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.
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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.
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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?”
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“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.
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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.
My Late Wife’s Presumptuous Sister Took Her Dress Without Asking and Damaged It – Karma Swiftly Dealt With Her
Jack is furious when his sister-in-law shows up to a family event in his late wife, Della’s cherished dress. But the final blow comes when she “accidentally” ruins it right in front of him. Jack holds back his anger, but karma has its way of delivering justice in ways no one expects.
It’s been six months since I lost my wife, Della, and some days it feels like I’m drowning in memories. Today was one of those days until karma decided to show up fashionably late to the party.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me rewind a bit to last week.
It was supposed to be a happy day, the 45th wedding anniversary of Della and her sister Lina’s parents. Instead, it turned into a nightmare that had me wishing I’d stayed home nursing my grief with a bottle of whiskey.
I stood in the corner of the living room, nursing a drink and trying to blend into the wallpaper.
The chatter of family and friends washed over me, a dull roar that did nothing to drown out the ache in my chest. Every laugh, every clink of glasses was a reminder that Della should’ve been here, lighting up the room with her smile.
That’s when it happened. The moment that made my blood run cold and then boil in the span of a heartbeat.
Lina appeared at the top of the stairs, and my world tilted on its axis.
She was wearing Della’s engagement dress. The one I’d given her on the night I proposed, the one she’d treasured for years. It was a soft, flowing thing in a shade of blue that matched Della’s eyes perfectly.
Seeing it on Lina felt like a violation.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My fingers tightened around my glass as Lina descended the stairs, a smug smile playing on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Jack!” she called out, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Don’t you think this dress is just perfect for the occasion?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I say that wouldn’t cause a scene? That wouldn’t play right into her hands?
Lina sauntered over, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “What’s wrong, Jack? Cat got your tongue?”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “That’s Della’s dress,” I managed to growl.
She laughed, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Oh, come on. It’s not like she needs it anymore. And now,” she leaned in close, her breath hot on my ear, “she can’t say no to me.”
Something snapped inside me. I was about to unleash years of pent-up fury when Lina gasped dramatically.
“Oh no!” she cried out. “I’m so clumsy!”
Time seemed to slow as I watched a wave of red wine spread across the front of Della’s dress. Lina’s eyes met mine, filled with mock innocence and very real triumph.
“Oops,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I guess I ruined it. Such a shame.”
I don’t remember much of what happened next. Somehow, I made it through the rest of the party without committing murder. But as I drove home that evening, my knuckles white on the steering wheel, I knew something had changed.
Back in our — my — empty house, I paced the floor like a caged animal. Memories of Della flooded my mind, sharp and painful. Her laughter, her strength, the way she always stood up to Lina’s bullshit.
“God, I miss you, Del,” I whispered to the empty room. “You always knew how to handle her.”
I could almost hear Della’s voice in my head, calm and steady. “Don’t let her get to you, Jack. She’s not worth it.”
But it wasn’t just about me anymore.
It was about honoring Della’s memory, about not letting Lina trample all over the life we’d built together.
As I collapsed onto the couch, exhausted and heartsick, a strange calm settled over me. I wouldn’t seek revenge; that’s not what Della would’ve wanted. But I wouldn’t stand in karma’s way either.
Something told me the universe had taken notice of Lina’s behavior, and it was only a matter of time before the scales balanced out.
Little did I know how right I was.
A few days later, I was mindlessly scrolling through social media, trying to distract myself from the gnawing emptiness in my chest, when a post caught my eye. It was from Lina, and it was… dramatic, to say the least.
“My dear friends,” it read, accompanied by a selfie of Lina with tears streaking her mascara, “I was robbed yesterday! They took all my cocktail outfits and branded clothes. I’m devastated!”
I blinked and read it again.
A laugh bubbled up in my throat, unexpected and a little rusty from disuse. Before I could fully process what I was reading, my phone rang. Lina’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered, curiosity getting the better of me. “Hello?”
“You colossal jerk!” Lina’s shrill voice assaulted my ear. “I know it was you! How dare you?”
I held the phone away from my ear, her tirade continuing unabated. When she paused for breath, I jumped in. “Lina, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Jack! My clothes, all my designer outfits, they’re gone! And I know you’re behind it!”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It was a real laugh, the kind I hadn’t experienced since Della died. “Lina, I hate to burst your bubble, but I had nothing to do with your clothes going missing.”
“Liar! Who else would do this? It’s payback for the dress, isn’t it?”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Lina, I’ve been home wallowing in my grief. I haven’t left the house in days. How exactly do you think I managed to orchestrate a theft of your wardrobe?”
She sputtered, clearly not expecting logic to enter the conversation. “But… but…”
“Look,” I said, a hint of amusement creeping into my voice, “I’m sorry you were robbed. That sucks. But it wasn’t me.”
“Then explain this!” she shrieked.
My phone pinged with an incoming message.
I pulled it away from my ear to look, and what I saw nearly made me drop it.
There, in living color, were photos of Lina’s missing clothes. But they weren’t in some thief’s lair or a pawn shop. No, they were being worn by homeless women on the street.
I saw a Gucci blazer draped over the shoulders of an elderly woman pushing a shopping cart. A Prada dress adorned a young mother cradling a baby.
I couldn’t contain myself. Laughter erupted from me, deep and genuine.
It felt foreign, almost painful, but God, it felt good.
“What’s so funny?” Lina demanded. “This isn’t a joke, Jack!”
“Oh, Lina,” I managed between chuckles, “trust me, karma works in mysterious ways.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I swear, Jack, if I find out you had anything to do with this—”
“You’ll what?” I cut her off, suddenly tired of her threats. “Look, Lina, I didn’t take your clothes. Maybe the universe decided it was time for you to learn a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to you.”
She gasped, indignant. “How dare you! I’m calling the police!”
“Go ahead,” I said, surprising myself with how calm I felt. “I’m sure they’ll be very interested in your theory about your grieving brother-in-law masterminding a charitable redistribution of your wardrobe.”
I hung up before she could respond, feeling lighter than I had in months. As I set my phone down, a memory surfaced: Della, rolling her eyes after yet another confrontation with her sister.
“One of these days,” she’d said, “Lina’s going to push too far, and it’s going to bite her in the rear.”
I smiled, raising an imaginary glass to the ceiling. “You called it, babe,” I murmured. “You always did.”
I thought that was the end of it. A bit of karmic justice, a much-needed laugh, and maybe a lesson learned for Lina. But the universe, it seemed, wasn’t quite done.
The next morning, I opened my front door to grab the newspaper and nearly tripped over a plain white envelope on the welcome mat. No address, no stamp. Just my name scrawled across the front in unfamiliar handwriting.
Curious, I tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper with three words:
“Don’t thank me.”
I stared at the note, my mind racing. Someone in the family, someone I didn’t know, or at least didn’t suspect, had taken matters into their own hands. They’d done what I’d only dreamed of doing, exacting a revenge that was as poetic as it was just.
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