I found two little children in my garden, raised them as my own, and after fifteen years some strangers came to snatch them away.
Emma, come quick! Thomas shouted from the orchard, and I dropped the halfmixed dough straight into the sourdough starter.
I bolted onto the porchmy husband was standing by the old apple tree. Beside him were two tiny figures, a boy and a girl, sitting in the grass between the carrot rows, their clothes torn, faces streaked with dirt, eyes wide with fear.
Where did they come from? I whispered, moving closer.
The girl reached out with shaking hands. The boy clung to her but showed no sign of terror. They looked about two years old, perhaps a little older.
I cant make sense of it myself, Thomas scratched his head. I was just watering the cabbages when I saw them, as if theyd sprouted from the earth.
I knelt down. The girl instantly wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. She smelled of soil and something sour. The boy stayed still, his gaze never leaving me.
What are your names? I asked softly.
There was no answer, only a tighter hug and a soft sniffle from the girl.
We ought to inform the parish council, Thomas said. Or the local constable.
Hold on, I said, smoothing the childs disheveled hair. First lets give them something to eat. Look how thin they are.
I ushered the girl inside; the boy followed hesitantly, clutching the edge of my dress. In the kitchen I set them at the table, poured a little milk, and cut a slice of buttered bread. They ate ravenously, as if they hadnt had a proper meal in days.
Maybe some travellers left them here? Thomas suggested, watching them.
No, I shook my head. Travellers children are usually darkerskinned. These two are faireyed and blond.
After the meal the children perked up. The boy even smiled when I offered him another piece of bread. The girl climbed onto my lap and fell asleep, clutching my sweater.
That evening Constable Collins arrived. He examined the children and scribbled notes in his notebook.
Well spread the word through the neighbouring villages, he promised. Someone might have lost them. For now, keep them with you; the childrens home in the district is full.
We dont mind, I replied, holding the sleeping girl close.
Thomas nodded. Wed been married a year and had no children of our own. Now we had two at once.
That night we set them up in our bedroom, on the floor near the stove. The boy lay awake for a long time, watching me. I reached out and he shyly took my finger.
Dont be afraid, I whispered. Youre not alone any more.
In the morning a gentle touch woke me. I opened my eyes to find the girl standing beside me, delicately brushing my cheek.
Mum she said uncertainly.
My heart stopped. I lifted her into my arms.
Yes, love. Mum.
Fifteen years flew by like a blink. We named the girl Poppyshe grew into a slender beauty with long golden hair and eyes the colour of a clear spring sky. James became a sturdy young man, just like his father.
Both helped on the farm, did well at school, and became everything to us.
Mum, I want to go to the city university, Poppy announced at dinner. Id like to become a paediatrician.
And Id like to study at the agricultural college, James added. Dad, you said its time to expand the farm.
Thomas smiled and ruffled Jamess shoulder. We never had biological children, but we never regretted itthese two were truly ours.
Back then Constable Collins found no trace of the childrens origins. We formalised guardianship and later adoption. The children always knew the truth; we never hid anything from them. To them, we were their real mum and dad.
Remember when I baked my first pies? Poppy laughed. I dropped all the dough on the floor.
And you, James, were terrified of milking the cows, Thomas teased. You swore theyd eat you.
We laughed, swapping stories from the past: Poppys first day at school when she clung to me, Jamess fight with bullies who called him a foster kid, and the meeting with the headteacher that finally put an end to it.
After the children were tucked in, Thomas and I sat on the porch.
Theyve grown into fine people, he said, hugging me.
My own, I replied.
The next day everything changed. A sleek black car pulled up to the gate. A man and a woman, both about fortyfive, stepped out, dressed smartly.
Good afternoon, the woman said, her smile tight. Were looking for our children. Fifteen years ago they vanished. Twinsa boy and a girl.
It felt like a splash of cold water. Thomas stood beside me.
What brings you here? he asked calmly.
We were told you took them in, the man said, producing a folder of papers. These are the documents. Theyre our children.
I glanced at the datesthey matched. Yet my heart hesitated.
You kept silent for fifteen years, I said quietly. Where were you?
We searched, of course, the woman sighed. The children were with a nanny who then had an accident The children disappeared. Only now have we found a lead.
At that moment Poppy and James emerged from the house. Seeing strangers, they froze and looked at us with confusion.
Mum, whats happening? Poppy whispered, gripping my hand.
The woman gasped, covering her mouth.
Poppy! Its you! And this is James! she exclaimed.
The children exchanged bewildered looks.
We are your parents, the man blurted. Weve come home.
Home? Poppys voice trembled. She squeezed my hand tighter. We are already home.
The woman stepped forward. Were your blood family. We have a house near London and can help with the farm. Blood is always better than strangers.
Anger rose in me like a kettle about to boil.
You didnt look for them for fifteen years, I hissed. And now, when theyre grown and can work, you appear?
We filed a police report! the man began.
Show me, Thomas said, extending his hand. The man produced a certificate, but Thomas noticed the datejust a month ago.
Thats a forgery, he said. Wheres the original?
The man fumbled, slipping the papers away.
You never reported them, James interjected sharply. Constable Collins checked. No records exist.
Enough, boy! the man snapped. Youll come with us!
Were not going anywhere, Poppy said, standing beside me. These are our parentsour real ones.
The womans face flushed. She pulled out her phone.
Im calling the police now. We have papers; blood is thicker than any document.
Call them, Thomas nodded. And make sure Constable Collins is there. Hes kept every record for fifteen years.
An hour later the yard was crowded with the constable, a district investigator, and the head of the parish council. Poppy and James sat with us, and I held them as tightly as I could.
We wont give you away, I whispered, clutching the children. Never.
Were not scared, Mum, James said, clenching his fists. Let them try.
Thomas entered, his face grim.
Fake, he said shortly. The papers are forged. The investigator spotted inconsistencies straight away. The dates dont match. When the children came to us, those parents were in Brightonticket stubs and photos prove it.
Why would they do that? Poppy asked.
Collins worked it out. The couple owned a farm but were in debt. Their workers had left, and they needed cheap labour. They heard about us and fabricated everything.
We stepped outside. The man was already being led to a police car. The woman shouted for a lawyer, demanding a trial.
Theyre our children! Youre stealing them!
Poppy faced her and said plainly,
I found my parents fifteen years ago. They raised me, loved me, never left me. You are strangers who wanted to use us.
The woman staggered as if struck.
When the police cars drove away, we were left alonejust the four of us. Neighbours whispered and drifted away.
Mom, Dad thank you for not giving them away, James hugged us.
Silly lad, I stroked his hair. How could we? Youre ours.
Poppy smiled through tears,
I used to wonder what would happen if my real parents showed up. Now I know nothing would have changed. My real parents are right here.
That evening we gathered around the same table as fifteen years before, only now the children were adults. The love in the room was as warm as ever.
Mom, tell us again how you found us, Poppy asked.
I smiled and began the story anewabout two tiny strangers in the garden, how they slipped into our home and hearts, and how we became a family.
Later, little Vanyaour grandsonran in, waving a crayon drawing.
Look, Grandma! Thats our house! he shouted.
Lovely! I said, lifting him. Is that you, Grandpa, Mum, Dad, Aunt Poppy and Uncle James?
Poppy, now a doctor at the district hospital, entered, her belly round with her second child.
Did you manage to bake the apple pies? she asked.
Of course, I replied. Your favourite.
Years slipped by unnoticed. Poppy married Soren, the reliable tractor driver, and James graduated from the agricultural college, now running the farm with Thomas. James married teacher Kate; they already have a little boy, Ben.
Granddad! Ben shouted, slipping from my arms and sprinting to the yard.
Thomas, hair now silvered, scooped Ben up and twirled him.
What will you be when you grow up? he asked.
A tractor driver, like Dad and you! Ben declared.
Poppy and I exchanged smiles, laughing at how life repeats itself.
Sorens wife, Kate, arrived with a pot of stew.
Brought your favourite, mum! she said.
And weve got news! she added, eyes bright.
Were having twins! she announced.
Poppy hugged them, and Thomass face broke into a satisfied grin.
So thats family for youalways growing, always full.
At dinner we all gathered around the large oak table Thomas and James had built years ago. There was room for everyone.
Remember that story about the fake parents? James said thoughtfully.
How could I forget, Poppy smiled. Constable Collins still uses it as a lesson for the youngsters.
And I thought, what if they really had been my birth parents? What if I had to leave? James continued. I realised that family isnt about blood; its about the people who love you, the ones who stay.
Dont get all sentimental now, Thomas grumbled, but his eyes twinkled.
Uncle James, tell us the story again! little Ben begged.
Again?! Kate laughed. Hes heard it a hundred times!
Come on, tell us! the boy insisted.
James began the tale. I watched my children, daughtersinlaw, grandchildren, and Thomas, whose love grew deeper each year.
Once I thought I could never have children. Life gave me a miracletwo tiny souls found in the garden between the carrot rows. Now our home overflows with laughter, voices, and life.
Grandma, will I ever find someone in a garden too? Ben asked.
We all laughed.
Maybe, I said, patting his head. Life is full of surprises. Keep your heart open, and love will find its way.
The sun set behind the old apple tree, painting its leaves pink, the very tree where it all began. It stood tall, just as we had, rooted in love.
And I know this isnt the end. Ahead lie many happy days, new smiles, new stories. A real family lives, grows, and its roots are planted wherever love is welcomed. The true lesson: family is chosen, nurtured, and never taken for granted.
