The Trials That Must Be Endured
Margaret Hawthorne waited anxiously for her husband and son to return from their business trip. They had traveled to a neighboring county to expand their firm, opening a new branch in another town. The father and son, Edward and James, had built a thriving enterprise, and all seemed well.
Margaret longed most to see James, for she had urgent news about his wife, Clara, who was due to give birth any day. It was no secret Clara did not love him, but for the sake of their unborn grandchild, the family endured it. Then Margaret overheard Clara on the telephone:
*”Once the baby’s born, I’ll leave with him. I’ll take what I can from the house and disappear—there’s plenty here worth taking.”*
Her first instinct was to call James, but she hesitated—he and Edward were in the midst of critical negotiations. She could tell them when they returned.
*”We’ll retrieve the child from the hospital afterward,”* she thought. *”As for Clara, good riddance—she doesn’t want the baby anyway.”*
When Clara’s labour began, Edward and James were already on their way home. The ambulance took her to the hospital while, soon after, Margaret received the call: her husband and son had been in an accident. Edward died instantly; James lingered twenty minutes longer but whispered with his last breath,
*”Take the child from her.”*
The inspector explained no child had been in the car. But Margaret murmured,
*”My son’s wife just gave birth. That’s my grandson—they’re still at the hospital. Clara doesn’t want him. That’s why James said it.”*
She doubted she would ever hold her grandchild, yet she brought Clara home from the hospital herself. How she endured it, she didn’t know. Thomas, a trusted friend of the family and their company’s financier, took charge—arranging the funeral, the wake, even ensuring a doctor tended to Margaret.
He also brought Clara and little William home. After Edward’s passing, Clara lingered in the large house, though she scarcely glanced at the boy. Margaret hired a nanny, unable to care for William herself while overseeing the company—now hers by prior arrangement. Thomas managed everything, and she trusted him entirely.
Clara paid the boy little mind, often vanishing for days. Then, six months later, she took William and fled, stealing money from Edward’s desk drawer. The safe, with its unknown code, remained untouched.
Margaret was shattered. William was all she had left of James. Yet before long, Clara returned.
*”You owe me money, shares in the firm—everything I’m entitled to after my husband’s death. Give them to me, or you’ll never see William again. I’ll leave him at an orphanage, and you’ll never find him.”*
Margaret gave her everything—lawfully, even more. She handed over her own jewellery when Clara demanded it.
*”Clara, please, let me see William,”* she begged.
Clara promised but never kept her word.
Time passed. Margaret slowly recovered, focusing on the business with Thomas at her side—a steadfast and honest man. But her grief for William festered.
Thomas urged her to contact the authorities.
*”Margaret, I know an inspector. Let’s go straight to him.”*
She agreed.
The inspector soon found Clara entangled with dubious characters. They had tricked her into surrendering the shares for empty promises, then abandoned her in a hovel. She had taken to drink, neglecting William, until one drunken companion gave her an ultimatum:
*”Him or me.”*
She chose the man, and together they left William in the woods. The inspector uncovered this when tracking those who had swindled Clara. She led them to where she had abandoned the boy—but he was gone. A search was mounted, yet William remained missing. Clara was detained.
—
### The Village Dream
Dorothy had grown up in an orphanage. When she came of age, she longed to settle in a village near the city where she had spent her youth. She was granted a small cottage, and her heart swelled with joy.
*”It’s old but sturdy. I’ll make it a home—I’ve dreamed of this for so long.”*
She found work in the local inn’s kitchen. Since childhood, she had dreamed of being a cook—even in the orphanage, old Mrs. Agnes had sometimes let her help. Slowly, she built her new life. She tidied the cottage, and Charles, the neighbour’s son, helped with the heavy work.
Dorothy never wondered why he was so willing. She thought it mere kindness, unaware he fancied her but was too shy to say.
One day, she went mushroom-hunting, eager to bake a pie. As she wandered the forest, delighting in her finds, she spotted a child beneath a bush—a small, filthy boy, curled asleep.
*”Sweetheart, wake up,”* she whispered, brushing his cheek.
His eyes flew open in terror, and he wailed. She lifted him, though he thrashed and screamed.
*”Hush, little one, I won’t hurt you,”* she murmured. *”Come home with me.”*
He quieted. She carried him back, bathed him, and fed him, then sent Charles for the doctor.
*”What’s your name?”* she pressed, but the boy stayed silent. *”Very well—you’ll be Stephen.”*
The villagers soon heard of Stephen and brought milk, clothes, whatever they could spare. He hid behind Dorothy at the sight of strangers. The doctor assured her,
*”He’s only weak. Feed him well, and he’ll recover. He wasn’t alone long.”*
Stephen shadowed Dorothy everywhere. She took him to work or left him with Charles’s mother, never letting him outside until she returned. Then, one day, he called her *”Mama.”* She wept. Soon, he began to speak.
*”My boy, I’ll never let anyone harm you,”* she vowed.
She was certain he would stay with her forever—though she knew she must report him, she delayed, wanting peace for him first. Then the authorities arrived.
*”We’ve had word of a boy living here. He must come with us—you have no legal claim.”*
*”But I love him! He’s happy here! Tell me what papers I need—I’ll adopt him!”*
*”You’re too young, unmarried—a child needs a family. He comes with us now.”*
Though she pleaded, they took Stephen. His cries echoed as he clung to her.
Broken, she turned to Charles.
*”Help me,”* she sobbed. *”I can’t live without him. I want to adopt him, but they won’t let me—not without a family.”*
*”What can I do?”* he asked, distressed.
*”Marry me. Just so I can get him back. I swear, I’ll make no demands of you.”*
*”Dorothy, I’d be glad to. I’ve wanted to ask you myself—but I feared you’d refuse. I’ll stand by Stephen as my own.”*
Her heart soared.
When they visited the orphanage, Stephen sprinted to them.
*”Stephen, darling, we’re taking you home!”*
*”Yes! I waited for you, Mama!”*
Tears streamed down her face as they finally adopted him.
Years passed. Stephen, now a bright lad excelling in school, even won a maths competition, his face beaming from the newspaper. His parents swelled with pride.
—
### The Visitor
One day, a polished motorcar stopped outside Dorothy and Charles’s cottage. A well-dressed woman stepped out, her driver unloading parcels. Dorothy, peering through the window, hurried outside.
*”Mrs. Dorothy? I’ve come to speak with you,”* the woman said, noting her alarm. *”Don’t fear—I mean no harm.”*
*”This is about Stephen, isn’t it?”* The woman nodded.
*”I won’t take him. Though I am his grandmother—his true name was Nicholas. I am Margaret Hawthorne.”*
Dorothy invited her in, offering tea.
*”No DNA test is needed. He’s the image of my son, James. Here—see for yourself.”* She showed a photograph.
Dorothy stared—the resemblance was uncanny.
*”Thank you,”* Margaret said softly. *”I knew my grandson was in good hands when I saw him on television. The papers led me here.”*
*”Why was no one searching for him? I found him in the woods!”*
*”My husband and son died when he was born. His mother was feckless—she’s in prison now. She confessed to abandoning him, but he was never found.”*
Margaret recounted the tragedy—how James had married Clara for the child’s sake, the accident that stole them both, and Clara’s betrayal.
*”We’ll do the legal tests, then I’ll settle the inheritance on Stephen. When he finishes university, the business will be his—if he wishes it.”*
Margaret smiled as Stephen, now surrounded by both families, eagerly began planning his future, knowing he was loved by all.
