Leonard Never Believed That Irene Was His Daughter: While His Wife Vera Worked at a Local Shop and I…

All my life, Dad refused to believe I was really his daughter. Mum, Vera, worked at the village grocer and there were always whispers about her, saying shed lock herself in the storeroom with all sorts of blokes. Perhaps thats why Dad was so convinced I wasnt his child, and why he never really liked me. Being honest, only Grandpa ever showed me any real affectionhe always took my side and eventually left me his cottage as an inheritance.

I remember being so fragile as a childalways poorly, always the smallest in class. Shes not a bit like anyone in either of our families, my father, Leonard, would say, brow furrowing. Look at her! Barely two feet tall. Before long, Mum picked up on his coldness and seemed to distance herself too. No one but Grandpa cared for me.

Grandpa Matthew, bless him, lived in a little cottage at the edge of the woods, right at the very end of the village. Hed spent his life working as the groundskeeper for the estate, and even when he retired, he still wandered those woods nearly every day, picking berries and gathering herbs for remedies. Hed feed the foxes in winter and the locals thought he was a bit odd, especially after a few of his predictions came true. But we all went to Grandpa when someone had a cough or a sprain and we needed one of his special brews.

He lost Grandma long before I was born; the woods and I were his comfort. When I started school, I spent more time at Grandpas than I did at home. Hed teach me all about the different flowers and roots and what they could cure. I understood it all easily. Whenever anyone asked what I wanted to be, Id reply, I want to make people better. But Mum was always quick to tell me we could barely afford milk, let alone university fees. Grandpa would hush me, promising hed help, and if push came to shove, he said cheerfully, he could even sell Hannah the cow.

Mum almost never visited Grandpa. Then, one day, she showed up on his doorstep, desperation in her eyes. My brother Andrew had lost a pile of money gambling in town and been badly beaten up. He needed cash, right now, to pay off the debt. Grandpa eyed her sternly. Funny how you remember the way here when you need something, he remarked. Youve not visited in years. He refused outright. Im not here to bail out Andrews gambling debts. I need to look after my granddaughters future.

Mum was furious, shouting as she left that she wanted nothing more to do with either of us. When I won a place at nursing college, neither Mum nor Dad gave me a penny. Only Grandpa helped, and a scholarship got me through most of it because my marks were good.

Just before I finished college, Grandpa fell ill. He knew he didnt have long and took me aside. He told me hed left the cottage to me in his will. He urged me to find work in town but to never forget the cottage. This old house lives as long as someone cares for it, he said gently. Keep the fire going in winter, my dear, and never be afraid of spending a night here alone. Your fate will find you here, youll seeyoull be happy, I promise. There was something about the way he said itI felt he knew something I didnt.

That autumn, Grandpa quietly slipped away. I started my job at the main hospital in the next town. Every weekend I made my way out to Grandpas cottage, got the fire roaring, and kept it cosy. Hed chopped enough wood to last for ages. The forecast promised heavy snow, but I didnt mindtwo days off, and I didnt want to be stuck in the cramped lodgings I rented from my friends elderly aunt.

The night I arrived, the first flakes had already fallen. By morning, a thick white blanket covered everything, making the world look brand new, and the road was lost beneath the snowdrifts. That morning there was a sharp knock at the door. A stranger stood on the step, shivering in a woollen overcoat, his cheeks flushed with cold.

Morning, he said. Bit awkward, but my cars stuck just outside. Would you happen to have a spade I could borrow? His accent told me he wasnt from around here. Its near the porch, take it, I offered. Do you want a hand? He glanced at me, trying not to laugh at the thought of a petite girl digging him out, and shook his head. Not likelywouldnt want you getting buried in a drift as well!

He got stuck again almost straightaway. I invited him in for a cup of tea while the snow eased. He hesitated, then agreed, stomping the snow from his boots before he came inside. Dont you get scared out here all alone? he asked. I told him I wasnt, that I worked in town most of the week, only coming out here at weekends. I wondered aloud how Id get back if the bus couldnt get through. He introduced himself as Stanleysaid he lived in the same town as me, and would be heading back as soon as the snow cleared. He offered to give me a lift and I agreed.

After that, Id sometimes walk home after my shift, and once, there he was, waiting for me. That herbal tea of yours must be magic, he grinned. I couldnt stop thinking about youor your tea. Perhaps youll let me come round again for a cup?

We never did have a church wedding. I told him I didnt want one, and in the end Stanley stopped asking. But we truly loved each other, and now I knewwhat they wrote in those novels was right after all; there really are men whod carry their wives over the threshold. When our first child was born, the midwives were amazed at the size of himcouldnt believe a woman as delicate as me could produce such a lad! When they asked what wed call him, I said without hesitation, Hell be Matthew, after a very good man.Stanley squeezed my hand, and the weight of his warmth, the sleeping babe at my side, and the faint scent of woodsmoke curled together in the little cottage, filling the room with hope. Out the window, snow was piling high against the thatched roof, but inside I felt only a deep contentmenta sense of belonging Id never thought possible.

Sometimes, when the fire burned low and the wind howled beyond the glass, I would sit quietly and remember Grandpas words: Your fate will find you here. And it had, not in grand gestures or fortune, but in the steady rhythm of days shared, in whispered stories at the hearth, in a life stitched together from quiet kindnesses. Each bedside plant flowering on the windowsill, each healed wound or comforted neighbor, made the cottage a place of gentle magic, just as Grandpa had always known it was.

Years passed, and Matthew grew strong among the trees, learning to name the birds and wildflowers, catching fox-cubs blinking in the dappled dawn. Sometimes, in the hush of dusk, I felt as if Grandpa sat beside me in his old armchair, nodding at the crackling fire, pleased at the laughter filling his house once more.

And so, in the end, I made people betternot just with herbs and bandages, but with warmth, and welcome, and love given freely, as Grandpa had done. I was my own, and his, and finally, utterly at home.