**A Second Chance Matters**
“Mum, I dont want to go to Grandmas!” cried little Emily, just seven years old, squirming away from her mothers grip. “She doesnt like me! She only likes Uncle Michaels son!”
“Emily, dont be silly,” sighed Catherine, exhausted, as she fastened her daughters coat. “Grandma loves all her grandchildren the same.”
“Thats not true!” Emily stamped her foot. “Yesterday she gave Oliver an ice creamAunt Sophies boyand she didnt give me anything!”
“Maybe you had a sore throat?” Catherine offered weakly.
“No! She just doesnt like me because Im not her real granddaughter!”
Catherine froze, the hairbrush still in her hand. How could a child so young know such things? Who had told her?
“Emily, who said that to you?”
“No one,” the girl muttered, turning toward the window. “I figured it out. Oliver says his dad and my dad are brothers. And I know my dad isnt my real dad. My real dad lives far away.”
Catherines heart clenched. She sat beside her daughter on the sofa.
“Emily, listen carefully. Dad James *is* your real father. He loves you so muchhes raised you since you were two. And Grandma Margaret loves you too.”
“Then why does she always praise Oliver and scold me?” Tears welled in the little girls eyes.
Catherine had no answer. Because Emily was right. Her mother-in-law *did* treat her differently from her eldest sons child.
“Love, were running late,” James said, stepping into the room. “Emily, hurry up or Grandma will be waiting.”
“I dont want to go!” Emily sobbed. “She *hates* me!”
James frowned at his wife. “Whats going on?”
“Ill explain later,” Catherine whispered. Then, firmer: “Emily, get dressed. Were all going together.”
They walked through the city park in silence. Emily dragged her feet behind them, sniffling now and then. James carried a bag of groceries for his mother, and Catherine braced herself for the visit.
Margaret had always been a difficult woman. When James introduced Catherine and her two-year-old daughter, his mother had greeted them with icy politeness.
“Why take on another mans child?” shed hissed to her son. “Find a decent girl and have your own.”
But James was stubborn. He loved Catherineand Emily as if she were his own. They married, he adopted her legally, and gave her his name.
Margaret tolerated it, but she never truly loved her granddaughter. Not like when her eldest, Richard, gave her a “real” grandsonOliver.
“Anyone home?” James knocked on the door.
“Come in, come in,” came the reply from inside.
Margaret opened the door and embraced her son.
“James, how Ive missed you!” She kissed his cheek, then nodded at Catherine. “Hello, dear.”
“Hello, Mrs. Harris.”
“And wheres my little granddaughter?” Margaret spotted Emily hiding behind James.
“Here,” the girl mumbled.
“Come in, sit down,” Margaret ushered them into the sitting room. “How have you been? James, youve lost weight!”
“No, Mum, Im fine,” he chuckled. “Catherines cooking keeps me well fed.”
“Good to hear. And Emilyhows school? Good marks?”
“Fine,” Emily muttered.
“Emily, answer your grandmother properly,” Catherine chided.
“Oh, leave her,” Margaret waved a hand. “Children are like that. Oliver got a D in Maths yesterday. Richard spent all evening tutoring him.”
“Emily only gets As in Maths,” James said proudly.
“Lovely,” Margaret said flatly. “Richards coming by today with Oliver. They miss their uncle.”
Catherine saw Emilys face darken. She knew whose visit Grandma truly looked forward to.
“Mum, remember when Emily recited that poem for you last month?” James prompted.
“Of course. It was sweet.”
“Would you like me to do another?” Emily asked shyly.
“Go on, then.”
The girl stood in the middle of the room and began a poem about spring. Catherine watched her daughters hopeful effort, her desperate need to be loved.
“Very nice,” Margaret clapped lightly when she finished. “Now go wash your handslunch is ready.”
Emily obeyed, and Catherine stayed to help set the table.
“Mrs. Harris may I speak with you?” she whispered.
“About what?”
“Emily. She feels you treat her differently.”
The older woman 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 here.”
“But she sees the difference. When Oliver visits, you kiss him, hug him, give him gifts. With Emily, its cold.”
“Because shes *not* mine!” Margaret snapped. “I didnt birth her! She has her own grandmotherlet *her* care for her!”
“Mrs. Harris, Emilys done nothing wrong. Shes been your granddaughter for five years. James adopted hershe carries your name.”
“Papers mean nothing,” Margaret scoffed. “Blood is blood. Oliver is my grandson. *This* ones just a charity case.”
Catherines throat tightened.
“So youll never love my daughter?”
“Why should I? When you have children of your own, then well talk.”
Just then, Emily walked into the kitchen.
“Mum why did Grandma call me a charity case?” Her voice trembled. “Im her *granddaughter*!”
Catherine realized shed heard everything. Margaret flushed.
“Emily, go to your father,” Catherine urged.
“No! I want to know why Grandma hates me!”
“Emily, I dont hate you,” Margaret lied.
“Yes, you do! You said Im not yours!” Emily burst into tears and ran out.
Catherine shot her mother-in-law a furious glare before following.
In the sitting room, Emily was curled up beside James, sobbing. He stroked her hair, bewildered.
“What happened?”
“Your mother called Emily a charity case,” Catherine said coldly. “And she meant it.”
James went pale.
“Mum is this true?”
Margaret stepped out, shamefaced.
“Son, I didnt It just slipped out.”
“Grandma said Im not hers!” Emily wept. “That I have my *own* grandma!”
James stood abruptly. Catherine saw his jaw tighten.
“Mum, how *could* you?”
“James, I only”
“Only *what*?”
In the end, after many tears and hard words, Grandma Margaret hugged Emily and promised to love her as a true granddaughter. And from that day on, the little girl never felt alone in that family again.
