The village of Little Wren had never seen a divorced woman left a baby on her doorstep. A year later a knock sounded at Sarah Whitfields cottage door.
What, he never showed up? the nosy neighbours whispered, their eyes fixed on Sarah. She lowered her gaze, unsure what to say.
No, and why would he have to come back? Were already over, Sarah replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
Over, over Brian isnt exactly a prize either. Its unlikely anyone will swoop in and call it a treasure, the women murmured, but Sarah brushed past the gossip, gathering her shopping and fleeing the shop.
She knew the rumours would spread through the whole hamlet. In this place divorce was a rarity; even if a husband drank or raised a hand, the locals believed the couple should stay together.
Brian was differenthe didnt drink, didnt shout, and that made him unpopular. All the other blokes are halfasleep after payday, but hes as sober as a judge, people said, using him as a cautionary tale while secretly envying his composure. Their envy spilled over onto Sarah, and whispers floated that Brian had a lover on the side. Neither gossip nor idle talk changed the couples private battles, which were fought behind closed doors.
When the final break became obvious, it shocked everyone.
Sarah retreated inward, sharing nothing, and though neighbours seemed ready to offer a hand, she pushed them away. She trudged home through the crunching snow, emptiness gnawing at her heart.
Six months passed since Brian left, yet his memory lingered. Sarah had been the one to file for divorce. Brian hesitated at first, only signing when life grew unbearable. It began when she noticed his distant stare at the children playing by the nursery.
Brian, we need to have a serious word, she said one evening.
Sure, whats it this time? Deciding whats for dinner? he joked, but Sarah was unmoving.
I want a divorce, she thundered, as if a bolt had struck the sky.
Why? he asked, bewildered.
A proper family should have children, and we have none. Likely we never will. I think we should part, youll find someone else and start a family, Sarah explained, hoping hed understand.
Brians face fell.
You asked me if I needed a child without you. Lets not revisit that, he snapped.
No, Brian, well come back to it. Ive filed for divorce, she declared.
He missed every court date; the divorce was granted in absentia.
When Sarah unfolded the decree, Brian struggled to hide his feelings.
So thats it, he muttered through clenched teeth.
Yes, Brian. I want you to go, Sarah said.
She locked herself in her bedroom, hearing him pack. She wanted to step out for one last goodbye but couldnt summon the courage to stop him. As the door slammed, Sarah rushed to the window and watched Brian walk away.
His departure ripped at her soul, making it feel as though it were leaving her body. She could not get used to life without him. Evenings found her scrolling through old photographs, recalling a time when their home brimmed with friends. Now no one visited; she had turned them all away.
One afternoon, returning home, Sarah found a large basket on the doorstepno ordinary village wicker, but a sleek, shopbought piece that could hold three buckets of potatoes. She looked around; no one was in sight. Who had left it there?
She approached, peered inside.
Whos playing this prank? she asked aloud, startled.
Something shifted within. Sarah jumped back, then leaned in again.
Oh my God! she exclaimed, hoisting the basket and racing inside.
Inside lay a tiny infant, a newborn girl. Sarah had never cared for a baby before, yet she wrapped the child in a blanket and whispered, What am I to do with you, little one?
She named her Ethel. The girls tiny fingers curled around Sarahs, her eyes barely open, yet she managed to sit propped on pillows and happily slurped sweetened porridge.
The night was sleepless; Sarah hovered over the cot, marveling at the soft breaths and the little nose that wrinkled as she slept. The next day, she decided not to involve the authorities immediately.
She took night walks with Ethel, keeping her hidden from prying neighbours. She asked for leave from work, shopped while the baby slept, and knew that eventually she would have to hand the child over, but she kept postponing that moment.
Three weeks later, a constable knocked on Sarahs door. He entered, inspected the room, then faced her, holding back tears.
Alright, Mrs. Whitfield, lets have a word, he said.
He filed a report, and Sarah, her cheeks wet, asked where the child would be taken.
I wont take her away, just pass the information on. Why are you crying? You dont want to part with her? If a mother doesnt need a child, who will? the officer asked.
Ive heard that being single can block an adoption, Sarah replied.
Not necessarily. Well write good references, help where we can. Nothing happens automatically, he noted.
The bureaucracy ate up five months of Sarahs life, but the thought of Ethel finally staying with her legally kept her going.
She claimed a yearandahalf of maternity leave, the kind granted to those who adopt from care homes.
Ethels first birthday arrivedthough the doctor could only estimate the date. Sarah wanted the day to sparkle. While the baby slept, she filled the room with colourful balloons, turning the humble cottage into a festive scene.
She then bought a massive doll. The shopkeeper chuckled, Why on earth are you buying such a huge doll?
Itll sit by Ethels cot, watching over her, Sarah answered firmly.
When the villagers learned Sarah had taken in a child, their attitudes shifted. Rumours swirled about the real parents, and many agreed the little house by the road was the perfect dropoff spot. Even the constable fed the gossip, noting that if the child meant so much to Sarah, she should keep her.
Sarah feared a knock at the door that would demand the babys return, but each morning Ethels smile flooded her world with light.
Morning, my little sunshine, Sarah laughed.
Ethel beamed, and Sarah dressed her. The cottage was warm, so the child played on the carpet. Sarah placed the big doll beside her; Ethel examined it with fascination, glancing at her mother now and then. Sarah nudged the doll closer, and the baby tugged herself up, standing on wobbly legs, eyes fixed on the toy.
Come on, sweetheart, give it a go! Sarah encouraged.
Doctors assured Sarah that Ethel was healthy, yet she kept a watchful eye. The little one took a tentative step, then another, finally grasping the dolls rubber arms. Sarah lifted her into her arms and spun her around, laughter filling the room.
A sudden rap on the door froze Sarah. She pressed Ethel close, heart pounding, as the knob turned slowly, like a scene from a horror film.
Brian stood there, gaunter, his eyes still warm. He glanced at Ethel, then scanned the room.
Sorry I see youve been well. Whats the girls name? he asked.
Ethel, Sarah answered, noting a flicker of confusion on his face. Brian, she isnt ours. I adopted her. Come in.
Brian halted at the threshold, then dropped his coat and boots.
Take a seat, Brian. Its Ethels birthday. Lets have tea and cake, and Ill tell you everything, Sarah said, her voice tinged with sadness.
He slipped off his shoes, and Sarah studied his face.
You alright? You eating anything? she asked.
He looked at himself, chuckled softly.
Appetites been gone for a while. Thats how it went, he replied, a smile softening his features. She missed him deeply.
Ethel reached for Brian, a silent plea for a hug. He smiled, lifted her gently, and asked, Can I hold her while you make the tea?
Sarah watched as Ethel and Brian played with the doll on the floor. Brian teased, Wheres the dolls mouth? And the eyes?
Ethel pointed confidently, bursting into giggles. Sarah wiped tears of happiness from her cheeks.
Later, after Ethel fell asleep postlunch, they finally talked.
Why didnt you try to contact me? It must be hard on your own, Brian asked.
No, its fine. Besides, I thought youd found someone else, maybe even expecting a child, Sarah replied.
Brian lowered his gaze, murmuring, I once found love, but she turned out stubborn.
Night fell, and Brian began to pack.
Two more hours on the road, he said.
Sarah crossed her arms, feeling the weight of his impending departure.
Maybe its for the best, he added, but you cant imagine how hard it is. I dont need any children without you. I try to leave you behind, yet you haunt my dreams. I came hoping to see you and forget, but it only got worse.
Sarah, fighting tears, whispered, Im lost too. Not a minute passes without thinking of you. What should I do, Brian?
Brian smiled suddenly.
I know what we should do, he said.
Sarah stared, puzzled.
Its simple, he continued. We split because we had no kids. Now we have Ethel. We can be a family again.
Marry again? she asked.
Brian tossed his coat aside, picked up a small decorative steering wheel from a vase, and stood before her.
My love, will you marry me? I promise to look after you and Ethel, he declared.
Sarah slipped into the chair beside him, met his gaze.
Yes a thousand times yes, she whispered.
He slipped a simple band onto her finger and embraced her tightly.
All this time without you felt like a dream. Now Im waking, and life feels new again, he said.
A year later, a son named Michael entered their lives, rescued from a hospital that had initially turned him away. After endless paperwork, he finally joined the family.
Now we have a princess and a prince, Brian said, cradling the baby. Hell grow up to protect his sister.
They stood together, arms around each other, gazing at their children. Their eyes said it all: this was a truly happy family.
