When Rhiannon gives money to a desperate woman with a child outside a grocery shop, she thinks it’s a simple act of kindness. But the next morning, she finds the same woman at her late husband’s grave. When their worlds collide, Rhiannon is forced to learn the truth about her husband.
You shouldn’t expect life to not work out on Tuesday. It’s the kind of day that carries nothing special, just a stop in the week.
But that’s when, on an ordinary Tuesday, my life opened up and I walked out into the drizzling rain from the local shop with my arms full of groceries.
And that’s when I saw her.
She was sitting on the curb, cradling a baby wrapped in a faded blue blanket. Her face was pale and gaunt, and her eyes were dark with fatigue. But there was something in her stillness, in the way she clung to the baby as if it might float away, that made me hesitate a half-step.
‘Please,’ she whispered as I passed, her voice barely rising above the pounding of the rain. ‘Any help, ma’am.’
I never give money to strangers. That’s my rule. I tell myself to be practical, not heartless. But that day, her request made me freeze in place. Maybe it was the baby’s little face, round and forgetful, with eyes too big for her tiny frame….
I fumbled for my wallet and handed her fifty dollars.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her lips trembling.
I just hoped this woman would get the boy out of the rain and into a warm place. He was supposed to be dry and safe.
And that was supposed to be it. A kind act, a fleeting moment in my life. But life doesn’t always work out so neatly, does it?
She was standing at James’s grave with the baby on her hip, picking fresh lilies I’d planted a while ago. My breath caught as I watched her stack the stems into a plastic bag.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I exclaimed.
The words tumbled out of me before I could stop them.
She turned around, her eyes widening with alarm. The baby looked frightened, but she wasn’t crying.
‘I…I can explain,’ she whispered, stammering.
‘You’re stealing flowers. From my husband’s grave. Why?’ I demanded.
She stared at me as if I’d punched her right in the face.
‘Your husband?’
‘Yes!’ snarled I. ‘James. Why are you here?’
Her face crinkled and she clutched the baby tighter to her, breathing heavily as if trying hard not to cry.
‘I didn’t know… I didn’t know he was your husband. I didn’t know James was with anyone else…’
The cold air seemed to thicken around us. The baby whimpered.
‘What are you talking about? Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?’
Tears stood in her eyes.
‘James. James is the father of my child, ma’am.’
The ground beneath my feet shifted violently, and I was sure I was about to collapse.
‘No,’ I gasped. ‘No, he’s not the father. He can’t be. It’s… No!’
Her lips trembled as she nodded.
‘I didn’t even get to tell him,’ she whispered. ‘I found out I was pregnant a week before he disappeared off the face of the earth. I only found out about his death recently. I ran into someone who knew us both – a woman from his office. She introduced us. And she told me. I didn’t even know where he was buried until she told me. We live above the supermarket. In a tiny flat.’
Her words came down on me like fists pummelling my body. Each one heavier than the last. James, my James, had lived a life I knew nothing about.
‘You’re lying,’ I said, and my voice cracked.
‘I wish I was,’ she said. ‘If I was, my child would have the opportunity to meet his father.’
There was silence for a moment before she spoke again.
‘He never told me about you. If I had known…,’ she mewled. ‘Look, I was so angry at him for leaving us. He told me he had work commitments he had to fulfil and as soon as he got a promotion, he’d come back to me. And when I found out I was pregnant, I was let go from my job. I relied on my savings. I wanted James to help. Even in death. I thought taking the flowers and selling them…it sounds awful, but I felt like he owed us that much. I’m so sorry.’
For a while we just stood there looking at each other.
I could see the desperation in her eyes, the raw truth she carried in her trembling hands. What about the baby?
James’s baby. The same child who looked at me with wide, innocent eyes.
Finally, I spoke up.
‘Keep the flowers,’ I said, the words bitter on my tongue. ‘Just take care of him.’
Her face crinkled again, but I turned and walked away before I saw her tears.
That night I just couldn’t sleep. There were hundreds of questions running through my head. Questions that had no answers. James was gone. There was no confrontation, no explanation, no solution.
Just his ghost, shattered into pieces I wouldn’t recognise.
By the third sleepless night, something had changed inside me. And the air around me became different.
The anger seemed to fade away, only a strange ache for the child remained. He was just an innocent little boy caught in the storm his parents had created.
The next morning I drove to the cemetery again, hoping to see her again. I didn’t know why… Maybe I needed proof. Or maybe I just wanted to get it over with.
But she wasn’t there.
After that, I headed towards her house. I remembered that she had said something about living in a flat above the local supermarket. There was only one such supermarket in town, so that narrowed it down.
I parked outside and stared at the cracked windows, the peeling paint, and my stomach churned. How could she raise a child here?
How could James let her live in these conditions? Didn’t he care about her more? The thought made me sick to my stomach. His infidelity was hard enough as it was, but this just made it worse.
Before I knew it, I was in the grocery shop, buying a full basket of groceries and a stuffed bear from one of the displays. Then I walked up the dingy stairs into the alley between the two buildings.
She opened the door, and her face reflected shock when she saw me.
‘I don’t need anything,’ I said quickly. ‘But I thought…you might need help. For him.’
Her eyes filled with tears, but she stepped aside, letting me inside. The baby was lying on a blanket on the floor, chewing on a teething pad. He looked up at me with James’s eyes.
As I set the groceries on the floor, something inside me weakened. Maybe James had betrayed me, yes. And maybe he was living a lie. But the baby wasn’t a lie.
This baby was real, and he was here.
And somehow, in a way I couldn’t yet explain, he was like a second chance.
‘I’m Rhiannon,’ I said quietly, my voice shaking. ‘What’s his name? And you?’
She hesitated before answering.
‘Elliot, and I’m Pearl,’ she said.
I smiled, tears coming to my eyes.
‘Hi, Elliot,’ I said.
He winked at me, and for the first time in two years, the weight of grief in my chest eased a little.
‘I don’t know what that means,’ I said carefully, looking between her and the baby. ‘But I don’t think either of us can handle it alone.’
Pearl’s lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she nodded.
Elliot growled, ignoring the storm that had brought us here. I reached for his little hand, and he grabbed my finger with surprising strength. I burst out laughing, unexpected and unrestrained.
In that moment, I realised that James’s betrayal wasn’t the whole story. His absence had brought us together, two women bound by loss, by love, by the messy and complicated legacy of a man we knew differently.
I didn’t know if forgiveness was possible.
I didn’t know if I wanted it.
But I did know this: I had found a reason to keep living.
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
Carol, her husband Rob, and their son Jamie go out for business and treats on Saturdays. The day is shaping up to work out exactly as Carol had planned. Until they hit a fabric shop where Carol is looking for material for Jamie’s Halloween costume, but discovers secrets she never knew were at the heart of her family. Carol has to pick up threads of grief she never knew she had.
