A Daughter for Two
The affection between Margaret and Charles flared instantly, from their very first meeting. They had only been seeing each other a month when, during one of their walks, Charles suddenly said:
Margaret, will you be my wife? His abruptness left her stunned.
How? You cant be serious. Weve only been together a month!
What of it? That month was more than enoughI know you were meant for me. Theres no one else Id ever want. Charles spoke with such conviction she laughed softly and leaned against him.
To be honest, I do agree, she murmured, nestling closer.
Margaret, are you sure youre not rushing? Her mother questioned the sudden decision. Youre not expecting, are you?
Mum, of course not, Margaret replied. Charles says he simply cant live without me, and truthfully, I feel the same. Thats just how our love is.
Before long, those who doubted their quick marriage saw clearlythese two were made for one another. All was well. Charles cherished Margaret, she loved and cared deeply for him as well.
Their devotion was sincere and steadfast, but there was one shadow over their happinessthey longed for a child, yet the hoped-for pregnancy never came.
Charles, maybe we should see the doctor. There might be a reason I cant conceive.
Charles agreed without hesitation.
They tried everythingappointments, trips, prayersbut in the end, Margaret could not become a mother.
Margaret, Ive been thinkingperhaps we should adopt a child, raise them as our own? Charles ventured.
Id love that, Margaret blurted, relieved; shed dreamed of adoption but feared Charles might resist. Ive been thinking the same.
Lets do it, then, Charles said. I know of an orphanage near the cityI pass it whenever I come back from work trips. Thats when I first decided.
When Margaret and Charles visited the orphanage, among dozens of wary children, one little girl with fair hair and blue eyes ran to Margaret and hugged her knees.
Mummy, the girl said happily, and Margaret couldnt bear to let her go.
So their home was blessed with young Lucy, a lively child whose laughter filled every corner. Margaret finally felt true happiness; her maternal affection overflowed at last. She adored Lucy, and Charles too was utterly devoted.
Life was content. Their village was small; neighbours knew one anothers business. Of course, many knew Lucy was adopted. While Lucy was young, it caused no difficulties. But as she grew, entered school, someone inevitably told her she wasnt their biological child.
Lucy was fourteen then, and when she came home, she was distraught.
Mum, why didnt you or Dad ever tell me I wasnt yours? I know you took me from the childrens home!
Darling, please calm down. We always planned to tell you once you were older and could handle it, but now that its out, we feared exactly this reaction.
Lucy sobbed and shouted, then drew inward and grew sullen, especially as adolescence weighed on her. She started speaking rudely to her parents, slamming doors, even snapping at them.
Then, a terrible blow struck unexpectedly. Charles died. Margaret could scarcely process the news. Her beloved husband lost his life in a car crash coming home from a business trip, just before Christmas, when snowstorms battered the roads.
Charles frequently travelled for work, sometimes gone a week. If delayed, hed send postcards, since there were no mobile phones then. Margaret was forty-six when he passed. Instead of comforting her, Lucys behaviour worsened. She disappeared from home often, refused to listen, spoke sharply.
Margaret, heartbroken, tried desperately to reach Lucy, always gentle, never raising her voice. Thats how they lived. Lucy grew up quickly. After finishing school, she announced one day:
Im going to the city, Lucy declared firmly.
Margaret looked up tiredly, clutching a dish towel.
To study, love?
No, Im going to look for my birth mother.
Margaret caught her breath. But why, Lucy? Am I not your mum?
Lucy turned to the window, silent for a long while.
I need to know who she is. I have to understand why she left me. I deserve the truth.
You have every right, darling, Margaret said, knowing nothing would dissuade her.
Lucy was nearly nineteen. She packed her few belongings in a small bag, kissed Margarets cheek, promised to visit. She headed for the bus stop, and Margaret watched her go, sorrow filling her heart. Now she was alone.
Years slipped bydays passed slowly. Margaret was well into retirement now, spending long winter evenings sorting through Charles postcards in an old chocolate tin tied with ribbon. There werent many, and the lastwith pine branches and golden edgesshe reread: Maggie, Ill be three days late. Miss you, love you, yours, Charles.
Margaret touched the postcard with trembling fingers, pressed it to her heart as though hugging her late husband. So many years had passed, so much had changed. Nearly twenty-five since Charles death.
Margaret sat by the window, burdened by memories. She had grown frail; once, shed sit on benches outside the village shop gossiping with women, but now rarely left her gate except for shopping.
Curtains drawn, postbox empty, her house quiet. Joy came only when Lucy and her children visited, but those trips were rare. Most days, Margaret was alone. On the dresser stood a photo of Charles holding little Lucy, both smiling.
Oh, Charles, you left so soon, left me all alone, shed whisper to him. Theres nobody but me now.
The silence in the house was only broken by Tibby, the cat, who leapt from windowsill to rug, sometimes purring loudly beside her. Margaret fed Tibby, sipped her tea, deciding shed go to the shop that day. She glanced at the photograph, lost in thought.
Just then, someone knocked at the garden gate. She remembered the morning Lucy announced she was leaving for the city, searching for her birth mother. Once again, she felt the pain of that moment, when the sky was grey and calm. Margaret had been making tea when she heard the knock.
She put on her shoes, wrapped herself in a shawl and stepped into the yard, opening the latch. A woman stood outside, much younger. Her eyes were sad.
Hello Are you Margaret? the strangers voice trembled.
Yes. And you are?
The woman shifted nervously.
Im Lucys mum, her other mum, wellher birth mother. My name is Victoria You understand, Im sure. Her words tumbled.
Margaret felt cold inside. Lucy hadnt left long ago, and now her birth mother was herehow had she found them?
Waitis something wrong with Lucy? Is that why youve come? Margaret asked, worried. She must have found you
Victoria rushed her explanation:
Lucys in hospital In the city. Something with her stomach. We were in the park, she suddenly clutched her side and sat down, went pale. I immediately called an ambulance.
They stood in silence, looking at one another.
Lucy found me some time ago, but was afraid to tell you, Victoria sniffled.
Oh, what are we doing in the cold? Come inside, Margaret said hastily. Lets talk in the warm.
She poured hot tea for Victoria, who settled at the table and spoke quietly:
I was very young when Lucy was born. My parents were strict, insisted I give her up. My fiancé vanished as soon as he learned I was expecting, my parents threatened to throw me out. I signed away my rights at the hospital That decision haunted me my whole life. Sorry, this isnt about me now Lucy pleaded with me to ask you to come see her.
Margaret leapt up.
Why didnt she ring me?
Her handbag was stolenalong with her phone and paperswhile the ambulance came. By the time I returned, it was gone.
Oh goodness, poor girl, Margaret whispered.
She gave me your address herself, said: Find my mum.
Both women were silent, eyes meeting in understanding, not rivalry, only worry and fatigue.
Lets go, Margaret said, locking her door behind her.
The old bus crawled along, Margaret and Victoria at first quiet, but conversation soon blossomed.
Im alone, too, Victoria sighed. My husband died three years ago, a long illness. We were married many years, but I never had another child. I feel God punished me for giving Lucy away. That was my penance
So, aside from Lucy, neither of us has anyone else, Margaret concluded.
Thats true One daughter for the both of us, Victoria replied, melancholy.
At the hospital they were asked,
Who are you here for?
For our daughter, Lucy Thompson, Margaret and Victoria replied together.
And you are?
Mothers, they said in unison, glanced at each other and laughed.
Two mothers? Well, in you go, then!
Lucy lay pale, attached to a drip. Seeing them enter, she smiled.
Mum and mum, she whispered.
Margaret kissed her first.
Hush now, darling, Im here. Victoria sat on the other side.
Youre not alone, Lucy; everything will be alright, Victoria said, soothing her.
They stayed with Lucy for hours, talking about everything.
From then on, Lucy had two mothers. Eventually, she married and had two sons. And Margaret and Victoria shared a daughterone gifted fate between them. They still meet on occasion, gathered together as family.
Thank you for listening, and for all your support. Wishing kindness for all.
