Gift from Above
That morning was dull and heavy, thick clouds dragging across the sky, with faint rumbles of thunder echoing somewhere in the distance. The first proper spring storm was on its way. Winter had finally ended, but spring wasnt in much of a hurry to take charge either. It was still cold out there, winds gusting, last years leaves caught up with the dust, skittering along the pavements. The first shy blades of grass were trying to nudge their way up through the stubborn, crusty soil. Even the trees seemed to hesitate to show their new buds.
Everything seemed to be waiting for the rain. It had been a biting, bitter winter, hardly any snow, just relentless wind and cold. The ground hadnt truly rested, never had a proper drink, and now it seemed to be positively yearning for the storm. The rain would finally bring reliefwashing off the grime, waking everything up, getting spring going for real: the kind of spring that bursts with blossoms, as soft and gentle as a woman brimming with love.
Then, only then, grass would thrive, flowers would pop up everywhere, glittering leaves would flicker in the sun, and thered be sweet fruit on the trees. Birds would burst into song, start building their nests high up in the new green canopies of blossom-filled gardens. Life, simply, carries on.
Tom, come and have your breakfast! Your teas getting cold, called Emma.
From the kitchen, there was that comforting smell of tea and toast and eggs. Time to get up. But after last nights long, difficult conversation and Emmas sobs, after a sleepless night and a head swirling with heavy thoughts, getting out of bed was the last thing he wanted. Still. Life carries on.
Emma looked wretchedher eyes red, shadows underneath. She offered her cheek for a kiss, managing a brittle little smile.
Good morning, love. Looks like we’re in for a storm. Oh, I do hope it rains! Maybe then itll feel like proper spring. You know, Tom, Ive had this bit of poetry running round my head:
I wait for spring, like a release
From wintry cold, from all heartache.
I wait for spring, as if it might
Untangle every knot Ive made.
It always seems, when spring arrives,
It all clears up, all pain subsides.
It always seems, shes the one,
To set things right, make life run
Better,
Kinder,
Simply,
True.
Where are you, spring? Im waiting for you!
Tom wrapped his arms round her thin shoulders and pressed his lips to her bowed, blonde headher hair smelling of fields and wildflowers. His heart tightened with pity. My poor darling girl, what have we done to deserve this? Theyd spent all these years living with hope, and hope was such a precious, living thing.
But yesterday, the renowned specialist, their one shard of hope, had dashed any chance.
Im very sorry, but you wont be able to have children. Tom, your time in that chemical plant didnt leave you untouched. Sadly, theres nothing more medicine can do. Im sorry I cannot help.
Emma wiped her tears away firmly, tossed her hair, tried to rally herself.
Tom, Ive been thinking, and Ive made up my mind. We should adopt a child, from one of those childrens homes. There are so many kids there. Lets take a boy, raise himhell be our son. Will you, Tom? Weve waited so long for a childso, so long. The tears poured down again, and Tom clung to her, unable to not cry himself.
Of course! Dont cry, love. Lets do it.
Just then, a huge crash of thunder shook the housereally, it felt like the walls trembled. And then the sky finally opened. Rain bucketed down, as if the heavens just couldnt hold it back any longer. Finally, it felt like God had heard their prayers.
Long, steady rain poured down, darkness filling the streets as if night had returned mid-morning. Thunder cracked nearly non-stop, lightning flash after flash, too close for comfort. Tom and Emma held each other by the window, the sharp scent of rain blowing in through the open pane, cold drops spattering on the sill. It was as if the darkness that had gripped them was being washed away by that first spring downpour. All they wanted was for the rain to last and last. The long-awaited spring raina real sign of life, of hope, of something beautiful finally beginning.
A handful of days later, they found themselves standing outside the doors of the childrens home, their appointment nervously clutched in hand. Today they were going to meet their sonthe son theyd been aching for, their little boy, Charlie, as they called him to themselves already. They loved him, sight unseen, with all the affection they had piled up in their hearts over the yearsthe longing to nurture, to teach, to love.
Hearts thumping, barely able to breathe, Tom pressed the buzzer. The door opened; they were expected.
Their first interview with the headmistress had happened days before. Now, they were simply being shown the childrenthose who might become their child. In the very first room, though, Tom caught sight of a little girl sitting in soggy pyjamas on a damp bit of matting. Her shirt was filthy, her nose clearly hadnt been wiped in days, and those huge, pale blue eyes looked up at themquiet, utterly forlorn. She seemed to wear an aura of neglect and abandonment. Toms heart contracted in pain. Here it was, then, the childrens homea life raft for lost, unwanted children.
They were led on into the next room, where other little ones sat or lay in small cots. The nurse pointed out different children, naming their ages, giving tiny snatches of history. These children were clean, their sheets fresh. The nurse gently lifted them from their cots, showing them off. Tom couldnt help thinking it was a bit like a market stall. All that was missing was the price tag.
Tom, lets go back and see that little girl, Emma whispered. He squeezed her hand.
Nurse, could we see the girl in the first roomthe one with the blue eyes?
Butwerent you hoping for a boy? the nurse looked troubled, That little girl isnt for showing today. Shes not on our list
Please, Emma insisted, lets just see her again.
The nurse looked baffled, about to protest, but thought better of it, and silently led them back.
Ill fetch Mrs Robinson, the head, she said, indicating a couple of chairs. Emma clung to Toms arm.
Lets have her, Tom. The moment I saw her, I felt something. My heart just I cant leave her.
Me too, Tom admitted. She looks like you, love. Those eyes, that hair. And so lost!
The nurse returned with Mrs Robinson, who was visibly worried. Shes not really suitable. She has quite serious issues.
But why? We really like her, shes so much like Emma. Look! Theyre like twins! Tom walked determinedly to the room where the girl sat.
She’d been cleaned up in the meantime. Her hair was tidied, her pyjamas changed. She even looked a bit brighter, colour in her cheeks. When the adults stopped at her cot, she smiled, two little dimples appearing. She reached out her hands, trying to stand
Emma grabbed Toms hand, suddenly tense: the childs feet were twisted, turned completely backwards. Without hesitation, Tom picked the girl up. She nestled into him immediately, her damp face pressed to his. Tears pricked his eyes; Emma buried her face in his shoulder and began to sob. Mrs Robinson turned away, dabbing her eyes with a hanky.
Lets go to my office. Nurse, bring Alice, please. Mrs Robinson marched towards her office, Tom and Emma hand in hand behind.
The girl, Alice, had been born in some remote northern village, the youngest of a huge family. Her parents, already overwhelmed, saw her deformitythe twisted feet, the misshapen legsand refused to take her home. When told she could be helped, with operations, her father said he had neither the money nor the will to rear a cripple. There were already too many mouths to feed. So little Alice had ended up here, at the childrens home.
So now, Mrs Robinson said gently, its for you to decide if youll take her. She does have a chance at a normal life, but it will take years, money, and, most importantly, love. Ill give you the address of the specialist whos seen herhe can explain everything. Take a month to decide. Please, dont come and visit her unless youre sure. Heartbreak is so common for these childrenthey get attached so fast. If you changed your minds she trailed off sadly.
A month passed. Tom and Emma, after that first day, had both known the truththey wanted Alice, no hesitation. The specialist in London confirmed: with operations, her condition could be fixed. No scars left, and in the end, Alice would run just like any other child. Tom did some sumsthey could just about afford it if he sold the new car and put building their dream home on hold a bit longer. Theyd muddle through in their one-bedroom flat for now. All that mattered was their daughter.
There they were again at the childrens home, hearts racing as they entered Mrs Robinsons office. Tom brought a big bunch of pink peonies, and Emma carried a gigantic bag of treats for the children. Mrs Robinsons lips quivered; her eyes brimmed.
Another lost soul saved.
They all went together to fetch Alice. She had grown noticeablyher fair hair curling at the ends, a flush to her chubby cheeks, a few new teeth visible as she grinned. She was chirping, smiling, and stretched her arms out to Tom the moment she spotted him, nestling into his neck. She even let Emma hold her. Everyone ended up with tears in their eyes. Tom and Emma spent the whole day in the childrens home, learning from the doctors and nurses how to care for Alice, what to feed her. But they werent allowed to take her home just yet.
Adopting Alice meant a web of paperwork, court hearings. Her parents refusal was formalised; their rights had to be terminated. Only then could Tom and Emma legally bring Alice home.
When they finally did, Emma quit her job to look after her full time. Their days were a flurry of preparations for Alices first operation at a hospital in London.
They spent a month in the hospital, with Alice showing Tom how she could eat her porridge with a spoon, how the cat would meow, how the toy goat butted with its horns. No one could bear to look at her legs, not yet. Alice wore long trousers when they occasionally wheeled her outside. She waddled rather than walkeda bit clumsy, like a ducklingbut she was bright and sociable, learned to talk early, knew everyones name, always greeted people cheerfully.
She utterly adored Tom. My Daddy became the name on everyones lipsand Emma started saying it, too. And Tom doted on his daughter; she was his ray of sunshine, the centre of his world.
A year later, Alice had another set of surgeries to fix her legs for good. Many times, they took her to London, endured waiting rooms, the stress and endless worry. So much pain for Alice; so many sleepless nights for Emma by her little hospital bed. But at last, the effort paid offher legs grew straight, like any other childs. Now she could run, skip, dance. At five, Alice joined nursery, where her teachers noticed her gift for drawing and encouraged Tom and Emma to nurture it. At six, she joined art classes. Soon her work began popping up at childrens exhibitionsbold, happy scenes and glowing landscapes that turned heads. People couldnt believe the artists ageshe was clearly talented.
At seven, Alice started school, and she was instantly populartop of the class, funny, lively, outgoing, always drawing, joining the art club and dance group. She was always surrounded by friends. Her laughter filled the playground, her charm made her the favourite everywhere. Tom and Emma were proud to attend parents eveningsno one had any idea what Alice, or her parents, had been through to get here. Not her birth family, but her real familythe ones raising her with devotion.
God never stopped caring for Tom and Emma. Since Alice joined them, good luck never seemed to leave their side. Toms little company finally took off, enough that they could move to London as planned. There, they bought a lovely flat, sent Alice to a brilliant school. Shes in Year 6 now and still at the topwinning prizes, shining at art. Shes a beautiful, blue-eyed girl with a thick golden plait, always kind and gentle, loved by everyone.
A true blessinga gift from above.
