“No Joy Without Struggle”
How on earth did you get yourself into this state, you foolish girl? Wholl want you now with a baby on the way? And how do you plan to raise it? Dont expect any help from me. Ive raised youmust I raise your child too? I wont have you under my roof. Pack your things and go!
Emily kept her head down, saying nothing. The last shred of hope that Aunt Margaret might let her stay, even just until she found work, vanished in an instant.
If only Mum were still here
Emily had never known her father, and her mother had been struck by a drunk driver at a crossing fifteen years earlier. Social services were about to send the girl to a childrens home when a distant cousin of her mothers unexpectedly stepped in. With her steady job and own house, securing guardianship had been straightforward.
Aunt Margaret lived on the outskirts of a quiet market town, green and warm in summer, damp in winter. Emily was always well-fed, neatly dressed, and no stranger to hard work. Between the house, garden, and a few chickens, there was always something to be done. Perhaps she missed a mothers warmth, but who had time for such thoughts?
Emily did well in school and later attended a teacher training college. Those carefree student years passed quickly, but now they were overexams done, and shed returned to the town she called home. Yet this homecoming brought no joy.
After her outburst, Aunt Margaret finally simmered down.
Enough. Get out of my sight. I dont want you here.
Please, Aunt Margaret, just let me
No. Ive said all I need to.
Silently, Emily lifted her suitcase and stepped outside. Had she ever imagined returning like this? Shamed, cast out, and expecting a childthough still earlyshed chosen to confess the pregnancy. She couldnt hide it any longer.
She needed somewhere to stay. Lost in thought, she wandered, barely noticing the world around her.
It was high summer in the countryside. Apples and pears ripened in orchards, cherries glowed like rubies. The scent of jam, barbecues, and fresh bread drifted from open windows. The heat was stifling, and Emily was parched. Spotting a woman by a garden shed, she called out.
Excuse me, could I have some water?
Margaret, a robust woman in her fifties, turned. Come in, if youve no ill intent.
She scooped water from a bucket into a cup and handed it over. Emily sat on a bench, drinking gratefully.
Mind if I rest here a moment? Its so warm.
Of course, love. Where are you headed with that suitcase?
Ive just finished college, hoping to teach. But Ive nowhere to stay. You wouldnt know anyone with a room to let?
Margaret studied herneat but weary, as if weighed down by troubles.
You can stay with me. Be nice to have company. Rents cheap, but paid on time. If you agree, Ill show you the room.
The idea pleased Margaretextra money never hurt, especially in a quiet town like theirs. Her son lived miles away and rarely visited, so company would be welcome on long winter evenings.
Emily, hardly believing her luck, followed her inside. The room was small but cosya bed, a wardrobe, a table by the window overlooking the garden. Perfect. They settled on rent, and after freshening up, Emily headed to the local education office.
Days flew bywork, home, work again. Emily barely had time to turn the calendar pages as time rushed past.
She grew close to Margaret, who proved kind and warm. Emily helped where she could, and many evenings they shared tea in the garden, for autumn came slowly here.
The pregnancy progressed smoothly. No sickness, just a growing bump. She confided in Margareta story too common.
In her second year, shed fallen for Oliver, the charming son of university lecturers. His path was setdegree, further study, a career in academia. Handsome and popular, he couldve had any girl, but he chose quiet Emily. Perhaps it was her gentle smile, her quiet strength. They spent nearly every moment together, and Emily dreamed of a future with him.
Then came the morning she couldnt ignorethe nausea, the missed cycle. A test confirmed it. Two lines. Exams loomed, and now this. How would Oliver react? Children werent part of the plan.
Yet, a fierce love for the tiny life within her flared.
Little one, she whispered, cradling her belly.
Oliver took her to meet his parents that evening. The memory still brought tears. In short, they suggested termination and leaving town after graduation. Olivers career came first, and she wasnt suitable.
Whatever was said between them, Emily never knew. The next day, Oliver left an envelope of cash on her table and walked out without a word.
Abortion never crossed her mind. This was her baby, hers alone. Still, she took the moneyit would help.
Margaret listened, then patted her hand. These things happen. Youre brave to keep the baby. Every childs a blessing.
But Emily couldnt forgive Oliver. The rejection cut too deep.
Time passed. Emily left work, waddling as her due date neared. She wonderedboy or girl? The scan couldnt tell. It didnt matter, so long as the baby was healthy.
In late February, her labour began, and Margaret drove her to hospital. The birth was smooth, and she held a healthy baby boy.
Little Henry, she murmured, stroking his soft cheek.
In the ward, she learned another storytwo days prior, the partner of a local officer had given birth to a girl, then left a note and vanished, claiming she wasnt ready.
Could anyone feed her? Shes so tiny, a nurse asked.
I will, Emily said softly, laying Henry down and cradling the girl. Oh, shes so little! Ill call her Lily.
Compared to Henry, Lily was delicate. Emily nursed her, and the baby drowsed off quickly.
Told you she was frail, the nurse said.
So Emily fed both babies.
Two days later, the nurse announced the babys father wished to meet her. Thats how Emily met Captain Oliver Hathaway, a steady-eyed officer.
What followed became local legend.
On discharge day, staff gathered at the entrance where a Land Rover decked in blue and pink ribbons waited. The captain helped Emily inside, where Margaret sat, then handed her Henry and little Lily.
With a honk, they drove off, vanishing down the lane.
Lifes twists are unpredictable. Sometimes, it surprises you in ways youd never imagine.
