Emily and her mother-in-law sat huddled together on the old bed, wrapped up warm against the winter chill. The cottage had only just been warmed by the newly lit stove.
“It’ll be alright, Mum,” Emily reassured her, though the woman wasnt truly her motherjust her former mother-in-law, or nearly former now.
They had once lived as threethe mother, her son Daniel, and his wife Emily.
Emily had married late, at thirty. She was Daniels second wife, but she hadnt broken up his first marriagetheyd only gotten together after his divorce. His mother, Margaret, had taken to Emily straight away, and the feeling was mutual. Warm, kind-hearted, she was the family Emily had lost when her own parents died young.
“Thick as thieves,” Daniel used to say about them.
Five happy years passed in a blinkuntil Daniel grew harsh and quick-tempered. He shouted at Emily, at his mother. The reason? A mistress. He stayed out late, coming home drunk.
One day, he announced he was divorcing her. She had two days to pack. Before Emily could even leave, his new woman arrived with a suitcase in tow.
Perhaps shed come deliberately, hoping to gloatbut it didnt work. She was a leggy blonde with pouty lips and absurdly long lashes, fluttering like a cows. Emily couldnt help but laugh.
“You traded me for this ridiculous doll with lashes like a farm animal? Good luck with herI dont regret a thing.”
“But shes fun,” Daniel sneered. “You and Mum are just two old hens.”
“Fine, insult mebut why her?”
“Darling,” the woman simpered, “why would we keep his mother here? Let her take the old bat with her.”
“Thats right, Mumtime you moved on,” Daniel agreed.
“Where will I go?” Margaret clutched her chest. “I gave you every penny from selling my flat so you could build this house!”
“No melodramatics,” he snapped. “Fine, staybut dont leave your room. Albinas in charge now.”
“Sweetheart, just kick them both out.”
“Shes my mother!”
“And you expect me to have her as a mother-in-law?” The woman whined, batting those lashes.
Emily had heard enough.
“Mum, come with me to the village?”
“Better there than with a son like this and that creature.”
“Rest. Ill pack your things.”
“Dont forget my medicine. And my trinket box. And my handbag.”
Emily grabbed another suitcase, tossing in clothes, documents, the box, everything.
“Take it all,” Albina chirped. “We dont want your junk.”
Daniel just watched, silent. He knew his mother would never forgive himunless she did, as mothers do.
Half an hour later, Emily stood by the car. Margaret sat in the back, wiping quiet tears, refusing to even glance at her son.
Hard to stomachgiving him everything, only to be tossed aside.
“How will we manage now, love?”
“Well be fine. Ive got savings. Your pension. Enough for bread and butter, at least.”
They reached the village where Emily had grown up. Thank goodness it was still daylight. The cottage was freezing, but Emily soon had the fire roaring, the kettle on.
“Youve done this before,” Margaret murmured.
“Grandad taught me. Lucky we stocked upno need for village gossip just yet.”
The warmth seeped in slowly.
“Ill clean properly tomorrow.”
A knock at the door.
“Neighbours back? Been ages. Saw your carwhy come in winter? Trouble?”
“Alls well, Uncle Jack,” Emily said. “Ill explain later. Come in for tea.”
“I meant to invite you myself. Youre not alone?” He noticed Margaret.
“This is Margaret. Jack Robertson.”
“Call if you need anything.”
“Nothing yet, thanks.”
A week passed. The cottage was spotless, cosy.
“You know, Emily,” Margaret said softly, “Im village-born too. Married a city man. He died when Daniel was twenty-three. I sold my flathe promised Id always have a home with him. Look how that turned out.”
“Dont cry. It hurts me too. Maybe youll have grandchildren yet.”
“From *her*? God forbid. Does Jack live alone?”
“Wife drowned saving a neighbours child years ago. Never remarried. No kids. He was friends with my grandad, despite being youngerabout your age.”
A month slid by. No word from Daniel. Then, an unknown number called Emily.
“Emily…?”
“Yes?”
“Your husbands dead.”
“Youve got the wrong person.”
“No mistake. Daniel drunk driving accident. The woman with him survivednot a scratch. Come identify him.”
Oh God. Poor Margaret. How to tell her? Uncle Jackhed help.
“Emily, youre white as a sheet!”
“Sit down, Mum. Daniels gone.”
Margaret wailed, “This is my fault! I left him!”
“He threw you out!”
“Im his mother! Oh this is my punishment.”
“Ill handle the formalities. Uncle Jack will stay with you.”
“Im coming too,” Jack said firmly. “My car. No arguments.”
After the funeral, they visited Daniels housenow theirs by default. No divorce papers had been filed. Jack accompanied them.
“Ill come along. You ladies shouldnt face this alone.”
The place was a stydirty clothes, mouldy dishes, reeking of booze and rot.
“My son didnt live like this! Whats she done to him?”
Albina strutted out, followed by a half-dressed, scruffy bloke.
“This is *my* house. Get out!”
“Show me the deeds,” Jack demanded.
“What deeds? My husbands dead! We even had a wedding!”
“He was still married!”
“We celebrated early! Its all mine now!”
“Enough drunken nonsense. Clear out!”
The man slunk off. Jack ensured the woman stole nothing.
“Check the paperwork. Change the locksshe might have keys.”
The documents were in order. The locks were replaced.
Most of Daniels things were tossed. Jack stayed close.
“Ill miss having you nearby.”
“Well visit. Youre welcome too, Uncle Jack.”
“Youve made me feel young again. Margaret reminds me of my late wife.”
“Ive noticed how you look at her,” Emily teased. “And she at you. Smitten, arent you?”
“Now, now,” Jack mumbled, reddening.
A year later, Jack and Margaret married. They were happywith Emily like a daughter. But the family grew.
Emily became a mother, fostering siblingsshe couldnt separate them. She never remarried.
But family isnt just blood. Sometimes, it finds you when you least expect it.
