James and Emma stepped out of their friends flat, where they had just celebrated a birthday, and began the walk home. Outside, November had settled in, and the dim glow of streetlamps revealed a gentle snowfall. A light breeze nudged the flakes forward.
Isnt it beautiful! Emma exclaimed, her voice trembling with awe at the evening scene.
Indeed, James replied, pulling her close.
They had only gone a few strides when Emma halted.
Do you hear that? she asked.
I hear a baby crying, James said, looking around.
People really bring infants out in this weather? The wail sounds so fresh, Emma said, worry creasing her brow. The child must be right nearby, but I cant see where.
They stopped and scanned the street.
It must be over there! James finally shouted, sprinting toward the city park. On a snowcovered bench lay a small bundle from which the sobs emanated.
Such a tiny thing Emma whispered. Where are its parents?
It looks like they left her here alone, James guessed.
Emma lifted the infant delicately; the crying stopped instantly.
Little one, who could have done this to you? she murmured, her tone soft. Did cruel parents abandon you to the frost?
They hurried home. Emma set the child on the sofa, unwrapped the swaddling, and gasped: it was a baby girl, no more than a month old. She wore a threadbare shirt and a ragged bicycle blanket, torn to the edges.
We must feed her straight away, and change her nappy it was probably last changed hours ago, Emma said, tears threatening to spill.
Ill run and get everything, James offered.
Buy formula, a bottle, and nappies, Emma replied, rocking the shivering infant in her arms, on the verge of breaking down.
Fifteen minutes later James returned with a bag of supplies.
Here are disposable nappy pads, we have no better stock yet, he said, placing the bag on the table.
Great, well get her fed and changed right now, Emma chirped, fussing over the baby. The girls skin was spotted with tiny rashes; Emma gently rubbed baby cream into her tiny torso and laid fresh pads beneath her. The infant greedily latched onto the bottle, as if she hadnt been fed for ages.
We should call the police, otherwise it will look like we stole her, James said, his voice low.
Exactly. We dont want the constabulary suspecting us, Emma agreed, cradling the sleeping child.
At dawn, socialservices officers and police arrived at their flat. Emma watched, heart in her throat, as they took the baby away. In one night shed grown so attached that the separation felt like a blow to her chest. James and Emma had been childless for seven years. Emma had once been pregnant, but lost the baby at four months. They had stopped hoping for a child of their own. Perhaps the found girl had truly lost her parents
Alone, the couple pondered the infants fate.
My love, how I wish I could hold her again. Shes such a precious thing, Emma whispered.
I liked all the fuss around that little bundle, James replied, staring out the window at a playground where mothers pushed prams. He imagined Emma among them and smiled.
Three months passed. Their dream finally came true: the authorities never located the girls biological parents. James and Emma were overjoyed. They bought everything a child needs a pushchair, a cot, clothes, toys. The baby, now named Sophie, became their darling. Emma proudly strolled through the garden in a pink pram, chatting with other mums about their little ones. No one doubted that adoptive parents would do anything for their child.
Sophie grew under their care, excelling at school. By seventeen she had graduated with a gold medal and planned to study teaching.
At her graduation dinner the whole family gathered around the table. Suddenly someone knocked at the door.
Ill get it, you two sit tight, James said with a grin, hurrying to the hallway.
Soon a drunken pair a man and a woman burst into the lounge.
Congratulations, love, youve finished school! the woman in a threadbare grey coat shouted, slurring.
Congrats, darling, were so proud of you! the man added, scratching his head as if searching for a proper comment.
What are you? Sophie sprang from her seat. Why are you here?
Were your real parents, the woman rasped, calling herself a mother. We found you on that park bench seventeen years ago.
Dad, Mom, explain whats happening. Is this some joke? Sophie asked, bewildered, glancing between the intruders and James and Emma, who exchanged uneasy looks.
Were your birth parents, and those two are just drunks looking for a drink, the man said.
Ah, youre handing out hangovers now? Sophie retorted sarcastically. Whats your game?
Emma intervened, tears welling as she recounted the night theyd found the baby on the bench.
Sophie stared at James and Emma, almost sobbing. Summoning herself, she declared, If this is true, you both need to leave now!
The ragged woman snarled, Girl, youve got younger brothers and sisters to think of, pulling at her hair. Her husband shifted restlessly, looking as if hed lost his place in time. They seemed the sort who forgot the season, let alone the hour.
Fine, Ill come visit you later, Sophie said, hoping the odd guests would vanish.
The drunken pair bowed exaggeratedly, then shuffled out.
James exhaled a sigh of relief as the door shut.
What a stench they left behind! Emma exclaimed, throwing open the window.
Sophie turned to her adoptive parents. Is that really how it happened?
Her mother lowered her eyes. Yes, darling, her father admitted.
They told her how theyd found her on that cold, snowy bench, wrapped in a tattered blanket, and how theyd scrambled to get the adoption paperwork sorted.
Then then, Mum, Dad, I love you even more! she said, tears spilling, hugging them both. She could not imagine what would have happened if they hadnt appeared that night.
Time moved on. The unruly visitors never returned. The family understood that the drunks only wanted money for their drinking. The girl theyd abandoned had become a convenient target for cash. Sophie, however, could not accept that. She wondered how such people could have children and neglect them it was clear that those parents cared only for the benefits of child support.
Years passed. Sophie finished her studies and took a job at a teacher training college, but she never forgot the siblings she might have had. One day she decided to find them.
She set off for the address shed been given, accompanied by her boyfriend, Victor, a longtime friend who promised to help. They reached a halfruined cottage that still seemed inhabited.
Is this it? Victor asked, eyes wide.
It looks like it, Sophie replied, stepping onto the overgrown yard that hadnt seen a proper repair in a century.
They knocked on the old wooden door. After a moment, footsteps sounded inside.
Ah, you remembered us? a disheveled aunt croaked. Come in, and whos this? Your fiancé? We might as well pour a drink for him.
Were not here for that, Victor said earnestly.
What for then? Toss a penny at the kids, theyre begging for food, and Ive got nothing. Your father died a year ago, the woman muttered, shrugging.
In the doorway, two wary children peered out. Victor handed them large boxes of sweets. The youngsters snatched the gifts and disappeared into another room.
At a table sat a thin boy, eyes darting nervously at the newcomers.
This is Micky, the aunt whispered. Hes shy but goodnatured. He dreams of learning.
Sophie approached gently. Nice to meet you, Micky. Im your sister.
The boy glanced at her, hesitated, then offered a shy handshake.
Victor and Sophie took Micky with them. He proved clever and eager. With their support, Sophie secured him a place at a college and a flat in the city. She visited often; Micky blossomed, laughing, telling jokes, and brightening the lives of his new guardians.
The aunts house still sheltered two younger children, ages nine and ten. Sophie occasionally waited for them outside school, bringing bags of groceries. She felt deep pity for the brother and sister, whose mother squandered all the benefits on alcohol. Sophie invited them over, giving them a glimpse of a normal childhood, shielding them from poverty. She and Victor took them to the cinema, amusement parks, and for simple walks in the park. Eventually the mother passed away, her lifestyle finally catching up with her.
James and Emma had earned a reputation as kind, caring parents. Soon their family grew again, welcoming two more children. Their nephew, Art, and niece, Victoria, were mostly looked after by James and Sophie, who had more spare time. Both grew up in the adoptive home, escaping the bleakness of their early years. As children they had dreamed of fleeing the crumbling house and their chaotic mother, but feared the unknown. Now their wish had been granted. They pursued education, became successful psychologists, and opened a bustling practice together.
