I stumbled upon two little ones in the vegetable patch, raised them as my own, and after fifteen years some strangers came to claim them.
Harriet, hurry! Tom shouted from the garden, and I dropped the halfmixed dough straight into the sourdough starter.
I bolted onto the front stepTom was leaning against the old apple tree. Beside him were two tiny children, a boy and a girl, sitting among the carrot rows. Their clothes were torn, their faces dirty, eyes wide with fear.
Where did they come from? I whispered, moving closer.
The girl reached out, the boy clutched at her but showed no terror. They looked about two, maybe a little older.
I cant make sense of it, Tom scratched his head. I was just watering the cabbage and there they were, as if theyd sprouted from the soil.
I knelt down. The girl instantly wrapped her arms around my neck, her cheek pressed to my shoulder, smelling of earth and something sour. The boy stayed still, his gaze never leaving me.
What are your names? I asked softly.
No answer came, only a tighter hug from the girl and a soft sniffle.
We should inform the parish council, Tom said. Or the constable.
Hold on, I said, smoothing the childs tousled hair. First lets give them something to eat. Look how thin they are.
I led the girl inside; the boy followed, gripping the edge of my dress. In the kitchen I set them at the table, poured milk, and sliced buttered bread. They ate greedily, as if they hadnt had a proper meal in days.
Maybe travellers left them? Tom suggested, watching them.
No, I shook my head. Traveller children are usually darkerskinned. These two are fairhaired and blueeyed.
After the meal they brightened. The boy even smiled when I offered a second slice. The girl climbed onto my lap and fell asleep, clutching my cardigan.
That evening Constable Smith arrived. He examined the children and made notes in his notebook.
Well spread the word throughout the shire, he promised. Someone may have lost them. For now they can stay with you; the district refuge is full.
We dont mind, I said, holding the sleeping girl close.
Tom nodded. Wed been married a year and had no children of our ownnow we suddenly had two.
That night we set up a makeshift bed in our bedroom by the stove. The boy lay awake for a long time, watching me. I reached out and he timidly took my finger.
Dont be frightened, I whispered. Youre not alone any more.
In the morning a gentle touch woke me. The girl stood beside me, hand on my cheek.
Mum she said, uncertain.
My heart leapt. I lifted her into my arms.
Yes, love. Mum.
Fifteen years flew by. We named the girl Emily; she grew into a slender beauty with golden hair and skiesblue eyes. Jack became a strong young man, much like his father.
Both helped on the farm, excelled at school, and meant everything to us.
Mum, I want to study at the city university, Emily announced over dinner. To become a paediatrician.
And Im heading to the agricultural college, Jack added. Dad, you said its time to expand the farm.
Tom smiled and ruffled Jacks shoulder. We never had biological children, but we never regretted itthese two were truly ours.
The constable could find no relatives, so we formalised guardianship, then adoption. The children always knew the truth; we never hid anything. To them, we were their real mum and dad.
Remember the first time I tried to bake pies? Emily laughed. I dropped all the dough on the floor.
And you, Jack, were scared to milk the cows, Tom teased. You said theyd eat you.
We laughed, trading memories of school beginnings, bullies, and the principals intervention that finally put an end to the teasing.
After the children were in bed, Tom and I sat on the porch.
Theyve grown up well, he said, pulling me close.
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 sharply.
Good afternoon, the woman smiled, though her eyes were cold. Were looking for our children. Fifteen years ago they vanished. A boy and a girl.
It felt like a splash of ice water. Tom stood beside me, calm.
What brings you here? he asked.
The paperwork says you took them, the man said, producing a folder. These are our children.
I looked at the dates they matchedbut my heart doubted.
You stayed silent for fifteen years, I said quietly. Where were you?
We searched, of course, the woman replied, sighing. The children were with a nanny who had an accident and they disappeared. Weve only just found a lead.
Emily and Jack emerged from the house, froze, and stared at the strangers.
Mum, whats happening? Emily asked, gripping my hand.
The woman gasped, covering her mouth. Emily! Its you! And this is Jack!
The children exchanged bewildered looks.
We are your parents, the man blurted. Weve come home.
Home? Emilys voice trembled. She squeezed my hand tighter. Were already home.
The woman stepped forward. Were your blood family. We have a house near London and can help the farm. Family is always better than strangers.
Anger rose in me.
You didnt look for them for fifteen years, and now that theyre grown and can work you appear? I hissed.
We filed a report! the man began.
Show me, Tom said, extending his hand. The man produced a certificate; Tom noticed the datejust a month ago.
Thats forged, Tom said. Wheres the original?
The man fumbled, slipping the papers back.
You didnt look for them, Jack interjected sharply. Constable Smith checkedno reports.
Silence, boy! the man snapped. Youll come with us!
Were not going anywhere, Emily said, standing beside me. These are our parentsthe real ones.
The womans face reddened. She pulled out her phone. Im calling the police. We have documents; blood is thicker than paper.
Call them, Tom agreed, but make sure they invite Constable Smith. Hes kept the records for fifteen years.
An hour later the yard was full of officialsthe constable, a district inspector, even the parish council chairman. Emily and Jack stayed close to us, clinging to what was theirs.
We wont hand you over, I whispered, holding the children tight. No matter what, well protect you.
Were not scared, Mum, Jack said, fists clenched. Let them try.
Tom entered, his face grim. Fake, he said shortly. The documents are forged. The inspector saw inconsistencies straight away. The dates dont match. When the children arrived, those parents were in Brightontickets and photos prove it.
Why would they do that? Emily asked.
Smith figured it out. Their farm was in debt, workers had left, no money to pay wages. They needed free labour, heard about us, and forged papers, Tom explained.
We stepped outside as the man was led to a police car. The woman shouted for a lawyer, a trial, claiming the children were hers.
Theyre our children! Youre hiding them! she screamed.
Emily faced her, eyes steady: I found my parents fifteen years ago. They raised me, loved me, never abandoned me. You are strangers who wanted to use us.
The woman staggered back, as if struck.
When the police cars drove away, only the four of us remained. Neighbours whispered and drifted off.
Mom, Dad thank you for not giving them away, Jack hugged us.
Silly boy, I ruffled his hair. How could we? Youre ours.
Emily smiled through tears. I used to wonder what would happen if my real parents were found. Now I know nothing would have changed. My real parents are here.
That evening we gathered around the table, just as we had fifteen years before, only now the children were grown. The love was the samewarm and genuine.
Tell us again how you found us, Emily asked.
I smiled and began the tale anewabout two little ones in the garden, how they slipped into our home and hearts, how we became a family.
A small boy named Vicky toddled in, holding a bright picture. Look, Grandma, thats our house! he exclaimed.
Lovely! I said, lifting him. Is that you, Grandpa, Mum, Dad, Aunt Harriet and Uncle Peter?
Emily stepped out of the kitchennow a doctor at the district hospital, her belly round with her second child.
Did you bake the apple tarts? I asked.
Of course, she replied. Your favourite.
Years passed quickly. Emily married the villages tractor driver, Peter, and settled back home, preferring the open air to the cramped city. Jack finished agricultural college and now runs the farm with Tom. He married a schoolteacher, Claire, and they have a little boy, Freddie.
Grandpa! Freddie shouted, racing into the yard.
Tom, hair now grey but sturdy as an oak, scooped him up. What will you be when you grow up, Freddie?
A tractor driver, like Dad and you! he declared.
Emily and I exchanged smiles, laughing at how life repeats itself.
Peters van pulled up, Claire stepping out with a pot of stew. Brought your favourite borscht! she said.
Weve got news! she added, beaming.
Were having twins! Claire announced.
Emily hugged them, Toms face breaking into a satisfied grin. Thats a full house, he said.
At dinner, the whole family gathered around the big oak table Tom and Jack had built years before. There was enough room for everyone.
Remember that story about the fake parents? Jack said thoughtfully.
How could I forget, Emily replied. Constable Smith still tells it as a warning to the young.
And I thought, what if they really were my real parents? What if I had to go? Jack mused. Then I realised family isnt about blood. Its about the people who love you every day.
Dont get all sentimental now, Tom grumbled, though his eyes twinkled.
Uncle Jack, tell us the story again! Freddie pleaded.
Again?! Claire laughed. Hes heard it a hundred times already!
Tell me! the boy insisted.
Jack began the tale while I watched my children, daughtersinlaw, grandson, and my steadfast husband. Once I thought I could never have children. Life gave me a miracletwo strangers found in my garden, between the carrot rows. Now our home rings with laughter, voices, and life.
Grandma, will I ever find someone in the garden too? Freddie 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, bathing it in pink lightthe very tree where it all began. It grew, just as we did, rooted in love.
And I knew this was not the ending. Ahead lay many happy days, new smiles, new stories. A true familynot merely of blood, but of shared heartscontinues to grow, its roots deep in love.
