Sitting on the porch swing outside her house, Sarah wiped her face and drifted into thought. But she wasn't allowed to be alone with her reflections for long:
"Hey there, why the long face?"
Tilting her head to the side and squinting against the bright afternoon sun, Sarah replied, "And a good day to you too, Mary. I just finished up all the chores and decided to take a breather. You probably just think I'm sad because I look tired."
Sitting down beside her, the neighbor asked in a low, prying voice, "I saw Jack pulling up to your place on his tractor earlier. So, are you two an item now or what?"
Sarah knit her brows and grumbled sternly, "You've got a long tongue, Mary. You're always looking for a chance to use it, and then you act offended when people call you a gossip. Watch out—one of these days, those nosy questions are going to get you into real trouble."
It was clear Mary didn't appreciate the sarcasm. "Oh, sure, you're the saintly one. Look at your family—four kids and growing up without a father. Who do you think people are going to whisper about more?"
Sarah didn't get a chance to answer that; though she was ready to teach her bold neighbor a lesson, another woman approached them:
"Why are you bothering her? Get lost. And don't look at me like that, I'm not a museum exhibit. You're used to collecting rumors and people actually believe you're telling the truth. Come on, Sarah, let's go inside. I need your advice on something."
Mary found herself in an awkward spot and was forced to leave before drawing any more heat.
***
Once they were seated in the kitchen, the newcomer spoke up. "You see, Sarah, that good-for-nothing husband of mine has started taking money from the house. At first, I thought maybe I'd tucked my paycheck away and forgotten where, but no, I checked everywhere. And recently, the accountant from the main office saw Victor standing outside the liquor store with his buddies, drinking right out of a paper bag. I knew he'd fall off the wagon again—it's like a demon got into him. Give me some advice, Sarah. I'm sorry to bring it up, but your ex wasn't exactly an angel either."
Sarah leaned against the kitchen table and answered thoughtfully, "Believe me, I went through hell with him until he finally took off. I used to have to search the whole town for him, sometimes finding him barely alive in a ditch. It's a good thing he vanished; life is peaceful now. The kids help me around the house, and I hope we'll get by. As for your Victor, take him to see Miller, the blacksmith. He's got experience with this kind of thing; he should be able to help."
After thanking Sarah for the solid advice, the neighbor said her goodbyes and left. At that moment, Sarah saw Mary's figure flicker past the window again. Of course—curiosity wouldn't let her rest. Glancing around the kitchen, Sarah put a pot of beef stew on the stove and then set the kettle to boil. Hearing energetic voices coming from the backyard, she slid the window open and shouted:
"Hey, you little workers! Stop drowning my garden beds with that hose. Come inside; it's time for dinner."
Her words acted like a magnet, and within a couple of minutes, all four children were in the kitchen.
Despite his age, the youngest, who was only five, helped out as much as he could. After washing their hands and sitting at the table, the children began hungrily devouring the hearty stew. Looking at her treasures, Sarah sighed and said with a smile, "I don't know what I'd do without you all. I'd probably die of boredom."
Hearing the last word, the children let out a chorus of protests.
"Alright, alright, I'm just kidding. Of course your mom is going to live forever."
It was a healthy dose of optimism, but at the same time, Sarah never told anyone how hard it was to raise four children. It wasn't just about the money—though things weren't exactly rosy there—but the sheer amount of energy and nerves it took to keep life running smoothly.
Working at the local farm, Sarah often took on extra shifts away from home. On those days, she had to work until late evening. The local county supervisor would make deals with other townships that needed farmhands. Naturally, he took the lion's share of the pay from those trips, but he looked after his workers too.
Over time, the kids got used to their mom being away all day. They had learned to cook—simple meals, anyway—wash clothes by hand in a basin, and look after the garden. So, Sarah wasn't afraid they would go hungry; she knew they were resourceful and could outwork any city kid.
After dinner, the children started getting ready for bed, but with their mother's permission, they sat down to watch some cartoons. While she washed the dishes, she could hear them giggling at the funny parts.
Listening to their bright laughter, Sarah thanked fate over and over for giving her such beautiful children. Yes, her ex-husband had played a part in that, but he hadn't seen fit to stick around and raise them. Well, that was his choice, and Sarah didn't judge him for it. One fine day, he had simply packed his things in secret and sped away like the wind. At the same time, she prayed to God that none of her children would inherit their father's character.
The cartoons ended, and the children went to their rooms. Her house was sturdy, inherited from her parents; besides the large kitchen and living room, it had three bedrooms, two of which Sarah had converted into kids' rooms. After drying the dishes, she went to each child in turn and kissed them goodnight. Stepping out onto the porch, Sarah filled the dog's bowl and set it down. The dog reacted instantly, trotting over.
"Eat up, Buddy. You're the best guard dog we've got."
Patting him on the neck, Sarah was lost in her own thoughts, her head tilted sadly. Suddenly, shuffling footsteps echoed from behind the gate. Buddy immediately growled, abandoning his food. Sniffing the air, he trotted to the fence and began to whine softly. What could this mean, and who would come at such a late hour? Sarah suddenly thought it might be Mary again, back to snoop. To find out, she called out the woman's name. But there was only silence and the continued shuffling by the fence. Completely bewildered by the visitor, Sarah decided to open the gate. With trembling hands, she pulled back the metal bolt and the door swung open. Buddy tried to bolt out, but Sarah held him back. It was hard to see in the dark, so she flipped on the floodlight above the fence. The bright light illuminated the face of the uninvited guest: an old, frail man stood there, holding a bundle of cloth in his arms.
As the old man shifted his arm—it must have fallen asleep—the bundle suddenly moved. Without thinking, Sarah ushered the old man inside, as if fate itself were commanding her. Stepping through the gate, the old man bowed low and said:
"Please, kind lady, let me stay the night. I have nowhere else to go."
Crossing her arms, Sarah looked at Buddy and replied softly, "Yes, of course, come inside. But the children are already asleep, so we have to speak in whispers."
The old man nodded and shuffled into the kitchen. He sat on a chair and finally unwrapped the bundle.
"I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, but I truly have no place left. My house burned down when the neighbor's shed caught fire, and my daughter didn't want to take me in. So I've been going from person to person, seeing who will let me stay the night. I've been wandering like a homeless man for two weeks now."
Tearing up, the old man pulled back the top blanket to reveal a face. "And I'm carrying her with me. The poor baby is suffering, but I can't bear to leave her at an orphanage."
Sarah began to cry with him, but quickly covered her mouth. "Forgive me, I'm just overwhelmed. I have four of my own, raising them alone, and I can't imagine in my worst nightmare someone taking them away."
The old man stood up and walked toward her. "You are a very brave woman. It's a shame you don't have a strong man's shoulder to lean on. I raised my daughter alone too, until she grew up and flew the nest. I thought she wouldn't abandon her father, but I was wrong."
Jumping up as if splashed with cold water, Sarah said, "Give me the baby. I'll check on her and get her fed. In the meantime, you can make some sandwiches and brew some tea. We've already eaten, but you've been on the road; you need your strength."
The old man didn't hesitate and started making himself at home in the kitchen. What composure—Sarah hadn't even asked where he was from or why he had a baby in his arms. She was simply doing what her heart told her, and her first priority was the infant. The girl was about two months old, and she didn't look poorly cared for. It seemed her mother had fed her, for better or worse. But what had happened after was the question. As if feeling the touch of a woman's hands, the baby woke up and started to fuss. The old man rushed over to check on her, but Sarah signaled that everything was fine.
She changed the baby, then grabbed some milk from the fridge and told the old man to warm it up. Even though her children weren't babies anymore, she still had bottles and nipples tucked away. They came in handy, as if she'd known she'd need them. A moment later, the old man brought the cooled milk.
"Here, ma'am. I'd feed her myself, but I just don't have the strength left. These weeks have exhausted me."
Sarah understood and poured the milk into the bottle. "Go on, have your dinner. I'll join you in a moment. We have a lot to talk about."
The old man bowed his head and disappeared behind the curtain. She could hear him carefully stirring sugar into his mug. After feeding the little one, Sarah rocked her until she fell asleep and laid her on the sofa. Back in the kitchen, she sat down next to the old man and asked, "How did you end up alone with a baby in your arms?"
The old man shifted in his chair, took a deep breath, and replied, "She's my granddaughter. At first, everything was fine, and Faith was taking care of her. But then it was like my daughter became a different person. She got irritated by every little thing, taking it out on me whenever she lost her temper. A demon got into her; I don't see any other explanation. Then one day, Faith decided to give the baby to the state. Naturally, I fought her on it, but then the fire happened, and so many problems piled up that the baby became an afterthought for her." Taking a breath, he continued, "I went to different agencies asking for help with housing, but no one wanted to help. I ended up homeless, as if I'd never had a roof over my head. I thought my daughter would take me in, but no, she only turned on me more. A friend let me stay for a bit, but then I had to leave there too. Then one day, I go back to my daughter's place and see the baby lying on a bench in the yard. It seemed strange, and then I looked in the window and saw—God forbid—her fooling around with some lowlife."
Sarah placed a bowl of stew in front of him. "I almost forgot we had leftovers. So, what happened next? How did you end up on the street?"
The old man took a spoonful of the rich soup, tasted it, and smiled. "You're a real homemaker, not like my daughter. Anyway, I grabbed the baby and left the yard. I felt like she wanted to get rid of her. I couldn't think of anything else to do but leave that town forever so Faith wouldn't find us. Maybe they're looking for the girl already; I haven't seen the news in a while."
Shaking her head, Sarah replied, "No, it's been quiet. If anything was happening, the neighbors would have told me by now. By the way, where is this town you fled from?"
The old man ate a bit more and said, "It's about twenty miles from here, a place called Miller's Creek. But I'm never going back. They can do what they want to me, but I'm not giving up my granddaughter."
The old man started crying again, and Sarah handed him a handkerchief. "Here, dry your face. It's all wet and red from the tears."
After he finished his meal, Sarah washed the dishes and, pointing to the sofa in the living room, said, "Lie down here. I'll stay with your granddaughter. Don't worry, she'll be safe. Tomorrow morning, we'll figure out what to do. But I think we need to visit your daughter and hold her accountable for child endangerment."
The old man nodded. "Alright, Sarah, whatever you say. I just want the girl to be okay. She doesn't even have proper papers, and Faith never even picked out a name. Everything was just an afterthought."
***
The next day, Sarah woke up earlier than usual and made breakfast. She didn't wake the children, but she nudged the old man.
"Wake up, it's time to get ready for the trip. By the way, you never introduced yourself—probably the nerves."
The old man gestured broadly and whispered, "Forgive me, dear. My name is Frank Peterson. You can just call me Frank, if that's easier."
Since he was a stranger, Sarah stuck to "Mr. Peterson." After breakfast, they began to prepare for the journey.
"Mr. Peterson, we're taking the baby with us. Maybe your daughter's maternal instincts will kick in. And tell me, who was that lowlife you saw through the window?"
The old man sat down for a moment. "He's the father, I think, though I only saw him twice. Faith never told me much about her personal life. And I didn't pry; she's a grown woman, she should know who to see and who to avoid."
Sarah understood and helped the old man get the baby ready. "I'm going to run to my neighbor's. He has a car and can get us there fast."
Soon, they were in the car heading toward the daughter's address. It was clear the old man was incredibly nervous, which was understandable given the uncertainty. Sarah was anxious too, wondering how a mother could treat her child that way. How could someone be so cynical, or have a heart so cold?
The road was a bit bumpy, but surprisingly, the baby didn't even whimper, sleeping peacefully in the old man's arms. Pulling up to the house, the driver turned to Sarah and said, "I'll wait here, but if something happens, just holler."
Nodding, she got out of the car, followed by the old man. As they approached the gate, a disheveled woman burst out. A minute later, a man appeared. Seeing him, Sarah nearly fainted. It was her ex-husband, the man she had tried to forget. Glaring at him, Sarah asked fiercely:
"So this is where you ended up, you scoundrel? Weren't four children enough for you? You had to go and father another one?"
The man sneered and looked like he was going to try and exert some authority, but the driver stepped up beside him. "You step back right now and don't move an inch, or I'll fix that attitude for you."
He backed down obediently, and Sarah turned to the old man, nearly in tears. "And this is your daughter? She looks like she's living in a gutter. Mr. Peterson, let's go. Don't give her the baby."
***
Soon, the social services got involved, though they really should have been monitoring the situation from the start. It was their failure, but God would be their judge. Sarah helped the old man navigate the process of stripping Faith of her parental rights. After gathering all the necessary documents, Mr. Peterson did exactly that, especially since he didn't want the baby to go back to her mother. To his surprise, Sarah offered to take the child into her home to raise. She was terrified at the thought of whose daughter the girl was.
"No, Mr. Peterson, my heart won't stand it if this girl spends even one more day with that woman."
The decision was made, and Sarah filed the paperwork for foster care. As she later said, "Where there are four children, a fifth won't hurt. I'll raise them all. As long as I have my health and strength, everything else will fall into place."
Sarah's children welcomed the unexpected addition to the family with great joy and warmth. They promised to care for and watch over their new baby sister. Mr. Peterson agreed to stay with the family and is now settling into the third bedroom. Meanwhile, Faith was awaiting trial, and a similar fate was in store for Sarah's ex-husband. They would both answer for abandoning a child, never imagining that their neglect would lead her to such a happy ending.
0 comments