Elsie simply wants her grandson, Josh, to meet someone with whom he can contemplate settling down.

When a young new teacher enrolls at her kindergarten, she believes she has hit the jackpot. But when Josh meets Allison, Elsie realizes they already have a connection.

I am a meddling grandmother. Not in a terrible way; I simply want my grandson Josh to move on with his life. He’s 27 and spends the most of his time at work or gaming.

On weekends, he stays at home and works on projects around the house or plays games.

“You need to get out more, Josh,” I said. “I want you to live your life to the fullest! Don’t you want to meet someone?”

“I get it, Gran,” he would say, pausing his game. “But I’m just not interested in that at the moment. Work is taking up all my time and energy, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“You’re not getting any younger,” I said, handing him chips to snack on.

“It’s because you’re surrounded by kids all day, so you just want great-grandchildren,” he laughed.

Josh was not wrong. I was a kindergarten teacher and loved every minute of it. But I was done raising children away from their homes. Now, at 70, I desired a tranquil life of knitting and baking—a soft existence, as Josh described it.

I am leaving my employment at the school at the end of the year. And maybe it was just maternal instinct, but I needed to know Josh was safe and not alone.

We welcomed Allison, a new kindergarten teacher, a few months ago.

She was a few years younger than Josh, and I liked having her around throughout the daytime. So, of course, I considered hooking her up with him.

But I knew my grandson, Josh, would never accept to an organized date. He would probably not show up.

The next best option was to bring Allison over for supper, forcing Josh to meet her.

“Alli,” I said to her one day at school. “Would you like to come over for dinner?”

“Yes! “Of course, Mrs. Barnard,” she replied. “Since moving here, I’ve really missed family dinners. This will be great.”

I invited Allison over for dinner on a Friday evening. She kept saying she’d come early to help with the cooking or bring something over.

“Please just let me help, Mrs. Barnard,” she pleaded, as she helped me put the toys away one afternoon.

“You can bring dessert,” I told her. “And call me Elsie.”

I loved her.

And I was confident that she would complement Josh wonderfully.

But nothing could have prepared me for the bond between Josh and Allison.

Josh walked in that evening while I was setting the table.

“What’s this about?” he asked, nodding to the table.

“We’re having a new teacher over for dinner, okay?” I said, putting the cutlery in place.

“Sure, do you need me to help you?” he asked.

Allison arrived, delivering a cake and providing a welcome breath of fresh air.

She hugged me at the entrance and made herself at home while Josh remained in his bedroom.

Then the whole evening was turned upside down.

“Allison?” Josh’s voice sounded from the doorway, full with skepticism and an uncanny sense of recognition.

“Josh?” Allison replied, her eyes wide. “Mrs. Barnard, is this your grandson? Josh?”

Confusion engulfed the room like a dense cloud.

“Wait, you two know each other?” I inquired, my heart beating at the thought of their relationship.

“Yeah, Gran,” Josh answered while sitting down.

“How?” I pushed on. We were over the niceties; I needed to know more.

“Allison is my sister,” he said, each word laden with the weight of a thousand unspoken memories.

The room went silent.

“Explain, please,” I told Josh.

Josh is not my biological grandchild.

In truth, I had spent years of my life desiring a kid, but I struggled with personal relationships. So, at the age of 48, I decided to go to an orphanage.

That is where I met Josh. He was five years old and survived an accident that k.i.l.l.e.d his parents.

“Elsie,” Mandy, the social worker, announced. “He’s a great kid! He’s curious, charming, and polite as ever. He just needs a chance to get out of here and live.”

When I met him, he was a fearful little child who had lost the people he cared about the most.

“What about the rest of his family?” I asked. “Wouldn’t they come looking?”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Mandy said. “We’ve searched. Which is why he had to be separated from his sister, too. She was adopted three weeks ago.”

“And the family didn’t want to take Josh?” I asked.

“Sadly, no,” Mandy admitted. “They just wanted the youngest child we had, so that they could have as much of her childhood as possible.”

In the end, despite my request for more information regarding Josh’s sister, such private information could not be shared.

I adopted Josh as his grandma because I was already graying and didn’t want anyone asking him why his mother was so elderly.

On his 15th birthday, I finally told him the truth about the adoption, but not about his sister because I just lacked the facts.

So Josh has known the truth, or at least as much of it as he can.

“Tell me,” I pressed on.

“Gran, after you told me the truth about me being adopted, I felt settled. I mean, you had chosen me, after all. But I just felt that there was more to the story, you know?”

I nodded. I did not want to interrupt him. But I’d pick this boy every time.

“So, a few months ago, I went back to the orphanage, and I was told about a sister — Allison. And they were able to give me information because we were biological siblings.”

“And then, Josh found me on Facebook,” Allison chimed in. “We’ve been talking for a while. Although, he didn’t tell me the truth at first.”

“Well, I didn’t know if you knew the truth or not,” Josh retorted. “I couldn’t just say that I found your details in an old file at an orphanage.”

“I didn’t think that our first meeting would happen here, in your home,” Allison said.

“I think we need some dinner,” I said, waking up to get the food.

As we sat down at the table, I discreetly watched Josh and Allison reunite. I had no idea they knew each other, let alone were siblings.

Josh ate calmly, chewing his food and pondering his thoughts.

Allison’s eyes were glazed over; I wondered what she was thinking and if she was all right.

“Gran, why did you invite Allison over?” Josh asked, pouring more wine.

“Because I wanted to play matchmaker,” I said honestly.

Allison began laughing, and the room soon echoed with it.

The awkwardness that had initially overwhelmed me had evolved into genuine joy — I had intended to bring love into Josh’s life, never expecting it to take the form of a sisterly link long severed by fate.

But their roles in each other’s life were restored.

Later, as Allison took care of the dishes, Josh and I stood outdoors.

“I can’t believe this,” Josh whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he turned to me.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” I said, looking at the night sky.

“You’ve given me so much,” he said. “And now, you’ve unknowingly brought Allison back. We’ve been talking, but neither of us had the courage to actually meet.”

The rest of the night was filled with stories of childhood memories lost and recovered heartaches and hope, and the unbreakable link of family.

As I lay in bed that night, the home quiet once again, I couldn’t help but feel as if their meeting had been predetermined by another force.

Allison will continue to be a part of Josh’s life in some form.

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