Who Are You Here For?” – Maria and Nicholas Step onto the Porch, Gazing at the Visitor. “I’m Here for Maria! I’m Her Granddaughter—Well, Great-Granddaughter, Actually. The Daughter of Alexei, Maria’s Eldest Son.

“Who are you looking for?” Mary Fairweather stepped onto the porch with Nicholas at her side, eyeing the stranger. “Im here for Mary Fairweather! Im her granddaughterwell, great-granddaughter, to be precise. The granddaughter of Alexander, her eldest son.”

Mary sat on the sunlit bench, soaking in the first warm days of spring. At last, winter had passed. Only God knew how shed endured it this year.

“I shant last another winter,” she thought with a quiet sigh. She wasnt afraid of the endrather, she welcomed it. Shed long since saved her pennies and bought her burial clothes. Nothing held her to this world anymore.

***

Once, shed had a large familyher husband, Frederick Johnson, a tall and sturdy man, and their four children: three boys and a girl. Theyd lived harmoniously, helping one another, seldom quarreling. The children grew and flew the nest one by one.

The two eldest sons went off to university and settled in distant towns for work. The middle boy, never much for schooling, built a successful trade that took him abroad, where he stayed. The daughter, too, left their villageflitting off to London and soon marrying.

At first, the children visited often. Letters arrived, and when telephones became common, calls replaced ink and paper. Grandchildren came, one after another. Mary would pack her worn old suitcase and travel to mind them.

But in time, the grandchildren outgrew her care. Calls grew scarce, visits rarer still. Work, families, their own growing childrenthere was no time for the old home. The last time theyd all gathered was for Fredericks funeral. So strong a man, theyd thought hed live to a hundred. Yet death had claimed him all the same.

After the burial, the children scattered. Calls trickled, then ceased altogether. Mary tried ringing them, but soon sensed she was a burden and stopped. So she lived, these past ten years. Once a year, perhaps, a child might remember herand for a week after, shed smile to herself.

One afternoon, as she sat musing on the bench, a voice called out.

“Good day, Aunt Mary!” A young man stood by the gate, beaming. “Dont you remember me?”

Mary squinted.

“Nicholas? Is that you?”

“It is!” He laughed, stepping into the yard.

Nicholas was the neighbors boyhis parents couldnt go a day without a quarrel. As long as Mary recalled, hed been a hungry child. Out of pity, shed fed him, given him her own childrens outgrown clothes, let him sleep over when his parents drinking turned loud.

They hadnt lasted long. When they passed, Nicholas was taken awayto an orphanage, shed heard. Shed missed him sorely.

“Whereve you been all these years?” she asked, delighted.

“First the orphanage, then the army, then school. Now Im backto lift up the old village!”

“Lift it how? Everyones gone.”

“Never mind that. Ill manage!”

And so Marys life changed. Nicholas found work with Mr. Wilson, the villages largest farmer. In his free time, he patched up his parents derelict cottage and helped Mary with her chores. She grew merry again, calling him nothing but “my lad.” Three years passed this way.

Then one day, Nicholas looked uneasy. “Im leaving, Aunt Mary. Mr. Wilson wont pay proper wages. Im off to find work. Dont be cross.”

“Cross? Never, my lad. Go with God.”

Alone again, Mary sometimes wept from loneliness. She waited for the endyet something still held her here.

***

“Good day, Aunt Mary!” A familiar voice startled her. She turned to see Nicholas at the gate.

“Nicholas! Can it be?”

“It is!” Tall, well-dressed, he strode into her yard. “Ive come back for good!”

“Oh, what joy!” She fussed. “Come in, come in! Ill put the kettle on!”

“Teas just the thing!” He grinned. “Let me fetch some treatsI didnt know Id find you home.”

Half an hour later, they sat at the table, sipping from her best china, talking nonstop.

“Id nearly gone to meet my Maker, Nicholas,” she said, dabbing her eye.

“Dont even think it!” He wagged a finger. “Well live grand now! Ive saved enough to start my own farm. Youve years yet!”

“Hello? Anyone home?” A girls voice broke the peace. Mary peered out to see a young woman in a short coat and high heels.

“Who are you looking for?” Mary and Nicholas stepped onto the porch.

“You must be Mary Fairweather! Im your great-granddaughterViolet. Alexanders granddaughter.”

Mary and Nicholas exchanged glances.

“I called, but your phone was disconnected. So I chanced the trip.”

“Well, come in!” Flustered, Mary ushered her inside. Nicholas took her suitcase.

As Violet devoured the cakes laid out, she explained herself. “Ive no love for the city. Grandfather thought a few months here might cure me of country longing. He rangmy father toobut no one answered. Forgive the intrusion. Ill not be a burden. Ive money, and theyve sent gifts!”

“Stay as long as you like!” Mary said at last. “It gladdens my heart.”

A month passed. Mary watched from her bench as Violet expertly tended the garden. Whod guess she was a city girl?

With Nicholass help, Violet had plowed the long-neglected plot, built raised beds, and planted seedlings from neighbors. Nicholas, meanwhile, broke ground for his farm, hired men to fix Marys roof, and installed proper heating.

Marys smile never faded. She wasnt alone anymore.

Only when Violet prepared to leave did sadness flicker. Shed grown so fond of the girl.

“How shall I manage the garden alone?” Mary sighed, packing cakes for Violets journey.

“Just mind the water barrel. Nicholas will tend the rest. Ill be back to weed!” Violet grinned.

“Youll return?”

“Of course! I cant stay away now. Ive grown to love you dearly. And Nicholas has proposed! Well wed in autumnwhats a farmers wife to do in the city?”

A year later, Mary rocked the pram where her great-great-grandson slept. Violet and Nicholas were at the farmthriving, and lifting the village with them.

Gazing at the child, Mary thought, “Ill not go yet. The children still need me.”