I stumbled upon two toddlers in the garden one spring, took them in as my own, and tended them for fifteen years. Then a pair of strangers turned up, claiming they were the childrens real parents and wanted to take them away.
Emily, come quick! Thomas shouted from the apple orchard, and I dropped the halfmixed batter straight into the sourdough starter.
I rushed onto the porchThomas was standing by the ancient apple tree. Beside him were two small figures, a boy and a girl, sitting among the carrot rows. Their clothes were torn, their faces smeared with soil, eyes wide with fear.
Where did they come from? I whispered, stepping closer.
The girl stretched her tiny hands toward me. The boy clung to her but showed no sign of terror. They looked about two, perhaps a little older.
I cant make sense of it myself, Thomas muttered, rubbing his scalp. I was just watering the cabbages and there they were, as if theyd sprouted from the soil.
I knelt down. The girl instantly wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. She smelled of damp earth and something sour. The boy stayed still, his gaze fixed on me.
What are your names? I asked softly.
Only a soft whine came back, and the girl squeezed me tighter, sniffling.
We ought to inform the parish council, Thomas said. Or the local constable.
Hold on, I said, smoothing the girls tangled hair. First lets get them something to eat. Look how thin they are.
I ushered the girl inside; the boy lingered, gripping the hem of my coat. In the kitchen I set them at the table, poured milk, and sliced buttered bread. They devoured it as if they hadnt eaten for days.
Maybe they were left by travellers? Thomas suggested, watching them.
No, I shook my head. Travellers children are usually darkerskinned. These two are fairhaired and blueeyed.
After the meal the children perked up. The boy even grinned when I offered a second slice. The girl climbed onto my lap and fell asleep, clutching my cardigan.
That evening Constable Jenkins arrived. He examined the youngsters and jotted notes in his notebook.
Well spread the word through the neighbouring villages, he said. Perhaps theyre lost. For now, keep them with you; the county childrens home is full.
Well look after them, I replied, holding the sleeping girl close.
Thomas nodded. We had been married a year, yet childless. Now we had two at once.
That night we placed them on a blanket by the stove. The boy stared at me for a long while before finally taking my finger timidly.
Dont be afraid, I whispered. Youre not alone any longer.
In the morning a gentle hand brushed my cheek. The girl stood beside me, stroking my face.
Dad she said hesitantly.
My heart leapt. I lifted her into my arms.
Yes, love. Dad.
Fifteen years flew by. We renamed the girl Poppy; she grew into a slender beauty with golden hair and eyes the colour of a clear sky. Harry became a sturdy young man, much like his father.
Both helped on the farm, excelled at school, and meant the world to us.
Dad, I want to study at the city university, Poppy announced over dinner. Id like to be a paediatrician.
And I intend to go to the agricultural college, Harry added. Father, you said it was time to expand the farm.
Thomas smiled and ruffled Harrys shoulder. We never had our own blood children, but we never regretted itthese two were truly ours.
When Constable Jenkins could find no relatives, the council formalised guardianship, then adoption. The children always knew the truth; we never concealed anything. To them we were their real mum and dad.
Remember my first attempt at baking a pie? Poppy laughed. I flung the whole dough onto the floor.
And you, Harry, were terrified of milking the cows, Thomas teased. You swore theyd eat you.
We laughed, swapping anecdotes: Poppys tearful first day at school, Harrys scuffle with bullies who called him a foster child, the headmasters stern talk that put an end to the teasing.
After the children were tucked in, Thomas and I lingered on the porch.
Theyve turned out well, he said, embracing me.
My own, I replied.
The next day a sleek black car rolled up the lane. A neatly dressed man and woman, both about fortyfive, stepped out.
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 moved beside me.
What brings you here? he asked calmly.
The authorities told us you took them in, the man replied, pulling out a folder. These are the papers. Theyre ours.
I glanced at the dates; they matched ours, yet my gut rebelled.
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 vanished after an accident. Only now have we got a lead.
At that moment Poppy and Harry emerged from the house, startled by strangers.
Dad, whats happening? Poppy clutched my hand.
The woman gasped, covering her mouth.
Poppy! Its you! And this is Harry!
The twins looked at each other, bewildered.
We are your parents, the man blurted. Weve come home.
Home? Poppys voice trembled. She squeezed my hand tighter. Were already home.
Oh, come on, the woman pressed. Were your blood family. We own a farm near London and can help yours. 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 snapped.
We filed a report with the police, the man started.
Show me, Thomas said, extending his hand. The man produced a certificate, but Thomas spotted the datejust a month old.
Thats a forgery, he said. Wheres the original?
The man stammered, slipping the papers away.
You didnt search for them, Harry interjected sharply. Constable Jenkins checkedthere were no reports.
Quiet, boy! the man snapped. Youre coming with us!
Were not going anywhere, Poppy said, standing beside me. These are our parentsour real ones.
The womans face flushed. She fumbled for her phone.
Im calling the police now. We have documents; blood is thicker than paper.
Call them, Thomas agreed, but make sure Jenkins is there. Hes kept the records all these years.
An hour later the yard was swarming with the constable, a county investigator, and the parish council chairman. Poppy and Harry stayed inside; I held them as best I could.
We wont give you away, I whispered, pressing them close. Whatever happens, well protect you.
Were not scared, Dad, Harry said, fists clenched. Let them try.
Thomas entered, his face set.
The papers are forged, he said shortly. The investigator spotted discrepancies straight away. The dates dont line up. When the children first arrived, those parents were in Brightontickets and photos prove it.
Why would they do that? Poppy asked.
Jenkins figured it out. Their farm was in debt, workers had left, and they needed free labour. They heard about us and forged everything.
We stepped outside. The man was already being led to a police cruiser. The woman shouted for a lawyer, demanding a trial.
Theyre our children! Youre stealing them! she wailed.
Poppy walked up, met her eyetoeye and said:
I found my parents fifteen years ago. They raised me, loved me, never left. You are strangers who wanted to use us.
The woman staggered, as if struck.
When the patrol cars disappeared, only the four of us remained. Neighbours drifted away, murmuring about the drama.
Thank you for not handing us over, Harry hugged us both.
Little rascal, I ruffled his hair. How could we? Youre ours.
Poppy smiled through tears.
I always wondered what would happen if my real parents showed up. It wouldnt have changed a thing. My real parents are you.
That evening we gathered around the tablejust as we had fifteen years before, only now the children were adults. The love was the same: warm, steadfast, familial.
Dad, tell us again how you found us, Poppy asked.
I grinned and began the tale anewtwo tiny figures in the garden, how they slipped into our home and hearts, and how a family was forged.
Later, threeyearold Vicky toddled in, clutching a scribbled picture.
Look, Grandma! she chirped. Thats our house!
Marvelous! I said, lifting my grandson. Is that you, Granddad, Mum, and Aunt Ellie?
Poppy stepped out of the kitchennow a doctor at the district hospitalher belly round with her second child.
Did you manage the pies? she asked.
Of courseApple crumble, your favourite, I replied.
Years drifted by. Poppy stayed, married the reliable tractor driver Sam, and returned from the city, preferring the fresh country air. Harry finished his agricultural diploma and now runs the farm with Thomas; he wed the schoolteacher Claire, and they already have a little boy, Oliver.
Granddad! Oliver shrieked, dashing into the yard.
Thomas, hair now speckled with grey, scooped him up and spun him round.
What will you be when you grow up, Oliver?
A tractor driver, just like Dad and you! he declared.
Poppy and I exchanged smiles, laughing at how life repeats itself.
Harrys car pulled up, and Claire hopped out, holding a pot of soup.
Brought pea soup, your favourite! she said.
And some news, she added brightly.
Were having twins! she announced, beaming.
Poppy hugged them, Thomass face breaking into a satisfied grin.
So thats family for youour house will be bursting at the seams!
At dinner the whole clan gathered around the long oak table Thomas and Harry had built years ago. There was room for everyone.
Remember that story about the fake parents? Harry mused. The one Constable Jenkins still tells the youngsters?
How could I forget? Poppy replied. He still uses it as a lesson.
And I thought, what if theyd really been my birth parents? Even then Id have stayed. Family isnt blood; its everything around this table, Harry gestured.
Dont get all sentimental now, Thomas grumbled, though his eyes twinkled.
Uncle Harry, tell us again how you and Aunt Poppy were found! Vicky demanded.
Again?! Claire laughed. Hes heard it a hundred times already!
Tell us! the little boy insisted.
Harry launched into the tale as I watched my children, daughtersinlaw, and grandson, feeling Thomass hand on my shoulder, his presence growing dearer each year.
I once thought Id never have children. Life gifted me two strangers in the garden, between the carrot rows. Now our home rings with laughter, voices, and life.
Granddad, will I ever find someone in the garden when Im grown? Vicky asked.
We all chuckled.
Perhaps, I patted his head. The world is full of miracles. Keep your heart open, and love will find you.
The sun set behind the old apple tree, tinting it pinkthe very tree where it all began. It grew, just as we did, rooted in love.
And I know this isnt the end. More happy days, new smiles, fresh stories lie ahead. A real family, alive and thriving, its roots deep in love.
