A widowed man travels a long way to retrieve his newborn baby, but when he tries to return home with the child, he is refused entry into the plane.
Bob Hollis was running late. The 40-year-old had just received a call from a Florida hospital telling him a girl had just been born and he was listed as the father.
He would have discounted it as a prank, but he knew his wife was in Florida for a short holiday he organized for her while he renovated their home — it was a surprise.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
The two had no kids of their own and had adopted three because adoption was something they both wanted to be involved in, so they needed to add more rooms to their house, which was why he was renovating.
Among the two, Bob was more particular about getting a foster child because he was one himself, and he had grown up promising himself to take in as many kids as he could.
“If I can help those kids grow up to be the best of themselves then I feel like I’ve made a huge difference,” he told his wife while they were discussing it.
Bob was also father to two grown kids whom he conceived while he was with his former wife, Ellen. The two went their separate ways after the woman decided to cheat with their pool boy, and she was caught.
He met his second wife, Mary, two years later, and after dating for several months, they got married. They tried to have kids but were unsuccessful, and this motivated them to look into adoption, but they never stopped trying to make babies.
One day, their persistence paid off, and Mary conceived a child. It was in preparation of the baby’s arrival that Bob decided to expand the house to include a nursery and an extra room.
After making the decision, he got Mary, who was due in two months, on a plane to Florida — a place she had always wanted to visit. But when she arrived in Florida, the woman immediately went into labor and was subsequently rushed to the hospital.
Unfortunately, she died during childbirth, so Bob was told that because the child was a newborn, it was necessary to fly out immediately. He packed his suitcases and flew to Florida to pick up her daughter.
When his plane landed, he rented a car and made his way to the hospital, where his wife had allegedly passed away.
The news of her death still ate at him, but he knew there would be time to grieve later, so he focused on bringing home their only child together.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Shutterstock
When he arrived at the hospital, he met with the volunteer at the intensive care unit, a woman who was 82 years old and recently widowed.
Her name was Mrs. Sticks, and she had things to tell Bob. “What happened?” he asked her as soon as he entered her office.
“Have a seat Mr. Hollis,” she said calmly.
“I’m better off standing, he replied.
“I’m sorry for your loss Mr. Hollis, but your wife suffered some complications giving birth to your child.”
At that, Bob cried bitterly, and Mrs. Sticks quietly watched him, choosing to let him grieve. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat and spoke.
“As I understand you have come for the child, but I have to make sure that you have what it takes to care for one,” Mrs. Sticks said.
Bob let her know that he was already a father and Mrs. Meredith Sticks nodded appreciatively as if to say, “You’ll do,” but she still gave him her phone number.
“Call me if you need anything,” she said. The kind woman also offered her new acquaintance a ride to the airport on the day of departure.
Things went on smoothly for Bob until it was time to board the plane. When he got to the boarding gate, the woman at the counter refused to let him through.
“Is this your child sir?” she asked.
“Of course she is,” he said.
“I’m sorry but she seems too young to be on an airplane. How old is she?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“She’s four days old. Now can I get through?” Bob said.
“I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to present her birth certificate and wait till she is at least seven days old before traveling with her,” the woman said sternly.
“What’s this?” Bob asked angrily. “Are you saying I have to remain here for the next couple of days? I have no family here to stay with which is why I must get home today.”
“I’m sorry, it’s the policy,” the woman said and turned her attention to the next person in line.
Bob knew that it would take him quite some time to obtain the document but he also had nowhere to go in Florida and no one to ask for help.
He was preparing to spend the night at the airport when he remembered Mrs. Sticks, the kind woman from the medical center. He would rather not have bothered her, but he had no choice, and the night was quickly approaching.
“Hello Meredith,” he said. “I need your help.”
When Mrs. Sticks found out about Bob’s problem, she immediately promised to return to the airport and bring them to her home — it was an offer that astounded Bob, who knew he would most likely have refused to help if he was in her place.
“Compassion still thrives in this world,” he thought to himself.
Bob stayed at Mrs. Sticks’ house for more than a week before he returned to Texas. The woman didn’t just welcome Bob and his daughter into her home. She helped him cope with the newborn baby as well as the death of his wife by talking to him and comforting him. She even helped him arrange for the proper transportation of his wife’s body, making things easier for him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
The man could not believe how generous she was and would always call her a real angel — even his daughter seemed to love the woman because the girl would start to glow and giggle just from hearing the woman’s voice.
During his stay, Bob learned that the woman had four grown children, seven grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren.
Together they looked after the baby, took relieving walks, and even went to honor the memory of Mrs. Sticks’ departed husband — activities that brought the two even closer.
The man saw in Mrs. Sticks his mother who had passed away a long time ago, and he knew he would miss her a lot when he flew home.
After receiving his daughter’s birth certificate, he was permitted to return home, but Bob continued to keep in touch with the old lady who had helped him.
He had no idea how things would have worked out without her, and he never forgot her kindness, so he visited her every year with his little daughter until she passed away a few years later.
A lawyer reached out to him at her funeral and told him that Mrs. Sticks had left him part of her inheritance, just like she did for her kids.
In honor of her kindness, Bob donated the money to a charity he founded together with her four kids, including her oldest daughter Shirley, whom he fell in love with due to constant exposure to her charms. Later, the two got married, and she became a mother to his six kids.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
What did we gain from this story?
- Kindness leaves a lasting impression. Bob could never forget Mrs. Sticks, who was there for him in his difficult times. Her heart inspired him to found the charity organization, which was a way to share more kindness around.
- Imbibe the culture of giving back. Bob adopted three kids with his late wife because he was from a foster home himself and wanted to find a way to make the lives of kids in orphanages better. It is an act worthy of emulation.
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a young couple who bought a used car and found a wallet under the seat with an old photo inside.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
I Found a Girl in the Middle of an Empty Road at Night – When I Got Closer, I Went Pale
Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother spots a young girl in a tattered dress, silent and familiar. As she pulls closer, she notices that the girl’s haunted eyes hold secrets that might be better left hidden.
It was late, and the night felt thicker than usual. The fog wrapped around the car like a heavy blanket, swallowing up everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, gripping the wheel tighter than usual.
Driving through the fog | Source: Pexels
“Just get home,” I muttered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been such a long day at work, and all I wanted was my bed.
I hated this road. I’d always hated it. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I had thought: Just a quick shortcut. It’ll save me time.
A woman driving through the fog | Source: Midjourney
Then, something caught my eye. A shadow, right in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding, and stared. The figure was barely visible, just an outline in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox or something,” I whispered, even though I knew it wasn’t. As I rolled forward slowly, the shadow appeared to be a girl. She was thin, and her white dress seemed to cling to her in tatters.
A girl on a figgy road | Source: Midjourney
I felt an instinctual chill crawl up my spine. Everything in me screamed to turn around, to get out of there. But something stronger kept me rooted in place.
I rolled down the window a crack, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, I opened the door and stepped out, flashlight in hand. I aimed it at her face, and the beam caught her features for the first time. I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes, the mouth parted slightly in confusion.
A woman stepping out from her car | Source: Midjourney
“Emily?” My voice was barely a whisper, but she seemed to hear me. She looked up, her eyes locking onto mine, empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was soft, barely there.
Shock and relief crashed over me. It was her. My Emily, my daughter who’d been gone for five years. She’d vanished without a trace, no sign of where she’d gone or who might have taken her. The police and search parties had all come up with nothing.
A search party going through the woods | Source: Pexels
“Emily, oh my God… it’s really you,” I stammered, taking a step closer. “Where have you been? Are you hurt?”
She blinked, her face blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice sounded small. It was like it hadn’t been used in years.
I swallowed, my mind racing. Trauma, maybe. I had been warned that if we ever found her, she might not remember because kids could block out things that were too painful.
A shy girl looking down | Source: Midjourney
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. It’s Mom. We’re gonna go home, okay?” My hand trembled as I reached out.
I wrapped my coat around her shoulders, feeling her icy skin through the fabric. “Let’s get you out of here,” I said, guiding her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her expression distant.
A woman hugging her daughter | Source: Midjourney
The drive home was quiet, her gaze never leaving the foggy darkness outside. I glanced over, trying to read her face, but there was nothing, just a blank stare, as though she was somewhere else entirely.
“Emily,” I tried gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was… dark. And… there was someone. I think. I think he brought food, but… I don’t remember his face.”
A sad girl in the backseat of the car | Source: Midjourney
My throat tightened. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe now. We’re going home.”
She didn’t respond; she stared into the fog as we left the dark road behind.
As we pulled into the driveway, I felt a pang of relief. The familiar porch light, the sight of home, everything safe. But as I opened the door and led her inside, a new unease settled over me.
A house at night | Source: Pexels
Emily sat stiffly on the couch, looking around like she didn’t recognize anything. Her movements were slow, almost robotic.
“Do you… remember this place?” I asked.
She shrugged, her eyes blank. “I think so.”
Her voice was so flat, so empty. I sat beside her, reaching out, but stopped, unsure if she wanted comfort or space.
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” she whispered, her voice barely there, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her and sat there watching her, unsure of what to do or say.
The days that followed were a blur of quiet tension. Emily barely spoke, answering my questions in monosyllables, her gaze always elsewhere. I only heard her voice when she sang an old lullaby that I used to sing to her as a baby. I knew she couldn’t have remembered that, but I didn’t want to pry either.
A girl covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels
One evening, I found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by old photo albums I’d stored in a closet. She had one open on her lap, her fingers tracing a picture of Mark, her father. He’d passed away when she was just a baby, so young she couldn’t possibly remember him.
“Mom?” she whispered, her brow furrowed. “I know him.”
I felt a strange chill. “Honey, that’s your dad. Remember? I told you about him.”
A sad girl hugging herself | Source: Pexels
“No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I know him. From… the place.” Her eyes filled with confusion, and she stared at the picture as if trying to make sense of a dream.
My throat went dry. “What place, Emily?”
Her hands trembled, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember… but he was there.”
A concerned woman talking to her scared child | Source: Midjourney
My mind raced. Emily couldn’t have known Mark. She was just a baby when he died. But someone who looked like him… my thoughts shifted sharply. Mark’s brother, Jake.
He looked so much like Mark that they could’ve been twins. He’d even stayed with us a few times after Mark’s death. He’d been there when I sang Emily her lullabies. A memory rushed back of Jake standing in the doorway, listening to me sing her to sleep.
Bothers posing for a photo | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t ignore the thought any longer. I had to know the truth.
The next morning, I drove out to the old family cabin, an isolated place nestled deep in the woods on the edge of town. I hadn’t been there since Mark died.
After his passing, the cabin became a hollow shell of memories I couldn’t bear to face. And no one ever had a reason to visit it. The police hadn’t even searched there when Emily disappeared; they’d assumed it was abandoned, unimportant.
A shack in the woods | Source: Pexels
I parked the car and stepped out, the silence of the forest pressing in around me. The cabin looked just as I remembered, except more rundown. But something was off.
As I moved closer, I saw one of the windows was covered with a piece of heavy cloth. I felt a surge of unease. Why would someone cover the window?
A window covered with a peace of cloth | Source: Pexels
The door creaked as I pushed it open, and stale air hit me in a wave. Dust lay thick over everything except for a narrow trail leading toward a door in the back. My pulse quickened. I followed the trail, my shoes stirring up the dust in the silent cabin.
When I opened the back door, my stomach clenched. It was a small, dim room. And unlike the rest of the cabin, this room was eerily clean. On the floor lay a few scattered toys, faded but well-loved, as though they’d been played with often. A shiver ran through me.
A dim room with a small window | Source: Pexels
This was where she’d been.
I backed out of the room, heart pounding, and reached for my phone. Within minutes, the police were on their way.
Hours later, I sat with Emily in the living room as the officers worked at the cabin. She was quiet, her fingers clutching the edge of her blanket. When I took her hand, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that broke my heart.
The police searching a cabin in the woods | Source: Midjourney
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I remember the man.”
I swallowed hard. “Who was it, sweetheart?”
Her voice shook. “It was Uncle Jake. He… he looked like Daddy, but different. He… he would bring me food, but he never spoke. He just sat there, outside the door. He… he used to hum that song.”
A sad girl | Source: Pexels
The police confirmed it that evening. They had enough evidence in the cabin to make an arrest. When they found Jake, he confessed, claiming he had taken Emily to “protect” her, that he’d wanted to be the one she depended on.
It was twisted and sick, and knowing he’d been that close to us all those years made my skin crawl.
A sad man covering his face with his hands | Source: Pexels
When they told Emily, she broke down, sobbing, the weight of years of silence finally releasing. I held her close, rocking her as she cried, whispering over and over, “You’re safe now. No one will ever take you away again.”
The days that followed were quiet, but a warmth was beginning to bloom again between us. Emily started to talk more, little by little, and she would hum that old lullaby at night, almost as if testing if it was safe to hear it again.
A woman drawing with her daughter | Source: Pexels
One evening, as we sat by the window, she leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I began to hum the lullaby softly, how I used to when she was little. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw a spark of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
I held her close, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
A girl kissing her mother | Source: Freepik
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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