SHE walked down the dusty road, the little girl who was once fair, her skin now sunburnt, her sandals worn, and a straw basket on her arm. The mid-August sun seemed hotter today than yesterday, and the turn in the road seemed further away, torture for her tired feet.

A huge almond tree, like a landmark, stood at the turn, its sprawling branches offering some shelter from the sun and the rain.
Anne sat down wearily in the shade, kicking off her sandals and resting her feet on the soft, fallen leaves. It was where she always stopped on the days she had to go to the market.
The cherries she had taken to the market had all been sold and so it would be until the bearing season was over. Then it would be the guavas, mangoes and genip seasons, the unending hard work, stealing from her one beautiful thing of life, childhood.

Anne closed her eyes, two tears trickling down her cheeks and she whispered, her little heart aching, “Where are you, dear brothers? Please come for me; I want to go home.” The car crash four years ago had shattered their lives, losing their mother and father at such young ages. It hadn’t rained that night, nor was it late as they drove home but their father, always a careful driver, could not have stopped the speeding car that crashed into them. The devastating news that night was the worst three young children could have heard as they huddled together crying.

That tragedy brought a heart-breaking change in their young lives. None of their relatives wanted three additional children in their homes for too long, so they were shuttled around, a continuous disruption in their lives. So, it was no surprise when a decision was made at a family gathering to send them to an orphanage.
A beautiful little family suffering because of a tragedy caused one fateful night by a reckless driver.

The comfort of their own home, the love and care of a mother and father, they missed so much. The ache in their heart so deep, that they could cry no more.
One year had passed for the little girl before a foster home was found for her and as she left the orphanage on a gloomy afternoon, her young heart grieving, she asked herself quietly, “Where have you gone, brothers and where am I going?” The family who had given her a home had seemed kind and caring but it wasn’t long before the little girl realised she was more of a servant than a part of the family. She was not allowed to dine with them, was not taken on outings, given hand-me-down clothing to wear and no haircare for her long, curly hair.
“I was my mother’s princess,” she cried silently, “I had pretty dresses, nice shoes and beautiful hairstyles.”

Anne missed her love and care so much, their beautiful little home, the birds in the bird bath in the garden and her pet rabbit.
“Where are you, now, Cuddles?” she wondered sadly, “Is anyone taking care of you?” She got up, her short rest over, and picking up her basket, she continued on her way home. She couldn’t be late, not any day. That night, like every other night, she tumbled into bed, tired from the afternoon chores, too tired to read any of her books.
In two different foster homes, two young boys lay in bed, sleepless as their minds worried for their little sister.
“We will find you one day, Anne.”

And in a sports bar in the city, a young man sat alone, forlorn; his mind burdened with regrets.
“How do I make amends for my wrongs?”
He had been given no jail time for causing death by dangerous driving, just a fine, and had his driver’s licence suspended for six months.
But despite all his family’s money and influence, he could not free his mind from the guilt he felt on seeing the children’s tearful images on the News channels.
“How can I help them?” he had wondered.
One night in her dreams, Anne heard the most loving voice saying, “Your brothers will find you, my little princess, and you’ll be happy again, just a little more time.” Anne awoke the following day, a smile on her face and joy in her heart. She now had something wonderful to look forward to and said nothing to anyone, just waiting for that day.

The guava season in the meanwhile began and she walked to the market with her straw basket. On the busiest day that was Saturday, she slipped a piece of paper into the bags of her customers. On the paper were sketches of her brothers with the words, “Please find my brothers.”
It was a brilliant idea from the little girl.
That message on the sketch will now travel and one may find itself in the right hands.
Three weeks later, a maid working for a wealthy family found the child’s sketch in one of her shopping bags. She went to the patio where the lady of the house was relaxing and said, “Ma’am, I think you might want to see this.”

The lady was the mother of the young man whose reckless driving had caused the death of the children’s parents.
Fate does have a way of creating new life stories.
After over a month of putting the sketch of her brothers in customers’ bags and not getting any responses from anyone, the little girl thought sadly, “Maybe no one knows them.”
As she sat there in the market pondering what next she could do, Dusty, a stray kitten curled up at her feet, she heard a familiar voice call her name, then another.
“Anne.”

She gasped and spun around, almost stepping on Dusty, her heart racing, the guavas falling from her hands. Her brothers stood there, overjoyed at seeing their little sister, who was once a fair princess in their home, now a sunburnt fruit vendor. She cried and ran to them and they held her in their arms, crying too, overwhelmed with emotion. Now, after four long years, they were seeing each other again. “I prayed every day to be with you again,” she cried. “I want to go home, to our home.” “Yes, the three of you would be going back to your own home,” a strange lady and young man who had been standing just behind the boys said, “And you will be given the best care, education and security as you grow up.”
Anne looked at her through her tears, not quite understanding.
“Who is she?” she asked quietly.

“It’s quite a long story,” her eldest brother explained, “They caused something special to be taken from us, so they have used their influence to reunite us and will continue to assist us in life.”
“No more foster homes,” her second brother said, playfully ruffling her curly locks, “And it’s all thanks to you.”
She laughed a little, thrilled and happy that they were going back home as a little family, prayers answered. She picked up Dusty and asked, “Can I take her with me?”
“Of course,” everyone answered and Dusty meowed ‘Thanks’.
The lady looked at her son standing quietly there, tears in his eyes and she said, “This will help you to find peace within yourself as you can help them through life.
It was a new chapter in his and the children’s lives.