How could I possibly ask such a thing of you? Even my father and Alice wouldnt agree to take him in.
Mary, my dear, come to your senses! Who are you marrying, really? my mother cried, fussing with my veil.
Just tell me, at least, whats wrong with Peter? I asked, lost in her tears.
Well, for a start, his mother works as a cashier, barking at everyone. His father disappeared years ago, and when he was aroundwell, he did nothing but drink and roam.
But grandfather used to drink, too, and chased grandmother around the village. What difference did that make?
Your grandfather was a respected man here, a leader of sorts.
Didnt make things easier for grandmother. I was just a child and I remember how frightened she was of him. But with Peter and me, mum, things will be fine. You cant judge people by what their parents were.
Wait till you have children, mum snapped, then youll see! I could only sigh.
It wouldnt be easy if mum never changed her mind about Peter. Yet we had a joyful wedding, and began our life together. Fortunately, Peter had a cottage in the village, left to him by his grandparentsthose same grandparents of the vanished, wandering father.
Peter slowly set about renovating the house, and soon enough, it had become a modern homeI always called it our manor. Everything you could want: comfort, warmth, happiness. Peter really was wonderful; why did mum say those things about him back then?
A year after the wedding, our son Thomas was born, and four years later, our daughter Emily arrived. But whenever the children fell ill, or acted up, mum would turn up, declaring, See? I warned you! And always added: Little children, little troubles! Wait till they grow; youll see just what kind of legacy youve married into!
I tried not to take my mothers jibes too much to heartshe grumbled more out of habit. After all, Id married against her will, without her blessing.
My mother simply liked things to go her way. Even so, over time she accepted my choice, and deep downeven to the core of herselfshe knew my Peter was gold. But never would mum admit so out loud, never! Shed never acknowledge she was wrong; that was simply unthinkable. And as for the grandchildrenher warnings were more out of concern; she loved them madly, and if any harm came their way, shed be the first to jump into the river, tearing her hair out over those careless words.
Still, I sometimes worried about these big troublesthe kind that came with children growing up, unavoidable as the tides, as all generations before knew.
So the children grew, and before I knew it, Thomas had finished his studies at the local grammar school, ready for the wider worldset to attend a fine university in the nearest city, a good ninety miles away.
But for a mothers heart, those ninety miles felt like the distance from Earth to Mercury. So far away! The first four nights, I barely slept, worryingwas my boy alright? Was someone unkind to him? Did he eat properly? Would the city change him? Thomas always was such a good lad.
At first, Thomas stayed in the student lodgings reserved for those from the countryside. But I couldnt bear it, so I persuaded Peter to rent a flat for him in town. Thomas chose to pay part of the rent himself, finding work onlinealways clever, that boy!
Every weekend, Id speed into the city to check on Thomas, help himyou know, tidy up, cook a meal. Yet his flat was always spotless.
At home, his room had been nothing but chaos; here, everything was in order. Miraculously, he cooked for himselfmeat pies, stews I tell you, clever to the bone.
Peter soon grew tired of my weekly trips.
Mary! Stop clinging to Thomas! Let the lad breathe! And you never have time for me anymore. Ill run off to Sally the postwoman, youll see!
He was joking, of course, but the thought still frightened me! What would I do if Peter ever left for Sally? Not a chance! And, truth be told, he was right; it was time to let Thomas live his own life.
I clucked and fussed for a while longer, but slowly learned to accept my sons independence. I gave him freedom, stopped hovering. As it turned out, I should have held on a bit longer.
One day, I got a call from the university officeThomas was missing classes, and on the verge of expulsion! Surely some mistake? My Thomas? Impossible! I flitted about and took a couple days off work, hurrying to the city. Not even Peter could stop me when I was like a force of nature.
Thomas hadnt expected me. Worse, he hadnt had time to hide the reason for his truancy.
That reason was a girl, Sophiequite the lovely thing, angelic in appearance.
But it wasnt just Sophie in the flat. There was also a childjust a year old.
At once, I understood. The girl with a baby wanted to ensnare my son, to marry him.
Im a modern mumthese things happen these days. Still! Thomas was far too young for marriage, let alone for stepping into the role of parent. And Sophie herself looked barely eighteen. How had she time for a child already?
A storm raged within, but I remained polite. I greeted Sophie and took Thomas aside into the kitchen for a heart-to-heart.
Thomas, are you madly in love? I asked, attempting a smile.
Deeply, mum, he replied, grinning too.
And what about your studies? I treaded carefully, as if tiptoeing through a minefield.
I know Ive fallen behind, but its just a phase. Dont worryIll sort it.
What sort of phase?
Cant say, mumits not my secret to tell. Maybe later, when you know Sophie better.
I was at a losshow to avoid alienating my boy? So I took a pause and went back home.
This is all your fault! I railed at Peter. You gave him too much freedom! Look where that got us! What do we do now?
Whats actually happened? Peter, ever the optimist, replied. Whats wrong with a ready-made child? If Thomas loves him, hes family.
And youd be a grandfather to someone elses child?
Why not? I always knew, once we had kids, Id be a grandfather someday.
But to a strangers child?
Mary! Are you hearing yourself? A child isnt a stranger, not ever. Think about it.
Peter slept in the spare room, and I paced the empty bedroom till midnightfurious at everything: at life, at Sophie, at my son, at Peter for taking their side. But as dawn neared, I calmed, and saw that Peteronce againhad the right of it.
A child wasnt to blame for anything. Sophie, too, had perhaps suffered more than most; there are all kinds of circumstances. By morning, Id cried myself empty and crept to Peter, sleeping on the sofa.
Peter, forgive me! Truly. I just love you all so much.
Come here, you daft woman, he said, lifting the blanket so I could slip in beside him.
And so we drifted to sleep, my lips marked by a contented smile. Well then. I would be a grandmother! What harm in that? That little boy at Thomass flatwhat a treasure! His name was Michael.
But life wasnt so simple as I imagined. Soon Thomas announced he was switching to evening courses at university, and he and Sophie planned to marry.
This time, I didnt rushI let myself absorb the news before we went to the city at the weekend. Peter, dependable as ever, would sort things out wisely. No sense in losing my headthough truth be told, I wanted to shake things up enough to heat our house through winter!
In the hallway, we were met by Sophie, dabbing tears from her cheeks.
Im so sorry. I dont want Thomas to do this, but hes stubborn as they come. I suppose you know that already.
Stubborn? Thats putting it mildly, Peter replied, kicking off his shoes, but our sons no fool. If hes set on it, theres a good reason. Calm yourself, Sophielets talk it through.
We sat in the kitchen; Thomas wasnt home yet.
Thomas went for milkhell be back soon, Im sorry, Sophie said.
Why all these apologies? Peter asked. Youve nothing to be sorry for. Let us understand first, then maybe a cup of tea for your tired guests? Ive just driven ninety miles, you know.
Oh! Of course, sorry Sophie bustled about.
Peter rolled his eyes, and Sophie, seeing him, smiled. I realised then that Peter had already accepted Sophie, and I let out a resigned sigh.
When mugs of steaming tea stood before us, and Peter was halfway through his third homemade biscuita rarity for most young ladies these daysI knew Thomas hadnt baked them himself. Just then, Thomas returned from the shops.
He laid out the groceries, face gloomy, but there was a new, adult strength in his eyes. Suddenly, I felt Id no more right to order this grown man, my son, than anyone else.
So, you two mean to marry? Peter asked.
Yes. Its decided, Thomas said firmly.
Very well. But why the hurry? Are you expecting another child?
No! Not at all! Sophie quickly shook her head, cheeks flushed.
A wild thought crossed my mindcould it be the relationship between Thomas and Sophie wasnt even that far along? Impossible, but
So why rush into marriage?
Otherwise Michael will be taken to the childrens home, Sophie said quietly, eyes downcast.
Why would they take the child? Peter asked, eyes hard.
Because his mum has passed, sir, Sophie explained, voice barely audible, lips trembling.
Sophie, you neednt explain Thomas protested. Mum, Dad, please. Accept what I told you on the phone. The rest is our business!
Wait, Thomas, Sophie responded. If were together, your parents are my family now. I wont hide how things standit wouldnt be right.
She paused, and Peter and I exchanged glances.
Sophieis Michael your son? I ventured.
No, no! Michaels my little brotherwell, weve different fathers.
Oh, I could have hugged them all! But I kept myself in check. Sophie continued:
My mother passed away in prisonshe had a heart condition from birth. They say she lived longer than expected, with such a diagnosis. Her life was never easy, she had a very fiery nature.
She sipped her tea, breath shaky. Clearly every word was a struggle, but still she pressed on, even as Thomas tried several times to stop her, and Peter and I too, seeing her pain.
Mum was first sent to prison after an argument with my dadshe hit a pensioner on the crossing. It even made the local papers.
When mum was taken away, dad took me and we lived apart. Before mum came out, he remarried. I dont blame him for leaving mum at her hardest time. She was difficult, and he struggled with her. His new wife, Alice, is gentle, and we get on very well. Maybe my own happiness is thanks to dads choices; Alice and dad raised me, and I count them as my real family.
Sophie paused. I saw she and Thomas held hands under the table, and sensed her hardest truth was still to come.
Three years ago mum fell hopelessly in love with a man called David, ten years her junior. Then Michael came along. I was delighted to have a little brother and visited often. I never saw fights, but neighbours later spoke in court of constant rows, crockery smashed, you know
One day, as I later learned, mum and David arguedshe was jealous, I think. During the row, mum shoved David; he staggered, tripped over a blanket and hit his head on the edge of the coffee table. He died in hospital two days later, and they arrested mum.
Sophie caught her breath and hurried on:
Mum died while still in custody, before her trial. Her heart just stopped. PleaseI ask only this: dont judge her harshly! She was like a hummingbird, wild and brightyou couldnt cage her. Yet I loved her dearly.”
Now you must forgive us, Sophie,” Peter said quietly when she finished, “for making you tell us all this. But youre right: were a family now, and must stick together.
Ashamed as I am to admit it, a part of me wanted to shout: What are you doing, Thomas? Come to your senses! We dont need this kind of connection! No criminals in our family, ever!
But I managed, just in time, to silence myself. I saw myself, years before, in a wedding dress, my mother sobbing, begging me not to marry Peter.
I mentally slapped sense into myself: “Don’t dare, Mary, to judge anyone by their parents! Of all people, you should know!”
It was as if magic stepped in. Suddenly, a wild, wonderful idea came to mind. I glanced at Peter; he was smiling. He understood! And he agreed!
Confirming my thoughts, Peter said:
How about this, friends? Mary and I will take Michael inbecome his guardians. You two, wait a while with marriage and continue your education.
What? Sophie asked, startled.
“Dad, dont” Thomas protested.
Michael will do well in the village. You remember your own childhood, Thomas. You can take him back any time you wish.
Mary and I miss having young ones about; wed be happy to care for Michael.
Your sisters becoming more interested in boys than in her old parents now anyway.
Sophie,” I said, catching her gaze, “it’s your decision to make.”
“But how can I ask that of you? Not even my father and Alice would agree to take him, Sophie protested.
Just then, Michaelthe centre of all this disputehad toddled into the kitchen, reaching straight for Peter.
Oh, what a heavy burden, Peter joked, sweeping Michael into his arms.
Peter, youre more suited to be a father than a granddad, I laughed.
Wait and see,” he murmured with a wink, “I’ll show you tonight that I can be a granddad, too.”
In the end, Thomas and Sophie agreed to our planMichael would come live with us. Not a single problem arose with the guardianship paperwork.
The woman at the social office said it was common nowadays for couples our age to take in little ones; their own children grown, plenty of parental affection and tenderness to spare. We certainly had energy to spare; Peter and I both felt years younger, caring for Michael.
Often, as I rose in the night to comfort Michael, I’d shed a tear for the sheer happiness of this unexpected gift.
Mother, true to form, scolded us roundly for our decision. Scolded and scolded, but in the end, none loved Michael more dearly, nor he her.
Oh Mary! What are you doing? shed cry, only to turn around to Michael and coo, Whose little eyes are closing, hmm? Who wants a cuddle and a sleep?
And then, as always, Whatever are you thinking, Mary! Whose little hands are covered in paint now?! Ive no idea how youll manage! Wheres my Michael gonewheres he hiding now?!Sometimes, I’d watch Michael tumble through the gardenchasing butterflies, sticky with jam, shrieking with laughterand Id wonder how it happened that our family kept growing, not by births, but by kindness gathered in unexpected places.
Thomas and Sophie flourished: their relief was like sunlight. They studied and planned, visited often, but never rushed. Emily, our daughter, doted on Michael, bossing him gently, teaching him games. Peter, my rock, gleefully claimed all chaos as proof he was still young and spry, and motherwell, her warnings became bedtime stories, dramatic tales beginning with, Just wait, my child, youll see! and ending always with Michael tucked against her, safe as houses.
Looking back, I saw the truth: families arent built of blood alone, but of small, brave choicesa boys stubbornness, a young womans hope, a grandmothers fierce love. Even the oldest wounds might heal, just as wild gardens bloom after frost.
Years later, with childrens voices echoing down our hallwayThomas and Sophies wedding at last approaching, Emily introducing a bashful suitor on a cold spring eveningI realized the legacy my mother always worried about was simply this: the will to open our door, again and again, no matter who stood on the threshold.
So now, when dusk settles on our village and Michael climbs into my lap, his hair smelling of sunshine and paint, I whisper into his ear, Were all a little wild here, love. Every one of us finds home in the end.
And as the old house fills with laughter, warmth, and forgiveness, I am gladoh, so gladthat I didnt let fear choose our family.
