“Is your wife really what you think she is?”
“Edward, I didnt want to tell you this on our wedding day but, do you know your new wife has a daughter?” My colleague at work might as well have glued me to the drivers seat with that bombshell.
“What on earth do you mean?” I refused to believe it.
“My wife, when she saw your Sophie at the wedding, whispered to me: ‘I wonder if the groom knows his bride has a child in foster care?’ Imagine that, Edward? I nearly choked on my cucumber sandwich. My wifeDianas a midwife at St. Marys. She remembers Sophie because of that birthmark on her neck. Said Sophie named the little girl Emily and gave her own surnameWilkins, I think. This was about five years ago.” My colleague watched me, waiting for my reaction.
I sat there, stunned behind the wheel. Well, that was a turn-up for the books.
I decided to get to the bottom of it myself. I didnt want to believe gossip, but of course, Sophie wasnt some naive eighteen-year-old when we metshe was thirty-two. Shed had a life before me, fine. But why give up a child? How do you live with that?
Thanks to some discreet digging, I tracked down the foster home where Emily Wilkins was living. The director introduced me to a bright-eyed little girl with a grin that could light up London.
“Meet Emily Wilkins,” the director said. “How old are you, sweetheart?”
I couldnt miss the girls lazy eye. My heart ached for her instantly. She was already mine in spiritthis was my Sophies daughter! My gran used to say, “A child, though crooked, is a wonder to its parents.”
Emily toddled closer. “Im four. Are you my daddy?”
I faltered. What do you say to a child who sees a father in every man?
“Emily, lets chat. Would you like to have a mum and dad?” A daft question, but I already wanted to bundle her up and take her home.
“Yes! Will you take me?” She looked at me, hopeful and far too wise for her age.
“I will, but not just yet. Can you wait, little bunny?” I couldve wept.
“Ill wait. Promise you wont forget?”
“I promise.” I kissed her cheek.
At home, I laid it all out for Sophie.
“Sophie, I dont care about the past, but we need to bring Emily home. Ill adopt her properly.”
“Did you even ask me? Do I want that girl? And shes cross-eyed!” Sophies voice sharpened.
“Shes your daughter! Well get her eye fixed. Shes wonderfulyoull love her the second you meet her.” I was shocked by her coldness.
In the end, I practically strong-armed Sophie into agreeing.
It took a year before we could bring Emily home. I visited her often, and we became fast friends. Sophie, meanwhile, kept trying to back out. But I pushed on.
Finally, the day came. Emily crossed our threshold, wide-eyed at every little thingthe telly, the toaster, even the loo. Soon, specialists corrected her vision (no surgery needed, thank goodness). She grew to look just like Sophiesame smile, same laugh. I had two beauties in my life.
But trouble brewed. For nearly a year, Emily clung to a packet of biscuits, sleeping with it like a security blanket. Sophie found it maddening; I found it heartbreaking.
I kept trying to pull us together, but Sophie never warmed to her. “Why did you drag this little stray into our lives? Shell never be normal!”
I loved Sophie desperately, couldnt imagine life without her. But Mum had warned me once: “Son, its your choice, but I saw Sophie with another man. You wont find happiness with her. Shes sly, that one.”
Love blinds you. Then Emily cracked my vision wide open.
One night, Emily fell illsniffly, feverish, trailing after Sophie with her doll, Daisy. Sophie snapped, tore the doll from her hands, and hurled it out the window.
“Mummy, thats my Daisy! Shell freeze!” Emily sobbed.
I bolted down eight flights of stairs (lift broken, naturally), rescued the doll from a tree, and trudged back up, snow melting on Daisys plastic face like tears.
Upstairs, Emily had cried herself to sleep. Sophie sat reading *Hello!* magazine, utterly unbothered.
Thats when my love for her withered. Poof. Gone.
We divorced. Emily stayed with me; Sophie didnt fight it.
Later, I ran into Sophie. She smirked. “You were just a stepping stone, Edward.”
“Sophie, you had stars in your eyes but coal in your soul,” I said calmly.
She remarried a wealthy businessman. “Poor bloke,” Mum said. “A woman like that shouldnt be a mother.”
Emily grieved at first, longing for even a touch from Sophie. But my new wife, Lucy, melted her heart. It baffled mehow could a mother reject her child twice?
Now, Lucy showers Emily and our son, Sam, with endless love. And me? Ive got my little familycrooked smiles, biscuit habits, and all.
