Oh my gosh, youll never believe what happened to meI found two little kids in my garden, raised them as my own, but fifteen years later, some people tried to take them away.
“Margaret, come quick!” Thomas called from the garden, and I dropped the half-mixed batter right into the bowl.
I rushed onto the patiothere was my husband by the old oak tree. And next to him two tiny children: a boy and a girl. They were sitting in the grass between the vegetable patch, covered in dirt, wearing ragged clothes, with these huge, scared eyes.
“Where on earth did they come from?” I whispered, stepping closer.
The girl reached out to me. The boy stayed close to her but didnt seem afraid. They looked about two, maybe a bit older.
“Ive no idea,” Thomas said, scratching his head. “I went to water the cabbages, and there they were. Like theyd popped up from the ground.”
I crouched down. The girl immediately threw her arms around my neck, pressing her cheek to my shoulder. She smelled like grass and something faintly sour. The boy stayed put but watched me carefully.
“What are your names?” I asked softly.
No answer. Just the girl hugging me tighter, sniffling.
“We should call the council,” Thomas said. “Or the local bobby.”
“Wait,” I said, smoothing the girls messy hair. “Lets feed them first. Look how thin they are.”
I took the girl inside; the boy followed, gripping the hem of my dress. In the kitchen, I sat them at the table, poured milk, and buttered some bread. They ate like they hadnt had a proper meal in days.
“Maybe travellers left them?” Thomas wondered, watching them.
“No,” I shook my head. “Their children usually have darker features. These two are fair-haired, blue-eyed.”
After eating, the kids brightened up. The boy even smiled when I gave him another slice. The girl climbed onto my lap and fell asleep, clutching my jumper.
That evening, Constable Davies came by. He looked the kids over and wrote in his notebook.
“Ill check with nearby villages,” he said. “Someone mightve lost them. For now, they can stay with you. The childrens home in the countys full.”
“We dont mind,” I said quickly, holding the sleeping girl close.
Thomas nodded. Wed been married a year but hadnt had children of our own. And nowtwo at once.
That night, we made them beds by the fireplace. The boy couldnt sleep, watching me. I reached out, and he hesitantly took my finger.
“Dont be scared,” I whispered. “Youre not alone anymore.”
In the morning, a tiny hand touched my cheek. I opened my eyesthe girl was beside me, stroking my face.
“Mummy” she said softly.
My heart leapt. I scooped her up.
“Yes, love. Mummy.”
Fifteen years flew by. We named the girl Emilyshe grew into a beauty with golden hair and sky-blue eyes. James became strong and steady, just like his dad.
Both helped on the farm, did well in school, became our whole world.
“Mum, I want to go to university in London,” Emily announced at dinner. “To be a paediatrician.”
“And Ill study agriculture,” James added. “Dad, you said its time to modernise the farm.”
Thomas grinned and clapped his sons shoulder. We never had children of our own, but never regretted itthese two were ours in every way.
Back then, Davies found no leads. We got guardianship, then adoption. The kids always knew the truth, but to them, we were Mum and Dad.
“Remember my first attempt at baking?” Emily laughed. “I dropped the entire tray.”
“And you, James, were terrified of the cows,” Thomas teased. “Thought theyd trample you.”
We laughed, swapping stories. So many memories! Emily crying on her first day of school, refusing to let go of my hand. James standing up to bullies who called him adopted. The meeting with the headteacher that put a stop to it all.
Later, Thomas and I sat on the porch.
“They turned out well,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.
“Ours,” I nodded.
The next day, everything changed. A posh car pulled up. A man and woman in their forties stepped out, all sharp suits and cold smiles.
“Hello,” the woman said, voice clipped. “Were looking for our children. Twinsa boy and girlwho went missing fifteen years ago.”
Ice shot through me. Thomas came out, standing beside me.
“And what brings you here?” he asked evenly.
“We were told you took them in,” the man said, pulling out a folder. “These are our children.”
I checked the datesthey matched. But my heart refused to believe.
“You waited fifteen years,” I said quietly. “Where were you?”
“We searched!” the woman sighed. “The children were with a nanny who took them. There was an accident they vanished. We only just got a lead.”
Just then, Emily and James came out. Seeing strangers, they froze.
“Mum, whats going on?” Emily took my hand.
The woman gasped. “Sophie! Its you! And William!”
The kids exchanged confused looks.
“Were your parents,” the man blurted. “Weve come home.”
“Home?” Emilys voice shook. She squeezed my hand. “We are home.”
“Dont be silly,” the woman stepped forward. “Were your blood. Weve got a house in Surrey, moneyfamilys better than strangers.”
That did it. Rage boiled in me.
“You didnt look for them for fifteen years,” I hissed. “Now theyre grown, usefulsuddenly you appear?”
“We filed a report!” the man snapped.
“Show me,” Thomas held out his hand. The man fumbled with papersbut the date was only a month old.
“Thats forged,” Thomas said. “Wheres the original?”
The man faltered.
“You didnt look,” James cut in sharply. “Davies checked. No reports.”
“Quiet, boy!” the man barked. “Pack your thingsyoure coming with us!”
“Were not going anywhere,” Emily stood firm. “These are our parents.”
The womans face flushed. She grabbed her phone. “Im calling the police. Blood trumps paperwork.”
“Go ahead,” Thomas nodded. “Ask for Davies. Hes kept records for fifteen years.”
An hour later, our yard was packed. The local bobby, a detective, even the parish council chair. Emily and James stayed inside; I held them close.
“We wont let them take you,” I whispered. “No matter what.”
“Were not scared, Mum,” James clenched his fists. “Let them try.”
Thomas came in, grim.
“The papers are fake. The detective spotted it straight off. Dates dont matchwhen the kids came to us, those parents were in Brighton. Tickets and photos prove it.”
“Why would they do this?” Emily asked.
“Davies worked it out. Theyve got a failing farm, debts. Workers leftno money to pay. They wanted free labour. Heard about you somehowfaked the lot.”
We went outside. The man was already in a police car. The woman shrieked about lawyers, courts.
“Theyre ours! Youre hiding them!”
Emily walked up to her, eyes steady.
“I found my parents fifteen years ago. They raised me, loved me, never left me. Youre strangers who wanted to use us.”
The woman recoiled like shed been slapped.
When they drove off, it was just us four. Neighbours drifted away, murmuring.
“Mum, Dad thank you,” James hugged us.
“Silly boy,” I ruffled his hair. “Youre our children.”
Emily wiped her eyes. “I used to wonderwhat if my real parents showed up? Now I know. Nothing would change. My real parents are right here.”
That night, we sat around the tablejust like fifteen years ago, but the kids were grown. The love was the samewarm, alive, unbreakable.
“Mum, tell us again how you found us,” Emily asked.
I smiled and beganthe two little ones in the garden, how they wandered into our home and hearts, how we became a family.
“Granny, look!” Little Henry held up a scribbled drawing.
“Brilliant!” I lifted him. “Is this our house?”
“Yeah! And thats you, Grandpa, Mum and Dad, Aunt Em and Uncle Jack!”
Emily came innow a doctor at the county hospital, her belly rounded with her second baby.
“Mum, Jack calledhe and Lucy will be here soon. Did you make the pies?”
“Course,” I nodded. “Apple, your favourite.”
Years had flown. Emily graduated, returned homesaid London was too cramped. She
