The Second Time Around Holds Its Own Worth

**The Second Time Holds Its Worth**

“Mum, I dont want to go to Grandmothers!” cried little Elizabeth, seven years old, squirming away from her mothers grasp. “She doesnt like me! She only likes Uncle Michael!”

“Elizabeth, dont make things up,” replied Catherine wearily, fastening her daughters coat. “Grandmother loves all her grandchildren the same.”

“It isnt true!” The girl stamped her foot. “Yesterday she gave Arthur, Aunt Sophies son, an ice cream, and she gave me nothing!”

“Perhaps you had a sore throat?” Catherine offered weakly.

“No! She just doesnt like me because Im not her real sons child!”

Catherine froze, the hairbrush still in her hand. How could a child of seven know such things? Who had told her?

“Elizabeth, who said that to you?”

“No one,” the girl turned to the window. “I figured it out. Arthur says his dad and my dad are brothers. And I know my dad isnt my real dad. My real dad lives far away.”

Catherines chest tightened. She sat beside her daughter on the sofa.

“Elizabeth, listen carefully. Your father, John, is your real dad. He loves you dearly, and hes cared for you since you were two. And Grandmother Margaret loves you too.”

“Then why does she always praise Arthur and scold me?” Tears welled in the girls eyes.

Catherine had no answer. Because Elizabeth was right. Her mother-in-law did treat her differently from her eldest sons grandson.

“Love, were late,” John entered the room. “Elizabeth, hurry up or Grandmother will be waiting.”

“I dont want to go!” Elizabeth sobbed. “She doesnt like me!”

John glanced at his wife, confused.

“Whats the matter?”

“Ill explain later,” Catherine whispered. “Elizabeth, get dressed. Were all going together.”

They walked through the town park in silence. Elizabeth dragged her feet behind them, sniffling now and then. John carried a bag of groceries for his mother, while Catherine dreaded the visit.

Margaret had always been a difficult woman. When John introduced Catherine and her two-year-old daughter, his mother had greeted them coldly.

“Why take on a child that isnt yours?” shed said. “Find a proper girl and have your own.”

But John was stubborn. He loved Catherine and Elizabeth as if she were his own. They married, he adopted her legally, and gave her his name.

Margaret accepted it, but she never truly loved her granddaughter as she shouldespecially when her eldest son, Richard, gave her a “real” grandson: Arthur.

“Is she home?” John asked, knocking on the door.

“Im here, Im here,” came the voice inside. “Come in.”

Margaret opened the door and embraced her son.

“My John, how Ive missed you!” She kissed his cheek and nodded at Catherine. “Hello, Catherine.”

“Hello, Mrs. Margaret.”

“And wheres my little granddaughter?” The grandmother noticed Elizabeth hiding behind her father.

“Im here,” the girl muttered.

“Come in, sit down,” Margaret led them to the parlour. “How are you all? John, youve lost weight.”

“No, Mother, Im fine,” he laughed. “Catherines cooking is wonderful.”

“Thats good. And Elizabeth, hows school? Good marks?”

“Fine,” the girl mumbled.

“Elizabeth, answer your grandmother properly,” Catherine chided.

“Let her be,” Margaret waved a hand. “Children are like that. Arthur got a B in Maths yesterday. Richard spent all afternoon helping him study.”

“Elizabeth only gets As in Maths,” John said proudly.

“Very good,” the grandmother said flatly. “Richard said hes coming today with Arthur. They miss their uncle.”

Catherine saw Elizabeths face darken. She knew her grandmother was happier to see one grandchild than the other.

“Mother, remember when Elizabeth recited that poem for you last month?” John asked.

“I remember,” Margaret nodded. “It was lovely.”

“Would you like to hear another?” Elizabeth offered timidly.

“Of course, go on.”

The girl stood in the middle of the room and began reciting a poem about spring. Catherine saw her effort, her desire to please.

“Very nice,” the grandmother clapped when she finished. “Now go wash your hands; well have lunch.”

Elizabeth obeyed, and Catherine stayed to help set the table.

“Mrs. Margaret, may I speak with you?” she whispered.

“About what?”

“About Elizabeth. She feels you treat her differently.”

The older woman slammed a plate down.

“I dont know what you mean.”

“You do. Children notice everything. She cried today because she didnt want to come.”

“And what do I do wrong?” Margaret turned sharply. “I feed her, I invite her here.”

“But she sees the difference. When Arthur visits, you kiss him, hug him, give him gifts. With Elizabeth, youre cold.”

“Because she isnt mine!” the grandmother burst out. “I didnt bear her! She has her own grandmotherlet her care for her!”

“Mrs. Margaret, Elizabeth isnt to blame for not being Johns blood. Shes been your granddaughter for five years. He adopted her, gave her his name.”

“Its just paper,” she scoffed. “Blood is thicker than water. Arthur is my grandson. This one is… a goddaughter.”

Catherines throat tightened.

“So youll never love my child?”

“Why should I? When you have real children, then well talk.”

Just then, Elizabeth entered the kitchen.

“Mum, why did Grandmother call me a goddaughter?” Her voice shook. “Im her granddaughter!”

Catherine realised shed heard everything. Margaret flushed.

“Elizabeth, go to your father,” Catherine urged.

“No! I want to know why Grandmother doesnt like me!”

“Elizabeth, I do like you,” Margaret tried.

“Liar! You said Im a goddaughter! Im not a goddaughterIm Father Johns daughter!”

The girl ran out in tears. Catherine shot her mother-in-law a furious look and followed.

In the parlour, Elizabeth was sobbing on the sofa beside John. He stroked her hair, bewildered.

“What happened?”

“Your mother called Elizabeth a goddaughter,” Catherine said coldly. “And made it clear.”

John paled.

“Mother, is this true?”

Margaret stepped out, shamefaced.

“My boy, I didnt mean… It just slipped.”

“Grandmother said Im not hers,” Elizabeth wept. “That I have my own grandmother.”

John stood. Catherine saw his jaw tighten.

“Mother, how could you?”

“Son, I only”

“You only what?”

In the end, after tears and hard words, Grandmother Margaret embraced Elizabeth and promised to love her as a true granddaughter. And from that day on, the girl never felt alone in that family again.