Anne wiped her wet hands and, groaning from the pain in her back, went to answer the door. The bell had rung softly, but it was the third time. She had been cleaning the window and hadn’t reached the hallway right away. Standing at the door was a very young girl, quite charming but pale with tired eyes.
“Anne, they say you might have a room to rent?”
“Oh, these neighbors, always directing people my way! I don’t rent out rooms and never have.”
“But I heard you have three rooms.”
“So what? Why on earth should I feel obliged to rent them out? I’m used to living alone.”
“Well, I’m sorry. They said you were kind-hearted, and I thought…”
The girl, blinking back tears brimming in her eyes, turned and started down the stairs slowly, her shoulders trembling.
“Come back, love! I haven’t turned you down! Youngsters today, so ready to cry. Come inside, let’s talk. What’s your name? Shall we be on first-name terms?”
“Emily.”
“Emily, eh? I bet your father’s a teacher or an educator, hmm?”
“I don’t have a father. I grew up in an orphanage. No mother either. Good people found me in a stairwell and took me to the police station. I wasn’t even a month old.”
“Alright, don’t be upset. Let’s have some tea and chat. Hungry?”
“No, I did buy myself a pastry.”
“A pastry, she says! Oh, young people, never taking care of yourselves, and by thirty, you have stomach ulcers. Sit down, there’s some hot pea soup. We’ll warm up some tea. I’ve got plenty of jam. My husband passed away five years ago, but I still stock up for two out of habit. We’ll eat first, then you can help me wash the window.”
“Anne, could I do some other work? I’m feeling dizzy, afraid I might fall from the window sill—I’m expecting.”
“Even better! Just what I needed—a pregnant girl. I’m very principled. Did you end up in this situation?”
“Why think the worst right away? I’m married. Tom’s from the same orphanage. But he was drafted into the army. He visited on leave recently. My landlady found out I’m expecting and immediately gave me notice. I need to find a place within the week. We lived nearby. But as you can see—circumstances.”
“Yes… circumstances… So what should I do with you? Perhaps move my bed into the guest room? Alright then, take my room. And I won’t take any rent from you—don’t even mention it, or I’ll be cross. Go get your things.”
“I won’t have to go far. All of Tom’s and my things are packed in a bag by the building. The week’s deadline is up, and I’ve been schlepping around since morning.”
So they became two. Emily was studying to become a dress designer. Anne had been on disability for many years after a major train accident, so she stayed home, knitting lace doilies, collars, and baby booties to sell at the local market. Her craft, imbued with creativity, was like delicate sea foam—soft, almost ethereal—and thus sold well. Money was not scarce. Some also came from selling produce from the garden. On Saturdays, they worked in the garden together. On Sundays, Anne went to church while Emily stayed home, rereading Tom’s letters and replying to them. Emily rarely went to church—she wasn’t used to it yet. She complained that her back ached and her head spun.
One Saturday, while working at the cottage, Emily quickly grew tired, and Aunt Anne sent her inside to lie down and listen to old records they once bought together. That Saturday, after working with the rake, the expectant mother lay down to rest. Anne was throwing dry stalks and branches into a fire, thoughtfully watching the flames when she suddenly heard Emily yell, “Mum! Mum! Come quickly!” With a racing heart, forgetting her bad knees and back pains, Anne dashed to the house. Emily was holding her stomach and crying out. In a rush, Anne convinced a neighbor, and they sped to the hospital as fast as the old Ford could handle. Emily kept groaning, “Mum, it hurts! It’s too soon; I’m only due in the middle of July. Mum, please pray for me, you know how!” Tears streamed down Anne’s face as she prayed fervently through them.
From the hospital’s admission room, Emily was wheeled off, while the neighbor drove a tearful Anne back home. She prayed through the night, asking the Virgin Mary to keep the baby safe. In the morning, she called the hospital.
“Your daughter’s alright. She was asking for you and Tom at first, crying, but then calmed down and fell asleep. The doctor says there’s no more risk of miscarriage, but she’ll need to stay in for a couple of weeks. Her hemoglobin’s low. Make sure she eats well and rests plenty when she’s back.”
When Emily was discharged, they talked for hours, well past midnight. Emily talked about her Tom.
“He’s not just any orphan like me. He’s been in the orphanage with me all our lives. We were friends from school, then we fell in love. He cares for me. It’s more than love to me. See how often he writes? Do you want to see his photo? Here he is, second from the right, smiling.”
“Handsome…” Anne didn’t want to upset Emily. Her glasses needed a change long ago. Besides, there were many soldiers, and the image was tiny. She couldn’t distinguish a second from a third or a fifth—just outlines. “Emily, I’ve been meaning to ask—why did you call me mum back at the garden?”
“Oh, just slipped up in fear. It’s a habit from the orphanage. Everyone there, from the director to the janitors, was a mum or dad. I’ve almost gotten rid of it. Most of the time. It slips out when I’m worried or nervous—everyone becomes ‘mum’ or ‘dad’. Sorry about that.”
“I see…” Anne sighed with some disappointment.
“Aunt Anne, tell me about yourself. Why don’t you have any pictures of your husband or children? You don’t have kids, right?”
“No, no children. There was a son, but he passed away when he was still a baby. After my disability, I couldn’t have more children. My husband was like a child to me. I spoiled him, adored him. He was my whole world, like your Tom is for you. Once I buried him, I put away all the pictures. Even though I believe he’s with the Lord, it was too painful without him. Looking at those pictures just brought tears. So I hid them, to avoid the temptation of sorrow. Now, he needs my prayers, not my tears. But ask Tom for a bigger photo, we could frame it. I’ve got frames somewhere.”
On Christmas Eve, Anne and Emily prepared for the celebration, decorating the rooms and speaking of baby Jesus, watching for the first star. Emily kept shifting; rubbing her back.
“Something’s off, love. You’re missing half my words. What’s bothering you?”
“Aunt Anne, call an ambulance. It’s time.”
“What? It’s a week early!”
“Seems I miscalculated. Call quickly, I can’t tolerate it.”
Within half an hour, the ambulance had reached the hospital. On Christmas Day itself, Emily gave birth to a lovely little girl. On the same day, Anne delighted the young father with a telegram.
January was intense. The baby brought joy but required much attention. With Tom’s agreement, Emily named her daughter Annie. Anne was moved to tears. Little Annie brought both joy and some sleepless nights, fussy moments. But these were happy troubles. Anne even found her ailments less burdensome.
The day was unusually warm for winter. Anne seized the chance to run errands. On her way back, she saw Emily with the pram—young mum decided on a stroll.
“We’ll go for a longer walk, okay, Aunt Anne?”
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll start making lunch.”
Entering the room, Anne glanced at the table and saw a framed photo of her husband. She chuckled, “Found it, did she? Chose the youngest picture of him—young folks never like old ones.”
The soup was gently bubbling on the stove when Emily brought little Annie back. The neighbor’s lad helped carry the pram. The two women unwrapped the baby, who was sleeping sweetly. They tiptoed into the living room.
“Emily,” Anne smiled, “how did you know where to find Alex’s pictures?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“This, here?” Anne pointed to the photo.
“This? But you asked Tom for a bigger picture. He went to the studio for it. I found a frame on the bookshelf.”
With trembling hands, Anne picked up the frame. Only now did she see it wasn’t her husband. A young sergeant grinned cheekily at the camera. The woman sat on the couch, pale, distant-eyed, staring into space. When she looked at Emily, the younger woman was crying hysterically, holding a cotton ball soaked in smelling salts.
“Mum, look at me! Look into my eyes! What’s wrong, mum?” Emily sobbed.
“Emily, open the wardrobe, top shelf—those are photos. Bring them all.”
Emily brought several albums and framed photos. Staring back at her from one was… Tom?!
“Oh my! Who is this? Tom? No, the photo’s old. Who is it, mum?”
“It’s Alex, my husband. Emily, sweetie, where was Tom born?”
“I don’t know. He was brought to our orphanage from London. He ended up there after a train accident. They told him his parents had died.”
“Oh, what a terrible mistake! My baby, Michael, they showed me… I recognized a shirt just like yours on him. But his little face was unrecognizable. My boy, Michael! You’re alive! Your wife and daughter are here, and I didn’t know. Oh Lord, you brought Emily to me. Darling, pass me the photo.”
Emily, utterly bewildered, struggled to comprehend. She handed over the frame. Anne kissed it, drenching it with tears: “Michael, my sunshine, my darling boy!”
“Tom,” Emily quietly corrected.
“Let him be Tom, but this is my son, Emily—my son! Look at his father’s picture—they’re the spitting image!”
The young woman still had doubts.
“Emily, what about a birthmark? A star-shaped one above the right elbow? That’s all I had to go on in that crash—matching age and shirt. His arm was damaged, and I couldn’t find the birthmark. Why are you silent? Is there a birthmark?”
“There is. Shaped like a star. Oh mum, darling, there is a birthmark!”
Both women embraced, crying, oblivious to little Annie fussing in the next room, demanding her mother’s attention.
