I heard a shout from the garden and dropped the halfmixed dough straight into the sourdough starter.
Emily, hurry! Peter called, his voice echoing off the old apple tree. I stepped onto the porch and saw my husband standing beside the tree, and next to him two small childrena boy and a girlsitting in the grass between the carrot rows. Their clothes were torn, their faces dirtsmudged, and their eyes wide with fear.
Where did they come from? I whispered, moving closer.
The girl reached out, and the boy clung to her, eyes never leaving mine. They looked no older than two, perhaps a little more.
I dont know myself, Peter scratched his scalp. I was watering the cabbage 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 earth and something sour. The boy stayed still, watching me intently.
What are your names? I asked gently.
There was no answer, only a tighter hug and a soft snuffle from the girl.
We should inform the parish council, Peter said, or the constable.
Hold on, I said, smoothing the childs tangled hair. First we feed them. Look how thin they are.
I led the girl inside; the boy followed, gripping the edge of my dress. In the kitchen I set them at the table, poured them milk and sliced buttered bread. They ate as if they hadnt tasted food in days.
Maybe travellers abandoned them? Peter suggested, watching them.
No, I shook my head. Travellers children are usually darker. These two are fairhaired and paleeyed.
After they finished, the boy even smiled when I offered a second slice. The girl climbed onto my lap and fell asleep, clutching my sweater.
Later that evening Constable Hughes arrived. He examined the children, made notes in his notebook and said, Well spread the word to neighboring villages. Perhaps theyre lost. For now they can stay with you; the district shelter is full.
We dont mind, I replied, holding the sleeping girl close.
Peter nodded. We had been married a year, still childless, and now we had two.
That night we set up a makeshift bed in our bedroom, near the stove. The boy lay awake for a long time, watching me. When I extended my hand, he tentatively took my finger.
Dont be scared, I whispered. Youre not alone any more.
In the morning a gentle touch woke me. The girl was beside me, her hand resting on my cheek.
Mum she said uncertainly.
My heart leapt. I lifted her into my arms.
Yes, love. Mum.
Fifteen years flew by. We named the girl Emily; she grew into a slender beauty with golden hair and skyblue eyes. The boy, Harry, became a strong young man, much like his father.
Both helped on the farm, excelled at school, and filled our lives completely.
Mum, I want to go to university in Leeds, Emily declared at dinner. I want to be a paediatrician.
And Id like to study at the agricultural college, Harry added. Dad, you said its time to expand the farm.
Peter smiled and ruffled Harrys shoulder. We never had biological children, but we never regretted itthese two were truly ours.
When Constable Hughes could find no relatives, we formalised guardianship, then adoption. The children always knew the truth; we never hid anything from them. To them, we were their real parents.
Remember my first attempt at baking a pie? Emily laughed. I dropped all the dough on the floor.
And you, Harry, were terrified of milking the cows, Peter teased. You thought theyd eat you.
We laughed, trading memories of school days, fights with bullies who called Harry a foster kid, and the meeting with the headmaster that finally put an end to it.
After the children went to bed, Peter and I sat on the porch.
Theyve grown up right, he said, pulling me close.
My own, I replied.
The next day a sleek black car pulled up to the gate. A neatly dressed couple in their midforties 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 bucket of cold water. Peter stood beside me.
What brings you here? he asked calmly.
The man opened a folder of papers. We were told you took them in. These are the birth certificates. Theyre ours.
I glanced at the datesthey matched. Still, my heart hesitated.
You kept silent for fifteen years, I said quietly. Why?
We searched, of course, the woman sighed. The children were with a nanny who had an accident and disappeared. Only now have we found a lead.
Emily and Harry emerged from the house, frozen by the strangers.
Mum, whats happening? Emily asked, clutching my hand.
The woman gasped, covering her mouth. Emily! Its you! And this is Harry!
The children looked at each other, bewildered.
We are your parents, the man blurted. Weve come home.
Home? Emilys voice trembled. She squeezed my hand tighter. We are already home.
The woman stepped forward. Were your blood family. We have a house near London and can help with the farm. Blood is stronger than strangers.
Anger rose in me. You didnt look for them for fifteen years, and now you appear because they can work?
We filed a police report, the man said.
Peter held out his hand. The man produced a certificate, but Peter saw the dateonly a month old.
Thats forged, he said. Wheres the original?
The man stammered, slipping the papers back.
Harry jumped in. Constable Hughes checked. There were no reports.
Enough, boy! the man snapped. Youll come with us!
Emily stepped beside me. These are our parents. Real parents.
The woman fumbled for her phone. Im calling the police. We have documents; blood is thicker than paper.
Call them, Peter agreed, but remember to bring Constable Hughes. Hes kept the records for fifteen years.
An hour later the yard was full of villagers, the constable, a district investigator, even the parish council chairman. Emily and Harry stayed close to me, clinging as best they could.
We wont give them away, I whispered, holding the children tight. No matter what. Dont be afraid.
We arent afraid, Harry said, fists clenched. Let them try.
Peter entered, his face set. Fake, he announced. The documents are forged. The investigator spotted the inconsistencies instantlydates dont line up. When the children arrived, those parents were in Brighton; tickets and photos prove it.
Why would they do that? Emily asked.
Peterson the constable figured it out. Their farm was in debt, workers had left, and they needed cheap labour. They heard about us and forged the papers, Peter explained.
We stepped outside as the man was led to a police car. The woman shouted for a lawyer, a trial, Theyre our children! Youre hiding them!
Emily faced her squarely. I found my parents fifteen years ago. They raised me, loved me, never left. You are strangers who wanted to exploit us.
The woman staggered back, stunned.
When the police cars left, the yard was quiet againjust the four of us. Neighbours whispered about what had happened.
Mum, Dad thank you for not giving them away, Harry hugged us both.
Silly lad, I said, ruffling his hair. How could we? Youre ours.
Emily smiled through tears. I used to wonder what would happen if my real parents were found. Now I know nothing would have changed. My real parents are here.
That evening we sat at the table, just as we had fifteen years before, only now the children were grown. The love in the room was as warm as ever.
Grandma, look what Ive drawn! little Billy held out a page of bright scribbles.
Lovely! I said, taking the picture. Is that our house?
Yes! And thats you, Grandpa, Mum and Dad, Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Jack!
Emily, now a doctor at the district hospital, entered the kitchen, her belly roundshe was expecting her second child.
Did you manage the pies? I asked.
Of courseapple ones, your favourite, she replied.
Years slipped by. Emily married Jack, the reliable tractor driver, and moved back to the farm, preferring the open air to city life. Harry finished agricultural college and now runs the farm with Peter. He married Claire, a schoolteacher, and they have a little boy named Billy.
Grandpa! Billy shouted, sprinting into the yard.
Peter, hair now grey at the temples, scooped him up and spun him round. What will you be when you grow up, Billy?
A tractor driver, just like Dad and you! he declared.
Emily and I exchanged smiles. History had a way of looping back.
Jacks van pulled up, and Claire hopped out, a pot of borscht in hand. Brought your favourite soup!
Thanks, love, she said, beaming. And we have newswere having twins!
Emily hugged them, Peters face spreading wide. The house will be bustling!
At dinner we gathered around the large oak table Peter and Harry had built years ago. There was room for everyone.
Remember that story about the fake parents? Harry said thoughtfully. How Constable Hughes still tells it to the youngsters?
How could I forget, Emily smiled. Its a lesson about what family really means.
Even if theyd been our biological parents, Id have stayed, Harry added. Family isnt blood; its love, care, and the moments we share.
Peter grumbled, Dont get all sentimental now, but his eyes twinkled.
Uncle Harry, tell us again how you and Aunt Emily were found! Billy begged.
Again?! Claire laughed. Hes heard it a hundred times!
Tell us! the boy insisted.
Harry began the tale once more. I watched my children, my daughterinlaw, my grandson, and Peter, whose presence grew dearer each year.
Once I thought I could never have children. Life gave me a miracletwo tiny strangers in the garden, between the carrot rows. Now our home is full of laughter, voices, and life.
Grandma, will I ever find someone in the garden too? Billy asked.
We all laughed. Perhaps, I said, patting his head. Life is full of miracles. Keep your heart open, and love will find you.
The sun set behind the old apple tree, painting its branches pink, the very spot where everything began. It grew, just as we did, rooted in love.
And I know this isnt the end. Many happy days lie ahead, new smiles, new stories. A true familyalive, growing, its roots deep in love. The greatest lesson: family is chosen, not given, and a heart left open will always welcome home.
