The Intruders

Martha remembered well the day a woman and a baby were introduced by her father with the brief statement that from now on they would live in the same house and had to be treated as family. Teenager Martha had never known her own mother of whom she only possessed a tiny painting in a little wooden box. However small the portrait, one could clearly recognize the noble features, the truthful eyes of a woman as perfect as could be.
Martha could well image how it would be if her mother would have been around and she frequently talked to her before sleep. But now the house had changed. How could her father not see that bringing this woman inside their home was a stab in the back of the mother of all his children?
Those first days young Martha made sure to make the guests feel not welcome at all, determined as she was to make the intruders leave - subtly but unavoidably expelled by Martha’s vicious looks. A women’s war was being fought.
But already during the first week Martha’s irritation with the baby’s cries slowly progressed to curiosity, especially at moments when the mother was cuddling and teasing the little girl. At times some little hands and feet raised in excitement above the cradle’s edge. When Martha finally decided to peek inside and was greeted with a broad smile and two large shining eyes, surrender was the only option. Indeed a women’s war had been fought and the very youngest participant had claimed victory.

Next : The Promise