The winding road stretched along snow-dusted fields, weaving past forests and the occasional dreary village. In his relatively short life, Timothy had traveled its length countless times, memorizing every crack in the asphalt. The heavy truck rumbled down the familiar route, each mile confidently leading toward home.
A heaviness weighed on the man’s heart, and the thought of returning home brought no joy. Timothy knew a difficult conversation with his wife awaited him. Yet, he had no intention of backing down.
— Where are we? — his partner, Nicholas, yawned, peeking out from the sleeper compartment.
— Go back to sleep. About ninety miles left. I’ll wake you when we get there, — Timothy replied to his friend, who, with a satisfied grin, retreated back to the bunk.
The monotonous road induced not only sleepiness but also cherished memories of the past. As a child, Tim had decided he would become a truck driver. Before his military draft, he managed to get his driver’s license and spent six months behind the wheel of an old pickup truck.
In the army, drivers were highly valued, and he was immediately entrusted with a military rig. He drove it until his discharge, then found work as a long-haul trucker at the city’s transport depot.
The turbulent nineties loomed ahead. The roads were fraught with constant danger. Timothy had to fend off ruthless gangsters several times. His last run-in cost him his cargo and landed him in a hospital bed. He was lucky to survive. After recovering under IV drips, he hit the road again. Pride and stubbornness wouldn’t let him abandon his beloved profession.
The transport depot underwent transformative changes as well. The state enterprise sign was replaced with one for a joint-stock company. The private operation saw four different owner-directors by the year 2000. Leadership changed, the company faced bankruptcy, and only a handful of the large workforce remained. Among the most resilient was Timothy Patrick, as he was now respectfully called.
The latest owner proved to be a prudent manager. Under his leadership, new vehicles and equipment were acquired, repair hangars were upgraded, and the administrative building was given a polished look. The team welcomed young specialists trained in new professions, and managers began overseeing the drivers.
A new generation emerged, skilled in navigating the market economy, a topic the men frequently discussed during smoke breaks, often peppering their talk with profanity.
In fairness, truckers had little to complain about in recent years. Sure, the job meant long stretches away from home, but the work was steady, and the pay was decent.
On the home front, Timothy’s life was also stable. Twenty-one years ago, he married a practical woman. He didn’t feel intense passion for her; he simply chose the most suitable candidate. He sought a simple, unpretentious woman who would keep the house in order and faithfully wait for her husband during his long hauls.
Anne met his expectations. Quiet, modest, and meticulous, she kept the house spotless. She loved her husband and gave him no reason to doubt her loyalty. People said of them: “A perfect couple, living in harmony.”
But one sorrow plagued their family. For the first two years after their marriage, Anne couldn’t conceive. When she finally did, the couple was overjoyed. But fate was cruel. Anne lost the baby late in the pregnancy, at seven months.
They grieved deeply. Doctors at the city hospital offered comfort: they were young, and with time, they’d have a daughter or a son. But years passed, and the prognosis never came true. After a decade of doctor visits, the couple opted for IVF. The procedure seemed successful at first, but a month later, they faced bitter disappointment again. After all the pain, Anne refused to try IVF again. The hope had been too great, the outcome too devastating.
Timothy grew weary of watching her suffer. “Let’s adopt a boy from the orphanage,” he suggested. Anne wouldn’t hear of it, firmly against the idea.
The years rolled on. They lived harmoniously, their home a picture of prosperity. Yet Timothy saw the poorly concealed sadness in his wife’s eyes. How they both longed for their home to be filled with the lively voices of children!
They avoided the painful topic. Gradually, a distance grew between them, their relationship turning more into a warm friendship. They communicated with affection and respect, but the spark had faded.
Still, Timothy yearned for an heir with a fierce intensity. On each haul, he dreamed of a home where, in the next room, little ones slept soundly. He imagined fishing trips with a son and a daughter helping her mother. He even pictured teaching a young boy to drive from an early age. Oh, dreams!
He threw himself into his work, but he longed to work harder for a full family—to provide for his own children. New purchases like a TV or furniture no longer brought the joy they once did.
His fellow truckers noticed how he watched young women with strollers and, half-jokingly, suggested:
— Why don’t you start another family on the side? Plenty of guys do it. You can’t go without an heir.
Timothy brushed them off. He wanted no part of that mess. Many of his colleagues had second or even third families—and managed fine, providing for wives and mistresses, spoiling their kids.
He didn’t judge them, but he couldn’t do it himself. How could he look his wife in the eyes afterward?
But as the saying goes, “Man plans, and God decides.” Three years ago, Timothy was sent on a long haul to a remote northern region. His partner then was Daniel, who had made the trip several times before.
The journey was plagued with bad luck, as if a black cat had crossed their path. Their hands were blackened from constant breakdowns, despite a thorough pre-trip inspection.
Then, unbelievably, snow began to blanket the highway. In late October! A fierce wind howled, nearly blowing the truck off the road.
— Oh, man, — Timothy sighed heavily, — when it rains, it pours. Thought we’d make a quick trip, but it looks like we’re stuck.
Timothy gripped the wheel, dreaming of a warm bed. He wasn’t fond of motels, but they were better than being stranded in a snowstorm.
Finally, fate relented, and they reached their destination. They quickly unloaded the cargo and sent the truck for repairs. It was getting dark, and hunger gnawed at them. They’d eaten their packed lunches by noon.
— I’ve got a surprise for you, — Daniel said with a sly wink. — We’re not going to a motel tonight! I’ve got an address. A nice, lonely lady who’s happy to host weary travelers.
Timothy shrugged.
— Doesn’t matter to me. As long as there’s hot food and a bed. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day with repairs.
The acquaintance turned out to be a pleasant, brown-eyed woman in her forties. She lived in an old but well-kept house on the outskirts. She was raising three sons alone: the youngest was only four, the middle one eight, and the eldest was finishing seventh grade. Daniel whispered that all three had different fathers, born out of wedlock. The woman, Natalie, had never been married.
— She loves entertaining travelers, — Daniel murmured while she set the table. — A bit wild, but kind and great in bed. You won’t regret it!
As Natalie passed by, she brushed Timothy’s shoulder briefly. Her smile and the low neckline of her housecoat took his breath away. It had been a long time since he’d felt this way.
— She likes you, and she’s game, — his partner whispered. — Make a move, I’m telling you.
Natalie served steaming bowls of hearty soup, accompanied by stewed potatoes and lightly salted pickles. They weren’t driving tomorrow, so they shared a couple of glasses of homemade vodka.
Timothy relaxed, feeling more at ease. But Natalie’s increasingly bold glances after each drink unsettled him.
— Go to bed, — he told himself sternly.
Her easy availability both irritated and intrigued him, but he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t used to casual flings, and the boys kept peeking into the kitchen, eyeing the tipsy guests.
Muttering about exhaustion, Timothy headed to the children’s bedroom, spreading a quilted jacket on a couch to sleep. Natalie shrugged with disappointment and turned her charm toward the remaining guest.
The next morning, Timothy woke in high spirits. Everyone else was still asleep. He washed up quickly and stepped onto the porch. Overnight, snow had piled so high that only the handle of the well was visible. Time to get to work! He found a shovel in a rickety shed and began clearing the yard.
An hour later, the yard was clean, with snow piled high, covering bushes and young trees. Flushed from exertion, he returned to the house and met Natalie’s eldest son in the kitchen.
— I’m William, — the boy said, extending his hand. — I’m making breakfast. Want some?
Timothy nodded.
William deftly cracked a couple of eggs onto a sizzling skillet, sliced some bread, and pulled butter from the fridge.
— You staying long? — the boy asked, digging into his eggs.
— Probably three days, until the roads are cleared. We won’t be in the way, will we?
— Nah, you’re alright. You don’t fight with Mom or sing drunken songs, — the boy replied with childlike honesty.
— Well, enjoy your breakfast. I’ve gotta wake up Ian and Colin and get them ready for school and daycare.
Timothy washed his dishes, fried more eggs, and checked on the younger boys in their room as they dressed.
— Breakfast’s ready. Come eat.
The kids didn’t need much convincing. They devoured their eggs, washing them down with sweet tea.
Over breakfast, the boys opened up. They shared their names, that one was in second grade, and the youngest in daycare. They mentioned that William bore most of the responsibility for them, as their mom was always busy working at the post office. Warming up to the stranger, they shared their dreams: William wanted a phone, and the youngest dreamed of a big, red toy fire truck with a long ladder and a loud siren for his birthday.
The boys ran off, slamming the door, leaving Timothy at the table, lost in thought. He felt both warmed by their company and heavy-hearted.
The door creaked. Natalie appeared in a short robe thrown over her bare body, stretching sweetly. “Where’d my crew run off to? I keep telling them not to make noise, but they always wake me up.” Daniel followed, looking disheveled, both clearly having had a lively night.
— Did they wake you? — she asked.
— Nah, I’ve been up for a while. I’m an early riser. Already cleared the yard. Hope you don’t mind, ma’am.
— Thanks for the help. But you didn’t want my gratitude last night. Too good for me, or just loyal to your wife? — Natalie teased with a smirk. — Your choice, but it stings a bit.
— I don’t like that kind of talk, — Timothy muttered, embarrassed, and quickly changed the subject…
The truckers stayed for a whole seven days. It just happened that way. Timothy not only bonded with the boys but grew strangely attached to them. He fixed the youngest’s old sled and took him sledding a couple of times. For the middle boy, he crafted bindings for wooden skis. And with the eldest, William, he chopped firewood every evening, sharing long, engaging conversations.
That evening, as they returned from sledding with little Colin, the boy looked into Timothy’s eyes and asked:
— Are you gonna be our dad now and marry Mom? Stay with us forever!
Timothy was stunned. What could he say? Only the truth.
— I can’t stay, but I’ll try to visit whenever my route brings me here…
He kept his word.
A month later, he requested a trip to that familiar northern town. His colleagues teased him good-naturedly:
— Got yourself a young sweetheart, huh? How’s it going?
He couldn’t even explain to himself why he was so drawn to those boys. His heart had bonded with them, plain and simple.
He didn’t tell his wife anything, and she only asked routine questions: “How was the trip? Everything okay?”
For three years, he visited his “second family” twice a year. The boys were thrilled each time, sharing their latest news. Timothy watched them grow, gravitating toward him like a father. He brought gifts: phones, toys, and essential clothes.
Each visit, he noticed Natalie’s wistful glances and how she’d aged recently.
Two months ago, William called him:
— Uncle Timothy, Mom’s gone. She died in the hospital yesterday… Cancer… They’re taking us to a shelter, then an orphanage. We’re scared and don’t want to go. Please don’t abandon us!..
His world turned upside down. He begged his boss for an urgent trip and set off on the familiar road. He visited the boys, reassured them, and promised the shelter director he’d adopt them, vowing to handle all the paperwork quickly.
Today, he faced the task of telling his wife the truth, hoping she’d understand and they could live as one big family.
She listened quietly. After a long silence, she broke down in tears.
— I’m sorry, my love. I can’t love them. They’re someone else’s kids, and the oldest is nearly grown. Please don’t do this. I can’t, — Anne sobbed.
Timothy pulled her close, feeling, for the first time in years, an overwhelming love for her.
— We can do this because we’re together. I’ll always be with you. If I need to learn a new trade, I will. Anything to be home with you all. We’ll raise them together. My heart’s big enough for the boys and for you. I’m a man, after all!
Anne smiled, wiped her tears, and realized she’d dreamed of a full family all these years. Now her dream had come true, and she feared nothing—with four real men by her side.
0 comments