Mary sat quietly weeping by the modest grave of her dear friend Ellen. It had been forty days since Ellens passing, and not a single flower rested on her grave. With a heavy heart, Mary made her way home, her steps slow with sorrow. As she walked, a gentleman caught up with her.
Would you like a lift? he asked kindly. The stops quite a trek from here. Ill take youits no trouble at all. May I ask, who have you lost?
My friend, Mary replied softly.
I lost my mother, he said, his voice gentle. And where are you headed?
The bus stop will do fine, Mary answered, not wishing to inconvenience him.
Im in no rush. Let me drive you all the way, the man responded.
Along the journey, Mary spoke of her life, her burdens, and as fate would have it, two days later, John appeared at Marys side by her building for a conversation she hadnt seen coming.
Mary and Ellen had been inseparable since their nursery days. As they grew, they even dressed alike, swapping clothes and giggling over secrets. School saw them together, and when it was time for university, they both moved to the same cityMary studying medicine, Ellen training to teach.
They remained close, falling in love around the same time. Mary found affection with a humble country lad, while Ellens sweetheart was a city gentleman. Ellen married quickly, perhaps afraid of losing him. Within a year, she bore a daughter, but her husbands parents never welcomed Ellen into the familyshe was not their idea of a proper daughter-in-law.
Mary often babysat Ellens little girl so the couple could have evenings together. Mary, too, wished she could go out like them, but she had promised to care for the child.
One night, Ellen and her husband didnt come home. Only in the cold light of morning did Mary hear the awful news: their car had spun off the road, and neither survived.
Mary remembered little of the wake, fraught as she was with tending to Ellens baby girl. She wonderedwhat would become of her now? The fathers parents, who had never accepted Ellen in life, now refused to have anything to do with the child, their hearts closed by grief. To them, Ellens daughter was not truly family.
Ellens mother was left alone, with three younger children still to raiseshe simply had no room for another. The only option was the childrens home. Ellens daughter was just a year old.
Mary loved that little girl dearly. All her first words and steps, Mary witnessed with her own eyes. By then, Mary had found work and rented a room from a kindly widow. Yet, no one would entrust her with the babyan unmarried, single woman, despite her carefulness.
The authorities took the child, for she was healthy and a suitable couple would likely step forward. Marys heart ached for little Iris.
Michael, I have a favour to ask, Mary pleaded with her boyfriend one evening. Lets marry, at least so I can adopt her. Alone, they wont let me keep her.
Are you mad? Michael exclaimed. Thats not what I want for my life!
I only need help to take Iris. Ill manage everything elseyou can even leave me afterwards. Please.
No, I wont spoil my records for that! he retorted. Youre peculiarwont let me close, yet want marriage. Goodbye! Find another soft-hearted fool!
Again, Mary found herself at Ellens grave, weeping. Forty days, and not even a wildflower had grown there. Across the path, Ellens husbands resting place was covered in fresh blooms.
Ellen, Ill make sure your grave is beautiful, too. Just give me strength, Mary whispered.
Slowly, she made her way home. At the cemetery gate, a man approached.
May I give you a ride? Its quite a walk to the bus stop. Please, I have time. Was it someone close you lost? Forgive me if youd rather not say…
My friend.
My mother I buried her here as well. Where shall I drop you?
The stops fine, honestly, I wouldnt want to trouble you.
Ive no one waiting for me, not now. My mothers gone, my wife has left Are you crying? Is it something serious? I was here at their funeralthe young couple, wasnt it? Its been forty days?
Yes, Mary replied.
Its forty days for my mother, too. Difficult times for both of us, it seems.
On the drive, Mary shared her troubles.
Well, here we are, he said as they arrived. Thank you for sharing your story and allowing me to listen.
Two days later, John was waiting for Mary outside her flat, unexpectedly.
When she finally appeared, he took a breath. Mary, Ive thought about you a lot. Im on my own and would be glad to help. I could marry you, if youd like.
Mary stood, startled. Arent you afraid?
Noof what?
My betrothed ran off when I only asked for help with a child.
Ill help. Just tell me where you and Iris would live.
If my landlady lets me stay, here. Otherwise, Ill find another room.
Well, youll move in with me. Tomorrow, we start making arrangements. We shouldnt delay. My house is large enough for the three of us.
A house? Mary asked, surprised.
Absolutelysome of us city folk do have houses. My mother always preferred the space.
And I never quite adjusted to city lifewe both came from a village, Mary admitted.
John quickly handled the paperwork, they married quietly, and soon Mary brought Iris home. John moved them into his warm house.
Thank you, but after this, Ill manage on my own, Mary insisted.
Of course, the house is yours to use. Ill always help, but wont get in your way.
She began to prepare mealseven for Johntidied, played with Iris, and slowly found herself falling in love, afraid to confess her feelings.
Mum, why do you love me? Iris asked one day.
Because youre my daughter and youre here, Mary replied.
Mary thanked John in her heart every day. He treated them with the devotion of a true family man, tending to Iris like a father should.
For John, Mary was the perfect wife, but their marriage was still a formality in his mind.
One gentle evening, he decided to make it real. It was just after Iris turned three when he proposed.
But, John, were already married.
I want us to be a true familyinseparable.
So do I, Mary admitted.
And so they became a true family, not just in title, but in spirit.
Now, they celebrate two weddings, two years apart. Iris has a brother and sister, their family ever growing.
Those events feel like memories from a distant past. The children are grown. Iris knows where her birth parents rest. Now both graves are lovingly tended.
To Iris, Mary and John are her only real parents, and so they remain. Iris herself has a grandchild now, and Mary and John, a great-granddaughter. Their familya happy, bustling clancontinues to flourish.
