Long ago, in the quiet lanes of Yorkshire, there lived a man named Peter Whitcombe. He had married a widow, Laura, when her daughter, Emily, was but a child of ten. Emily remembered her own father wellhe had passed two winters beforeand at first, she eyed this new man in her mothers life with suspicion.
Yet Peter, with patience and kindness, won her over. She never called him “Father,” but the affectionate “Petey” that slipped from her lips carried all the warmth of family. And it was Emily, in time, who would hold their home together when trouble came.
Six years into the marriage, at a company gathering, Peter drank too much, caught up in the revelry after a hard-won success. In his folly, he strayed with a colleague, Imogen. He scarcely recalled it afterward, but word reached Laura.
The row that followed shook the house. Laura threatened divorce, her voice sharp as flint. Peter begged forgiveness, ashamed. Only Emilys quiet sorrow stayed her hand. “For her sake,” Laura hissed through clenched teeth, “this once. Never again.”
Peter mended his ways, pouring himself into family life, and slowly, Emilys smile returned.
Years passed. Emily grew, and at eighteen, brought home a suitorLiam Hartley. Peter disliked him at once: a wiry, smirking lad with too much swagger. But for Emilys sake, he held his tongue.
“Are you certain hes the one?” Peter asked when the lad had gone.
Emily frowned. “Dont you like him, Petey? You barely know him! Liams wonderful.”
Peter sighed but forced a smile. “Well see. Youve a good heartI trust your judgment.”
Liam, sensing Peters distrust, kept his distance, though his politeness was strained. Thenanother storm. Laura accused Peter of straying again with Imogen.
“Did you fancy her so much you couldnt stay faithful?” she raged.
“Laura, what nonsense!” Peter gaped. “Whered you get such an idea?”
“Good folk told me!”
Peter called Imogen then and there, loudspeaker on. “Peter,” she scoffed, “are you drunk? Ive been wed half a year and expect a child! You were at my wedding drinksremember?”
Peter glared at Laura. She flushed but flounced off. Two days of silence followed before peace returned.
Thenmischief. Peter was struck by a carriage on the high streetas if pushed. Bruised and shaken, he limped about the house. Emily tended him fiercely, bringing meals to his chair, reading aloud, chattering to lift his spirits.
“Why dyou fuss so?” Peter once overheard Liam mutter in the hall.
“Peteys as good as my father!” Emily shot back in a furious whisper. “Ill care for him, whatever you say!”
Liam grumbled. Peter smiledtheyd raised her right.
Soon after, calamity struck again. A client, Mr. Leonard Shaw, accused Peters crew of shoddy work on his ceilingand worse, of demanding bribes.
“Rubbish!” Peter sputtered. “We did fine work!”
His employer insisted he make it right. Peter, grim-faced, confronted Shaw, who shrieked about lawsuitsuntil Peter pushed past him. The ceiling was flawless.
“Wheres the fault?” Peter growled.
Shaw wilted. Then, under Peters stare, he crackeda young man named Liam had put him up to it, promising easy coin if Peter were sacked.
Peters blood ran cold.
He found Liam lurking outside, waiting for Emily. The lad flinched at the sight of him.
“Why?” Peter demanded.
Liam sneered. “Dyou think no one sees how you dote on her? Shes not your blood!”
Peter seized him by the collar.
“Petey!” Emilys cry stopped him.
Liam scrambled back. “Truth hurts, eh? I told Laura about your cheatingnever thought shed stay! Wanted you gone!”
Peter spat. “Not worth my fists.”
Emily, learning the truth, cast Liam aside. She turned to her studies, her parents love her anchor. And Peterthough the years had tested himknew hed been blessed indeed.
