Dear Diary,
I’m going to run a testif Blythe is truly my childIll claim her.
Take her now, if you like. Shes a nuisance underfootfed, clothed, and I never get a moment to relax myself, let alone buy her a proper meal. Such is life Hand over some cash, Mike.
Helen was getting ready for work. She quickly boxed a few sandwiches for her husband, wrapped them in foil and set them on the kitchen table.
Mike worked in a garage; there was never a proper lunch break, so he always had to take something with him.
Margaret was a cook in the staff canteen. Her job was a short distance from home, which meant she had to rise an hour earlier than her husband.
A light drizzle fell outside, and Helen grabbed the umbrella that leaned against the hallway wall. The umbrella slipped from her grasp and clattered loudly onto the floor. Margaret froze, then peeked into the bedroomher husband was still asleep.
Helen smiled and said, Typical, isnt it? before slipping carefully out the door.
The local bus arrived surprisingly fast. Helen sat by the window and watched the town pass by, letting her thoughts drift.
She was no longer a fresh-faced girl; the years were creeping toward thirty, and she was happily married. Though they hadnt lived together long, to her it felt as if theyd been one solid unit for years.
Only one thing troubled herno children. She longed for a baby, whether a boy or a girl.
For three long years of marriage Helen had gone to countless checkups, but every doctor merely waved their hands and assured her everything was fine.
The bus halted, Helen paid the driver and stepped onto the street; she still had to cross the park that led to the canteen where she worked.
A few steps onto the pavement, Margaret stopped, startleda small girl sat on a wet bench, crying. She wore a thin coat and shivered, her cheeks streaked with rainsoaked tears.
Helen approached the child and asked gently, Hello! Why are you sitting here alone?
The mum left me the girl sniffed.
What do you meanleft you? Helen frowned. The notion of a mother abandoning her child in the rain seemed absurd.
She was sleeping and I wanted to eat. I woke her up and she shouted and now Im here, the girl sobbed.
And whats your name? Helen asked.
Blythe, the girl replied.
What should I do with you, Blythe? Helen thought, then glanced at her watch. Alright, come with me. Where do you live? Far from here?
No, not far, the girl waved a hand toward the street.
They followed the direction Blythe pointed, and after about five minutes they stood before a modest flat. Helen pressed the buzzer, but no one answered for a long while.
At last, a dishevelled woman in a grimy dressing gown opened the door. Her long, uncombed hair framed a tired, crumpled face.
She stared at Helen, then at Blythe, and, baffled, stepped aside, Come in.
Helen crossed the threshold in silence. A stale, oppressive smell hit her immediately.
On the dirty floor lay torn rags, and a thin layer of dust on the coffee table suggested the place hadnt been cleaned for ages. While looking around, Helens eyes landed on a photograph perched on the shelf.
His mouth opened in surprise.
He had seen that picture before, tucked in his wifes album, but the one hanging in their home was oddly cropped, leaving only a fragment of a manMikein the frame.
In the same photo stood Michael, but beside him was a young, striking womanHelen realized she was looking at the flats occupant. Margaret turned and stared at the unkempt woman.
What? she asked.
What what? Margaret, recalling how shed ended up there, steadied herself. Your daughter is out in the park crying! And youve got no business here. What kind of mother are you?
And you, stop meddling in my affairs! Take care of your own children! Where have you been hiding? the woman snapped at a girl who darted into an adjoining room and slammed the door shut. Margaret understood she had no place here, turned, and left.
All day the image of the girl, the photograph, and that untidy woman haunted Helens thoughts, especially because the woman seemed somehow linked to her husband.
That evening, stretching out a photo of Mike, Helen asked, Love, who was that beside you in the picture?
I told you once about Eleanor, Michael replied. We dated for a long time and even thought about marrying, but she left me for someone else.
Why did you cut the picture? Helen pressed.
I couldnt forgive her for abandoning my child. When we split, she expected the baby, but then she claimed she didnt leave the child. I left town, met you, and we returned together. I had nothing to hide. Why ask?
Helen narrated the strange encounter with the girl and her mother. Michael listened, then inquired, How old is the girl? Helen answered.
He thought it over She could indeed be his daughter.
Where do they live? he asked.
Helen gave the address and retired to bed, exhausted. She barely fell asleep when, at half past one, she noticed the kitchen light flickering.
She slipped quietly to the ajar door. Michael sat at the table, lost in thought.
The next day Michael called his former lovers flat. The door opened, and Blythe stood there, staring at a stranger who smiled at her.
Hello! Are you Blythe? Wheres your mum? the girl turned and ran into the flat.
Mum! Shes here! the girl shouted.
Who? a dishevelled voice called from the room.
Michael stared, not recognizing Eleanorthe girl he once loved deeply.
You, she raised an eyebrow. What are you doing here? What do you want?
Michael entered without waiting for an invitation, inhaling the stale air.
Eleanor, I need the truth. Blythe could be my daughter, given her age, could she not? he asked.
The woman slumped into a chair, looked up, and said, Borrow some money, will you? You never paid child support. Ive been feeding her myselfdont expect a penny. Give me a hundred pounds at least.
Why did you deceive me? You said you never left the child, Michael demanded.
I wanted to, but Victor claimed hed raise her then he dumped me when Blythe was three months old, saying he didnt intend to care for anyones child. I tried to return to you, but you had left town, she confessed.
Ill run a testif Blythe is truly mineIll take her, Michael declared.
Take her now, if you like. Shes a hasslefeeding, clothingno time for me to relax. Thats life give me the cash, Mike, the woman repeated.
Blythe shyly approached Michael, Are you my father? she asked, eyes bright.
Yes, Blythe, Im your dad. I want to bring you home. Will you come with me?
She glanced toward the woman and whispered, Will you hurt me?
Mike sighed heavily, his voice softened, No, Blythe, never.
She nodded, Then Ill go.
Michael brushed her hair back and left. On the stairs Eleanor called after him, Money? Borrow it. He handed over a few notes; her face lit with a grin.
Mike could not stay, so he returned to the flat. Blythe still stood in the hallway, sadness in her eyes.
Get dressed. Lets go, he said, a single thought pounding in his mind: Shes my BlytheI cant abandon her.
Within half an hour, Blythe crossed Michaels doorstep. She instantly recognised the aunt who had recently taken her home, and Helen stood there, eyes wide, still unable to believe it all.
Later, as Blythe played with the cat, Helen stared at Michael and asked, Do you really think you did the right thing? You know nothing about her.
Now Ill find out. Of course its righthow else could a father treat his own child? he replied.
Helen turned and went to the kitchen, sitting down and weeping, unable to suppress her feelings.
Why does this happen to her? she murmured. She had always wanted children but could not conceive; she feared she would crumble under the weight of motherhood.
Now Blythe was in their lives. How should they treat her? Poorlyshe might not survive; kindlywhat if she still fails? Helen felt a sting toward Michael, toward Eleanor, toward fate itself. Then a gentle hand brushed her head. She assumed it was Michael, but when she lifted her gaze, it was Blythe.
Are you alright? Something wrong? I cry a lot, too. Want to hear a story? I know a good one, the girl offered.
Helen hiccuped and pulled her into a hug.
A year passed. Michaels test proved nothing more than a reassurance that Blythe would stay with them, regardless of the outcome. Margaret grew to love her adopted daughter, sharing the love and tenderness they both had once thought lost.
Michael grew attached as welltogether they formed a happy family.
One morning Helen fell ill suddenly. She felt weak, wanted to stay home, but pushed herself to work. After a few hours she collapsed and was rushed to hospital.
Whats happening to me? she whispered. Shed never been frail before.
The tests are underway; soon well know more, the doctor said. Youll need to stay with us for a while; your relatives will be notified. No need to worry.
Soon Mike and Blythe entered the ward.
MumHelen, whats wrong? Blythe asked.
Nothing, love, just need a rest, Helen replied.
The doctor then entered, Congratulations, youre pregnant. He chuckled, We didnt expect that, did we? Well do everything to keep it safe. Youll be discharged today.
Helen sat up sharply. What? Did the doctor just say Im pregnant? Mike, whats he talking about?
It was trueher dream finally came true. She gave birth to a robust baby boy named Oliver.
Blythe helped her adoptive mother at every turn.
Helen could not have imagined coping alone without her older, wise daughter.
Soon after, a little girl named Emily arrived. Joy overflowed Michael and Helens hearts; their family had grown large, closeknit, and blissful. Helen was convinced that this happiness had entered her home together with the small girl whose heart was as big as the world.
Lesson learned: love, truth, and responsibility may arrive in the most unexpected packages, but it is the willingness to embrace them that turns chaos into a home.
