Leonard Refused to Believe That Little Iris Was His Daughter and Turned Away from Her, While Her Mother Vera Worked at the Local Shop, Her Reputation Tarnished by Rumors. Only Grandpa Matthew Loved Iris—He Taught Her About Forest Herbs and Left Her Their Family Home, Guiding Her Towards Happiness and Predicting Her Fate, Which Came True One Snowy Night When a Stranger Named Stan Found Shelter at Her House and Became the Love of Her Life. In the End, Iris Named Her Son After Her Grandfather, Honoring the Only One Who Had Ever Truly Cared for Her.

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 7 minViews 3

Leonard never truly believed that Emma was his daughter. His wife, Susan, worked at the village grocers. Rumour had it, she was often caught alone in the back storeroom with men who werent her husband. Because of this, Leonard was convinced that his petite, fragile little girl couldnt be his own flesh and blood. He never warmed to the child. The only soul who cared for Emma was her grandfather, Arthur, who later left her his house.

Emma was cherished only by her grandfather

As a child, Emma was often poorly. She was slight and small, almost delicate. Neither your side nor mine ever bred such a wee thing, Leonard would grumble, That childs no taller than my knee. Over time, Susan, swayed by Leonards coldness, grew distant as well.

It was grandfather Arthur, though, who loved Emma dearly. His cottage stood at the very edge of the village, bordering Sherwood Forest. Arthur had been a forester all his life. Even retired, he wandered daily amongst the trees, gathering berries and medicinal herbs, and leaving food for the woodland creatures during winter. The villagers saw him as a bit odd, maybe even a touch uncanny. Sometimes he’d say something, and it would come to pass. Still, many sought his remedies for their aches and illnesses.

Arthur had buried his wife many years ago, finding solace in the silence of the woods and the laughter of his granddaughter. When Emma started at the village school, she ended up staying at her grandfathers more than at home. Arthur taught her about the healing powers of roots and herbs. Emma took to his lessons with ease, always answering, Ill help people get better, when asked what she wanted to be. But Susan would sigh that she hadnt a shilling to spare for her daughters education. Arthur would take his granddaughters hand. Dont worry, love, Im not penniless. Ill help, and if need be, Ill sell the cow, he promised.

He left his homeand happinessfor his granddaughter

Susan visited her father rarely. But one day she barged into his cottage, desperate for cash. Her son, Andrew, had lost a fortune in a card game in Nottingham and was badly hurt, threatened to pay up at any cost.

So you cross my doorstep only when youre desperate? Arthurs voice was stern, his eyes narrowed. You havent cared to set foot here for years. He refused her pleas. I wont cover Andrews debts. I must give Emma her chance.

Susan flared with rage. Im done with you both! Youre no father of mine, and Ive no daughter! she shrieked and stormed out.

When Emma enrolled in nursing school in Birmingham, neither her mother nor Leonard offered a penny. Only Arthur supported her, and the bursary helped enough, as Emma excelled in her studies.

Arthur fell ill before Emmas graduation. Sensing his time was near, he told Emma hed left her the house. He urged her to find work in town but to keep the cottage aliveA house only breathes when people live in it. He insisted, Dont fear these walls alone. Here, your starring moment will find you, Arthur foretold. Youll be happy, my dear. He said it like he knew something no one else did.

Arthurs prediction came true

Arthur passed away in the autumn. Emma found work as a nurse at the county hospital. On weekends, she traveled back to her grandfathers cottage, lighting fires to keep the cold at bay. Arthur had stacked enough chopped wood to last several winters. One forecast promised rough weather. Emma, with two days off, didnt want to stay in her rented roomshe let a room from her friends elderly relatives in town.

She arrived at dusk in the village. By midnight, a blizzard engulfed the land. In the morning, snow was still tumbling from the sky, the road buried and the wind howling. A rapping on the cottage door startled Emma. She opened it to a strangera young man, shivering in the snow. Excuse me, my cars stuck out front. Do you have a spade? he asked, breathless. Its just by the porch, help yourself. Would you like some help? Emma offered. The tall man looked her up and down and grinned wryly, Id hate for you to vanish under all this snow.

He handled the spade with ease and managed to restart his car, but barely moved before he was stuck again. Another round of shovelling left him exhausted, and Emma invited him in for a cup of hot tea. Surely the blizzard will pass soon, she said, And the road will be clearthis isnt some desolate lane, plenty travel this way.

The stranger hesitated, then shrugged and stepped inside. Arent you scared living alone at the edge of the woods? he asked. Emma explained she only came for weekends; her work was in town. Im just hoping the bus will turn up, she admitted. The stranger, who introduced himself as Tom, offered her a lift, since he needed to get back to the district centre, where he lived. Emma agreed to the plan.

After work, Emma sometimes walked home through the village, enjoying the peace. One evening, she was caught off guard when Tom appeared at her side. I swear your herbal teas bewitched me, he teased, I just couldnt wait to see you again. Maybe youll pour me another cup?

There was never a wedding for the pairEmma didnt want one. Tom tried to convince her, but in time, gave up. What they did have was genuine love. Emma discovered that romance wasnt just for storybooks: her husband truly cherished her. When their first child was born, everyone marvelled at how such a slight woman could have such a strapping boy! As for choosing a name, Emma smiled and said, Hell be Arthur, after the best man I ever knew.And so, in the cottage at the forests edge, Arthurs legacy blossomed anewnot only in the healing hands of his granddaughter, but in the laughter and wild joy of a boy born beneath those same ancient oak trees. Through winters and green springs, Emma raised her child with the same tenderness shed once received from her grandfather, teaching him the secrets of elderberry and thyme, and the quiet certainty that kindness was more powerful than blood. The villagers soon forgot old rumors, remembering instead the nurse who came in the storm and left every patient comforted, and the strong, smiling man who stood at her side. The little cottage was filled with life, evening firelight gleaming through its windows, a new circle of family gathered close within.

Every Sunday, Emma would lead young Arthur into the woods, murmuring the names of plants as though they were old friends. As dusk fell, theyd sit together and Emma would tell storiesof a wise man, a gentle grandfather, who said that happiness sometimes waits quietly, at the heart of the forest. And when Arthurs laughter rang through the trees, Emma felt sure that, somewhere, her grandfather was listening, toosmiling to know that his house, and his love, still lived on.

John and Mary John never wanted to leave his village for the city. He loved the open fields, the river, the woods, and his neighbours. He decided to start his own farm, raising pigs for meat, hoping to grow his business if luck was on his side. He dreamed of building a big house; he already had a car, modest and old, and had invested his grandmother’s house money into the business. But he had another cherished dream: to marry Mary and make her the lady of his big house. They were already dating, and Mary knew John’s business wasn’t thriving, and his house was only just being built. Mary was a beauty. She never planned to achieve anything on her own. “Why was I given beauty, if not to be taken care of by my husband? I just need to find someone who’ll take care of everything for me. My beauty is worth a lot,” she’d say to her girlfriends. “John’s building a house and already has a car,” said her friend Lucy. “He just needs time; it might take him a while to get going.” “But I want everything right away,” Mary would pout. “Who knows when John will ever make it big. He doesn’t have the money.” John loved Mary but knew her feelings weren’t quite what he hoped for. Still, he believed she’d love him with time. Everything might have gone well—if not for the arrival of Tim. Tim had come to the village with a friend, visiting his grandmother on holiday. He looked down on the local girls and was openly bored at the village club, until the beautiful Mary appeared. At first, Mary ignored the outsider—but once she learned he was from a wealthy family and his father a well-known city official, she quickly shifted her attention to him. Tim was older, experienced with women, smooth-talking, and handsome. He often brought Mary lavish bouquets—flowers she knew weren’t sold in the village—so he must have had them delivered, which she appreciated. John saw her accepting Tim’s flowers and got upset. “Don’t take his flowers, are you trying to make me angry?” he pleaded, but she only laughed. “They’re just flowers! What’s the big deal?” John even confronted Tim: “Don’t give Mary your flowers, she’s my girl, and I have plans for her!” Tim brushed him off, and a fight broke out—fortunately John’s friends broke it up. After that, things were off between John and Mary. She avoided him, and he felt hurt. She also understood Tim was only in the village for a month before returning to the city. “I have to come up with something—grab Tim’s attention and go to the city with him. There’s no future for me here—I’d better act quickly,” she thought. It didn’t take much to lure Tim home. Her parents were off to town to the market. Mary timed things so her parents would catch them together. Her father, strict and stubborn, found them both: she in her dressing gown, Tim scrambling to pull on his trousers. “What’s going on here?” her father demanded. Mary lowered her eyes, Tim shuffled awkwardly. “I see,” her father said. “Right, Tim—you need to marry our daughter now, or you’ll be in trouble. Come in here, let’s talk.” What was said, no one knows, but the next day, the young couple went into town to register their marriage, her father driving them, her mother packing them for their move to the city. The village buzzed with the news. John was devastated, but tried not to show it. Tim cursed himself. “Why did I even come here? Why did I fall for the village beauty’s charms? She’s not as naive as she seemed—she trapped me!” But Mary longed for city life, happiness, luxury. “That’s fine—I’ll love him so much, have his babies, he’ll be glad it worked out, just hope his parents accept me…” But to her surprise, Tim’s parents were delighted that he’d brought home such a pretty, down-to-earth country bride. They were tired of all the fancy city girls who only cared about money. Mary would feed and care for their son—she obviously knew how to keep a home. “Come in, Mary, make yourself at home,” his mother Anna greeted her warmly, and his father, Michael, smiled kindly. Mary wanted to be a good housewife. Their flat was big and comfortable. Tim even realised that Mary wasn’t as manipulative as he first thought. “Yes, she played it well with the marriage—caught me good—but she does seem to believe we’ll be happy,” Tim mused, though he didn’t believe it himself. Tim made plans to party after the wedding—he had plenty of lady friends in town. But one evening at dinner, Mary dropped a bombshell: “I’m pregnant—we’re going to have a baby!” “Congratulations, Mary, we’ve been longing for grandchildren!” Anna beamed. Tim realised there was no point arguing—the baby was happening. Soon came the wedding. Tim’s parents gave them a furnished flat. Mary noticed Tim wasn’t thrilled to be a father. “He’ll come around when the baby arrives—he’ll realise what happiness it is,” she thought, little knowing the kind of man Tim really was. After the wedding, Tim started staying out late. “My job means lots of trips away,” he’d say, and she believed him, not knowing what he really did. She never complained to his parents about his absences or the nights he didn’t come home, just waited and cooked nice meals for his return, keeping the house tidy—though she missed her village, friends, and parents, and, strangely, found herself thinking more and more about John. Now she began to doubt she’d made the right choice. When she asked if her husband loved her, he dodged the question. Anna saw her daughter-in-law was downcast and realised her own son wasn’t much of a husband. The birth of their son was a joyous event for the family—even Tim was momentarily moved, but it didn’t last. The crying, the sleepless nights, nappies irritated him; Mary, worn out, could no longer make delicious meals or keep up with everything. Tim wanted to escape. He soon discovered many of his old flames now shunned him. “Who wants a married man?” He never told anyone about his wife. She had no education—just a village girl. “What could I do with her when our son gets older? The thought of my wife working as a cleaner or at a market stalls would ruin the family’s reputation. Guess I’ll just have to support them alone. Alimony would be cheaper.” Tim now had a permanent mistress—Katie, with her own flat, well-off, no interest in kids. That suited him; with her he could relax, party, travel out of town. “Katie, if you only knew how that chaos at home gets to me. I don’t love my wife, and the baby’s a pain too. Sure, Mary’s beautiful, but she’s just a country girl—nothing in common, I’m sick of it all. How am I supposed to go out with her, she’s never seen anything beyond her cows and her village.” Mary realised her dream of family life with Tim was slipping away—and suspected he had someone else. He’d come home smelling of another woman’s perfume, lipstick marks on his clothes. Tim was constantly irritable, ignored their son, snapped at her, even raised his hand. They lived in the village now, already expecting another baby. Mary called her mother, complaining, but got: “We never forced you to marry Tim—you made that choice. We thought you’d marry John. You chose your own path, now deal with it. When you’ve had enough, come home—for good.” Mary was crushed. She even checked Tim’s phone while he slept. The things she read between him and Katie left her speechless. She told her mother-in-law, who said: “If you’re thinking of divorce—remember, we’ll fight for custody. My husband has influence. Whatever his faults, Tim is the father, has good earnings, a flat. He can give the child a lot—what can you provide, without education or a job?” Her son had a fever, teething, and Tim, sick of the crying, got messages from Katie, who was waiting. He replied he’d come when the child settled and Mary fell asleep. Katie wrote: “Just give them the sleeping pills I gave you, they’ll be out in no time.” Tim left his phone on the table while in the shower. Mary saw Katie’s message—and was horrified. “What if he really does drug us? What if he poisons us…” While Tim was in the shower, Mary called John and told him everything. “I’ll come get you and take you home.” “His parents want to take my son away.” “Don’t worry, it’s just threats. Try to calm down, and get your son to sleep. Let your husband leave, and then call me—I’ll be nearby.” Mary rocked her baby until he finally slept beside her. She pretended to be asleep. She heard her husband look in, then leave the house. Quickly, she packed a few things, called John—who arrived promptly and drove her to his home. Tim came home the next evening and found Mary and the baby gone. He called his parents. “No, son, Mary hasn’t been here. Has she really run away? I’m calling the police,” Anna fretted. “Mum, don’t. Don’t call. I’m actually relieved she left. I’m tired of her and the baby. Let her live as she wants—please, Mum.” He talked her round in the end. Time passed. John and Mary married after her divorce. They lived in a big house, and soon were expecting another child. At last, Mary realised that John was her happiness.