**Diary Entry 12th June**
Ten years alone in the woods, and then, out of nowhere, two newborns appeared on my doorstep.
Eliza, as always with the first light of dawn, stepped into the garden. The chores never endedwatering the vegetable patch, pulling weeds, checking the chicken coop, inspecting the apple treesall of it took time, and she had no one to help. No neighbours, no family. Shed grown used to the solitude, though sometimes it settled like a lead weight in her chest.
By evening, she planned to hunta necessity, with meat running low and the nearest shop miles away. But first, she wanted to rest beneath the ancient oak by the cottage. Just then, her dog trotted upa great, shaggy beast named Rex. More than a pet, he was her protector, her companion in everything.
Fancy a walk, old boy? Plenty of time before dusk, she murmured, scratching behind his ear. Rex thumped his tail, as if to say, *Ill wait. Im here.*
Eliza fetched the buckets and headed for the well. This summer had been unusually dry, even for the Yorkshire moors. The flowers wilted, the leaves crisped early, and the ground split like old china. She watered daily, just to keep things alive.
Shed been alone for years. At first, thered been her mother, but then she passed, leaving Eliza in the cottage her grandfather had built. Hed been a hard man, bitter and withdrawn, living far from the village. The story went that hed never forgiven the world for failing his wife when she was in labour. If someone had helped, if the midwife had reached them in time, Margaret mightve lived. There mightve been grandchildren playing in the yard while he told them stories. But none of that happened.
Eliza remembered asking him, time and again, what had happened. Hed stayed silent for years. Only when she was grown, when shed started walking out with William, did he finally speak. His face darkened like a storm rolling in.
Dont marry him, he said flatly.
Why not? Hes decent. His family doesnt drink like half the village.
No goodll come of it. That familys rotten.
Its not the bloody Middle Ages! Youve shut yourself away so long youve forgotten how people are.
Her grandfather sighed, as if the weight of the world pressed on him. Sit down. Ill tell you how your grandmother died.
Eliza sat, breath held. She knew this would change everything.
He spoke of a bitter winter, when blizzards buried the roads and no cars could pass. Her grandmother, heavy with child, waited too long to leave, afraid to abandon him in the freezing cottage. When her time came, the snow was too deep for any horse to plough through. Hed begged the neighbourseven Thomas, a man whod once loved Margaretbut theyd refused. Thomas had sneered, Cant even get your wife to hospital?
In a fury, her grandfather had loaded Margaret onto a sledge and dragged her himself. Four hours through the storm. By the time they reached the midwife, it was too late. Only the babyElizas motherhad survived.
When he finished, Eliza sat pale, fists clenched.
Thats awful, but whats it got to do with William?
That Thomas was his grandfather.
The words struck like lightning. Did William know? His grandfather had been kind to her, even fond. Did he know whose granddaughter stood before him?
Her parents had quietly opposed the match, too. Now she wonderedhad William known all along? She meant to ask him. But first, she turned to her grandfather.
Is that why you live out here?
Aye. After that, I couldnt bear the sight of people. Your mother moved in with her aunt when she grew up. No hard feelingseveryone chooses their path.
Eliza remembered visiting him as a girl, pedalling her bicycle down the lonely track. Then, one day, shed returned home to smoke curling over the roof. Shed raced back, heart hammering.
A crowd stood outside, faces grim.
Your mum ran in after the cat, someone muttered. Something collapsed. Your dad went after her
Do something! shed screamed, but theyd held her back.
Grandfather hadnt survived the grief. After the funeral, he took to his bed and never rose again. Eliza stayed by him, reading, cooking, singing the old songs he loved. And William came. Again and again.
Come for a walk. I miss you.
Shed glared at him. You miss me? What about what Im feeling?
I just thought you needed a break.
A break? Your lot never cared about losing people, did you?
Williams face darkened. If this is about some ancient feud
Ancient? My parents are *dead* because no one helped! Get out. Dont come back.
Hed left without another word. Shed watched him go, aching to call him backbut she hadnt.
A week after the funeral, her grandfather slipped away in his sleep, as if hed waited just long enough for her to stand on her own.
Her aunt, visiting from the village, had pleaded, Come live with me. You cant shut yourself away like he did.
People are worse than animals, Eliza muttered.
Dont say that! Youre young. Youll soften.
But Eliza hadnt. Shed stayed in the cottage, with Rex and the ghosts of the past.
Then, a year ago, shed seen William in the villagestanding outside his house, a pregnant woman beside him. The worst part? His left leg was gone, replaced by a polished prosthetic. Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, time froze. Then shed fled.
After that, she avoided the village entirely. If she needed supplies, she went to Leeds, where no one knew her name.
But fate wasnt done. At the bus station, she ran into Sarah, an old friend who never knew when to stop talking.
Williams wifes a nurse from the hospital where he was treated, shed babbled. Miserable, she is. Thought shed married a hero, got a cripple in a falling-down house instead. His dad died while he was serving, mum not long after. Now hes back, alone. Wife didnt want the baby, but its too late now. They say hes taken to drink
Eliza hadnt replied. What was the point? Her life was elsewhere now.
That evening, as she dozed beneath the oak, Rexs barking jerked her awakenot his usual warning, but something urgent. She grabbed her rifle and ran.
There, in the shade of the apple tree, lay two newborn babies. A bag beside them held a note:
*Forgive me, Eliza. For everything. My wife left them. I cant do this alone. I know youll be a better parent than I could ever be.*
Williams writing. Fresh footprints led to the river. She sprinted, heart pounding.
There he stood, at the cliffs edge.
William! Dont!
He turned, startled.
Whatll I tell your children? she demanded. That their father was a coward?
I cant do this, he sobbed.
Have you even tried?
He crumpled to his knees. She knelt beside him, hand on his shoulder.
Come on. The babies need you.
Back at the cottage, Rex stood guard over the infants. At the sight of William, he growled, but Eliza quieted him. Hes with us.
She handed one baby to William. He cradled it, weeping.
Theyll need feeding, she said softly. Youll show me how.
A month later, William sat across from her, the children asleep.
We need to talk.
She waited.
He took her hand. I dont know how to say this but will you?
Yes, she said, cutting him off.
He stared. You dont even know what Im asking.
But she did. She always had.
Their return to the village set tongues wagging. Folks lurked by the gate, curiousuntil Rex lifted his lip in a silent snarl. That usually did the trick.
Happiness, after all, prefers quiet. And Eliza and William found theirsin the woods, with two children, a loyal dog, and a peace hard-won.
**Lesson learned:** Some wounds never heal, but they can teach us how to mend whats broken.
