At first, Thanksgiving was supposed to be the perfect holiday. The room smelled strongly of turkey while the table was being set with fine china, and laughing could be heard from everywhere.

While I made sure everyone was okay, my husband Peter finished cooking the turkey. There were more surprises during the holiday than I thought it would be. I had no idea it would go this way.

Emma, who is eight years old and naturally interested, had been very quiet late at night. She kept looking out the window, even though her fingers were getting tired from holding up the bottom of her dress. She also couldn’t stay sitting still any longer.

It was pretty normal for Emma to want to keep her head in the clouds. I found out that she was either just excited about the Thanksgiving dinner or looking forward to her family coming to visit. Even though Peter smiled at her from across the table, she didn’t smile back, and her discomfort began to catch my eye.

I was about to cut the turkey after everyone had sat down when our daughter jumped up from her chair. Peter was just getting ready to start passing out parts next to me. After that, I began cutting the turkey. Everyone in the room was aware of how short she was in some way.

Even though her speech didn’t change, it was loud enough to drown out all the other presentations.

“And where is SHE?”

There was not a sound in the room from anything. It got cold outside, which made me feel sick and drop my stomach. As my parents and in-laws looked at each other with doubt, Peter himself could no longer keep up with his work. In an effort to make sense of what was going on, my thoughts turned into a tornado of activity.

Because I was interested, I asked, “Who are you, sweetheart?” even though it felt like my chest was tightening up.

“The woman dad hides in our shed, mummy!” Her innocent face turned into words all of a sudden, and she looked completely confused.

“The woman in our shed?”

“What are you discussing, darling?” When I asked Peter the question, his skin had turned a strange white color, my voice was shaking and my heart was beating very fast.

With her hands firmly on her hips and her eyes fixed on her father, Emma looked like she was very angry. “a woman living in the shed!” I could see her with my own eyes and ears! Dad comes over while you’re shopping or at work.

A whisper went around the table at the same time that everyone looked at Peter. I put down the knife I had in my hand. He looked briefly at Emma and then back at me because he couldn’t put his thoughts into words. It seemed like the minutes went on and on forever, and with each passing second came a heavy feeling of fear.

I whispered, “Emma,” but I couldn’t help but smile for the sake of everyone else at the table. “I think a misinterpretation exists.”

Sadly, our daughter couldn’t let go of control of the situation. With all her strength, she grabbed my hand and pulled.

“No, Mom! She’s right here, at this very moment!” It was last week that I could see her in the shed. It would be great if you could have us pick her up from the shed.

Anyone could see that Peter was uncomfortable, but it was even more clear as he walked shabbily past everyone. He finally shook his head yes after some nervous pulses. Girl, I think it’s time for us to talk.

As he got up from the table, he waved for me to follow him. It made me respond right away. I put on a fake smile and turned my head to look at the table because my heart was racing. I wanted our family to believe me, but they didn’t. After that, Peter and I went out the back door together. I kept walking, hoping to meet someone eventually, but I didn’t.

As we walked across the yard in silence, each step we took toward the shed made us nervous. The old shed hidden behind a bunch of wooden gates had never caught my attention. I hadn’t paid much attention to it. One could say that it was just a dusty spot where tools and yard supplies, like spades and lawnmowers, were kept.

In spite of this, my hands were getting sweaty and my mind was rushing with things I wasn’t ready to deal with. Pete stopped right outside the door, thought about it for a second, and then looked at me with a face I couldn’t place.

He told Emily he was sorry in a soft voice that shook a little. “I had no intention of it being presented in this way.”

The door made a small noise when he opened it. In the dim light, there was a woman lying down. Even though she didn’t act like any of those things, my scariest thoughts about her were of a young, fancy mistress. Instead, she was a woman in her fifties who looked tired, wore dirty clothes, and had gray spots in her hair. All of these things about her were true.

When she looked at us with her eyes, I could feel pain in my bones. Her eyes were fixed on pain.

I looked at Peter with a shocked look on my face. “Who is she…” ?

My husband looked down at the ground with a sad face. He looked down at the ground. “Janet, Emily here is.” By blood, she is my mother.

In addition to not being able to hear what he was saying, everything around me seemed to be moving all the time.

“Where is your mother?” I thought that she was…

“Gone,” he said with a mean face and look.

“That is the information I gave each person, yes.” It was after she left me that I was adopted, and I never thought I would see her again. On the other hand, I saw her asking on the streets near my house a few months ago. Her mental health was a little off, and she had no money at all. It was hard for me to fit her into our way of life, given all she had done.

I felt mixed feelings in my heart as I looked at the woman in front of me. Janet looked at her face and saw changes that could only come from being sad for a long time. Years of pain made her face look the way it did. There were times when I didn’t understand how badly life had hurt her; she was clearly broken.

Even though her voice was hard to hear, Janet spoke.

“I…” I have no plans to cause any problems from my end. It was impossible to get Peter to let go, even though I told him I was fine to walk around the streets.

I felt sad, confused, and angry all at the same time. This woman was supposed to be a ghost from my husband’s past, but all of a sudden she was sitting right in front of me, open and living. I was surprised that she was there. But knowing that Peter had been taking care of this on his own helped to lessen the feeling of betrayal that was building inside me.

“What was your tactic?” I asked Peter a question with a little shaking in my voice. “Did you ever intend to tell me?”

Looked down and felt ashamed.

“Emily, I was nervous.” Your opinions about her and about me scare me. I wanted you to forget about this part of my life. It’s not something you should be seeing.

He let out a heavy sigh and ran his fingers across his face. At that time, he kept moving his hand.

“My loving…” I didn’t want this to happen, but I had no other options. For some reason, I thought I could help her without making a fuss. After being clean for a while, I don’t want to give up on her because of how strong she is.

I took long, deep breaths to try to clear my mind of the cloud of amazement that had been covering it. At first, I felt betrayed, but then I understood that this wasn’t an instance of adultery or another affair that was kept secret. The story was about a man who was trying to make sense of his terrible past while also taking care of his family and helping his mother.

Calling her “Janet,” I spoke softly to her and looked at her tired eyes. “If you need help, we can come up with something.” There is no need for you to keep your secret presence at our site. You could tell she was grateful because her eyes were filled with tears and her body tilted slightly.

Ash, I want to thank you. I’m aware of the many mistakes I’ve made. “On the other hand, I have never meant to hurt Peter or any of you on purpose,” she said in a soft voice.

When I looked at Peter, I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders because I knew how much pain he was in and how much he loved his family. This was a real, turbulent, and full of a true need to protect all of us, even though it was flawed.

While I was holding Janet’s hand, I looked at my husband and gave him a small nod of agreement. After that, I led her toward the house. He thanked them, but all he could muster was a smile.

When I got back inside, I told Janet that she was Emma’s grandma, which helped ease the tension that had been building. Everyone, even Peter’s foster parents, was happy to meet her, even though their faces showed they were confused.

When Janet took her place at the table, she brought with her a soft but real sense of belonging. Once more, the table seemed to be giving off a sense of warmth. Emma looked at Janet with big, interested eyes as she went on.

“Are you really the mother of Dad?” she asked.

Janet kept a low profile and nodded her head to show that she agreed the whole time.

“Absolutely, darling.” That’s the answer: I’m your grandmother.

Emma’s smile was filled with a childlike simplicity that made me think of her. “Is this a confirmation you will be staying for Thanksgiving?”

“From what I know, it looks like that,” Janet said in a low voice.

As I watched Emma curl up next to her new grandmother, I looked across at Peter and took his hand in mine.

I said in a whisper, “Family is family,” and I kept talking even though I saw his sad eyes. “And I am thanks that we are all present.”

When my husband nodded, his voice was filled with emotion.

“Thank you, Ashley. Because you gave us all a second chance.My husband’s secret affair had almost completely taken away my stress and worry about it. Then we raised our glasses to honor not only Thanksgiving but also the new family we were making, forgiveness, and getting better.

This work is based on real events and people, but it has been exaggerated for artistic reasons. In order to protect privacy and make the story stronger, names, characters, and other details have been changed. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or to real events is completely unintentional and had nothing to do with the author’s goal for the book.

If someone gets the story or characters wrong, the author or publisher is not responsible; it is not their job to make sure the events or characters are real. It is very important to stress that the story’s points of view are only those of the characters and do not necessarily represent those of the author or editor! It’s given to you “as is.”