The Second Time Around Holds Its Own Charm

The Second Time Has Its Worth

“Mum, I dont want to go to Grandmas!” cried little Elizabeth, seven years old, wriggling free from her mothers grasp. “She doesnt like me! She only likes Uncle Michael!”

“Elizabeth, dont be silly,” replied Catherine, weary as she buttoned her daughters coat. “Grandma loves all her grandchildren the same.”

“Thats not true!” The girl stamped her foot. “Yesterday she gave Arthur, Aunt Sophies son, ice cream, and she gave me nothing!”

“Perhaps you had a sore throat?” Catherine suggested.

“No! She just doesnt like me because Im not her sons real daughter!”

Catherine froze, the hairbrush still in her hand. How could a child of seven know such things? Who had told her?

“Elizabeth, who told you 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.”

Catherines heart clenched. She sat beside her daughter on the sofa.

“Elizabeth, listen carefully. Dad John is your real father. He loves you so much, hes looked after you since you were two. And Grandma Margaret loves you too.”

“Then why does she always praise Arthur and scold me?” The girls eyes filled with tears.

Catherine didnt know what to say. Because Elizabeth was right. Her mother-in-law *did* treat her differently from her eldest sons grandson.

“Love, were late,” John stepped into the room. “Elizabeth, get dressed quickly, or Grandma will be waiting.”

“I dont want to go!” Elizabeth sobbed again. “She doesnt like me!”

John looked at his wife, puzzled.

“Whats wrong?”

“Ill explain later,” Catherine whispered. “Elizabeth, get dressed. Well all go together.”

They walked through the city park in silence. Elizabeth dragged her feet behind them, sniffling now and then. John carried a bag of groceries for his mother, while Catherine dreaded the visit.

Margaret had always been a difficult woman. When John introduced Catherine and her two-year-old daughter, his mother had met them with coldness.

“Why take on a child that isnt yours?” shed said to her son. “Find a decent girl and have your own.”

But John was stubborn. He loved Catherine and Elizabeth as if she were his own. They married, he adopted her legally, and gave her his name.

Margaret accepted it, but she never truly loved her granddaughter as she deservedespecially when her eldest son, Richard, gave her a “real” grandson: Arthur.

“Is she home?” John asked, knocking on the door.

“Im here, Im here,” came the voice from within. “Come in.”

Margaret opened the door and embraced her son.

“My John, how Ive missed you!” She kissed his cheek and nodded at Catherine. “Hello, Catherine.”

“Hello, Mrs. Margaret.”

“And wheres my little granddaughter?” The grandmother spotted Elizabeth hiding behind her father.

“Im here,” the girl muttered.

“Come in, sit down,” Margaret led them to the parlour. “How are you? John, youve lost weight.”

“No, Mum, Im fine,” he laughed. “Catherine cooks wonderfully.”

“Thats good. And Elizabeth, hows school? Good marks?”

“Its fine,” the girl mumbled.

“Elizabeth, answer your grandmother properly,” Catherine scolded.

“Leave her,” Margaret waved a hand. “Children are like that. Arthur got a D in Maths yesterday. Richard spent the afternoon tutoring him.”

“Elizabeth gets straight As in Maths,” John said proudly.

“Very good,” the grandmother said flatly. “Richard said hes coming today with Arthur. They miss their uncle.”

Catherine saw Elizabeths face darken. She knew her grandmother was happier to see one grandchild than the other.

“Mum, remember when Elizabeth and I came last month?” John asked. “She recited a poem for you.”

“I remember,” Margaret agreed. “It was lovely.”

“Would you like me to recite another?” Elizabeth offered timidly.

“Of course, go on.”

The girl stood in the middle of the room and began a poem about spring. Catherine saw her daughters effort, her desire to please.

“Very nice,” the grandmother clapped when she finished. “Now go wash your hands; well have lunch.”

Elizabeth obeyed, and Catherine stayed in the kitchen to help set the table.

“Mrs. Margaret, may I speak with you?” she whispered.

“About what?”

“About Elizabeth. She feels you treat her differently.”

The older woman slammed a plate on the table.

“I dont know what youre talking about.”

“You do. Children notice everything. She cried today because she didnt want to come.”

“And what have I done wrong?” Margaret turned. “I feed her, I invite her here.”

“But she sees the difference. When Arthur comes, you kiss him, hug him, give him presents. With Elizabeth, its cold.”

“Because she isnt mine!” the grandmother snapped. “I didnt birth her! She has her own grandmotherlet *her* care for her!”

“Mrs. Margaret, Elizabeth isnt at fault for not being Johns by blood. Shes been your granddaughter for five years. He adopted her, gave her his name.”

“Its just papers,” she rolled her eyes. “Blood is thicker than water. Arthur is my grandson; this one is… a goddaughter.”

Catherines throat tightened.

“So youll never love my daughter?”

“Why should I? When you have children of your own, *then* well talk.”

Just then, Elizabeth entered the kitchen.

“Mum, why did Grandma call me a goddaughter?” she asked, voice trembling. “Im her granddaughter!”

Catherine realised shed heard everything. Margaret flushed.

“Elizabeth, go to your father,” Catherine urged.

“No! I want to know why Grandma doesnt like me!”

“Elizabeth, I *do* like you,” Margaret tried.

“Liar! You said Im a goddaughter! Im *not* a goddaughter, Im Dad Johns daughter!”

The girl ran out in tears. Catherine shot her mother-in-law a furious look and followed.

In the parlour, Elizabeth was on the sofa beside John, weeping. He stroked her hair, confused.

“What happened?”

“Your mother called Elizabeth a goddaughter,” Catherine said coldly. “And she didnt hide it.”

John paled.

“Mum, is this true?”

Margaret stepped out, shamefaced.

“Son, I didnt mean… It just happened.”

“Grandma said Im not hers,” Elizabeth sobbed. “That I have my own grandmother.”

John stood. Catherine saw his jaw tighten.

“Mum, how could you?”

“Son, I only”

“You only *what*?”

In the end, after many tears and words, Grandma Margaret embraced Elizabeth and promised to love her as a true granddaughter. And from that day on, the girl never felt alone in that family again.