I found a baby under a birch tree and raised him as my own. But who could have guessed
“What are you doing here?” William Hartley froze, unable to believe his eyes.
Beneath an old birch tree, curled up on a bed of fallen leaves, was a childa thin boy of about four, wearing a tattered jacket far too light for the autumn chill. He trembled as he hugged himself, his frightened eyes fixed on the park ranger.
William glanced around cautiously. No one was in sightjust the wind rustling through the pines and the occasional crack of a branch. He crouched down, softening his voice.
“Whats your name, lad? Where are your parents?”
The boy pressed himself against the rough bark of the birch. His lips quivered before he managed a whisper.
“Ben Benjy.”
“Benjy?” William reached out, but the child flinched. “Dont be afraid. I wont hurt you.”
Dusk was settling over the woods, and the air grew colder. The boy shivered violently. Who would abandon a child here? The nearest village was twenty miles away, and the roads were rough.
“Come with me,” William said gently. “My cottage is warm, and theres food.”
At the mention of food, a flicker of interest lit Benjys eyes.
William shrugged off his quilted jacket and draped it over the boys narrow shoulders. Benjy didnt resist as William lifted himlight as a feather, his bones pressing against his skin. He hadnt eaten properly in days.
They walked through the forest, Benjys shivering slowly easing. Soon, a small cottage appeared among the trees, smoke curling from its chimney.
“Here we are,” William said, nudging the door open with his boot.
The scent of dried herbs and woodsmoke filled the cottage. The fire had burned low, casting a warm glow over the wooden table and benches. William settled Benjy on a seat, stoked the flames, and hung a pot over the hearth.
“Youll warm up soon,” he said. “Then well talk.”
The boy ate ravenously, coughing between mouthfuls. William watched him, an old ache stirring in his chest. How long had it been since hed cared for a child? Ten years? Fifteen? Since
No. Not now.
“Where are you from, Benjy?” he asked once the bowl was empty.
The boy shook his head.
“Your mum and dadwhere are they?”
Another shake. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
“I dunno,” he whispered.
William sighed. “Tomorrow, well go to the village. Constable Davies will know what to do. A lad doesnt just appear out of nowheresomeone must be looking for you.”
“Tonight, you stay here,” he decided. “Well sort it out tomorrow.”
He tucked Benjy under a clean, worn blanket on the bench. The boy curled into a corner, his gaze wary.
In the middle of the night, William woke to the sound of quiet sobs. Benjy sat huddled on the bench, knees to his chest, crying silently.
“Hey,” William called softly. “Come here.”
He patted the bed beside him. The boy hesitated, torn between fear and trust.
“Come on,” William coaxed. “Its alright.”
Benjy clambered down and, after a moments pause, slipped under the blanket beside him.
“Sleep,” William murmured. “Youre safe now.”
At dawn, William prepared to go to the village. He glanced at Benjy, still asleep. Should he take him? Leave him? What if the boy woke alone?
In the end, he roused him gently.
“Were going to the village,” William said. “Well find whos missing you.”
Benjys eyes flew open.
“No!” he cried, clinging to Williams hand. “Dont leave me!”
“Why not?” William crouched to his level. “Your family must be searching for you.”
Benjy shook his head, fear sharp in his eyes.
“Aint got no mum. No dad.”
Williams chest tightened. He knew that lookthe hollow despair of someone whod lost everything.
“Alright,” he said after a pause. “You stay here today. But well go tomorrow. Understand?”
The boy nodded, still gripping his hand.
Three weeks later, William Hartley finally made it to the village.
By the fire, they ate potato and leek soup, herbs from the garden lending it warmth. The flames cast flickering light over their facesone lined with age, the other young and freckled. But their eyes were the same: sharp, steady, alive.
“School starts next week,” William said, stirring the pot. “Nervous?”
Benjy shrugged.
“A bit. What if the other kids laugh at me?”
“Why would they?”
“Coz Ive never been. Coz Im different.”
William set the ladle aside and pulled Benjy close.
“Listen. You *are* different. But thats good.” Youve faced down a fox in the woods. You can light a fire with one match. You know the smell of rain on dry earth.
“And youre starting Year One. None of those kids knew school till they wentsame as you.”
Benjy looked up.
“Really?”
“Really,” William said, ruffling his sandy hair. “And one more truth: Ill always be here. Always.”
September arrived, bright and clear. Benjy stood by the door in his new shirt and backpack. William straightened his collar.
“Ready?”
Benjy nodded. Together, they walked down the lane to the village schoola small white building with a Union Jack fluttering outside. Children streamed in, clutching lunchboxes, while parents snapped photos.
At the gate, Benjy hesitated.
“Dad,” he said softly, and Williams breath caught. “Will you wait here?”
“Course I will,” William replied, voice rough. “Right here. Go on.”
Benjy took a deep breath and stepped through the gate, vanishing among the others. William stayed, watching the door with a quiet smile. The breeze tugged at his hair.
His son was starting school, as he should. The circle was completethe loneliness of the past replaced by the warmth of a new life, full of meaning, love, and hope.
