You always said miracles come when we least expect them.”
Inside, Lucas wrapped the baby in one of Maria’s old quilts, its faded flowers still soft after all these years. The infant’s cries settled into gentle coos as Lucas warmed some milk on the stove, remembering how old Tom’s daughter used to feed her babies.
“You’ve got a good grip there. Like a fisherman.”
The baby gurgled, his eyes fixed on Lucas’s face with what seemed like curiosity. A tear rolled down Lucas’s cheek as he remembered Maria’s words from years ago: “A child’s love is the purest thing in this world.”
“Matias,” he said softly, the name coming to him like a whisper from the past.
It was Maria’s father’s name, a good strong name for a boy. “What do you think about that, little one? Would you like to be Matias?”
The baby cooed, a smile breaking across his tiny face.
Lucas felt his heart melt completely.
“Then it’s decided. You’ll be my son, Matias. I may not have much, but everything I have is yours.
We’ll figure this out together.”
As moonlight filtered through the window, he watched Matias’s chest steadily rise and fall.
“I promise you,” he whispered, reaching down to touch the baby’s velvet cheek, “I’ll be the father you deserve.”
The baby slept peacefully, one tiny hand still curled around Lucas’s finger, as if already knowing he was home.
Seventeen years passed like leaves on the wind.
The garden grew fuller, nourished by the sound of Matias’s laughter. Every morning, Lucas would wake to find Matias already in the garden, talking to the chickens as he fed them.
“Morning, Dad!” Matias would call out. “Rosa laid two eggs today.
She’s your favorite, isn’t she?”
“I’m your only son,” Matias would laugh, the sound warming Lucas’s heart more than any summer sun.
One morning, as they worked together in the garden, Matias looked up suddenly. “Dad? Remember when you told me about finding me?”
Lucas’s hands stilled on the tomato vines.
“Of course.”
“Were you… were you ever sorry? That someone left me here?”
Lucas pulled his son close, soil-covered hands and all.
“Matias, you weren’t left here. You were given to me. The greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
“Even greater than when Mom said yes to marrying you?” Matias asked, his voice muffled against Lucas’s shirt.
“She would have loved you to the moon and back,” Lucas said, his voice rough with emotion.
“Sometimes I see her in the way you tend to these plants. She had that same gentle touch.”
Each morning, Lucas watched his son devour breakfast before school, marveling at how the abandoned baby had grown into this bright, energetic young man. Matias’s eyes — so mysterious that first night — now sparkled with intelligence and mischief.
“Dad!” he called, bursting through the door after school.
“Coach says I might make team captain next season!”
Lucas looked up from his fishing nets, pride warming his weathered face. “That’s my boy. Your mother would have—” He caught himself, as he sometimes did, speaking of Maria as if she were Matias’s birth mother.
“Tell me about her again?” Matias asked softly.
“About how she used to garden? How she’d sing while cooking?”
“Another time, son. These nets won’t mend themselves.”
“You always say that,” Matias teased, grabbing an apple from the bowl.
“One day you’ll run out of nets to mend, and then you’ll have to tell me everything.”
“Everything, eh?” Lucas chuckled. “Like how you used to think the chickens laid different colored eggs because they ate rainbow seeds?”
Suddenly, the screech of tires outside cut through their comfortable chatter. Through the window, Lucas watched a sleek red Mercedes pull up.
It looked completely out of place in their humble neighborhood, like a peacock in a chicken coop.
A tall man in an expensive suit emerged from the car, his shoes too shiny for their dusty street. He approached with purpose, each step measured and confident.
The knock, when it came, seemed to echo through the house.
“Can I help you?” Lucas asked, opening the door just wide enough.
“Mr. Lucas?” The man’s voice was cultured and careful.
“I’m Elijah. We need to talk about the boy. I’m here to take him.”
The words hit Lucas like a gut punch.
He had always lived in constant fear of their peaceful life being shattered. But he never imagined it would happen so quickly.
“Who on earth are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his fingers tightening on the doorframe until his knuckles went white.
“I think you do.” Elijah’s eyes fixed on a point over Lucas’s shoulder.
“Hello, Matias.”
“How do you know my name?” Matias stepped forward, despite Lucas’s protective arm.
“Because you’re my nephew and I’ve been looking for you for 17 years.” Elijah’s voice softened. “May I come in? This isn’t a conversation for doorways.”
Lucas felt his legs go weak, but he stepped aside.
In the living room, Matias sat close to him on the worn sofa, their shoulders touching.Continue reading…
