couch where her son used to sleep, and she went to her own bedroom. What an unusual day—she felt needed again, necessary to someone, and she so wanted to care for this young man, to nurture and love him.

Margaret lay in the quiet night, perfectly still, waiting for the moment she’d slip into the dark, dreamless void of sleep. But then she heard a rustle.

Oh, it was just Ethan in the other room. No, not in the other room—he was quietly creeping into her bedroom. Margaret watched him through the slits of her half-closed eyes.

Her eyes had long adjusted to the dimness of the night. She clearly saw the young man’s silhouette sneaking in. She held her breath, staying perfectly still, her heart pounding wildly.

What was he holding in his hands? Something small. He stopped near her head and stood there, not leaving, perhaps hesitating about whether to go through with whatever he planned. Dear Lord, what was he thinking? What was on his mind? She didn’t know him at all—what if he…? At that moment, he leaned down close to her face…

His hand slipped under her pillow and quickly withdrew. Margaret only felt the edge of the pillow lift for a second under her head. Ethan stepped back and began retreating toward the door, still moving stealthily.

When he was almost in the hallway, Margaret couldn’t hold back. “Ethan, is that you? Did you need something?” she asked softly. “Everything’s fine, Margaret Anne.

Go back to sleep.” But she was already sitting up in bed, reaching for the bedside lamp. Ethan shielded his eyes from the sudden light.

Margaret Anne reached under her pillow and felt a small, flat, thin object. She almost missed it at first but then found it. On a piece of laminated cardboard, she saw the image of the Virgin Mary against a dark blue, starry sky.

She recognized the icon of Our Lady of the Gate of Dawn. The laminate was worn at the edges, clearly not new. “This was my grandmother Evelyn’s icon,” Ethan said.

“Every night before bed, she prayed to it and then placed it under her pillow. When I was feeling bad or lonely, when I missed my mom and cried, she’d say her prayer over me and put the icon under my pillow. I heard you crying, heard your heavy sighs, so I thought I’d put it under yours…