The ache in her back didnt stop her as she shuffled to open the door.
Elizabeth wiped her damp hands and, wincing from the sharp pain in her spine, hobbled toward the entrance. The knocking had been timid but persistentthis was the third time. Shed been busy scrubbing a window and hadnt hurried to answer. Behind the door stood a young woman, delicate but pale, with tired eyes.
“Elizabeth, they say you might have a room to let?”
“Oh, those nosy neighbors! Always sending strays my way! I dont rent rooms, never have.”
“But I heard youve got three spare.”
“So what? Must I rent them out? Ive grown used to my solitude.”
“Well, pardon me. They said you were a woman of faith, so I thought”
The girl turned away, tears welling, and began descending the steps slowly. Her shoulders trembled.
“Love, come back! I havent refused you yet! Young ones these daysso fragile, weeping over nothing. Step inside, lets talk. Whats your name? No need for formalities.”
“Amelia.”
“Amelia? Did the sea call to you, child?”
“Ive no father. Im an orphan. No mother, either. I was found in a lobby as a babe, taken in by kind strangers, then handed to the authorities. Not even a month old.”
“Well, dont take offense. Come, well have tea. Hungry?”
“No, Ive had a roll.”
“A roll! Youth these daysno care for yourselves, and by thirty, youll have ulcers. Sit, theres pea soup still warm. Well heat the tea, too. Plenty of jammy husbands been gone five years, yet I still cook for two out of habit. Eat, then youll help me finish the window.”
“Elizabeth, could I do something else? My heads spinningI fear Ill fall. Im expecting.”
“Well, bless my soul! Thats just my luck! Let yourself go, did you?”
“Why assume the worst? Im married. To William, from the same orphanage. Hes been called upcame home on leave not long ago. When my landlady found out, she turned me out. Gave me a week to find new quarters. We lived nearby, but well, circumstances.”
“Circumstances indeed. What am I to do with you? Well move my bed into Georges old room. Fine, you take mine. I wont hear of rentdont even think it, or Ill be cross. Go fetch your things.”
“Its not far. All we own fits in one bag at the foot of the stairs. My weeks up, and Ive been dragging it door-to-door since morning.”
And so, they became two. Amelia continued her studies in dressmaking. Elizabeth, long since on disability after a dreadful rail accident, stayed home knitting lace doilies, collars, and baby booties, selling them at the local market. Her wares were prized for their airy delicacylike sea foam, weightless and ethereal. Money was no trouble; the gardens produce helped, too. Saturdays, they toiled together among the vegetables. Sundays, Elizabeth went to church while Amelia stayed home, rereading letters from her beloved William. She seldom joined, complaining of headaches and an aching back.
One Saturday, their harvest done, they prepared the soil for winter. Amelia tired quickly, so Elizabeth sent her to the cottage to rest and listen to the old vinyl records she and her husband had collected. Raking done, the expectant mother lay down to rest. Elizabeth burned dry branches, lost in thoughtuntil a scream pierced the air.
“Mum! Mum, hurry!”
Heart pounding, forgetting her frail legs and throbbing spine, Elizabeth sprinted to the cottage. Amelia clutched her belly, crying out. Quickly, Elizabeth persuaded a neighbor to help, and in his battered Morris Minor, they raced to the maternity ward. Amelia whimpered endlessly:
“Mum, it hurts! Its too soonIm not due till mid-January! Mum, pray for meyou know how!” Elizabeth wept, whispering prayers.
At the hospital, Amelia was whisked away on a stretcher while the neighbor drove Elizabeth home. All night, she begged the Virgin to spare the child. By morning, she rang the ward.
“Your daughters fine. She called for you and William, cried herself out, then slept. The doctor says the dangers passed, but shell stay with us a few weeks. Her hemoglobins lowmind she eats well and rests.”
When Amelia returned, they talked long past midnight. She couldnt stop speaking of William.
“He wasnt a foundling like me. An orphan. We grew up togetherfriends at first, then sweethearts. Hes so gentle. Its more than love, I think. Here, he writes often. Would you like to see his photo? There, second from the right. Smiling”
“Handsome lad,” Elizabeth lied. Her glasses had needed replacing for years, and the soldiers portrait was tinyshe saw only blurred outlines. “Amelia, why did you call me Mum in the garden?”
“Oh! Fear, I suppose. Old habit. At the home, all grown-ups were Mum or Dad, from the director to the plumber. Id nearly kicked itbut sometimes, when scared, everyones Mum. Forgive me.”
“I see.” Elizabeth sighed, disappointed.
“Auntie Liz, tell me of yourself. Why no photos of your husband or children? You never had any?”
“Had a son. He died before his first year. After the accident, I couldnt bear more. My husband was like a child to meI cherished him, knew nothing but love. When I buried him, I put all pictures away. Though I believe hes with God, the pain was too raw. A photo meant tears. Better hidden. He needs prayers, not weeping. Could you ask William for a larger photo? Well frame it. Theres one somewhere.”
On Christmas Eve, they decked the halls, spoke of the Christ Child, and waited for the first star. Amelia fidgeted endlessly, rubbing her lower back.
“Love, youre restless. Not listening. Why squirm so?”
“Auntie, call an ambulance. The babys coming.”
“But darling, youve weeks yet!”
“I mustve miscalculated. Please, hurryI cant wait.”
Within half an hour, the ambulance sped away. And on Christmas Day, Amelia bore a daughter. Elizabeth sent word to the young father by telegram.
January brimmed with joy and chaos. The baby brought delightand sleepless nights, thrush, tantrums. Happy troubles. Elizabeths own aches eased.
One mild winter day, Elizabeth returned from shopping to find Amelia at the door with the pramready for a stroll.
“Enjoy your walk, Auntie!”
“Yes, enjoy! Ill start lunch.”
Inside, Elizabeth glanced at the tableand froze. Her husbands photo sat framed there. She smiled. “You found it. Chose his youth. The young prefer not to see age.”
Soup simmered as Amelia returned with baby Margaret. A neighbor helped with the pram. They settled the sleeping infant, then crept into the parlor.
“Amelia,” Elizabeth beamed, “howd you find Alfreds pictures?”
“Pardon?”
“This?” Elizabeth pointed.
“That? You asked for a larger photo of William. He went to a studio. I found the frame on the bookshelf.”
Elizabeth snatched the picture with trembling hands. Only then did she seeit wasnt Alfred. A young sergeant grinned roguishly. She sank onto the sofa, pallid, gaze distant. When she turned, Amelia stood weeping silently, a camphor compress in hand.
“Mum, look at me! Whats wrong?”
“Amelia, open the cupboardtop shelf, the photos. Bring them all.”
Albums and framed portraits piled up. From one, a man smiled William?!
“Good Lord! Whos this? Is it William? No, its too old. Who is he, Mum?”
“My husband, Alfred. Amelia, where was William born?”
“I dont know. He came to our London home after a train crash. They told him his parents died.”
“Dear God, what a ghastly mistake! My little Georgethey showed me a body. The shirt was his, but the face unrecognizable. My boy, my George! Alive! Your wife and child under my roof, and I never knew. Lord, you sent Amelia to me. Love, give me that photo.”
Dazed, Amelia handed it over. Elizabeth kissed it, sobbing. “My George, my treasure!”
“William,” Amelia whispered.
“Call him what you will, but hes my son. Look at his fathers facetheyre the same!”
Still doubtful, Amelia hesitated.
“Amelia, the birthmarkis there a star above his right elbow? When I identified the baby”Through happy tears, Elizabeth traced the star-shaped mark on William’s old baby photo, and in that moment, two broken heartsmother and wifebecame a family, bound by love and the joy of little Margaret’s laughter.”
