BLOOD CALLED HER HOME
“Emma, as your husband, Ill set one condition. Lets forget this foolish fling with that eager lover of yours. But I ask one thinggive me a son,” I said, pitifully, more than Id ever been.
“Alright, James, Ill try,” my wife agreed hesitantly. The weight of our familys pact was heavy on her shoulders.
…Emma and I had raised three daughters: twelve-year-old Sophie, nine-year-old Lily, and eight-year-old Grace. Where this twenty-year-old dandy, Oliver, had come from, I couldnt fathom. Hed torn my life apart at the seams. As they say, its not the years that age you, but grief.
The girls were confused. Their mother, once loving and caring, had become distant, overly groomed, like a ghost. The house changed. Dust gathered in thick layers, dishes piled up unwashed. I grew nervous, irritable, lost in thoughts of how to bring my wayward wife back.
…It had all started six months earlier.
A chance meeting on a cruise ship, or so it seemed. Emma had taken the girls to the seaside. She returned distracted, staring right through me, barely kissing the girls as she used to. I suspected something wasnt rightsomething slippery beneath the surface. A crack had formed in our family, though I kept quiet. The thought of accusing her wounded me. Time would tell. And it did.
“Dad, Mum spent the whole holiday arm in arm with Oliver,” Lily blurted out innocently.
“Tell me more, sweetheart,” I said, paling but forcing composure.
“Well, this man was always with us at the beach. Mum laughed at his jokes. He even saw us off at the station. Handsome, stylish. Younger than you.” Lily shattered what was left of my heart.
…Impossible. Just a fleeting summer romance, nothing more. Why would a flashy young rake set his sights on a thirty-year-old woman with three children? Werent there enough girls along the promenade? A whistle, and theyd all be histanned, hungry for love and adventure.
But I was wrong.
Emma and Olivers love had tangled into something permanent. No pleading, no children, no appeals to conscience could save our marriage. My peace was gone forever.
Emma did bear me a sonWilliam. But he never saw me as his father. I barely saw him myself. Oliver raised him. Emma took the boy and left for good. I was left with my daughters. I nearly ended it all. My heart turned to ice.
“Dad, if Mum left us, well cook, clean, wash, iron your shirts,” little Grace said, wiping my tears with her handkerchief.
That was the only time I let my emotions overpower me.
I grieved, then pulled myself togetherthree little ladies depended on me. I taught them household skills, scolded them sometimes, even hurt them unintentionally. But the house grew clean and cosy again. Sophie adored washing up, Lily swept the floors, Grace dusted endlessly. I managed the cooking, poorly but passably.
Emma visited occasionally, only stirring up pain. The girls wept for hours after. So, I asked her to stay awayfor their sake.
“James, I love them. Youd have me abandon them for your comfort?” she protested.
“No, Emmafor theirs. If you love them, let them grow before deciding if they want to see you.” I hoped I sounded convincing.
“Maybe youre right. I cry too after seeing them. Time will tell. Goodbye, James.” With a final kiss to the girls, she left our home for good.
…As teenagers, my daughters grew to hate their mother and William. I think they envied himhe had a real mother, one who doted on him.
…When they married, their anger faded. The bitterness remained, but the fire died down. Sophie and Lily each had four children; Grace had three. They strived to be better mothersit mattered deeply to them.
I lived alone. There were other women, but I called them all “Emma.” Whod tolerate that? My heart held only one. The past cant be undone, nor forgotten. So, I stayed a bachelor. Got used to it.
…My Emma passed at sixty. A week before, she came to me unexpectedly, begging forgiveness, weeping over William. His choices baffled herhed changed, become a woman. Several surgeries had made him Valerie. He claimed hed never been happier.
Emmas will sent Oliver to hospital. Hed been a successful businessman, signing everything over to herhis fortune, his trust absolute. Yet her will left him nothing. Everything went to the girls and Valerie, whose transformation had hastened Emmas end.
Why? Maybe blood mattered more. Shed loved the girls all along, hidden deep in her heart.
When the girls inherited, they offered it all to me:
“Dad, take it. Youve earned it.”
I refused outright. That wealth burned my hands. I passed it to the grandchildren.
Oliver went bankrupt, begging my daughters for help. They turned him away: “You took our mother, our childhood. Now be gone.”
Valerie married an Italian, Roberto. Truthfully, William had always been delicate, pretty… They live in Italy now, planning to adopt, to be a proper family. Grace keeps in touch. Sophie and Lily refuse to acknowledge him.
This happened in England, where Id brought my family for a better life.
