The woman peered into the bag and gasped in horror at what lay inside.
A young boy gazed out the window, pestering his grandmother.
«Nana, when are we going outside?»
«Not today, loveits freezing,» she replied. «And Ive got far too much to do.»
Margaret Williams worked from home, knitting hats and scarves to order. Right now, she had a set to finisha hat, mittens, and a scarf. But her grandson wouldnt let up.
«Alright, alright,» she relented. «Well go for a quick walk, but not long. Its bitter out, and Ive still got stitches to knit.»
They stepped outside into the empty streets, everyone else tucked away from the cold. The boy dashed around the playground while Margaret shivered, her fingers numb.
«Thats enough, Oliver. Well catch our death out here,» she called.
But the boy, full of energy, disappeared into the play tunnel and went quiet. Margaret called and calledno answer. Then, faintly:
«Nana, theres a doll in here! Can we take it?»
She hurried over and froze. A bag sat inside the tunneland from it came a tiny whimper. Her blood ran cold. She unzipped it and found a baby, wrapped in nothing but a thin blanket, its little face blue from the cold.
Margaret clutched the child to her chest, rubbing warmth back into its tiny limbs with shaking hands as she dialled emergency services. Paramedics and police arrived swiftly, whisking the baby to hospital while Margaret and Oliver gave their statements.
«Your grandsons a hero,» an officer said. «If he hadnt found her»
Margaret couldnt fathom it. «How could anyone abandon their own flesh and blood?»
The officer just shrugged. «Seen it allbabies in bins, on doorsteps. Nothing surprises us anymore.»
Before leaving, Margaret asked for an update. The baby had mild hypothermia but would recover. «Another hour, though» the officer trailed off.
At home, Margaret couldnt focus on knitting. The next morning, she rang the hospital.
«Relationship to the child?» the receptionist demanded.
«None. Were the ones who found her.»
«Oh! The little girls doing well. You saved her life.»
«Could we visit? Bring anything she needs?»
Against protocol, they were allowed. The next afternoon, Margaret and Oliver arrived with nappies and formula. The babytiny, perfectstirred something in Margaret. On impulse, shed brought a soft grey scarf, edged with delicate patterns, one shed knitted long ago for no reason at all. She tucked it around the infant, whispering, «Be happy, little one.»
Time passed. They learned the babynamed Sophiehad been adopted after her mothers rights were terminated. A loving couple, desperate for a child, had taken her home.
Eighteen years later, Margaret, now silver-haired but still sharp, baked Olivers favourite chicken pie. Hed been cryptic on the phone, promising a surprise.
The doorbell rang. Oliver walked in with a young woman.
«Nana, meet Sophiemy fiancée. Feels like Ive known her forever.»
Margaret beamed. «Wonderful news! Come in, both of you.»
But then she noticed the scarf loosely draped around Sophies coatgrey, with that unmistakable pattern.
«Thats a lovely scarf,» Margaret said carefully.
Sophie smiled. «Its been with me as long as I can remember. I hardly wear it, but I could never part with it.»
Margarets breath caught. *Her* scarf. The one shed given a baby in a hospital cot all those years ago.
Oliver had saved his future wife that day. Some things, it seemed, were simply meant to be.
