For Nancy her son Henry was everything, she never imagined her life without him. It had been 23 years since the horrible accident that took Henry’s life. Every year on that day, she took his favorite pie to his grave to honor his memory. But this year, everything was about to change.
For 23 years, Nancy, now 61, never missed a single day on this date. She baked her late son’s favorite pie and took it to his grave every year since.
The pie, a simple yet delicious apple and cinnamon creation, had been Henry’s favorite since childhood.
The scent of apples and cinnamon brought back memories of when Henry was little, running into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the pie.
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It was his favorite dessert, and baking it had become a tradition they both cherished.
Since Henry’s tragic accident at 17, this ritual had been Nancy’s way of keeping his memory alive.
It gave her a sense of connection to him, like she was still doing something special for her boy. Losing him had been the hardest thing she had ever gone through. The pain of that day never left her.
Even though the years had passed, her grief remained, only softened by time and the small comfort this tradition brought her.
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On this particular day, just like every year before, Nancy carefully carried the freshly baked pie to the graveyard.
The weight of the dish felt heavier, as it always did when she walked toward Henry’s resting place. The grave was neat and covered in flowers, a sign of how much he was still loved.
The stone had become smoother over the years, as she had often run her fingers over it, lost in her memories.
Nancy knelt, placing the pie gently on the gravestone. Her heart ached as she began to speak, her voice quiet, as though Henry might somehow hear her.
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“Henry, I hope you’re at peace, my love. I miss you every day. I baked your favorite pie again. Remember how we used to bake it together? You’d always sneak a taste before it was done.”
She smiled, but her eyes were misty with tears. “I wish we could do that one more time.”
The familiar sorrow welled up inside her, but Nancy had learned over the years to push through the tears.
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She wiped her eyes quickly and managed a small smile. After a few more moments of silence, she kissed her fingers and touched the top of the gravestone as she said her quiet goodbye.
Then, with a heavy but comforted heart, she turned and walked away, knowing she’d be back next year, just like always.
The next day, as part of her routine, Nancy made her way back to Henry’s grave to clean up the remains of the pie.
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Usually, by the time she returned, the pie was either untouched or spoiled by the weather, a quiet reminder of her son’s absence.
She had always found it a bittersweet comfort, knowing the pie stayed where she left it as if waiting for him.
But today, as she approached the grave, something felt different. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that the plate was clean—completely empty. For a moment, she stood frozen in disbelief.
Then, she noticed something else. Resting on the plate was a small piece of paper, folded in half.
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Nancy’s hands trembled as she picked up the note. Her breath caught in her throat as she unfolded it.
The handwriting was shaky, as though whoever had written it had struggled to form the letters. The simple words read: “Thank you.”
Her heart pounded with confusion and anger.
“Who would take Henry’s pie?” she muttered under her breath, clutching the note tightly. “This was for my son. No one had the right to touch it!”
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Her private ritual, her way of honoring and remembering her son, had been invaded by a stranger.
She felt violated, as if someone had stolen a piece of her grief.
With her emotions swirling—part outrage, part confusion—Nancy left the cemetery, her mind set on finding the person who had taken her son’s pie. She had to know who had done this, and why.
Determined to catch the culprit, Nancy decided she would take matters into her own hands. She couldn’t let someone continue to disturb the way she honored Henry. So, she devised a plan.
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That night, she baked another of Henry’s favorite pies, the same apple and cinnamon recipe she had been making for over two decades.
The next morning, with renewed resolve, she placed the freshly baked pie on Henry’s grave, just like before, but this time she wasn’t leaving.
She found a large oak tree nearby and hid behind it, close enough to see the grave but far enough to not be noticed.
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The warm aroma of the pie drifted through the air, filling the quiet cemetery.
Time passed slowly as Nancy watched and waited, her heart racing in anticipation.
An hour later, she spotted movement. A small figure cautiously approached the grave. Nancy squinted, leaning forward to get a better look.
It wasn’t the greedy thief she had imagined. No, this was something entirely different.
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A young boy, no older than 9, with ragged clothes and dirt smudged on his face, moved toward the pie with hesitant steps.
Nancy’s heart tightened as she watched him. The boy didn’t immediately take the pie.
Instead, he knelt by the grave and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small scrap of paper and a dull pencil. His hand trembled as he carefully scribbled something on the paper, his brow furrowed with concentration.
It was clear the boy struggled with writing, but he took his time, making sure each word was legible.
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Nancy’s heart softened as she saw him write “Thank you” on the paper, just like before. He wasn’t a thief. He wasn’t someone disrespecting Henry’s memory. He was just a hungry child, grateful for the kindness of a pie left behind.
The anger that had once consumed Nancy melted away in an instant. She realized this boy wasn’t stealing; he was surviving. He was in need, and her son’s favorite pie had somehow brought him comfort.
As the boy began to pick up the pie, his small hands shaking, Nancy stepped out from her hiding spot.
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The rustle of leaves under her feet made him freeze, wide-eyed. Startled, he dropped the pie, and it tumbled onto the grass. His face paled, and he backed away, looking terrified.
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” the boy cried, his voice trembling with panic. “I was just so hungry, and the pie was so good. Please don’t be mad.”
Nancy’s heart softened instantly. The sight of him—thin, dirty, and scared—erased any trace of anger she had felt before.
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She knelt beside him, speaking gently, her voice as comforting as she could make it. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you, Where are your parents?” she said, her tone soothing. The boy stayed silent and shook his head. “What’s your name?” Nancy asked another question understanding that the boy had nowhere to go.
“Jimmy,” he muttered, still avoiding her eyes, ashamed of what he had done.
“Well, Jimmy,” Nancy smiled softly, trying to reassure him, “it’s okay. You don’t have to steal pies. If you’re hungry, all you had to do was ask.”
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Jimmy looked up at her, his lips quivering as he tried to speak. “I didn’t mean to steal,” he said, his voice small and shaky. “I just… I don’t get to eat much, and that pie was the best thing I’ve ever had.”
Nancy’s heart ached for him, her mind flooded with thoughts of how different this boy’s life must be.
The hunger in his eyes reminded her of her own son, Henry, when he would eagerly wait for that first bite of her freshly baked pie.
But Henry never had to worry about where his next meal would come from. Jimmy, on the other hand, looked like he had been living with hunger for a long time.
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“Come with me,” Nancy said after a moment of thought. She stood up and reached out her hand to him. “I’ll bake you a fresh pie, just for you.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust his own ears. “Really?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of hope and doubt.
Nancy nodded, her heart filled with a strange but comforting warmth. “Yes, really. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Slowly, Jimmy reached out and took Nancy’s hand.
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She led him back to her home, the boy walking beside her in silence, his eyes darting around as if he wasn’t sure if this was all real. Nancy’s heart swelled with the thought of what she was about to do.
Baking had always been her way of expressing love, and now, after years of baking for a son she could no longer see, she was about to bake for someone who truly needed it.
When they reached her cozy kitchen, Nancy set to work, rolling out the dough, slicing the apples, and adding the perfect amount of cinnamon—just as she had done so many times before.
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Jimmy watched her quietly from the corner of the kitchen, his eyes wide as he followed every move she made.
The smell of the pie began to fill the room, warm and comforting, like a hug from a long-lost friend.
Once the pie was baked, Nancy placed it in front of Jimmy. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said softly.
“This one’s all for you.”
Jimmy hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. But then he grabbed a slice and took a bite. His face lit up with joy, his eyes sparkling as he chewed.
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“This is the best pie I’ve ever had,” he said, his mouth still full. He ate with such happiness that it brought tears to Nancy’s eyes.
She watched him in silence, thinking about how something as simple as a pie could bring so much comfort to someone.
As Jimmy devoured the warm slices with obvious delight, Nancy couldn’t help but think of Henry.
She had always dreamed of seeing her son eat his favorite pie again, of watching him enjoy it the way he used to when he was a child.
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But now, in some strange and unexpected way, she was sharing it with another boy who needed it just as much.
Watching Jimmy eat, Nancy felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be.
Maybe fate had brought Jimmy into her life for a reason. By feeding him, by offering him kindness when he needed it most, she was honoring Henry’s memory in a way she had never imagined.
For the first time in years, Nancy felt that her grief had led her to something beautiful—a connection, a purpose that gave new meaning to her life.
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Maybe, just maybe, this was Henry’s way of sending her a message—that love and kindness should always find their way back to those in need.
Nancy smiled as she watched Jimmy finish the last slice of pie, her heart full of warmth and gratitude.
She had found an unexpected connection in the most unlikely place, and it filled her soul in a way that nothing else had in years.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Martha was always quiet and smiling. No matter how hard or small the task, she was always ready to help. One of her colleagues, Chelsea, often took advantage of Martha’s kind nature by asking her to do her work for her. But this time, Chelsea unintentionally did Martha a favor.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers 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.
Husband Returns from Business Trip and Sees Newborn Baby on Table with Two Notes beside — Story of the Day
A man is accused of being the father of a baby abandoned on his doorstep and it costs him his marriage and his way of life.
Kyle Greenbecker had spent a year working on an oil pipeline in Alaska, but finally, he was on his way home to his beautiful wife. He and Lisa met in high school, and Kyle had never regretted marrying her at nineteen.
Maybe he was old-fashioned, but Kyle was proud that Lisa was the only woman he’d been intimate with in his life. He didn’t need and didn’t want anyone else. It never occurred to him that Lisa would ever doubt him — and with good reason.
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When his plane landed, Kyle collected his luggage and walked out with the other passengers, scanning the crowd for Lisa’s beloved face, but she wasn’t there to pick him up.
Probably, Kyle thought, she’d been held up at work with some emergency. He sent her a quick text telling her he was on his way home but got no reply. He hopped into an Uber and in an hour he was walking up to his front door.
The lights were on in the lounge, but Lisa wasn’t there. He made his way to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, stunned. Resting on top of the kitchen table was a bassinet, and Kyle could see a small arm waving aimlessly.
He took a step closer. There was a bassinet with a baby on his kitchen table! The child was looking back at Kyle with that astonished look babies have, and Kyle stared back just as astonished.
Then he saw a folded paper on the table next to the bassinet. He picked it up and unfolded it. Inside was another sheet of paper with a message in a handwriting he didn’t recognize: “You had your fun, now take responsibility for your child.”
Meanwhile, the note addressed to him in Lisa’s elegant script read:
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“Kyle, yesterday I found this child on our doorstep with that note attached. I always suspected you cheated on me during your business trips, but I didn’t hold a grudge on you for that — after all, I had plenty of flings while you were away — but saddling me with someone else’s byblow is too much. I’ve filed for a divorce, and I earnestly hope I will never see you again.
“P.S. And about the baby, don’t worry, I only left when I saw you walk up the drive. Enjoy your life, Kyle, I certainly intend to enjoy mine.”
Kyle sat down and dropped his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. This child wasn’t his, he’d never cheated on Lisa, ever! A soft cooing sound made him raise his head.
The baby was waving its little hand in the air, so Kyle brought his own hand closer and to his surprise, the child grabbed onto his index finger with incredible strength.
“Well, baby,” Kyle said. “I guess it’s just us two, and I don’t know what to do with you!”
The baby cooed again and gurgled, then screwed up his face in an alarming way and turned bright red. “Oh my God!” cried Kyle. “What’s happening?” A certain smell quickly elucidated him.
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Yep, it was diaper time. But was there even a diaper? On the floor next to the table was a large backpack with several snap pockets that he’d never seen before. Kyle found a bewildering array of items inside and the diapers.
He quickly googled diaper change and watched carefully as a woman on YouTube demonstrated on a life-like doll how to change a diaper.
Kyle started following her instructions but things didn’t run that smoothly. The woman’s life-like doll didn’t move its legs, or sink its kicking heels in the stinking and unmentionable contents of the dirty diaper! After wiping the baby clean, Kyle realized it was a girl, and he didn’t know anything about girls!
“I won’t be giving you dating advice,” he told the baby solemnly. “But I can teach you how to ride a bike.”
Kyle realized in that moment that he intended to keep this baby.
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He picked up the freshly diapered baby and said, “You need me, and I guess I need you too. So how about it, kid?”
Kyle once again consulted the YouTube baby-guru to prepare the formula and settled the baby in the crook of his arm for her feed.
“You need a name, you know that? How about… Celeste? Do you like that? Or Lily…”
If anyone had told Kyle that he would settle into fatherhood so easily and so smoothly he would never have believed it. Lily had her moments and her tantrums, but somehow things worked out.
Kyle registered Lily as his child and enrolled her in daycare. For him, her birthday was on the day he’d found her. But it was on Lily’s second birthday that Kyle’s world fell apart.
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A woman knocked on her door. “I’ve come for my baby,” she said. Kyle just looked at her. She was tall, blonde, and thin, with huge breasts that were obviously a product of a plastic surgeon’s art.
“Your what?” Kyle asked.
A real parent is the one who loves and cherishes the child.
“My baby,” she snapped. “I left her here two years ago? Sorry about that, but I was a bit stoned and my boyfriend lives on the next block over and I got confused. You know how it is!”
“Sorry, I don’t know how that is because I’ve never abandoned a child on anyone’s doorstep,” Kyle said coldly. “I’d get a move on if I were you, or I’ll call the police.”
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“Now look here,” the woman said sharply. “I figured I made a mistake about a week later when Burt didn’t take my calls, but now I need that baby!”
“You need her?” asked Kyle angrily. “What do you need her for?”
“Burt just got himself a Major League contract,” the woman said. “And that baby’s gone make sure some of those millions land in my bank account!”
Kyle ran the woman off, but he had a feeling he hadn’t seen the last of her. He was right. A week later he was summoned to family court. A Miss Cherish Vegas was contesting his adoption of baby Lily.
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Suddenly, Kyle was showered with injunctions, was visited by Social Services at odd hours of the day or night, and his friends and co-workers were being questioned. Cherish really meant to get her hands on those millions!
Finally, the day of the hearing arrived. Kyle nervously handed over Lily to the social worker for the duration of the hearing and walked in. Cherish was there, of course, and a tall man with Lily’s blue eyes was on her side of the court. This could only be the famous Burt!
Cherish cried and sniveled and told the judge how much she loved and missed her baby, and how her wild college days (now long past and deeply regretted) had led her to place her in Kyle’s care.
The judge looked down at the papers in front of her. “By in his care, you mean on his porch, isn’t that right, Miss Vegas?” asked the judge.
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Cherish flushed red. “Well, I’m still her mama! No one can deny that!” she screamed.
The judge looked at Burt. “You sir, you are the father?”
Burt lumbered to his feet and said, “I guess I must be…”
The judge fixed him with a flinty eye. “Are you prepared and able to take on the parental responsibilities for this child?”
Cherish screamed, “You bet he is, judge, he just signed a three million dollar contract to play ball…”
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“Oh!” cried the judge. “Finally, the truth is out! Tell me, Miss Vegas, what name did you give your daughter?”
“Name?” asked Cherish, confused. “Why, she’ll have her daddy’s name., since he’ll be paying child support!”
Kyle stood up. “Your honor,” he said. “May I address the court?”
“Yes, Mr. Greenbecker,” said the judge. “Please do.”
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“Ma’am, my daughter’s name is Lily, and she does have her father’s name — mine. Since the moment that child came into my life I’ve loved her, and she loves me.”
At that moment, Lily, who had been playing with the social worker’s necklace noticed that Kyle was standing up. “Daddy!” she cried and stretched out her arms.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, it seems to me that the case has been decided by the principal party,” the judge said. “I hereby overturn all claims of custody of the child Lily Grennbecker and confirm Kyle Greenbecker’s custody and adoption.
That night, Kyle celebrated his victory in court and he and Lily spent the evening catching lightning bugs in the garden. “Stars!” cried Lily. But for Kyle, the brightest star of all was his little girl.
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What can we learn from this story?
- A real parent is one who loves and cherishes the child. Kyle took care of Lily and loved her as if she were his own.
- A heartless woman will use anyone, even her child, for profit. Cherish didn’t want Lily, she just wanted Burt’s money.
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a man who taught his son how to be the best husband in the world.
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.
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