Allie’s phone was vibrating so hard it almost slipped. It was the evening of January 8th, and the snow was still falling outside. A woman named Mary had messaged her. She was thirty, with kids in her profile picture.
Allie read the message, and her heart skipped a beat. *”That’s my great-grandfather. He’s alive. We’re his grandkids, and we live about three hours away from you. He’s been looking for his sister Eleanor for years. He wrote to Pittsburgh, but the trail went cold. We thought she passed away years ago. We’re getting in the car right now.”*
*”Grandpa is crying. He can’t believe it. We’ll be there in three hours.”* Allie jumped off the couch. “Dad! Mom!” she screamed. “I found him! Bill is alive!”
Nick and Nancy turned around. Eleanor, sitting at the table with her tea, froze. “What?” Nick asked. “Look!” Allie shoved the phone at him. “His granddaughter messaged me. Bill is alive. They’re coming here.”
Nick read the message. Nancy covered her mouth. Eleanor slowly set her cup down. “Bill?” she whispered. “My Bill?”
“They want to FaceTime,” Allie said, tapping the screen. “Right now. Can I?” “Go for it,” Nick nodded. Allie hit the button.
The screen flickered to life. A young woman with dark hair appeared. Mary. Behind her was a cozy living room with a fireplace. “Hello?” she breathed. “Are you the one who posted?” “Yes,” Allie said. “That’s me.”
“Oh, thank you so much.” Mary wiped her eyes. “We didn’t think it was real. Let me get Grandpa.” she stepped away, and they heard voices and footsteps. Then, an old man appeared on the screen.
He was eighty-three, with neat white hair and a lined face, leaning on a cane. But his eyes were sharp. Bill. He stared at the camera. “Show her to me,” he said in a raspy voice. “Show me my Ellie.”
Nick took the phone and pointed the camera at Eleanor. The old woman sat perfectly still, her lips trembling. Bill saw her, and his face crumpled. “Ellie,” he choked out. “My little Birdie.”
He covered his face with his hand. “Bill,” Eleanor whispered. “Is it really you?” “It’s me, Birdie.” He wiped his eyes. “I’m here. And you’re here. My God!”
His voice broke. “I looked for you,” he continued. “For years. I wrote to everyone. I looked for Eleanor Vulov in Pittsburgh. But you! You got married, you became a Thompson, you moved.”
He shook his head. “I looked. But they told me the old neighborhood was torn down in the seventies. The records office said you’d moved and left no forwarding address. I thought… I thought you were gone.” Eleanor was crying now.
“I looked, too,” she whispered. “I wrote letters. I thought you died out in the mines.” “I’m still here, Birdie,” Bill smiled through his tears. “I lived. I worked.”
“I have a family, grandkids, great-grandkids. Но I never forgot. Never.” Mary came back into the frame and hugged him. “We’re leaving right now,” she said. “Three-hour drive. We’ll be there by eleven. Give us the address.”
Nick gave them the directions, and the call ended. Silence. Eleanor sat at the table, her head in her hands, sobbing. Nancy went over and hugged her. “Eleanor,” she whispered. “It’s a miracle.”
“A real miracle.” Eleanor looked up, her face wet. “I don’t believe it. This has to be a dream.” “It’s not a dream,” Nick said. “In three hours, your brother will be standing right here.”
Those three hours felt like three minutes and three years all at once. Nick and Nancy set the table again, bringing out everything they had: roast, pie, rolls, snacks. Nancy even ran to the store for a cake and some extra supplies. The table was loaded.
Allie sat with Eleanor, showing her the comments on the post. “Look, Eleanor,” the girl said. “Thousands of people are cheering for you. ‘We’re praying for you,’ ‘so happy for you.’ There’s so much good out there.”
Eleanor read them, dabbing her eyes. “I thought the world was a cold place,” she whispered. “But it’s full of love. I just forgot.” The clock hit 11:00 PM. The doorbell rang. Everyone froze.
Nick looked at his wife and daughter, then at Eleanor, and went to the door. He swung it open. A big family was standing there: Mary, her husband, two teenagers, and an old man with a cane.
Bill. He stood there, leaning on his stick, in an old wool coat and a winter hat. There was snow on his shoulders. He looked into the hallway, searching. Eleanor stood up from the table, her legs shaking.
They saw each other across the hallway. Bill took a step, his cane thumping on the floor. Eleanor stepped forward. Another step. They met in the middle.
Bill dropped his cane; it hit the floor with a dull thud. “Ellie,” he gasped. “My little Birdie.” “Bill,” she whispered. “Oh, Bill.” They hugged so tight it looked like they were afraid the other would vanish.
Two old people who had survived everything, who had been lost to each other for forty years. Bill stroked her grey hair. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “Forgive me for not finding you sooner. I tried. I really tried.”
“You found me,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder. “You found me. We’re together.” Everyone was crying: Nick was by the door, wiping his eyes; Nancy had her hands over her face; Allie was sobbing openly.
Mary hugged her kids, and they were crying, too. Mary’s husband looked away, clearing his throat. Bill and Eleanor stood there for five minutes. Then Mary stepped in and hugged them both.
“Aunt Eleanor,” she said through her tears. “We’ve been waiting for you. Grandpa talked about you all the time. He named my mom Eleanor after you.” Eleanor looked at her, touching her face with a shaking hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for finding me.” They all sat at the table, ten people, two families joined together. Bill told stories about the West, the mines, and his life. He showed old photos Mary had brought.
Eleanor listened, holding his hand, never letting go. Nick and Nancy sat back, watching. “Look at them,” Nick whispered to Nancy in the kitchen. “No paycheck or bonus is worth this.”
“We’re lucky, Nick,” Nancy said, kissing him. “You’re a good man. I’m proud of you.” Mary stood up and raised a glass. “Aunt Eleanor,” she said, “say a few words.”
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