The divorced Sarah Whitaker found a baby on her doorstep. A year later a knock sounded at the door.
Did your bloke not turn up? the nosy neighbours from the village of Littleford whispered, eyes fixed on Sarah. She lowered her gaze, unsure what to say.
No, and why should he have turned up? Were already split, Sarah replied, trying to sound confident.
Split, or not Bens not exactly a prize either. Its unlikely anyone will just pick up that treasure, the women continued, but Sarah didnt want to linger. She grabbed her groceries and hurried out of the shop.
She knew the gossip would ripple through the whole village. Here, divorce is as rare as a sunny day in February. Even if a husband drinks too much or raises his hand, people expect you to muddle through together.
Ben was different he didnt drink, didnt shout, and somehow that made him unpopular. All the other blokes limp home after payday, but hes always stonecold sober, like a stranger, the locals muttered. They tried to put him up as a model, but envy still won out and Ben rarely got any credit. The jealousy spread to Sarah, too. Rumours floated that Ben had someone on the side, yet none of the chatter moved the couple. Their arguments stayed behind closed doors.
When the breakup finally became obvious, it shocked everyone.
Sarah withdrew into herself, sharing nothing. Though the villagers seemed ready to lend a hand, she kept her distance. She trudged home over the squeaking snow, feeling hollow inside.
Six months passed since Ben left, and Sarah could not shake thoughts of him.
Sarah had been the one to start the divorce. Ben only agreed when life became unbearable. It all began when she noticed his wistful stare at the kids outside the nursery.
Ben, we need to have a serious chat, she said one afternoon.
Alright, whats on the agenda? Dinner plans? he joked, but Sarah was resolute.
I want a divorce, she announced, as if a thunderclap had split the sky.
Why? he asked, baffled.
In a proper family there should be children, and we have none. Probably never will. I think we should go our separate ways. Youll find another woman and start a family, Sarah explained, hoping hed understand.
Ben looked genuinely upset.
Did you ever ask if I wanted a child without you? Lets not revisit that, he snapped.
No, Ben, well come back to this. Ive filed for divorce, Sarah replied.
Ben skipped all the court meetings, and they were divorced by default.
When Sarah unfolded the divorce papers at home, Ben fought back a grimace.
So thats it, he muttered through clenched teeth.
Yes, Ben. I want you to leave, Sarah said.
She shut herself in her room, listening to him pack. She thought about saying a final goodbye but couldnt bring herself to stop him. When the door slammed, Sarah sprinted to the window and watched Ben walk away.
His departure made her feel as if her soul were leaving her body. She struggled to get used to life without him. In the evenings she kept replaying old photographs, remembering a time when their house was full of friends. Now nobody visited; she had turned everyone away.
One chilly evening, returning home, Sarah found a large basket on the porch. It wasnt the usual shabby village basket but a sleek, shopbought one that could hold three buckets of potatoes. She looked aroundno one in sight. Who had left it?
She approached, peered inside.
Whos playing a joke here? she whispered to herself.
Suddenly something rustled. Sarah jumped back, then leaned in again.
Oh my God! she cried, grabbing the basket and hurrying inside.
Inside lay a tiny infant, no bigger than a grapefruit. Sarah had never handled a baby, but she immediately began caring for the little one. It was a girl. She swaddled her and covered her with a blanket.
When the baby settled back to sleep, Sarah sat beside her and asked with a wry smile,
What am I supposed to do with you, little one?
She named her Poppy, a name that sounded as bright as a spring meadow. Poppy was so tiny Sarah couldnt tell her exact age, but she could sit propped up on some cushions and happily gobble a spoonful of sweetened rice porridge.
The night was almost sleepless; Sarah fretted over the infant sleeping soundly on the bed. It was a marvelous feeling to watch the little sighs and twitching noses.
The next morning Sarah decided not to rush to the authorities. She took the baby for evening walks, hoping the neighbours wouldnt spot her. She took a few weeks leave from her job, shopped while Poppy napped, and understood that eventually shed have to hand the child over, but she kept postponing the moment.
Three weeks later a local officer knocked at Sarahs door. He entered, inspected the room, then faced her, trying not to let his emotions slip.
Right then, Mrs Whitaker, shall we have a word?
He drew up a report while Sarah, tears streaming, asked where the child would go.
I wont take her away, Ill just pass the information on. Why are you crying? Dont you want to say goodbye? If the mother doesnt want the child, who else will? he said.
Ive heard single women can be turned down for adoption, Sarah replied.
We can write a good reference, help out. Nothing happens automatically, the officer added.
Sarah hadnt expected the bureaucracy to chew up five months of her life, but she didnt mind the wait, because the day Poppy could stay with her legally felt like a miracle.
She took a oneandahalfyear parental leave the sort of leave given to those who foster from a nursery.
Today Poppy turned one. The exact birth date was fuzzy; the doctor had only an approximate day. Sarah decided the day should be special. While the little one slept, she filled the room with colorful balloons, turning the space into a minifestival.
She then pulled out a huge doll from the shop. The sales assistant laughed:
Where on earth are you taking that massive doll?
Sarah answered proudly, Let it guard Poppys bedside forever.
When the villagers learned Sarah had adopted a child, their attitude shifted. Everyone started debating who the real parents might be, insisting the Whitaker cottage by the road was the perfect spot for a foundling. The local officer even fed the gossip, noting that because Sarah cared for the child, Poppy should stay with her.
Sarah worried a knock might bring someone demanding the girl back, but each morning Poppys grin lit Sarahs life.
Good morning, my little sunshine, Sarah said, laughing.
Poppy beamed, and Sarah quickly dressed her. Their house was cosy, so Poppy played on the carpet. Sarah placed her in front of the giant doll; the child examined it curiously, glancing at her mum now and then. Sarah chuckled as the toddler reached for the doll, nudged it closer, and then stood on tiptoe, frozen in wonder.
Sunbeam, give it a go! Sarah encouraged.
Doctors said Poppy was healthy, yet Sarah remained jittery. The little girl took her first unassisted steps, then a second, and soon clutched the dolls rubber arms. Sarah was thrilled, spun Poppy around, and lifted her high.
A sudden knock on the door halted their laughter. Sarahs heart thudded as she pressed Poppy close. Poppy sensed her mothers fear and began to whimper. The door opened slowly, like a scene from a horror film.
Ben Hartley stood there, thinner but with the same warm eyes. He glanced at Poppy, then took in the whole room.
Sorry I see youve got everything sorted. Whats the girls name? he asked.
Poppy, Sarah replied, noticing a flicker of confusion on his face. Ben, she isnt our child. I adopted her. Come in.
Ben was about to turn away when Sarah invited him.
Take a seat, Ben. Its Poppys birthday. Well have tea and cake, and Ill fill you in, she said.
He slipped off his coat and shoes. Sarah stared at his face, a touch of sadness there.
Are you well? Eating anything? she asked.
He looked at himself, smiled faintly.
Appetites been low. Thats how it turned out, he replied softly, a smile that warmed Sarahs heart. How shed missed him
Poppy reached for Ben, a clear gesture: Pick me up. Ben nodded, grinned, and said:
Alright, Ill hold her while you make the tea.
Sarah watched them play with the doll on the floor. Ben asked jokingly,
Wheres the dolls mouth? And the eyes?
Poppy pointed confidently and burst into giggles. Sarah wiped away happy tears.
They only managed to talk after Poppy fell asleep postlunch. Sarah poured out everything.
Why didnt you try to contact me? Mustve been hard for you alone, Ben wondered.
No, everythings fine. Besides, I thought youd found someone and maybe were expecting a baby, Sarah answered.
Ben looked away, murmuring,
I already found love once. Too stubborn, that one.
When night fell, Ben began packing.
Its a twohour drive back, he said.
Sarah crossed her arms, aware he was about to leave.
Maybe its for the best, he continued, but you cant imagine how hard it is. Without you, I dont want any kids. I try to leave you in the past, yet you keep appearing in my dreams. I came hoping to forget, but it only got worse.
Sarah, fighting tears, replied,
I dont know what to do. I feel the same. Not a minute passes without thinking of you. What should we do, Ben?
Ben smiled suddenly.
I know what we should do, he said.
Sarah stared, surprised.
Its simple, Ben went on. We split because we had no children. Now we have Poppy. We could be a family again.
Marry again? Sarah asked.
Ben tossed his coat aside, took a candlestick from a vase, and stood before Sarah.
My dear, will you marry me? I promise to look after you and Poppy.
Sarah sat down gently, met his eyes.
Yes a thousand times yes, she whispered.
Ben slipped a modest ring onto her finger and embraced her tightly.
This time without you felt like a dream. Now its like Ive woken up and life is starting anew, he said.
A year later, Sarah and Ben welcomed a son, Michael Hartley. The hospital initially hesitated, but after the usual paperwork, the baby found his place in the family.
Now we have a princess and a prince. Hell grow up to protect his sister, Ben declared.
They stood together, arms around each other, watching their children. Their eyes said it all: this was truly a happy family.
