I TOOK AN ORPHAN BOY TO ANOTHER CITY TO FIND HIS GRANDMA – WE ALMOST MADE IT, BUT SUDDENLY MY PHONE RANG “Right here! Go this way; I know where her house is!” little Mark said to me with a voice full of hope, pointing left. By the time we arrived in town, the sun had already dipped below the horizon. I glanced over at Mark with a smile. I’d worked as a foster mother for years, but this time felt different—I was so determined to help this boy find his real grandma. “Alright, alright, slow down,” I chuckled. “We’ll find her soon.” “We’re almost there!” he said, practically bouncing in his seat. “This is it! Here!” He pointed eagerly at a small, quaint house nestled at the end of the street. I pulled the car over and turned to Mark. “Alright, honey, slow down. I’ll go see if anyone’s home, and then I’ll call you over, okay?” Just as I reached the steps, my phone suddenly rang. I looked at the screen—it was Rose from social services. Me: Hi. What’s going on? Rose: Helen, I’m calling about your request regarding Teresa, the grandmother of the boy you’re fostering. Me: Right. We’re almost here! Can you believe it?” Rose: Dear, I’m so sorry… I have some really bad news.

She remembered the dozens of children she’d cared for, each one bringing their own story, each journeying toward a fresh start in a new family.

This part—helping them find their way—was the most fulfilling to Helen.

She had a deep-seated belief that every child deserved happiness, and she held onto that dream, even when reality didn’t always cooperate.

But not every child found a permanent home right away. Some children, for reasons Helen often couldn’t fathom, moved from one foster home to another, never quite settling, never quite finding that elusive “forever family.”

One of these children was Mark, a twelve-year-old boy with a look of quiet sadness that rarely lifted.

Mark had been with Helen for a while now, much longer than most children his age. It wasn’t unusual; children his age weren’t often chosen for adoption.

Most families preferred younger kids.

Mark, though, was different. He kept to himself, never joining the other kids in their games or sharing his thoughts openly.

He had a habit of sitting alone, hunched over a chessboard Helen had given him.

For hours, he would sit in silence, playing chess against himself or occasionally challenging Helen.

One afternoon, as usual, Helen found Mark in the corner of the living room, hunched over his chessboard, a slight furrow in his brow.

His gaze was glued to the pieces as if the entire world was contained within those black and white squares. She approached him quietly, her footsteps soft.

“Hi, Mark, how are you?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Mark didn’t look up but nodded slightly.

“Fine,” he replied in his usual calm tone. He paused, then added, “Will you play with me?”

Helen smiled.

“Of course.” She took a seat across from him, and Mark quickly set up the board. His hands moved with the skill of someone who knew the game well, placing each piece precisely, his eyes never leaving the board.

Helen followed his lead, moving a piece of her own.

“Hmm, okay, let’s try this,” she murmured thoughtfully, hoping to add a little challenge to the game. Mark, however, moved swiftly, countering her moves as if he had anticipated every one of them.

“Checkmate, I won,” he said, his voice as flat and calm as ever, but with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Helen laughed softly, shaking her head. “Yes, you did. You really have a talent for this.”

Mark shrugged. “It’s nothing special; you always play the same way, so it’s easy to win.”

“Mark,” Helen said, her tone warm but firm, “we’ve talked about this—it’s not polite to say that.”

“But it’s true,” he replied, his expression unchanging.

“Yes, but sometimes it’s better to choose softer words,” she explained gently.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes finally meeting hers, curiosity sparking for a moment.

Helen chuckled. “Alright, let’s forget it.”

There was a brief pause, and then Mark leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Helen, can I ask you a favor?”

Helen raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Yes, of course. What’s on your mind, Mark?”

He looked around the room, as if making sure no one was listening, then said, “Can you take me to my grandma?”

Helen’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“What? Your grandma? Mark, you know you shouldn’t keep things like that secret! She’s your family!”

“Yes, I know. She’s probably looking for me,” Mark replied, his voice steady but with an underlying hint of hope.

Helen’s heart softened.

“Of course! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Give me her address or phone number, and I’ll contact her.”

But Mark shook his head. “I don’t know either.”

“No address? Not even her name?” Helen pressed gently, her mind already turning to ways she could help.

“Her name is Teresa,” he said, his voice small but certain.

“Teresa… And her last name?”

“Mable.”

Helen nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ll try to find her. We’ll have to notify social services; they’ll know how to look her up and get in touch.”

“That will take too long,” Mark insisted, his gaze growing intense.

“I know where she’ll be during Christmas. We need to go to her town.”

“Mark… I could get in trouble if I don’t get this approved by the agency first.”

“But my grandma can take me from here,” he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. “Please, Helen!”

Finally, she sighed and nodded.

“Alright… We’ll find your grandma. I’ll explain to her where you’re staying and how she can bring you home. Then we’ll return, okay?”

“Okay,” Mark replied, a faint smile crossing his lips, the rarest expression Helen had seen from him.

The next morning, as Helen packed the car, Mark hovered nearby, his face a mix of excitement and nervousness.

She gave him a reassuring smile.

“Ready to go, Mark?” she asked, her tone light.

Mark nodded eagerly.

“Yes! Let’s go!”

After saying goodbye to John and giving him a few last instructions about the other children, Helen opened the passenger door for Mark, who hopped in and immediately buckled up.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Helen glanced over to see him already tapping his fingers against his knee, a little smile playing on his lips.

Soon, Mark reached for the radio, and Helen didn’t stop him. He found a station playing Christmas music, his face lighting up as the familiar tunes filled the car.

For the first time, Helen saw him let loose a little. He even did a small dance in his seat, swaying to the music.

“Do you like Christmas, Mark?” Helen asked, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“Yes, of course! It’s my favorite holiday,” he said, eyes sparkling.

Helen chuckled. “What’s so special about Christmas for you?”

He looked out the window thoughtfully.

“The songs, the decorations, and the tree. My mom and I used to decorate the tree together.”

Helen’s voice softened.

“Did you celebrate Christmas with your family before… before you came into the system?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “We had a tree, and I decorated it with my mom.”

“And your grandma? Teresa, was she there too?”

“Grandma? Yes, she was there too,” he replied, his voice filled with a longing Helen could feel.

Helen hesitated, then gently asked, “So why didn’t she take you in after… the accident? Why hasn’t she been there all this time?”

Mark shrugged, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery.

“I don’t know. I think she didn’t know about me. Since my parents and I were in that accident, I haven’t seen her.”

Helen frowned slightly, her mind racing.

“That’s very strange, Mark. They should have contacted her; she should have taken you a long time ago.”

At this, Mark fell silent, his cheerful expression dimming. Helen noticed the quietness filling the car and bit her lip, feeling a pang of concern.

It didn’t quite make sense—how could no one have reached his grandmother?

As they drove on, she tried to push away the nagging doubts. Maybe there was something more to the story, something Mark didn’t know.

But the small hope of finding his family again kept her going, giving her the strength to help him find his way back to someone who cared.

By the time Helen and Mark arrived in the quiet town, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a soft glow on the snow-dusted streets.

“I remember! Go this way; I know where her house is!” he said, his voice alive with excitement. He pointed confidently down a narrow street lined with cozy houses.

Helen glanced over, her heart softening at the rare smile lighting up his face. “Alright, alright, slow down,” she chuckled. “We’ll find her soon.”

“Turn right here!” he said, almost bouncing in his seat. “We’re almost there!”

Following his directions, Helen marveled at his memory.

“This is it! Here!” He pointed eagerly at a small, quaint house nestled at the end of the street, its porch decorated with a simple wreath.

Helen pulled the car to a stop and turned to Mark. “Alright, Mark, don’t rush. I’ll go see if anyone’s home, and then I’ll call you over, okay?”

“Okay!” he replied, his hands gripping his seatbelt tightly as he tried to contain his excitement.

Helen stepped out into the chilly evening air, her breath forming small clouds as she walked toward the house. Just as she reached the steps, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen—Rose from social services.

“Hi, Rose. What’s going on?” she asked, slightly distracted as she looked back at the hopeful figure of Mark waiting in the car.

“Helen, I’m calling about your request regarding Teresa Mable, the grandmother of the boy you’re fostering,” Rose’s voice said on the other end.

“Yes, Mark. We’re almost at her house,” Helen replied, feeling a surge of anticipation.

Rose’s voice turned serious. “Helen, Teresa Mable knows Mark is in foster care. She’s known from the beginning.”

Helen’s heart sank.

“What? That’s impossible. Why hasn’t she taken him in?”

“She signed a waiver,” Rose said gently. “She doesn’t want custody.”

Helen felt a lump form in her throat. “What? But Mark doesn’t know that… Why?”

“No one told him, Helen,” Rose sighed. “And there’s nothing we can do to force her to take custody.”

In the car behind her was a boy who truly believed his grandmother was waiting to welcome him with open arms. How was she supposed to tell him the truth?

Ending the call, she stood motionless for a moment, looking at the little house and then back at Mark. She steeled herself and walked back to the car, trying to keep her expression steady.

Mark’s face lit up when she approached. “Is everything okay? Can I go?”

Helen took a deep breath. “No, Mark. No one’s home.”

“What?” he said, his smile fading. “Are you sure? Maybe they didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sure,” Helen replied softly. “We’ll look for your grandma another time, alright?”

Mark’s face crumpled, a mixture of confusion and disappointment flashing across his features.

“But… how…?”

Helen quickly tried to think of a way to distract him. She forced a smile, reaching out to pat his shoulder.

“I know where we’ll go instead,” she said warmly.

She drove them to the town square, where a magnificent Christmas tree stood at its center, adorned with hundreds of twinkling lights. Mark’s eyes grew wide as they parked.

“Wow! I’ve never seen one so big!” he whispered in awe as they got out of the car.

Helen smiled, relieved to see his spirits lift, if only a little. “Let’s walk around here.”

But in her heart, Helen knew this was just the beginning. Mark deserved more than fleeting moments of joy. She resolved, right then and there, that somehow, she would find a way to help him feel like part of a loving family again.

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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Becoming a mother can be scary, but for Megan, it was a dream she’d cherished for years. During Halloween, this thought grew stronger seeing parents and their children having fun. Her husband, Ross, had always refused to have kids, leaving Megan to decide what truly mattered most in her life. Read the full story here.

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