One rainy October evening, the evening service at the church was coming to an end. Not many people had braved the weather—the rain had turned into sleet, and most had stayed home to avoid the chill.
The church slowly emptied as folks shuffled out, the heavy door swinging open now and then, sending gusts of wind that made the candle flames shudder, leaving thin trails of smoke. Eventually, the last footsteps faded. Only Natalie remained.
She stepped out from behind the counter of the church shop and made her rounds, carefully extinguishing the candles and brushing wax droplets off the stands. Then she put out the oil lamps flickering before the icons. The stained-glass windows barely let in any light from the streetlamps outside. Only a single bulb over the candle counter still glowed, its light catching the gilded edges of the nearest icons.
Father Victor emerged from the side chapel, a black jacket draped over his cassock.
“Has the caretaker arrived yet?” he asked, stopping beside Natalie.
“Not yet. Need me to pass on a message?”
“No. See you tomorrow.” He nodded in farewell and headed for the door.
Natalie fetched a bucket of water and a mop and began cleaning the floors. She loved walking into a spotless church in the morning. Suddenly, another gust of wind blew through, and the heavy door clicked shut behind her. She turned. The caretaker crossed himself absentmindedly, nodded at her, and walked past into his little room. Natalie had never once heard him speak, though Father Victor insisted he wasn’t mute.
Once done, Natalie put away the cleaning supplies, put on her coat, and scanned the church one last time—checking each icon, whispering, *”Saint Nicholas, pray for us… Holy Mother, help us… Lord Jesus Christ…”*
“I’m leaving!” she called out to the caretaker, her voice echoing under the vaulted ceiling.
She switched off the light and pushed open the heavy door. Standing on the porch, she paused, listening—but instead of footsteps, she heard the scrape of the bolt as the door locked behind her. And then, a tiny whimper.
Natalie glanced down, expecting a stray puppy or kitten sheltering from the rain, but instead saw a pale bundle on the ground—a faint cry coming from within.
“A baby? Who in their right mind would leave you here?” She bent down and picked up the feather-light bundle, peeling back the blanket to reveal a tiny, wrinkled face.
“Good Lord, what kind of mother abandons a child in this weather?” Her fingers tightened around the blanket. “Why didn’t anyone see you? Or were you just left here?”
*What do I do? Knock on the church door? Call the police?* That would be the sensible thing. But instead, on impulse, she decided to take the baby home and call Father Victor from there for advice.
She’d barely taken two steps down the path when a woman darted out of the shadows.
“Give her back!” the woman shrieked, snatching the bundle from Natalie’s arms.
From her voice, the heartless mother couldn’t have been more than a girl herself.
“Is this *your* child? Do you know what could’ve happened to her out here?” Natalie demanded.
“I wasn’t abandoning her—just leaving her for a minute!” the girl choked out between sobs.
“Then why not bring her inside?” Natalie asked, softening slightly.
The girl didn’t answer, just clutched the baby and turned to leave.
“Wait—do you even have somewhere to go?” Natalie called after her.
The girl hesitated, glancing back.
“That’s what I thought,” Natalie muttered. “Hold on!” she called louder, hurrying after her. “Come with me. I live just down the road. I can see you’ve got nowhere to go.”
The girl flinched but didn’t resist as Natalie gently steered her along. Clearly, she had no other choice.
The whole walk home, Natalie kept up a steady stream of chatter—explaining that she was a widow, that she’d never had children of her own, that the girl and her baby wouldn’t be a bother. “No belongings? No worries. My neighbour’s daughter just had a baby—I’ll borrow some nappies and clothes. Tomorrow I’ll buy more.” She talked and talked, trying to distract the girl from whatever desperate thoughts had brought her here.
Finally, they reached Natalie’s flat. “Here we are. Come inside.” She held the door open, letting the girl pass with her baby. “I’m on the sixth floor…”
In the lift, Natalie noticed the girl’s clothes were soaked through, her lips blue with cold. She bit back a gasp. Inside, she flicked on the lights.
“Here, let me take her while you get dry.” Natalie handed the baby back, then hurried to the kitchen.
When she returned, the girl had unwrapped the baby—a little girl, wriggling and fussing.
“She’s hungry,” Natalie murmured. “I’ll pop next door and get nappies.”
“Nat, any chance you’ve got a few spare nappies and clothes?” she asked her neighbour the moment the door opened.
“Since when do *you* have a baby?” her neighbour blinked.
“Relatives visiting. Their suitcase got stolen at the station,” Natalie lied smoothly.
Her neighbour handed over a whole bag of supplies. “Take it all—my little one’s outgrown these anyway.”
Back home, Natalie found the girl breastfeeding. “Oh good, no need for formula—that stuff’s pricey.” She set down the bag. “Tea’s on. You must be starving.”
The baby, now fed and changed, dozed off on the sofa.
“Come eat,” Natalie said gently. “Chicken soup—just made it this morning. Tea with milk. You need to keep your strength up—for *her* sake.” She took a slow breath. “What’s your name?”
“Lydia.”
“I’m Natalie. And your little one?”
“Veronica.”
“Lovely name.” Natalie exhaled. “Eat first. Then, if you want, you can tell me what happened. No judgement. We all have our burdens.”
Over hot soup and tea, Lydia’s story spilled out—how she’d left the hospital with nowhere to go, how she’d nearly…
“I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t jump. Put her by the church door instead, praying someone kind would find her…”
“Parents?” Natalie asked softly.
“Divorced. Mum remarried. I’ve got a younger sister. I couldn’t go back like *this*.”
“Does the father know?”
“He knew about the pregnancy. Gave me money for… for an abortion.” Lydia’s voice broke. “I couldn’t go through with it. I’m a student—was a student. Now… no money, no home—how do I live?”
Natalie reached across the table, clasping Lydia’s trembling hands. “Stay here. No rent. Just promise me you’ll go back to uni—take a leave if you must.”
Lydia stared at her, tears spilling. “Why are you doing this?”
Natalie smiled. “Because someone once told me God never leaves His children helpless. He sends people instead.”
*Fifteen years later…*
“Mum, look—this dress needs taking in at the waist,” Veronica called, twisting in front of the mirror.
“Don’t be silly, it fits perfectly,” Lydia said, hugging her. “You look beautiful. Wish Gran could’ve seen you.”
Natalie had passed a year ago, quietly, during evening service. Lydia still volunteered at the church in her place.
Veronica aced her A-levels, then got into med school—just like Lydia. But one day, she grew distant.
“Crushing on someone?” Lydia teased.
“Mum! He’s *old*.”
“Lecturer? We’ve all been there.” Lydia laughed. “What’s his name?”
“Gregory Wilson.” Veronica’s voice wobbled. “The way he looks at me…”
Lydia’s vision blurred. She groped for a chair, gasping.
“Mum?!”
“I’m fine,” Lydia managed. “Just… shocked.”
Veronica frowned. “You *know* him?”
Lydia didn’t answer.
A few days later, she waited outside his lecture hall. When the door opened, there he was—same sharp features, same confident stride. Their eyes met.
*”Do I know you?”*
Lydia’s hands clenched around her handbag. “I’m Lydia Grant. Veronica’s mother.”
His expression flickered—just for a second.
“Veronica is *your* daughter,” Lydia said flatly. “The baby you paid me to abort.”
Gregory paled. “I didn’t know—”
“Exactly. You never checked.” Her voice shook. “Stay away from her.”
At home, Veronica listened silently before whispering, “So my dad’s not some hero who died saving lives?”
“No.” Lydia hugged her. “But *you* decide if you want him in yours.”
A year later, Veronica got engaged.
“Mum… I invited himLydia took a deep breath, nodded, and walked into the wedding chapel—ready, at last, to let go of the past.
