A woman gave her newborn grandson to strangers. This is what came of it.
In dreams, he would see this houseand the woman who looked so much like the one who met him now. Those dreams haunted him when he was little and sick, crying in the dark. The woman had no facejust eyes that burned like embers. He was terrified of her, as if she were a ghost. He would sob and call for his mother. She would lie beside him, make the sign of the cross, and hold him close.
Life goes on. The Sower.
Her cottage had long been avoided by the sowers. The village children now ran to places where theyd get a pound coin rather than a dry scone. Marthas vodka wasnt the good kindjust cheap homemade swill. Only Fred, the neighbour, ever stumbled in after a long night of drinking, barely able to stand.
“Bless this house, for luck, for health, for the new year pour me one, Martha love!” hed slur, reciting the old words by rote.
Shed pour him a drink and take one herselfit helped her sleep. If only Fred had a shred of thought before he spoke. But no, he always jabbed where it hurt most.
“Look at us, Martha lovejust two old stumps in the woods. No one left to care about us. But youve got your daughter!”
“Shut your mouth and drink, you barking old dog! I do have a daughter, even if shes God knows where! Now go home before I throw you out!” She all but shoved him towards the door.
Fred didnt hurry, even as she pushed.
“I know why youre angry. Everyone knows. You gave your grandson away. Admit it. Go on, say its not true! And you know what the old gossips say? That boy haunts your dreams. Thats why your lights on at nightyoure scared! Arent you? Eh?” He grinned, peering into her face.
“Listen here, you stinking drunk! Get out! And dont you dare come back!” Martha grabbed him by the collar of his grubby jumper and dragged him to the threshold like a mangy cat.
“Youve lost it, Martha! Let me go!” He flailed, but she was stronger.
“Never again! You hear me? Never!” she shouted as he stumbled away.
He never came backnot for a drink, not for talk. Maybe out of shame, maybe fear. She mightve forgiven him if he had. But no one else ever came, and that was that. No one heard what hed said to her. And yet hed spoken the truth.
The boy did haunt her dreams. She could never see his facejust those glowing eyes. Hed stand on the doorstep, asking to come in but never did. Shed had this dream countless times. Or was it even a dream?
* * *
The sun was high, and Martha knew Fred wouldnt come this time. She remembered last years rowcould almost still feel the grime of his jumper on her fingers. She sat at the table alone, poured herself a drink. It was a holiday, after all.
Outside, the dog, Patch, barked wildly. Then the front door creaked. Someone was here.
“Happy holidays! Mind if I come in?” A handsome young man stood on the doorstep.
Martha leapt up, suddenly stiff as a schoolgirl.
“Come in, if you must.”
“For luck, for health” He scattered wheat grains as tradition demanded.
Martha couldnt take her eyes off him. She noticed how his gaze darted around the room. Was he here to rob her? If only Fred would walk in now
“Did you come for something, or just to do the blessing? Who are you?” she asked, uneasy.
“Custom says you should offer the sower a bite to eat. But dont worryI brought my own.” He stepped boldly to the table, pulling wine, sausage, and cakes from his bag.
Dumbfounded, Martha fetched a cast-iron dish of potatoes and roasted bacon from the oven and sat across from him as he efficiently set the table.
“Must be one of Lucys lot,” she thought. “Too young, though. Why would she send him?”
The guest poured wine into glasses while she floundered for words.
“Youre not from around here. Who are you looking for?”
“I am. Are you Martha Johnson?”
“Thats me.”
“Was your husband Peter Johnson?”
“He was. Dead now.”
“And your daughterLucy Peters?”
“Yes yes”
“Well, if all thats true then Im your grandson, Victor.” He stood, reaching across the table to shake her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Marthas vision spun. The image of that boythe one who begged to come in during her dreamsflashed before her. This stranger had the same eyes.
She gasped, swayingbut strong hands caught her, guiding her back to the bench.
“Dont be afraid. Im not here for revenge. I just wanted to see you. This house. The place where I wasnt wanted. My real mother died recently. She told me everything before she went. So I came. To see.”
Martha felt like she was wailing loud enough for the whole village to hear, but in truth, she only wept silently. For the first time in her life, she told the whole story. The manher grandsonwatched her intently, and she couldnt meet his gaze. When she finished, Victor stood, sighed, glanced around the cottage and just like that, he left as suddenly as hed come.
“Live well,” he muttered at the door. “God will judge you not me.”
The snow swirled behind his car. She didnt catch the number plate, the makedidnt even think to ask where he lived. She ran to the gate, coatless, staring after him, heart aching.
* * *
Lucy had been an obedient girl.
“Youll be a teacher!” her father decided. “No marrying till youve finished school!”
She never thought of marriage, though her parents had long picked out a match.
“Youre a pretty girl,” her mother would say. “Dont settle for some village lout. Andrew from the Ilfordsnow theres a lad for you! A military man! Youll have a flat, a good wage. By the time youre grown, hell be set!”
Even without the hints, Andrew never left her thoughts. But he was older. When he came home on leave, girls swarmed him. Still, she wasnt shyand he took a liking to her too.
“Wait three years for me,” hed said. “Thats nothing. Well write. Then well marry.”
Shed promised.
But being engaged wasnt as simple as she thought. At home, Martha drilled lessons into her:
“Be careful, girl! If you must fool around keep it quiet. Hold onto Andrew! You wont find another like him!”
Lucy agreed.
“I wont sit weeping by the window. But why not have fun? Andrews far away. Hell never know.”
With Jack, it was easy. No promises, no strings. She was “generous,” he was “hot-blooded”it suited them both. But one day, she slippedtold him she was marrying another. Hed never asked for her hand anyway. Yet in an instant, the passionate student turned brutal. He beat her savagely. Barely stopped by her friends.
She hid the bruises, avoided home. Didnt want to see anyone. A mothers instinct brought Martha to her dorm. She took one look and knewthe bruises werent the only problem.
Her daughter was pregnant.
Jack begged forgiveness, offered to marry her at once. Martha refused to hear it. She forbade Lucy from returning to the villageAndrews parents lived there. They mustnt suspect. Before rumours spread, Lucys father transferred her to another university in another city. She didnt dare argue. Shed scared herself with what shed done.
As the birth neared, Lucy “fell ill.” Her parents took her to a private clinic. She had books, TV, a locked ward to herself. They told everyone she had meningitismight not survive. She stayed until the day she bore a healthy boy.
As her mother taught, Lucy never held him. Never even looked. The young doctora womantried to talk to her, to see if shed change her mind.
“Would my own mother wish me harm?” Lucy reasoned. “What can Jack give me? He hit me before we were even wed! A village oafnothing like Andrew. Andrew will never know.”
She wrote to Andrew regularly. He replied to the village addressMartha insisted, so everyone knew who her daughters fiancé was. When he returned, they married in a grand ceremony. Martha glowed with pride.
The newlyweds moved to the city. On visits, Lucy boasted of their flat, their
