Lord, we have three of our own now! a tale of how a strangers child became family.
Nancy sank heavily onto the settee, clutching her temples. Edward stared at her from the doorway, his brow furrowed.
What am I supposed to do now? Send her back to the orphanage? Victor was practically my brother
Brother? When was the last time you saw that brother of yours? Ten years ago? He only showed up when he needed something, Edward retorted.
Nancys voice softened, and Edward took a deep breath. He didnt want to force anything, not arguments. He knew the care of little Ethel would fall on his wifes shoulders anyway. Nancy was a good woman loud, quick to shout, quick to scold, but never out of love. She wouldnt let a problem slip by.
Nancy, what did you expect me to do? Im your uncle, your close relative. And she
Edward gestured toward the small girl who stood frozen at the doorway.
Whos she?
Obviously a child. When will we bury her? Edward asked dryly.
Tomorrow morning. Ill go at first light.
Nancy tried to coax Edward with a smile. Come on, dont give me that look. Lets meet her.
The girl shuffled forward, hesitantly. Nancy could not stand still any longer; she rose and approached the child.
Dont be so shy. Let me help you with that coat, Nancy said, unbuttoning the small jacket and then the oversized sweater that hung off the girls shoulders. She gasped.
My God whats left of her? Just skin and bone what is this?
Nancy turned the child toward the light and froze. Edward watched, his mouth forming a halflaugh. He remembered Victors limp as a child, how a harder hand might have turned him into a proper man. Ethel was in a thin dress with short sleeves, her arms covered in bruises. Nancy tugged at the hem, peered at the back, and covered her mouth with a hand, staying like that a moment before snapping out of it.
Edward, fetch the kettle, quickly! Mike, come here! she shouted.
Mike burst from the kitchen.
Whats wrong, Mum?
Nothing, just run to Mrs. Whitmore. Ask if theres any old clothing we can give the girl, Nancy instructed. Ill need something warm.
Mike nodded and rushed out, pulling his jacket tighter. The boys, who usually spied and listened, suddenly seemed serious. A stray little girl in their home was unexpected, and when they saw Nancy inspecting bruises, they decided to build a small partition in their room for her. They wanted her safe, out of the way, and promised to protect her.
Mike returned not only with a sack of blankets but also with Mrs. Whitmore herself, who had followed him out of curiosity.
Mrs. Whitmore shook her head at Victors reckless life and said, You should have looked into her mind. You never know what demons hide there.
Ethel stood in the middle of the room, silent as if none of this concerned her. Nancy hurried over, pulled Ethels hair into a part, and cursed like a countryman.
She lifted the crooked braid, sighed. What lovely hair such a pity, she whispered.
Ethel, Nancy began.
The girl lifted her frightened eyes.
Ethel your hair needs a trim. Dont worry, itll grow back. I have a beautiful handkerchief for you
Tears rolled down the dirty cheeks of the little girl. Nancy almost wept herself while cutting the braid, then burned the clippings in the stove. Edward walked in, saw the scene, and muttered, If only Id been stricter with Victor as a boy
When Nancy and Ethel disappeared into the bathhouse, the oldest boy, Andrew, twelve years old, emerged from the other room. He was the unofficial leader, respected but never tyrannical.
Dad, can you help us? he asked.
Edward stared, stunned.
What are you up to?
We want to move a wardrobe to make a corner for her. Shes a girl, and the wardrobe is heavy.
Edward sniffed disdainfully. Your mother feeds you, but you cant even shift a wardrobe together? Get to it!
Dad, where will she sleep? Andrew asked.
Edward scratched his head. Well have to buy something
Could I have the foldaway cot? You know I like sleeping on it. We could put my bed in her room; shes tiny, itll suit her.
By the time Nancy and Ethel returned from the bath, most of the boys and Edward had the room almost ready. They still needed bedding and perhaps a rug for decoration that would be Nancys job.
Hope the steam helps, Edward said.
Thanks, love. Im exhausted. Ethel hasnt even had a proper wash, Nancy replied, wiping sweat from her brow. Ill feed you all and then well figure out her sleeping place.
Ethels face brightened. She was thin, a funny splash of colour in a patterned headscarf, with big bright eyes and long lashes.
Come, Ill show you Nancy said, leading Edward to pull back the curtain that separated the boys room from the rest of the house. It was the biggest room in the cottage, serving as bedroom, hall, and kitchen for the three boys since Mike turned three.
Whats this? Nancy asked, staring at the new arrangement.
The boys set it up themselves, Edward answered with a grin. Good lads, arent they?
Ethel ate ravenously, as if she hadnt been fed in ages.
Ethel, slow down, Nancy warned. Dont overeat. We have plenty of food. Everythings fine.
After the meal, Nancy took Ethel to see her new bed. The little girl, still halfasleep, drifted off almost instantly.
Nancy returned to the table. Edward, fetch some sherry.
Edward looked surprised; Nancy rarely drank, only a sip on special occasions. He obeyed, poured a small glass for both of them.
Nancy drained it in one gulp. Edward lifted his own glass, and she stared at him, saying, If Victor were alive, Id strangle him myself with these very hands.
Edward lowered his head, thinking of his own brothers death. Victor had been born when Edward was already fourteen; the village midwife had spat on the newborn and muttered, What a waste. The old woman had been feared as a witch, though Edward knew such tales were nonsense. She later claimed she would die the next day unless someone took the baby with them to the burial. When the baby was taken, the woman indeed died, leaving Edward shaking at the funeral, but eventually finding some peace.
Victor had grown up like a stray rat, always taking what wasnt his, blaming others. He had served in the army, returned with a wife, and then vanished from family responsibilities. He and his wife drank every night, and the parents kept urging Victor to move back, fearing that without them both Victor and Ethel would disappear. They did, one after another, leaving the house empty. Victor never contributed to Ethels funeral, not even a penny.
Four years later, the parish council chair called Edward to the village hall. Edward, your brother and his wife froze to death on the road home. Their daughter survived. If you dont take her, shell end up in the orphanage. Well support you; you and Nancy are valuable to the community. Edward never told Nancy the whole story, perhaps fearing she would refuse outright.
Within a week, Ethel learned to use a fork and spoon. Her skin stopped looking translucent, but she behaved like a wild wolf. When any of the boys asked her something, she hid under the blanket and stayed silent. They gave her books and toys, but she stared at them like a night owl, only blinking with her large eyes.
One day Nancy could take it no longer. She stood before Ethel and shouted, Why do you look at us like a wolf? What have we done to you? Why wont you smile or talk? Do you dislike us?
Ethel stared, eyes wide, and two tiny tears rolled down her cheeks.
Nancy swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. She left the room, promising herself never to raise her voice at the girl again.
That evening Mrs. Whitmore dropped by. Nancy, you look different today, she said.
I cant Im at my wits end. Shes like a night owl, Nancy replied.
Will she ever love us? Mrs. Whitmore asked. Can you love a child who isnt yours?
You can love a kitten, Nancy muttered. But people change. Once we all loved each other.
Spring arrived quickly. Nancy tried not to nag Ethel. She fed her, clothed her, and gave her books the boys had scraped together. Occasionally, Ethel would answer the boys with more than a simple yes or no. The boys, eager to please, planned a surprise for her birthday. They built a small vanity with a mirror in the barn, like something a young lady might have.
At first Nancy wanted to stop them, thinking they were being foolish, but then she relented. She gave Ethel a delicate lace handkerchief and helped her tie it around her head. Ethel twirled before the mirror, amazed. When the boys brought the vanity, Ethel ran her hands over it, and for a moment Nancy thought she saw a smile.
From then on, the boys and Ethel grew close, chatting for hours in their room, laughing. Whenever Nancy entered, Ethel retreated to a corner and fell silent, which frustrated Nancy. Still, life went on. They decided to raise a piglet for sale, meaning theyd need more clothes for four children. Nancy ordered the pension money set aside for Ethel not to be touched, insisting it be saved for a wedding dress someday.
Edward nodded each time Nancy spoke about the farm. He never understood why Ethel and Nancy could not get along, though they spent years together. He saw the boys love Ethel, but Nancy remained distant.
One afternoon, while Nancy was planting roses, a neighbour boy ran up, panting. Mrs. Hart, someones fighting them!
Nancy snapped, Whos fighting?
The boys, all of them! the boy shouted, then bolted away.
Nancy rushed outside to find her sons tangled in a brawl with a rival gang of village lads. In the centre, Ethel stood, clutching her handkerchief, eyes wide. The mens fathers, armed with belts, shouted, Back off! The fight broke apart as quickly as it had begun.
Mike had a split brow, Andrew a bruised eye, and Sam a torn shoulder. Ethel began to sob.
What happened? Nancy demanded.
Mike sniffed, We came to swim, but the girls teased us, so we tried to defend her. Andrew added, Shes our sister, why would anyone hurt her?
Nancy, tears streaming, said, Go home.
The boys obeyed, but the village gossip swirled. Later, Mrs. Whitmore confronted Nancy at the gate.
People are saying the boys almost killed each other over a troublemaker, she said.
Nancys anger flared. You call her a troublemaker? Shes my daughter now! She pointed a finger at the old woman, who stepped back, trembling.
The women stared at each other, the tension thick. Nancy turned and slammed the gate, her heart pounding. She walked home, the weight of the day crushing her.
Inside, the boys asked, Mum, where are you?
Im here, she whispered, hugging them tightly. Well keep trying.
That night, a soft whisper woke Nancy. She slipped out of bed and saw Ethel kneeling before a small wooden icon on the mantel.
Dear God, youve helped me when I needed you. Please help Mum so the garden grows again. If shes happy, shell love me more, the child whispered. Ill be a good girl, Ill wash dishes, Ill help, I wont ask for anything else. I just want her to see me as her own.
Ethel rose, eyes shining, and left the room. Nancy, holding back tears, returned to her bed, feeling a strange calm. Perhaps the prayers had been heard.
The next morning, a group of women from the village shop approached Nancy.
What should we do? Is it because of your troublemaker that the boys are fighting? one asked.
Nancy clenched her jaw. Shes my child. She hasnt done anything wrong. If you think otherwise, keep your mouth shut. She warned them, Anyone who calls her a troublemaker will hear the sound of my own fists.
The women, startled, fell silent. One of them, a shopkeeper named Zinnia, later offered Nancy a bundle of ribbons.
Do you need any? she asked.
Yes, give me the pink ones, the pretty ones, Nancy replied, smiling despite herself. She tucked the ribbons into her bag and walked away.
Later, the boys returned from the river, laughing. Where were you, Nancy? they asked.
I was I didnt want to be seen, she answered, wiping a tear. Do you need anything?
The ribbons for Ethels hair, they said.
Nancy knelt, helped Ethel tie a wide bow around her head, and watched the little girl beam.
Ethel, may I ask you something? she said gently.
What is it? the girl whispered.
If you ever want to call me Mum, Ill be the happiest woman in the world, Nancy said, voice trembling.
Ethels eyes filled with tears. Can I call you Mum right now? she asked.
Yes, darling, you may, Nancy replied, hugging her tightly. Well go to school together, well bake pies, and everything will be wonderful.
That night, the whisper returned. Ethel knelt again before the icon.
Thank you, God. I wont ever ask for anything else. Help those who suffer as I have. I have a Mum now, and she will manage everything because she knows shes the best.
Nancy smiled, slipped under the covers, and felt a peace she hadnt known in years. Perhaps prayers do reach the heavens.
When the third boy was born, Nancy wept, wishing for a little girl instead. Yet the baby arrived, healthy and strong, and the house felt complete. No longer did she have to fuss over diapers and onesies; the family was whole.
Through hardship, love, and stubbornness, they learned that blood does not make a family kindness, patience, and a willing heart do. In the end, the greatest lesson was that a home is built not from birthright, but from the choices we make to care for one another.
