Happiness, When Family Stands Behind You
When Edward returned from the army, he was even stronger than when he had left. The youngest in a large family—four brothers in all—Edward seemed to have inherited the best from each. Tall, broad-shouldered, with fair hair and kind blue eyes, he was always ready to help, and heaven had blessed him with strength as well.
Three days after coming back to his village, Willowbrook, having greeted all his relatives and friends, he was walking home from the shop when he spotted Eleanor. He froze, struck by the sight of the beautiful young woman—though she was rather petite.
“My word, what loveliness we have here,” he said with a grin. “Have I missed something, or have the lasses grown up while I was gone?”
“Good day,” he greeted her warmly. “I don’t recall seeing you before. Whose daughter are you?”
“Good day,” she laughed. “I’m my mother and father’s daughter, of course. You wouldn’t remember me—I’m not from here.”
“Edward’s my name,” he said. “And yours?”
“Eleanor, Eleanor Whitmore,” she replied. “I’m a primary school teacher—been here a year.”
“Ah, I see. I’ve just returned from service.”
They stood and talked for a long while, as if they’d known each other for years. Soon, the villagers were casting glances their way, no doubt already matchmaking. In a small village, word travelled fast… And indeed, Edward and Eleanor had taken to each other so well that parting felt impossible.
That evening, Edward couldn’t stop thinking about lovely Eleanor.
“Mum, where does the new teacher, Eleanor, live?” he asked.
His mother gave him a curious look.
“The old cottage near the church—Mrs. Henderson’s place, God rest her. It’s small but sturdy, and Eleanor Whitmore’s settled there nicely.” She smiled knowingly. “Why? Taken a fancy to her, have you?”
“I have,” Edward admitted, and off he went.
From then on, they spent their days together, and before long, Edward proposed. Eleanor accepted, and soon the village was alive with the sound of their wedding. Some of the local girls were put out.
“Why’d he marry an outsider? Plenty of pretty lasses right here!”
But in time, they came to accept it—especially as Eleanor was well-liked for her kindness and dedication to the children.
Edward moved into Eleanor’s cottage, as his parents’ home was already full with one of his brothers and his family. Skilled with his hands and strong as an ox, he soon set to work.
“Ellie, I’ll build us an extension,” he told her. “We’ll need more room, especially when the little ones come.” His wife supported him wholeheartedly.
Within a few years, Edward had built a house that was the envy of the village—sturdy and grand, just like the man himself. Eleanor was overjoyed. They lived happily—though one sorrow lingered: they had no children of their own. Eleanor adored children, pouring all her love into her pupils, yet her own arms remained empty.
“Why can’t I conceive?” she often wondered. “What if Edward leaves me? He longs for children—we even have the house ready.”
Edward, too, was troubled. “Is it my fault?” he thought. “What if Eleanor leaves me?”
Neither voiced their fears, neither sought a doctor’s verdict—perhaps afraid of the answer, perhaps still hoping. The years passed. Eleanor was thirty now, Edward two years older. Then, one evening, she saw a programme about adopted children, and an idea struck her.
“Edward,” she began carefully over supper, “what if we adopted a child?”
He coughed, startled, then smiled. “Ellie, you’ve read my mind. I’ve thought of it often—but didn’t know how you’d take it.”
“Oh, Edward!” She flung her arms around him.
After making enquiries, they travelled to the city, to an orphanage near the hospital grounds, surrounded by high fences. They were ushered into the director’s office.
“Good day, Mrs. Caldwell,” Edward said politely.
“Good day,” she replied. “Please, sit. I imagine we’ll be talking a while.”
Mrs. Caldwell explained everything, asked about them in turn, and listed the necessary paperwork. At last, she stood.
“Come, let me show you the children.”
There weren’t many. Eleanor’s gaze was drawn to a sturdy, blue-eyed boy of seven—so like Edward. The director, noticing their interest, murmured,
“That’s Oliver. He has a younger brother, Henry. We don’t separate siblings.”
Eleanor’s heart swelled. She looked at Edward, who gave her a small, knowing smile.
Back in the office, Mrs. Caldwell said, “I gather you’d take both?”
“We would,” they answered together.
“I’m glad—but raising children is no small task. Though,” she added with a smile, “you’re a teacher, Eleanor. You know that well enough.”
“I do,” Eleanor agreed. “And I know a child without love is like a plant without water.”
Soon, Oliver and Henry came home. Oliver, already in school, walked proudly beside his new mother. Neither boy hesitated over what to call them.
“Henry, these are our mum and dad,” Oliver said firmly. The little boy clapped his hands, repeating, “Mum and Dad!”
Edward’s eyes glistened. Eleanor, watching him, thought, “He’ll be the finest father.”
Years flew by. The boys flourished, loved and loving in return. Henry started school, and that summer, they took their first family holiday—to the seaside by train.
“Mum, the train’s brilliant!” Henry exclaimed. “So much to see! Is the sea really big?”
“Vast,” Eleanor smiled, glancing at Oliver, whose quiet excitement shone in his eyes.
They returned sun-kissed and full of joy. The boys did well in school—Oliver steady, Henry top of his class.
One day, when Henry was nine, Eleanor overheard him ask Oliver,
“Mike says Mum and Dad aren’t really ours. That we’re adopted. Is that true?”
“It is,” Oliver said. “But they’re better than any blood could make them. Never forget that.”
Eleanor wept silent tears, then told Edward, who was equally moved.
“See?” he said. “We’ve raised them right.”
The boys shadowed Edward everywhere—fishing, fixing things—while Eleanor longed for a daughter.
Then, one day, Mrs. Caldwell called.
“Eleanor, could you and Edward visit? I’ve a proposal.”
The next day, the director cut straight to it.
“Would you consider adopting a little girl?”
They exchanged a glance.
“Two-year-old Eva’s parents died—both orphans themselves. She’s got no one. And, Eleanor… she looks like you.”
Eva did—even Edward said, “Ellie, she’s ours.”
“Mrs. Caldwell,” Eleanor whispered, “I’ve always wanted a daughter. The boys adore Edward, but I’d love to braid hair, dress dolls… have a little friend.”
Soon, Eva came home. The boys adored her—Henry dragged her off to play, Oliver cradled her, saying, “Welcome, little sister.”
Now, laughter filled their home. Oliver, grown, enlisted in the army, then signed on as a career soldier—his family’s pride.
And so, in their big house, Edward and Eleanor live happily, their family complete. For true happiness, after all, is knowing your family stands behind you.
