Galina Returns Home with Groceries and Hears Strange Noises from Her Son and Daughter-in-law’s Room—…

Margaret returned home from the shops, setting her bags on the kitchen table and beginning to unpack the groceries. Suddenly, she heard a strange commotion coming from her sons and daughter-in-laws room, and felt compelled to check.

“Emma, where are you off to?” Margaret asked, puzzled, as she saw her daughter-in-law packing her belongings into suitcases.

“Im leaving,” Emma replied through tears.

What do you mean, leaving? Where? Whats happened? Margaret asked, thoroughly bewildered.

Emma silently handed her a letter. Margaret opened it, and as she read the contents, she froze.

When John brought his bride Emma to his childhood home on the edge of a quiet English village, Margaret could scarcely contain her happiness. Her son, after roaming until his mid-thirties and enjoying his freedom, had finally settled down. She saw a little help for herself in her later years, too.

The house was always filled with warmtha deep sense of family tradition, with Margaret as the ever-capable matriarch. Her late husband had left behind a sturdy house and a prosperous smallholding, always striving for the familys comfort. John was her only child; Margaret couldnt have a second after a difficult first pregnancy, and attempts afterward were fruitless. The hard farm life left little room for rest or holiday. Eventually, her husband wore himself out and fell ill. Margaret devoted three years to his care, learning to handle the tractor and keep the land in order, though it cost her dearly.

Emma was youngperhaps ten years Johns junior, Margaret reckoned. Delicate and gentle, she reminded Margaret keenly of her own youth, when shed arrived at her new husbands home carrying nothing but a small suitcase. She was an orphan. John chose herthat was enough, Margaret thought.

All the village girls were envious of Emma. Shed managed to marry the most eligible and well-off bachelor in the county. Even after marriage, girls would sneak glances at John, but he hardly noticed, hurrying home from work each day to his wife and children. Emma bore him two sons and a daughter.

When the youngest was five, and their oldest ten, John decided to leave for London with a friend for work.

Dont we have enough, John? his mother protested. Theres food on the table, your wages, my pension. Wholl handle the land? Im not as spry as I used to be.

Im tired of the smallholding, Mum! Ill get a decent job, move the whole family to the city. The kids need an education. Besides, its time we sold the place, you should come too.

John, theres a good school just down the lane! Emma tried to reason.

Youre a city girl at heart. Lets embrace it.

I grew up in a city orphanage, but I dont even remember much of it; I was so young. What about your mother, though? She needs us. And how will we manage in London with three kids? Emma fought back tears.

Thats enough. Its happening. And please tidy up, you look exhausted.

Emma and Margaret stayed on together, a friendly pair. Margaret, recalling her own early days, felt tenderly toward Emma, especially after the children came alongshe began to protect Emma like a daughter. Emma, too, came to love her mother-in-law, soon enough calling her Mum.

The day came. If you want to go, then go! his mother said quietly. Well manage. John left. He wrote letters, as no one had mobiles yet. After six months he returned, brought presents, left a bit of money, and disappeared for another six months.

His friend soon returned alone, and his wife confided in Margaret: “Your Johns got himself involved with a wealthy woman in London, where they were refitting her flat. He lives there now, doesnt even bother to work.” Margaret kept it to herself, hoping it was just village gossip. But soon enough, rumours began swirling.

One day, Emma was pale and listless, quietly packing her things.

Where are you going? Margaret asked.

Emma just handed her a short note.

Emma, Im sorry, but Ive met someone else. Ill inherit the house after Mum. Dont waste your timeleave. Youre young, youll manage, and you can get the kids settled. Heres some money to start off with. From here on, youre on your own. John.

He can go his way. But I wont let you or the children leave. Its your home and always will be, Margaret said resolutely.

Some time later, John returned with his new wife in a gleaming car, not expecting to see his children at his mothers. He didnt know; Margaret saw no reason to inform him. His daughter, now twelve, rushed into his arms, sobbing. His eldest son approached silently. John tried to hug him, but his son silently took his sisters hand and led her away, with the middle child following suit.

Hes no father. Lets get back to work, the eldest muttered.

John stood speechless as his son climbed into the tractor and started ploughing the potato field behind the house. The younger son and daughter tended the rabbitsa new addition to the ever-growing smallholding.

And wheres their mother? Left you alone, has she? John asked his own mother.

Dont judge Emma by yourself, John. Shell be home from work soon. As for your visitwhat brings you both here? Margaret replied coolly.

We came for you.

I thought youd come for your children.

Their mothers here. You should move in with me, Mum. Sell the house, sell it all; well make sure you get a nice place nearby, and youll have plenty of money.

And what about the children? Why the silence?

Emma can move to London, rent a flat. More opportunities for the children there.

Opportunities come with desire, which they havent got. If that were the case, theyd have gone ages ago.

Well, thats our proposal, Mum. Weve even found a keen buyer for the place. But dont take too long to decide.

I see no reason to think it over. This is my home.

Mum, why speak like that?

Just then, Emma came in.

Look whos here, she said with a steady voice.

During the years John had been gone, Emma grew only more radiant: fashionably dressed, her late mother-in-laws earrings shining, a sharp haircut framing her face. The old, frail Emma was gonea true beauty by every English measure. John stared until his new wife nudged him sharply.

Well, Mum, arent you going to put the kettle on? A distinguished guest has graced us, Emma said dryly.

Hes leaving. Hes said his piece. Thank you for braving the journey, son. And you, madam, good day. I do hope we shant meet again.

Here, Mum, take my number. Call if you change your mind, John said, leaving a slip of paper on the table as he left.

John only came again when Margaret was dying. Emma called him, after all, he was her only child. By then, Johns own children were adults, his eldest with children of their own. They spoke to him coolly, like to a stranger. His daughter wouldnt even approach.

Emma. The children are grown. The house is my inheritance. I have the right to live here. Im divorced now. Id like to move back. Stay if you wish, if not, youre free to go, John announced.

Emma wordlessly retrieved documents from the sideboard. Margaret had left the house to Emma, the paperwork dated the very year John sent that letter. John said nothing and left. Emma had no reason to stop him; her ties now were only to her children and grandchildren.

In the end, Emma and Margaret proved what truly makes a home. Its not who holds the deeds or who holds grudges, but the love, kindness, and hard work poured into its walls. Margarets kindness towards Emma, and Emmas strength to stay and raise her children with dignity, left a legacy far richer than any country house or sum of money. Real family isnt about blood alone, but about support and compassion when all seems lost. Thats the true inheritance that endures.