All right, lets do a DNA test, I said with a smile to my motherinlaw. But perhaps your husband should check his own paternity as well
All right, lets do a DNA test, I repeated, turning to her. And let your husband verify whether he truly is the father of your son
Something about Arthur just doesnt match us, she declared the moment we crossed the threshold of the flat after the postnatal discharge.
I froze, a box of baby clothes clutched in my hands. Had she decided to raise this specter right now?
Eleanor, enough, her husband, Victor Sinclair, intervened softly, ushering his wife into another room while casting a sympathetic glance at me.
I was left alone with Arthur. Doesnt match? I whispered, staring at my son: sandy hair, skyblue eyes, a tiny button nose, a mirror of my own grandfather as a child. I would have to ask my mother for old photographs to compare.
A voice from the balcony snapped me from my thoughts. My mother was on the phone, clearly with my own father.
Youve got a grandson, and you havent even turned up! she snapped, slamming the receiver down. Seeing me, she sighed. Im sorry, Kate, Ive ruined your day. I hoped your dad would show up, but even a grandson cant pry him from his bottle.
Its alright, Mum, I pulled her into an embrace. Its not your fault.
That evening, the closeknit family gathered around the festive table. My motherinlaw barely contained her displeasure, while Victor and my husband, Max Harper, tried to lighten the atmosphere. When the guests drifted away, Max clasped my shoulder.
Thank you for giving us our son.
Time slipped by in a blur of first steps, first words, sleepless nights. We bought a new flat, swapped our old hatchback for a sleek sedan, and Arthur started at the nursery.
Im terrified of school, I confided to Max one night, the chatter of parentteacher meetings swirling in my mind. All those meetings
Itll be fine, he soothed.
The uneasy calm shattered when my motherinlaw arrived at our country cottage. She avoided Arthur, watching him with a cold, doubtful stare.
Look at him, she hissed while we washed dishes together. Gingerhaired, freckled Are you sure hes Maxs child?
And are you certain Victor Sinclair is the father of your grandson? I retorted sharply.
She went ashen.
How dare you! she shrieked.
And you? I stormed out, gathering my things and, with Arthur in my arms, fled home.
The next day we sent off the DNA test. The results were unsurprising: Arthur was indeed our son. I slipped the report into my bag without telling anyone.
But my motherinlaw would not be silenced. At Victors birthday she spoke again.
The grandson looks just like his greatgrandmother! And yours? she sneered, nodding at Arthur.
I pulled the result from my pocket and thrust it at her.
Read this. Your suspicions were wrong. Perhaps now youll attend to the skeletons in your own wardrobe?
Her face went pallid.
A few days later Max returned home, shattered.
Kate he sank to the floor, hands clasped over his head. We did the test with my dad. It turned out he isnt my blood.
I held him, words failing.
Later Victor came to see us.
Im filing for divorce from Eleanor, he announced firmly. But Max, you will always be my son. Blood matters not.
Max wept, hugging Victor tightly.
Thus our family endured the blow. My motherinlaw was left alone, while we, strangely enough, grew stronger.
The irony of fate: had she not been so bitter, the truth might have stayed hidden in the shadows.
Six months after Victors split with Eleanor, life seemed to settle. Max gradually let go of his mothers betrayals, Arthur spent cheerful weekends with his grandfather and father, and I stopped flinching at every ring of the phone.
One evening, while scrubbing dishes, an unfamiliar number rang.
Catherine? a hoarse male voice asked uncertainly. Its your old schoolmate.
A spoon clattered into the sink.
Sam? I hadnt seen him in ten years, not since we moved to the county town.
We need to meet. Its important.
About what?
It concerns your motherinlaw.
We met in a tiny rooftop café.
Eleanors been looking for me, Sam said, swirling his mineral water. She claimed Arthur was my son because hes as redhaired as I am. She even offered money.
What?!
She was convinced that he flushed. That something had happened between us.
God, shes ill! I shouted. She truly thought Id given birth to your child?!
Sam nodded. I remembered shed once liked him, and his heart had been broken by my marriage, even leading him to drown his sorrows.
I refused to take the tests. I said it was falseI cant help a child that isnt mine. And even if I still cared for you, I wont tear your family apart.
My hands shook. It became clear my motherinlaw wasnt merely suspecting; she had woven painful fantasies to humiliate me.
I told Max everything at home. He turned ashen.
So she lied not only to your father She wanted to destroy my family too.
The following day Victor burst in, slamming the door.
Eleanor sued! Shes demanding half the cottage!
On what grounds? Max demanded.
She says she has nowhere to live, her pension is tiny, and she wants to sell the cottage.
That night the phone rang. Eleanor, for the first time in months.
Happy? her voice rang with venom. Youve shattered a family, now you finish it. Youre the one who ruined everything, you wretched girl!
You lied to my husband! You abandoned the grandson! I shouted.
Arthur will never be my grandson, she hissed before hanging up.
A week later a letter arrived from her solicitor: she sought an injunction banning Victor from seeing Arthur, claiming the boy is not a blood relative.
Its revenge, Max whispered, clutching the papers. Shes lost her mind.
Victor only smiled.
Let her try.
The judge dismissed every demand. Moreover, after hearing the full story, she warned Eleanor of the penalties for defamation.
On the day of the final ruling, Victor produced an old photograph: a young Max perched on his shoulders, both laughing wildly.
This is what family looks like, he said. Not blood, not surnames. Something else.
Arthur suddenly sprinted over and hugged his grandfather tightly.
Youre the best!
Eleanor was left utterly alone.
A year later we happened upon her in the park. She sat on a bench, solitary, eyes dim. Arthur, oblivious to any malice, waved at her.
She turned away.
Do you feel sorry for her? Max asked.
No, I answered honestly. Its a pity for those she hurt.
And we walked ontoward Victor, who was gently rocking Arthur on a swing, toward the family that had truly become ours.
