Emily was already feeling the heat of the coming summer, though she never liked that season. It wasnt the temperature that bothered her it was the fact that Jack, her husband, seemed to disappear during the warm months.
Emily and Jack had been married for seven years, and life was generally pleasant. They got along with hardly a word of quarrel. She was grateful that Jack had taken her on when she was pregnant with their little boy, Oliver, who was just a year old at the time. Jacks own father, Ian, had vanished the moment he heard about a friends pregnancy no calls answered, no doors opened. One day Emily marched into his office just to look him in the eye. When Ian saw her, he trembled so badly she had to laugh.
Dont worry, Ian, Im not after your child, she said.
I knew it! Ian shouted with relief, turning triumphantly to his colleagues, You cant hang your own kid on my name!
It isnt yours, its mine, Emily replied calmly, People like you never have a child of their own; all children look foreign to you.
Ian could only gulp air, speechless, while the onlookers rolled their eyes and left. Emily slipped out, never to see that oncecherished man again.
When Oliver was six months old, Emily asked her retired mother, who was getting a disability pension, to watch the baby while she returned to work. Shed previously been employed at a furniture shop and was welcomed back with open arms. Good, dependable staff are a rare find. It was there she met Jack Volkov, a delivery driver who brought in new stock from the factory.
Emily mentioned her son straight away; Jack didnt blink, only said seriously:
Lets get married, have another boy, then a girl. I love kids.
She hadnt expected such a swift proposal, nor was she ready for another marriage, but Jack was handsome, steady and earned well driving his own van. With a sickly mother and a toddler at home, Emily thought the offer was worth a try. Three months later she was Mrs. Volkov.
Surprisingly, she enjoyed married life. Jack was diligent, never dramafilled, and, most importantly, not jealous. Emily never gave him a reason to be, either. When she once asked if he was being unfaithful, he chuckled and replied that only if she turned into a flabby, oldfashioned housewife in a tattered dressing gown would he contemplate it. She reassured herself shed never become that.
Seven years slipped by. Jack bought a newer van and now crisscrossed the country, hauling all sorts of cargo. He earned well but was rarely home. Emily opened her own furniture shop and kept busy to avoid boredom. Oliver, now eight, was a kind, sporty lad with a few medals to his name. He adored Jack, even though he knew the man wasnt his biological father, and he tried hard to make him proud.
Unfortunately, Emily never gave birth to a second child. Five years earlier doctors had told them they were likely just incompatible. Emily took the news with a shrug she already had a son but she felt a pang of guilt toward Jack and promised him another baby. He waited wistfully, then, when the prospect faded, he sank into a slump. A couple of years later he perked up, became more attentive, and showed a genuine interest in the shop and Olivers achievements, which delighted Emily. She loved that Jack had finally accepted their childfree fate and returned to his old self.
Jacks parents lived about a hundred miles away in a tiny village. He often stayed the night with them, sometimes multiple nights in a row. Emily teased him about it, but she soothed herself by noting the grandparents were already in their sixties and their old house often needed a hand. She never argued about his visits; she didnt want to revive the twoyear gloom that had once hung over him. After all those years together, Emily was not just grateful she truly loved Jack with all her heart and could not imagine parting.
One May evening, a strange unease crept over Emily. Perhaps it was the summer habit of Jack hardly being home, or maybe she simply missed him more. She dialed his mobile:
Jack, where are you? At your parents? Why does your voice sound sosad? Did I say something wrong? Sorry if I did. Bye.
She stared at the dead screen, on the verge of tears. Jack had never spoken to her that harshly before. With a restless mind, she drove Oliver to his grandmothers and then headed for the village where Jacks parents lived.
She arrived late, the van gone, and felt foolish for the wasted trip. Still, she knocked. Nina, Jacks mother, opened the door, blushing at the surprise, then ushered Emily inside for tea. Her father, Ian, was still asleep, so they kept the noise down. As Emily began to explain her worry, a small, threeyearold girl toddled out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes, calling for her mum. Nina instantly scooped the child up, humming a simple lullaby.
Where did this little one come from? Emily asked, baffled.
Its our relatives daughter, Lila, Nina hurriedly replied. Her mother died a few days ago. She had no one else, so we took her in.
Are you keeping her? Emily asked, concern softening her tone. It must be hard with her so tiny. And wheres her father?
Before Nina could answer, Ian shuffled into the room, looking halfawake. He stared at Emily, then at the girl, and Emily kissed his cheek politely.
Sorry to wake you, Ian. Little Lila here was crying. Shes such a sweet thing, and were glad you didnt leave her.
Ian gave a vague nod, then retreated back to his bedroom. Emily sensed his grief over Lilas mother, so she didnt press further. Turning to Nina, she asked:
Mum, may I stay the night? Could I watch Lila in your room?
Nina hesitated, then agreed.
All night Emily hovered over the sleeping child, gently stroking her light hair, already plotting what she would tell Jack and his parents in the morning. By dawn, fatigue finally claimed her.
She awoke to the feeling of someone watching her. Startled, she opened her eyes to see Jack standing by the bed, eyes fixed on both her and Lila, a mixture of fear and tension in his gaze.
Jack, she whispered pleadingly, shall we keep her? I can raise her, I promise.
Jack turned away sharply and fled the room. Emily hurried after him, finding him on a bench beneath an old birch in the garden, tears glistening.
Im sorry, he murmured, voice breaking. Im sorry.
For what? Emily asked. You dont want to take her?
I understand you wanted a child, but fate dealt us a different hand. Lila looks so much like me; she feels like my own, he choked out. It was a mistake, a oneoff thing. I was with Lilas mother, who was married to an older man. She got pregnant and insisted Id be the father. I agreed to help, but I never intended to leave you. Her parents disapproved; they thought I was just a passing fling. When she died, she left the baby with a note, saying I should adopt her. I I didnt know how to tell you.
Emily sat in stunned silence. She rose slowly, entered the bedroom, and sat beside the sleeping Lila, trying not to hate the child. She looked for any foreign feature but only saw Jacks familiar eyes reflected in the little girls face. Tears welled, she covered her face with her hands, letting the sobs fall silently, hoping they would wash away the sting.
Then Lila opened her blue eyes, smiled, and said in a tiny voice:
Dont be sad, Im not sad. Let me braid your hair.
Emilys tears stopped. She imagined the girl in a councilowned crèche, crying unnoticed, but then she smoothed the childs hair and whispered:
Alright, lets try a braid. Ill learn, I promise.
The court later granted them guardianship of Lila. Oliver was thrilled to have a sister, declaring hed protect her as the big brother. Jack gave up longhaul routes, and he and Emily ran the shop together, eventually opening a second branch.
Emily never fully erased the memory of Jacks brief infidelity, but she forgave him, never nagging, because she saw how sincerely he bore his guilt.
On a crisp December evening, Emily and Lila returned from a school Christmas concert. Lila beamed, clutching a massive box of sweets from Father Christmas. She ran to Jack, wrapped him in a hug, and whispered loudly:
Dad, guess what I asked Santa for? Another brother or sister.
Jack looked startled and replied, Love, Santa cant do that. Think of something else.
Why not? Emily teased with a grin. Can we really deny such a lovely girl?
Jack froze, staring at Emily, who laughed and nodded. When Oliver burst in from his football practice, he found Jack twirling Emily around, both laughing, while Lila, chocolatesmudged, plopped on the sofa, shrugging. Oliver plucked a candy from her hand and said:
Best parents ever, arent we, sis?
