Has She Moved On Already? Galina Didn’t Care What the Neighbors Whispered When They Spotted a Man in the Widow’s Yard.

*Has She Moved On?* The neighbours whispered among themselves when they saw a man in the widows yard. *What will people say?*

In the village where everyone knew each otherwho was godfather to whom, who dug potatoes late, who had been divorced twicenothing stayed hidden for long. So when Evelyn, the widow, brought a new man into her home, the murmurs spread like autumn mist. *She didnt wait long, did she?* But no one dared say it aloudEvelyn was hardworking, respectable, and had raised two children alone.

Thomas arrived in their cottage as the leaves turned. Quiet, with strong hands that knew plough and hammer, and steady eyes that watched the children not with pity, but with patience, as if to say, *All will be well.* Though Alice was nine and William twelve, they barely remembered their fatherhe had passed when they were just starting school.

At first, Alice eyed her stepfather warily.

“Mum, how longs he staying?” she asked one evening.

“As long as God wills it, love. Hes a good man.” Evelyn sighed softly. “Im tired of doing everything alone.”

“We help!” William protested.

“You do. But youre children. A woman wants warmth, not just work.”

Thomas never forced himself on them. He waited. Each morning, he chopped wood, mended the fence, and one evening, he brought home a basket of chicks.

“Farms got to thrive again,” he said. “And fresh eggs wont hurt.”

“Whyre you doing all this?” Alice asked, though she couldnt help smiling at the fluffy chicks.

“Because were family now. Even if Im not blood, sharing a roof means sharing the workand the good things too.”

“Did my dad have chickens?”

Thomas hesitated. “Your father was a good man. Knew him from the mill. Spoke of you often. Youve his eyes.”

Alice sat on the step, watching him water the chicks. For the first time, she thought, *He isnt trying to replace Dad. He just wants to be here.*

That winter, Thomas taught William carpentry.

“This is a plane. Not like tapping a screenhands must know what theyre doing.”

“I dont just play games!” William grumbled.

“Not scolding. Just sayinghands make the man. And the mind.”

“Why dont you ever shout?”

Thomas smiled. “Because anger fixes nothing. Better to explain once than raise your voice a hundred times.”

Come spring, the village gathered to clear the woods old spring. William and Alice balked.

“Let the youngsters do it!” William muttered.

“Are we old men already?” Thomas chuckled. “Go. Life wont wait for others to do whats yours.”

At the spring, the children heard the men ask, “These yoursthe lad and lass?” And Thomas simply said, “Mine. Ours now.”

Alice nudged William. “Hear that?”

“Aye.”

“And?”

“Feels warm. Dunno why.”

Once, William came home shaken after a quarrel at school. When Evelyn pressed, he confessed.

“Told the lads Thomas is like a father to me. Said I was a fool for letting a stranger raise me. Told em Id rather have a good stranger than a father whos gone.”

Thomas said nothing. Just sat across from him.

“I wont ask you to call me Dad. But know this, sonIll not leave you. No matter what others say.”

“Dont mind it. Just hard to say Dad when youre not used to it.”

“No rush. That words like breadnot to be eaten careless. Takes time to rise.”

Two years passed. William finished secondary school, bound for trade college. One evening, under stars thick as clotted cream, frogs croaking in the grass, he cleared his throat.

“Thomas Got to give a speech. About someone whos an example. Wanted to talk about you. That all right?”

Thomas coughed, nodded.

“Dont make me sound too grand.”

“Cant lie when its from the heart.”

At graduation, William spoke of “a man who wasnt there from the cradle, but became a true father.” Evelyn wept. And among the village wives, someone whispered:

*Say what you will about stepfathers. When hearts bind, blood hardly matters.*

For Thomass fiftieth, Alice gave him an embroidered shirt and a letter:

*Dad, thank youfor the wood, the chicks, the patience. For teaching us to make good things happen, not just wait. Youre our father not because you had to be, but because you chose to be. And thats why we love you more.*

Thomas sat long with that letter. Silent.

Then he said to Evelyn, “Theyve grown. Not strangers anymore.”

She smiled. “Because you never treated them as such.”

To be a father, one neednt share blood. Sometimes, love and daily kindness weigh heavier than biology. For family is what we choose to make.