**No Joy Without Struggle**
What on earth have you got yourself into, you foolish girl? Wholl want you now with a baby on the way? And how do you plan to raise it? Dont expect me to help. I raised you, and now your child too? I wont have you here. Pack your things and go!
Emily kept her head bowed, saying nothing. Her last hopethat Aunt Margaret might let her stay, even just until she found workvanished like smoke in the wind.
If only Mum were still here
Emily never knew her father, and her mother had been struck by a drunk driver at a crossing fifteen years ago. Social services were minutes from sending the girl to an orphanage when a distant cousin of her mothers appeared, her steady job and tidy house smoothing the way for guardianship.
Aunt Margaret lived on the fringes of a quiet market town, lush in summer, damp in winter. Emily was well-fed, neatly dressed, and no stranger to hard work. Between the house, the garden, and the few chickens they kept, there was always something to do. Perhaps she missed a mothers warmth, but who had time for such things?
She did well in school and later at teacher training college. Those carefree student years passed in a blur, but now they were over, final exams behind her, and she had returned to the town she called home. Yet this homecoming brought no joy.
After her tirade, Aunt Margaret finally fell silent.
Enough. Get out of my sight. I dont want you here.
Please, Aunt Margaret, may I just
No. Ive said all I need to.
Emily wordlessly lifted her suitcase and stepped into the street. Had she imagined returning like this? Shamed, cast out, and expecting a childthough still earlyshe had confessed the truth. She couldnt hide it any longer.
She needed somewhere to stay. She wandered, lost in thought, barely noticing the world around her.
It was high summer. Apples and pears ripened in orchards, golden plums glowed beneath dark leaves. The scent of jam, roasting meat, and fresh bread drifted from open kitchen windows. The heat pressed down, and Emilys throat burned with thirst. Spotting a woman by a garden shed, she called out.
Excuse me, might I have some water?
Dorothy, a sturdy woman in her fifties, turned. Come in, if you mean no harm. She dipped a mug into a bucket and handed it over. Emily drank deeply before sinking onto a bench.
May I rest here a moment? Its so warm.
Of course, love. Where are you headed with that case?
Ive just finished college. Hoped to find teaching work, but Ive nowhere to stay. You wouldnt know of a room to let?
Dorothy studied the girltidy but weary, shadows beneath her eyes.
You could stay with me. A bit of company wouldnt hurt. Rents fair, but paid on time. If you agree, Ill show you the room.
The idea pleased Dorothyextra coin was always welcome, especially in a quiet town like theirs, far from the bustle of cities. Her son lived up north and seldom visited; company would be nice on long winter nights.
Emily, scarcely believing her luck, followed her inside. The room was small but cosy, with a window overlooking the garden, a bed, a wardrobe, and a table. Perfect. They settled terms, and after changing, Emily hurried to the education office.
Days flew bywork, home, work. She barely had time to tear pages from the calendar.
She and Dorothy grew close. The older woman was kind, and Emily helped where she could. Many evenings, they sat in the garden with tea, for autumn came gently in these parts.
The pregnancy was smoothno sickness, just the steady swell of her belly. She confided in Dorothy, a common enough tale.
In her second year, shed fallen for Daniel, the charming son of wealthy academics. His path was setdegree, doctorate, a career in lecture halls. Handsome, witty, adored by many, yet he chose quiet Emily. Perhaps it was her shy smile, her gentle nature, or the quiet strength of one whod known hardship. For the rest of their studies, they were inseparable. She dreamed of a life beside him.
That morning was sharp in her memory. The nausea, the smells she couldnt bear, the lateness shed ignored. She bought a test, locked herself in her dorm, and waited. Two lines. She stared, uncomprehending. Exams loomed, and now this. How would Daniel react? Children werent part of the plan.
Yet, a fierce love for the tiny life within bloomed in her chest.
Little one, she whispered, cradling her belly.
When she told Daniel, he insisted on introducing her to his parents that evening. The memory still brought tears. In short, they suggested termination and disappearance. Daniel had a future; she was a distraction.
What passed between him and his son, Emily never learned. The next day, Daniel left an envelope of cash on her table and walked out without a word.
She never considered ending the pregnancy. The child was hers, and hers alone. Still, she took the moneyit would be needed.
Dorothy listened, then patted her hand. These things happen, love. Not the end of the world. Youre brave to keep itevery babes a blessing. Might turn out for the best.
But Emily couldnt forgive Daniel. The hurt ran too deep.
Time passed. She waddled like a duck, awaiting her babys arrival. Would it be a boy or girl? The scan was unclear, but it didnt matterso long as they were healthy.
In late February, on a frosty Saturday, her labour began. Dorothy drove her to hospital, where she delivered a healthy boy.
Little Thomas, she murmured, stroking his round cheek.
The other mothers told her a storytwo days prior, the partner of a local officer had given birth to a girl, then vanished, leaving a note claiming she wasnt ready.
The poor mites bottle-fed, a nurse sighed. Would anyone nurse her?
I will, Emily said softly, laying Thomas down and taking the tiny girl. Oh, shes so slight! Ill call her little Alice.
Compared to sturdy Thomas, Alice was delicate. Emily offered her breast, and the baby fed hungrily before drifting off.
Two days later, the nurse brought newsthe girls father wished to meet the woman nursing his child. That was how Emily met Captain William Hartley, a soldier with steady blue eyes and a quiet strength.
What followed became local legend, recounted by midwives and townsfolk alike.
On the day of her discharge, staff gathered at the entrance where a Land Rover waited, adorned with blue and pink ribbons. The young captain helped Emily inside, where Dorothy sat, then handed her a blue bundle, then a pink one.
With a toot of the horn, they drove away, vanishing round the bend.
Lifes twists are strange. Sometimes, the consequences of our choices defy all expectation
