When Sarah Turner, newly divorced, found a swaddled infant on the worn wooden step of her cottage, the village of Littlebrook seemed to tilt on its hinges. A full year later, knuckles rapped the front door and a chorus of curious eyes from the neighbouring women drifted toward her.
Did yours not turn up? they whispered, their gazes pinning Sarah like a moth.
She lowered her eyes, unsure what to answer.
No, and why should he have returned? Were already apart, she said, forcing a steady tone.
Parted, not really Ben isnt a prize either. No ones likely to spot a treasure like that right away, they murmured, but Sarah avoided the chatter, gathered her market bags, and slipped out of the shop.
She knew the gossip would ripple through every thatch roof. In this English hamlet, divorce was a rare scar; even if a husband drank too much or raised a hand, folks believed you stayed together.
Ben was differenthe never drank, never shouted, and that made him an oddity. All the other blokes stagger home after payday, but hes always as sober as a churchgoer, the locals would say, halfadmiring, halfenvying. Their envy spilled onto Sarah, too, spawning whispers that Ben kept a lover. Yet the rumors never pierced the locked doors where the couples conflicts were settled.
When the split finally became palpable, it shocked everyone.
Sarah retreated inward, sharing nothing, and though neighbours seemed ready to offer a hand, she drifted further away. She trudged home across the creaking, snowcovered lane, her heart a hollow echo.
Six months passed after Ben left, and his shadow lingered in her thoughts.
Sarah had been the one to file for divorce. Ben only consented when life grew unbearable. It began when she noticed his distant stare at the children playing by the nursery.
Ben, we need to talk seriously, she said one evening.
Alright, what is it? Planning tomorrows supper? he joked, but Sarah was unmoved.
I want a divorce, she declared, the words striking like thunder in clear skies.
Why? he asked, bewildered.
In a full family there should be children. We have none, and probably never will. I think we should part, youll find another, and build a life, Sarah explained, hoping hed understand.
Bens cheeks reddened with genuine upset.
You never asked if you wanted a child without me. Lets not revisit this, he muttered.
No, Ben, well come back to it. Ive filed, she replied.
Ben skipped the court dates; the decree came by default.
When Sarah unfolded the divorce certificate at home, Bens restraint cracked.
So thats it, he whispered through clenched teeth.
Yes, Ben. I want you gone, Sarah said.
She shut herself in her room, listening to Ben packing. She wanted to say a final goodbye but fear held her back, afraid she might try to stop him. As the door slammed, Sarah rushed to the window and watched Ben drift away.
With his departure, Sarah felt her soul peel from her body, unable to settle into a life without him. Evenings found her replaying old photographs, recalling days when their house brimmed with friends. Now nobody visited; she had turned them all away.
One dusk, returning home, Sarah discovered a large basket on the doorstepno ordinary country basket, but an elegant one, like something from a boutique, big enough for three potatoes. She looked around; no one stood nearby. Who had left it there?
She drew near, peered inside.
Whos playing this trick? she muttered aloud.
Suddenly something stirred. Sarah jumped back, then leaned in again.
My goodness! she cried, hoisting the basket and hurrying inside.
Nestled within was a tiny infant, barely a whisper of a breath. Sarah had never tended a baby, yet instinctively cradled the child. It was a girl. She swaddled her and covered her with a soft blanket.
When the girl slipped back to sleep, Sarah sat beside her, smiling.
What am I to do with you, little one? she asked.
She named her Poppy, a sweet name with tiny fingers and chubby cheeks. Sarah could not tell her age, but the child could sit up propped on pillows and eagerly slurp sweetened porridge.
The night stretched on, sleepless, Sarah watching Poppys gentle breaths, marveling at the tiny snuffles and the way the babys nose crinkled with each sigh.
The next morning, Sarah resolved not to rush the authorities.
She slipped out at night with Poppy, hoping the neighbours wouldnt see. She took maternity leave, shopped while the child slept, aware that eventually she would have to hand her over, but she kept postponing that moment.
Three weeks later, the village constable knocked. He entered, surveyed the room, then faced Sarah, who tried to keep her composure.
Mrs. Turner, shall we have a word?
He wrote a report, then heard Sarahs tearstreaked voice ask where the child would go.
I wont let her be taken away; Ill just pass the information on. Why are you crying? Dont you want to part with her? If a mother doesnt want her child, who else will care? the constable said.
Ive heard an unmarried woman might be denied adoption, Sarah replied.
We can write good references, help where needed. Nothing happens automatically, he noted.
Sarah hadnt imagined the bureaucracy would eat five months of her life, but the thought of Poppy finally staying with her legally kept her going.
She took a yearandahalf parental leavegranted to those who adopt from care homes.
On Poppys first birthday, Sarah decided the day must sparkle. While the child still slept, she filled the room with colourful balloons, turning the modest cottage into a carnival of light.
She then fetched a huge doll from the shop. The shopkeeper laughed.
What on earth are you doing with such a massive doll?
It will guard Poppys bed, Sarah said firmly.
When the village learned Sarah had taken in a child, their opinions shifted. Rumours swirled about who the real parents were, many concluding that Sarahs roadside cottage was the perfect dropoff spot for a baby. The constable backed those whispers, noting that if the child meant so much to Sarah, she should keep her.
Sarah feared the day a knock would bring someone demanding the child back, yet each morning Poppys grin lit Sarahs world.
Good morning, my little sunshine, Sarah chuckled.
Poppy beamed, and Sarah dressed her quickly. Their warm home allowed Poppy to play on the carpet. Sarah placed her before the giant doll; the child stared at the toy, occasionally glancing at her mother. Sarah laughed as Poppy tried to reach the doll, nudging it closer until the baby stood on tiptoes, frozen in awe.
Sunbeam, try walking! Sarah encouraged.
Doctors assured Sarah that Poppy was healthy, but she still fretted. The tiny feet took a wobbling step, then another, and soon she clutched the dolls rubber arms. Sarah lifted her up, spinning her round and round.
A sudden knock rattled the door. Sarah froze, pulling Poppy close. The child’s eyes widened with fear and a whimper escaped her lips. The door opened slowly, as if in a horror film.
There stood Ben, gaunt and changed, yet his gaze still held a familiar warmth. He scanned the room, then the doll.
Sorry I see youre all right. Whats the girls name? he asked.
Poppy, Sarah answered, noting a flicker of confusion on his face. Ben, she isnt our daughter. I adopted her. Come in.
Ben hesitated at the threshold, then stepped forward.
Take off your shoes, Ben. Its Poppys birthday. Lets have tea and cake; Ill tell you everything. He tossed off his coat and boots. Sarah watched his face with a hint of sadness.
Are you well? Do you eat anything? she asked.
He looked at himself, smiled wryly.
Appetites been gone. Thats how it turned out, he said softly, his smile burning into Sarahs heart. She had missed him terribly.
Poppy reached for Ben, a silent plea. Ben nodded, smiling, and said, Let me hold her while you make the tea.
Sarah watched as Poppy and Ben sat on the floor, playing with the doll. Ben joked, Wheres the dolls mouth? And its eyes? Poppy pointed confidently, then burst into giggles. Sarah brushed away tears of joy.
They only spoke after Poppy fell asleep postlunch. Sarah poured out everything to Ben.
Why didnt you try to contact me? It must be hard for you alone, Ben asked.
No, its fine. I thought youd found someone, maybe even a baby, Sarah replied.
Ben looked away, murmuring, I once found love, but she turned out stubborn.
Night fell and Ben prepared to leave.
Its two hours drive, he said.
Sarah crossed her arms, feeling his impending departure.
Maybe its for the best, he added, but you cant imagine how hard it is. Without you, I dont need children. I try to leave you behind, yet you haunt my dreams. I came hoping to forget, but it only got worse.
Sarah, fighting tears, whispered, I feel the same. Not a minute passes without thoughts of you. What should we do, Ben?
Ben smiled suddenly.
I know what we should do, he said.
Sarah stared, surprised.
Its simple, Ben continued. We split because we had no children. Now we have Poppy. We could be a family again.
Marry again? Sarah asked.
Ben shrugged off his coat, grabbed a steering wheel from a vase, and stood before her.
My love, will you marry me? I promise to care for you and Poppy.
Sarah sat down, met his eyes.
Yes a thousand times yes, she answered.
Ben slipped a simple band onto her finger and embraced her tightly.
All this time without you felt like a dream. Now Im waking, as if life is starting anew.
A year later, their son Michael was born. The hospital had initially turned him away, but after bureaucratic hurdles he found a home with them.
Now we have a princess and a prince, Ben declared, cradling the infant. Hell grow to protect his sister.
They stood together, arms around their children, their gazes saying everything: this was a truly happy family.
