**The Second Time Around**
“Mum, I dont want to go to Grandmas!” shouted little Emily, seven years old, wriggling free from her mothers grasp. “She doesnt like me! She only likes Uncle James!”
“Emily, dont be silly,” sighed Sarah, exhausted, as she buttoned up her daughters coat. “Grandma loves all her grandchildren the same.”
“Thats not true!” The girl stamped her foot. “Yesterday she gave ArthurAunt Sophies sonan ice cream, and she didnt give me anything!”
“Maybe you had a sore throat?” Sarah suggested weakly.
“No! She just doesnt like me because Im not her real granddaughter!”
Sarah froze, the hairbrush still in her hand. How could a child of seven know such things? Who had told her?
“Emily, who said that?”
“No one.” The girl turned to the window. “I figured it out. Arthur says his dad and my dad are brothers. And I know my dad isnt my *real* dad. My real dad lives far away.”
Sarahs chest tightened. She sat beside Emily on the sofa.
“Listen carefully, love. Dad Michael *is* your real father. Hes loved you since you were two, cared for you every day. And Grandma Margaret loves you too.”
“Then why does she always praise Arthur and scold me?” Emilys eyes brimmed with tears.
Sarah couldnt answer. Because Emily was right. Her mother-in-law *did* treat her differently than her eldest sons grandson.
“Sarah, were late,” Michael said, stepping into the room. “Emily, hurry up or Grandma will be waiting.”
“I dont want to go!” Emily burst into tears again. “She doesnt love me!”
Michael frowned at his wife. “Whats going on?”
“Ill explain later,” Sarah whispered. “Emily, get dressed. Well all go together.”
They walked through the city park in silence. Emily dragged her feet behind them, sniffling now and then. Michael carried a bag of groceries for his mother, while Sarah dreaded the visit ahead.
Margaret had always been difficult. When Michael introduced Sarah and her two-year-old daughter, his mother had been cold.
“Why take on another mans child?” shed said. “Find a proper girl and have your own.”
But Michael was stubborn. He loved Sarah and Emily as his own. They married, he legally adopted her, and gave her his name.
Margaret tolerated it, but she never loved Emily the way she deservedespecially when her eldest son, Richard, gave her a “real” grandson: Arthur.
“Is she home?” Michael asked, knocking on the door.
“Yes, yes,” came the reply. “Come in.”
Margaret opened the door and embraced her son.
“Oh, Michael, Ive missed you!” She kissed his cheek and nodded at Sarah. “Hello, Sarah.”
“Hello, Mrs. Thompson.”
“And wheres my little granddaughter?” Margaret spotted Emily hiding behind her father.
“Im here,” the girl mumbled.
“Come in, sit down,” Margaret ushered them to the sitting room. “How are you? Michael, youve lost weight!”
“No, Mum, Im fine,” he chuckled. “Sarahs cooking is brilliant.”
“Thats good. And Emily, hows school? Good marks?”
“Its all right,” the girl muttered.
“Emily, answer properly,” Sarah chided.
“Oh, leave her,” Margaret waved a hand. “Children are like that. Arthur got a D in maths yesterday. Richard spent all evening tutoring him.”
“Emily only gets As in maths,” Michael said proudly.
“Very nice,” Margaret said flatly. “Richard and Arthur are visiting later. They miss their uncle.”
Sarah noticed Emilys face darken. She knew Grandma was happier to see one grandchild than the other.
“Mum, remember when Emily recited that poem last month?” Michael asked.
“Yes, it was lovely,” Margaret conceded.
“Would you like to hear another?” Emily offered timidly.
“Go on, then.”
The girl stood in the middle of the room and recited a poem about spring. Sarah watched her daughters effort, her desperate need to be loved.
“Very good,” Margaret clapped when she finished. “Now go wash up. Lunch is ready.”
Emily obeyed, and Sarah stayed to help set the table.
“Mrs. Thompson, can we talk?” she whispered.
“About what?”
“Emily. She feels you treat her differently.”
Margaret slammed a plate down.
“I dont know what you mean.”
“You do. Children notice everything. She cried this morning because she didnt want to come.”
“And what am I doing wrong?” Margaret turned sharply. “I feed her, I invite her over.”
“But she *sees* the difference. When Arthur visits, you kiss him, hug him, spoil him. With Emily, its all coldness.”
“Because she isnt *mine*!” the old woman snapped. “I didnt raise her! She has her own grandmotherlet *her* care for her!”
“Mrs. Thompson, Emily isnt to blame for not being Michaels by blood. Shes been your granddaughter for five years. He adopted her, gave her his name.”
“Papers mean nothing,” Margaret scoffed. “Blood is thicker than water. Arthur is my grandsonthis ones just a a god-daughter.”
Sarahs throat tightened.
“So youll never love my child?”
“Why should I? When you have real children, well talk.”
Just then, Emily walked in.
“Mum, why did Grandma call me a god-daughter?” Her voice shook. “Im her *granddaughter*!”
Sarah realized shed heard everything. Margaret flushed.
“Emily, go to your father,” Sarah said quickly.
“No! I want to know why Grandma doesnt love me!”
“Emily, I *do* love you,” Margaret lied.
“Youre lying! You said Im just a god-daughter! But Dad Michael *is* my dad!”
The girl ran off in tears. Sarah glared at her mother-in-law and followed.
In the sitting room, Emily sobbed against Michael on the sofa. He stroked her hair, bewildered.
“What happened?”
“Your mother called Emily a god-daughter,” Sarah said coldly. “And she meant it.”
Michael went pale.
“Mum, is this true?”
Margaret stepped out, shamefaced.
“Son, I didnt mean It just slipped.”
“Grandma said Im not hers!” Emily cried. “That I have my own grandma!”
Michael stood. Sarah saw his jaw tighten.
“Mum, how could you?”
“Michael, I only”
“Only *what*?”
In the end, after tears and hard words, Grandma Margaret hugged Emily and promised to love her as a true granddaughter. And from that day on, the girl never felt alone in that family again.
*Sometimes, love isnt givenits chosen. And second chances matter more than blood.*
