Peter’s voice trembled. “Emily, this is Janet… my biological mother.”
Confused, I stared at him. “I thought she was gone.”
“She abandoned me as a child,” Peter explained. “I found her months ago, homeless near my work. I couldn’t leave her, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”
Janet’s voice broke the silence. “I never meant to cause trouble. Peter insisted on helping me.”
Fighting back tears, I asked, “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“I was afraid,” Peter admitted. “Afraid of how you’d react, afraid of disrupting our family.”
Taking a deep breath, I turned to Janet. “If you need help, we’ll figure it out. But you don’t have to hide here.”
Back inside, I introduced Janet as Emma’s grandmother. Confusion lingered, but warmth soon followed. Emma approached Janet with wide eyes.
“Are you really Dad’s mom?”
Janet nodded. “Yes, sweetheart.”
Emma grinned. “Then you’re staying for Thanksgiving, right?”
I nodded. “She’s staying.”
That night, we raised our glasses—not just to Thanksgiving, but to forgiveness, second chances, and the love that holds a family together.