Second Chances

"We can't let her go into care! Can we look after her until Joan is better? Please?"

"What do we need?"

Without much pause for thinking she gave me a list. I grabbed a sandwich and set off. And so my 'family' increased. We were the classic nuclear family, Mother, father and two kids, except we weren't! We were 4 separate people living under the one roof.

Rosie was a lovely child. Very demonstrative, always wanting cuddles. When it became obvious Joan wasn't going to come home but would need to go into long term care, Ruth had a long talk with Father Dave. He then had a long talk with me. The upshot of that was the church asked the authorities to consider us as foster parents.

We were visited by a social worker to assess us, to see if we were suitable for fostering. I was well off, Ruth was a natural mother, was brilliant with Rosie and Emma loved her 'little sister'. BUT, we were not a family. We were initially declined, despite the fact that Rosie was still living with us.

Father David was brilliant, and started to aggressively fight our case. He did come to visit us. He sat us down, we all had coffees. "Look," he said, "I've never seen a better suited couple than you two. You and the children make a perfect family. But the social worker is digging her heels in that the family is not suitable because it's not a family." He paused, "Think about it. If you really want Rosie you are going to have to move in their direction."

After father Dave left, I took Ruth's hands and said to her, "Ruth, I promised not to pry, but if you want Rosie we need to make some big decisions. It's time you told me your story."

She asked for another coffee then started.

"Simon was always my boyfriend, even in primary school. We lived on the same street, would walk to school together, even hold hands. A big deal for a boy in primary school. He got teased, but he'd just smile and say that when we grew up we were getting married. I loved him. He was a late child and when he was sixteen his dad had a heart attack and died. His Mum took it really badly and within six months she had gone too.

"We all said it was a broken heart. He was going to be taken into care so left school and got an apprenticeship. He lost the house - it was a council house in his parents name and they wouldn't transfer it to his name. He got a small bedsit.

"My parents never liked him or his family, and now he wasn't finishing his education they were very against him. It made me want him more. He insisted I finish school and go to college. I loved him so much I just wanted to get married and start a family. I did a business course at college and got a job in HR at a local factory. We kept seeing each other.

"My parents forbade me to marry him - well I told them I was going to anyway. We married on my 22^nd birthday. It had to be a very small affair as we paid for it ourselves, a couple of friends from school and a couple of friends from Simon's work. Registry office then a meal at a local restaurant, a weekend in Blackpool and then back to the bedsit.

"We were happy. We wanted a family but decided to wait a couple of years, we wanted to get ourselves something better than the bedsit. We were on the point of buying a house when Simon's company went bust, the start of the recession. We moved for work, from just outside Manchester to Northampton. Simon had got another job, but by the time I found another company to take me on we'd used up a lot of our savings. It took us a while to save up again but eventually, even though it was tight, we bought a small starter home.

"Nine months later I got pregnant. We had a beautiful baby girl, Rebecca. Because I had to stop work Simon had to take all the overtime he could get. He never complained. I sent pictures of their Granddaughter to my parents - they were returned with writing on them - 'We are not going to support you or your bastard'. I just wanted them to know their grandchild. I've never contacted them again." Ruth drank some of her coffee, already starting to go cold, then took a deep breath and continued.

" At first everything was fine. I started to worry when Becca was about seven months, I didn't think she was quite right. The doctors kept telling me she was fine. By nine months I Knew there was a problem. They finally started to investigate.

"Then they gave us the diagnosis - something called Tay-Sachs Disease, a genetic disease that is always fatal. They are missing an enzyme that causes something, some sort of a fatty substance, to build up in the brain and damage it. Simon wouldn't believe it and threw himself into working longer and longer hours. I was left to look after a dying baby.

"It's a horrible death, they gradually become unresponsive and end up usually choking to death with pneumonia. Simon finally accepted that Becca was dying. We blamed ourselves, it's inherited, both parents need to be carrying the gene for it. We promised we would never have any more children. I decided to have my tubes tied - I was never putting another baby through this.

"I was kept overnight in the hospital as I was slow to wake up from the anaesthetic. Simon was supposed to come and collect me but he never arrived. I discharged myself and caught the bus home.

"I found them in our bed. Simon had suffocated Becca and taken an overdose. The shock made me collapse. I wasn't found for 2 days, then was taken to emergency intensive care - when I collapsed I hit my head badly, cut my scalp and bled quite a lot and caused a bad concussion. I was in hospital for over a week. When I got out it was all over, they had cremated them both. I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye!"

I stood up, I wasn't sobbing but I was hugely emotional, and had tears running down my face. I pulled Ruth to her feet and just wrapped her up in my arms. "I'm so sorry Ruth. I had no idea. I would never have asked you to go through it again if I had known." Huge sobs ripped through her body, she dug her head into the crook of my neck and just bawled like a child. I picked her up and carried her through to the settee and sat down with her on my lap. She cried solidly for an hour before exhaustion took her and she fell asleep. I laid her down on the settee and covered her with a blanket.

The dam had broken, Ruth now wasn't just willing to talk, she needed to get it out. Over the next week it all came out. How she became depressed, how she blamed herself for Rebecca's illness, blamed herself for Simon committing suicide.

She started to self harm, cutting herself, especially her breasts, thinking it would revolt any future men so she would never have more children. The fact she couldn't because she had been sterilised didn't count to her depressed, befuddled brain. Obviously she was in no state to work, there was no money coming in and with her depression she never asked anyone for help. The building society finally foreclosed on the house, she was homeless.

Ruth had been living on the streets since, begging, skipping (dumpster diving), occasionally stealing food. She had stayed in a squat for a few months but just drifted away. She'd been in town about three months and was just on the point of moving away when she met Emma. She knew Emma couldn't cope by herself and was heading for serious trouble so roused herself enough to start looking after the young vagrant. Then I stepped in.

Father Dave to the rescue again - there was someone in the church who ran therapy sessions. I persuaded Ruth to start going to see him. I offered to go too but was told this needed to be one on one for the moment.

After three weeks I really thought Ruth was improving. She seemed much happier, smiled more and was more physical. She would often reach across and touch my hand or arm, especially when she was doing things with Rosie. No-one could tell us much about Rosie's 'educational problems', or why had she been classed as 'Special Needs', just what the problem was. The primary school we sent her to, a mainstream school said that she was behind most of the other children in the class, but seemed to be picking things up quickly. They couldn't see a problem.

Ruth spent hours with her, reading, colouring, playing. I bought educational games for the laptop and quickly she was playing quite happily on various programmes advised by her teachers. Ruth came home in tears the day Rosie came out of class and ran to her shouting "Mummy". We had to keep her. That week I bought an engagement ring. I was going to ask Ruth to marry me so we could not just foster but adopt Rosie. And we hadn't even kissed.

Chapter 8

I asked Emma to babysit Rosie on Saturday. We would be going out early evening and not be back till midnight or so. She was happy to look after her 'little sister'. I got some appropriate videos on Netflix, Disney ones for Rosie, then a couple of Chick Flicks for Emma once Rosie had gone to bed.

We drove to Leicester, to De Montfort Hall, where we took in a classical concert, then back to Gino's for a late supper. Again Gino excelled with the food. Over the coffee, I took Ruth's hand.

"Since we met we've learned to get along We've lived in the same house now for about six months. I've discovered that I both admire you and like you as a person. I like you a lot. I'm not sure if it's love yet or ever will be, I'm still sort of hung up on Sue and you are on Simon. But we both love Rosie, we're good for her. She needs us and the only way we can be sure of getting her is this. Ruth, will you marry me?"

She tipped her head to the side. Her hair, now with the lustre back, was the colour of burnished copper. She had left it loose tonight. The natural waves cascaded across her shoulders, The light from the candle on the table brought out lighter highlights - with her gain in weight her face was gently rounded, not angular any more. Her lips were a dark red, enhanced by lipstick. Make up was subtle; a touch of green eye shadow, possible some mascara. She really was beautiful.

"You're not really old you know," She replied. "You could still find someone and fall in love. Why tie yourself to someone you don't love? And where does Emma come into all this?"

"Ruth, you've seen how much Emma has settled in here. Haven't I provided everything she's needed up till now? Do you really think I'm going to abandon her at this stage? Whatever happens between us, I intend to support Emma until her education is complete, at the very least. I've become really attached to her. She's a lovely girl. She just needed a family to support her. Her own one didn't come up to scratch. I'm not about to have another family fail her again."

I took a mouthful of coffee. "Maybe I could fall in love again. Maybe it'll be with you - stranger things have happened. Look at the last six months. Bizarre! If someone had told me a year ago that I would rescue two homeless people and then get a five year old living with me, then asked one of you to marry me I would have told them they were nuts. We've become comfy living in the same house. And if you want Rosie I think this is the best way."

"Mark, I'm scarred. Both inside and out. Do you really want to burden yourself with someone like me?"

"Yes, Ruth, I do. We can work well together. We both want what's best for the girls. We've shown we can live together, at least in the same house!" I smiled, " I also think we both would be in a better place with someone else in our lives. I'm hoping that someone else could be you.

I paused, and smiled at her, "You don't have to give me an answer tonight, think about it, but I'm worried that social services will decide to place Rosie in a foster home. If she goes it will be very difficult to get her back. If we get married I thought that we could apply to adopt Rosie, not just foster her. Father Dave is on our side. He does have quite a lot of pull."

Ruth leaned across the table and took hold of both my hands in hers. "I'll give you an answer after church tomorrow, I promise."

I changed the subject and after coffee we headed for home. Ruth excused herself as soon as we got home, saying she was going to bed. Emma was still up, reading, her films having finished. Ruth asked her to come into her bedroom after she had cleaned her teeth, she wanted to talk to her. She started up the stairs, then turned round, came over to my chair and kissed my cheek. Very demure, chaste, but my cheek burnt for the next hour until I went off to bed.

Chapter 9

Ruth, Rosie and I went to church Sunday morning for the 10.30 service. Emma got up for breakfast but stayed to do college work. She didn't come to church with us and we weren't going to force her. Ruth asked me to take Rosie home while she stayed to talk.

At dinner that evening Ruth very casually announced, "Mark has asked me to marry him and I have agreed. Nothing changes, Emma, your future is still secure like we talked about last night. Come on Rosie, can you help me clear the table. Mark, go through to the lounge, I'll bring you a coffee. If you've finished your work Emma, you can help me with the dishes. If not go and finish before it gets too late."

And with that I was engaged. When Ruth brought through the coffees I took hold of her left hand and slipped the ring on her finger. It was slightly large, but we could get it resized easily. "If you'd rather a different ring we can go and look this week."

Ruth looked at me and shook her head. "No Mark, this ring is lovely, and it symbolises so much. No, I don't want to change it. I don't want to take it off, ever. It represents a new start in life for us, especially for me. Life, maybe God, has offered me a second chance. As long as we stay together It won't come off my finger." She leaned forward and kissed me, lips to lips. A soft, sweet, gentle kiss. There was so much promise there. "But," she said, " I'm not moving into your bedroom yet. We need to set an example for the children. I'm not going to sleep with you until after the wedding." She smiled, "So maybe you need to get organising."

Half an hour later Ruth was sitting with Rosie on her knee reading a book when Emma came down stairs. Ruth showed her the ring and they talked quietly for a couple of minutes. She walked over to me, pulled the Sunday Paper out of my grip, throwing it on the floor, and climbed into my lap. She stuck her head into the crook of my neck, and although she didn't seem to be crying I could feel the tears on my skin. I put my arms round her and just cuddled her to me. We must have stayed like that for ten minutes, then she moved her head a bit and kissed my cheek. "Are you OK about me and Ruth, Emma? Whatever happens between us doesn't affect what I'm still going to do for you."

"God, Yes. I'm so pleased for you both. I've lost my family, seriously I don't want to go back, have any contact, anything. You two stepped in when I really needed help. I think I might have died last Christmas if it wasn't for you. At the time I wouldn't have cared. Now I'm so happy you found me when you did. I know you're not really my Mum and Dad. Ruth's far too young to be my Mum anyway. But you are a bit like parents to me. I want to do well in life, and I want you to be proud of me. I think I love you a bit too."

"You're growing up fast, soon you'll want to be independent, but there will always be a place for you here too. That's a promise. If nothing else Ruth would never forgive me if I broke my promise to her to keep looking after you." I tightened my arms round her for a second, "And if I'm honest I think I love you a bit too." I turned my head and gave Emma a kiss on the cheek like she had done to me earlier. She snuggled back into me, and I was content just to let her sit there.

The one thing that bothered me was the age difference. I was 45 and Ruth would turn 30 next month. I tried speaking to Ruth about it but she was quietly adamant that it didn't matter, and didn't really want to discuss it. I tried a different tack, "Emma, I'm a bit worried about the age difference between me and Ruth. What's your take on it?"

"Mark, you're good to Ruth, and good for her too. Ok you're a bit older, but by the time you're 65 she'll be fifty. It won't matter so much then. We've lived in the same house for months now. You know you two can live together. You've given her hope, faith in herself again. I think you will make a great couple." She then gave me a cheeky grin. "C'mon Daddy, get your head out of your arse and give me a new Mummy." With a big 'Mwah' she noisily kissed my cheek. "Now if I can stop being an agony aunt, I'm off to finish of my coursework that's due in at the end of the week."

So there it was, my wife had died, my kids had flown the nest and I'd been looking at a future of being on my own. Now, in the space of a few short months I had a family again. I was a happy bunny.

We planned on a late Summer wedding. That would give us a chance to go away for a family holiday before Emma's second year at college started. We were going to be restricted to school times if Rosie was going to be ours now. With the engagement and impending wedding the social worker and authorities, who could see the improvement in Rosie, had agreed for us to keep her until a final decision was made. Father Dave was fairly sure, having spoken to his contacts, that the decision would be in our favour.

As the ladies were involved in organising the wedding I decided to investigate a few matters myself. An internet search gave me a name and I made an appointment. The private detective I saw agreed to investigate two things for me, Emma's and Rosie's parents!

If we were going to possible adopt Rosie we might need the parents to waive their right to her. Even though they had 'dumped' her with her Grandmother, it was still a family member and they might decide they wanted her back. I though some background information may be useful. Emma had said she didn't want anything to do with her mother and stepfather, but I thought I would get some info about their whereabouts to make sure Emma was safe.

Once that was underway I set myself another task. Ruth had told me that one major regret was that when she lost the house she just walked away from everything, and had no pictures of Becca. I contacted every professional photographer in the Northampton area, inquiring if they had taken pictures of a baby for a Blackshaw family. I gave them a time scale of Becca's birth and death. I struck lucky.

Sims Photography has done a stint in a local shopping centre and Blackshaw was one of the names. All the photos, of both a young baby by itself and with its mother, were stored as digital images. They kept the images for five years before disposing of them, so were still available. They were archived due to their age, so it would take 48 hours for them to be available. I arranged to visit at the end of the week, at a time I knew Ruth would be busy at church.

Peter Sims wanted to know my connection with the photos. I explained I hoped they were of my fiancée with her first child, who had died tragically. I showed him a photo of Ruth and I, taken by Emma, so he could see us together, and also confirm if the woman in his photos was the same. It was Ruth and Becca. He told me that they had bought a 10x8 of the baby and a couple of 7x5s of Mum and baby together.

I asked if the photos were good enough to enlarge to A1 size, on canvas. He suggested for canvas that A2 would be better, give a clearer image. Together we picked one of Becca alone and one of Ruth holding Becca, both to be enlarged. I also bought all 12 pictures, to be put onto a CD, with the right to print them. I arranged to collect them all the following week.

My private detective has come up trumps. The reason Emma's Mum was ill was in fact severe morning sickness. Yes, at 38 she had become pregnant again. It still didn't excuse her in my mind for suggesting Emma have sex with her stepfather. However, she had delivered a baby boy just one week ago. Emma had a stepbrother! The detective actually had a drink with the stepfather in his local pub when he went in to celebrate. He bought him a drink and congratulated him, showed him pictures he carried of young children, claiming they were his, to get chatting. No, this was his and his wife's first baby, they had no other kids. He admitted his wife was married previously, but there were no kids. Good! They were obviously not looking for Emma, not even acknowledging her existence.