Chapter 1: The Ghost of the Past
Valentina Stepanovna appeared at the “Solnyshko” shelter in early October — a small, stooped woman in an old, worn coat and a headscarf tied in a girlish way. She was dragging a large wheeled bag behind her, stopping every few steps to catch her breath. The wind fluttered her scarf, and a light drizzle fell, but she stubbornly moved forward as if she knew what awaited her in this place.
“May I see the children?” she asked the guard, her voice trembling from cold and nervousness. “I just… baked some pies.”
The shelter director, Marina Viktorovna, at first watched the stranger warily. Over the years, she had learned not to trust overly kind people. But when the old woman took out a thermos of tea and a box of golden, fragrant pies from her bag, her suspicions began to melt.
“I bake them myself,” the woman said, adjusting her slipping headscarf. “But no one to eat them. My husband died long ago, and my daughter… left too. So I thought — maybe the children would be happy?”
Marina Viktorovna took one pie. Cabbage-filled, juicy, homemade — just like her grandmother used to make. The pies were real, just like the woman herself.
“What is your name?”
“Valentina Stepanovna. But you can just call me Grandma Valya.”
And so she entered the lives of forty children, becoming a close, dear, beloved figure to them.
Chapter 2: Grandma Valya and Her World
Every Wednesday, exactly at two o’clock in the afternoon, Valentina Stepanovna appeared at the shelter gates. Always wearing the same worn coat, pulling her heavy wheeled bag. Sometimes it contained apple pies, sometimes cottage cheese ones, and once even a cake — a little crooked, but incredibly tasty. The children adored her. She told stories as if they were being born right then and there, taught the girls how to braid hair, and amazed the boys with coin tricks.
“Grandma, where do you know these stories from?” eight-year-old Nastya asked.
“From my grandmother,” Valentina Stepanovna answered, gazing thoughtfully out the window. “Such distant times… so far away…”
The teacher Lena noticed that the old woman never spoke about herself. She rarely mentioned her husband, and never a word about her youth. It was as if her whole life began only here, within the shelter walls.
One day Lena asked:
“Valentina Stepanovna, where do you live?”
“Nearby,” she answered evasively. “In an old neighborhood. The house is nice, but very empty…”
Chapter 3: Mysterious Sadness
A month later, Marina Viktorovna noticed something strange. Valentina Stepanovna took a special interest in the newcomers, especially the teenagers. She asked them questions — where they were from, their names, whether they had any relatives left.
“Grandma Valya is kind,” the children said. “But sometimes she looks… sad.”
Lena noticed this too. The old woman could interrupt a story halfway, freeze staring at a single point. Once, while looking at children’s photos on a board, she suddenly began to cry.
“What happened?” the teacher hurried over.
“Nothing, dear,” Valentina Stepanovna wiped away tears. “It’s just… I feel sorry for all of you.”
But Lena saw — the old woman’s gaze was fixed on the photo of sixteen-year-old Dima, who had recently arrived at the shelter.
Chapter 4: Dima and His Secret
Dima Krasnov was a difficult teenager. Sixteen years old, had run away from a previous shelter, with many conflicts and traumas. His file said: his mother abandoned him in infancy, and his father was unknown. He was closed off, aggressive, and trusted no one.
But with Grandma Valya, he behaved differently. He listened to her stories, helped carry her bag, even smiled.
“Strange,” said Marina Viktorovna. “Dima doesn’t get along with anyone, but he is drawn to Valentina Stepanovna.”
The old woman treated him specially too. She brought him separate pies, talked with him longer than with others, and asked about his family.
“According to the papers, my mother died when I was very young,” Dima said. “And my father isn’t in the records at all.”
“Where does your last name come from?”
“From the documents. They say it came from my mother.”
Valentina Stepanovna nodded and changed the subject, but Lena noticed — her hands were shaking.
Sometimes chance encounters are not chance at all. What seems simple kindness hides deep pain and long searches.
Chapter 5: An Incident on the Street
In November, the first alarm sounded. Valentina Stepanovna was late, disheveled, and worried. Without her bag, without pies.
“Valentina Stepanovna, are you feeling unwell?” Marina worried.
“No, not at all! It’s just… some man approached me. Asked where I live, what my name is. He scared me a little.”
“Should we call the police?”
“Absolutely not!” the woman replied sharply. “No one, please. He seemed familiar…”
After that, the old woman became more cautious. She asked the guard to escort her to the bus and started looking around on the street. Once, Lena noticed — Valentina Stepanovna stopped wearing her headscarf and wore dark glasses instead.
“My eyesight got worse,” she explained. “The doctor prescribed them.”
But her eyes were clear and attentive. Especially when she looked at Dima.
Chapter 6: Rumors and Truth
In December, disturbing rumors began spreading in the neighborhood. Galina Petrovna from the neighboring house said: “A man came by, showing some photographs. Asked if I remembered this woman.” Stories like that grew more frequent.
Marina Viktorovna connected these events with what Valentina Stepanovna had told her about the man. Perhaps they were scammers. Or worse.
News reports started appearing about searches for witnesses related to old cases — crimes from fifteen years ago. Details were scarce, but the tone was serious.
Valentina Stepanovna still came every Wednesday. Only now she was quieter, more pensive. Lena caught her sitting and just staring at Dima, as if trying to memorize every gesture, every facial feature.
“Grandma Valya, are you hiding something?” Lena asked carefully.
“What could an old woman hide?” Valentina Stepanovna smiled. “Only a pie recipe.”
Chapter 7: The Revelation
Everything was resolved on Wednesday, December 23. Valentina Stepanovna did not come on time. Lena grew worried — the old woman was never late.
At six in the evening, she turned on the local news. And froze.
“This morning, a seventy-four-year-old woman was detained. Valentina Krasnova had been hiding from investigators for fifteen years. In 2009, she took a one-and-a-half-year-old child from an orphanage after her daughter’s death. The child was found a week later, but the suspect disappeared…”
On the screen was a photo of their beloved Grandma Valya — only younger, with a different hairstyle. And the surname — Krasnova. The same as Dima’s.
Lena turned off the TV with trembling hands. Now everything fell into place. Valentina Stepanovna had stolen her own grandson from the orphanage, unable to accept the loss of her daughter and grandson.
She ran off to find Dima.
Chapter 8: The Truth Between the Lines
Dima was sitting in his room, watching the news on his phone too. His face was white as chalk.
“Dima, you…”
“I understand everything,” he said quietly. “Krasnov. Dima Krasnov. It’s not a coincidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is my grandmother. The real one. She was looking for me. Fifteen years searching. And found me here in the shelter.”
“Why didn’t she tell the truth?”
“What could she say? ‘Hello, grandson, I am that criminal grandmother’?”
Love knows no statute of limitations. Even at seventy-four, one can search for the only close person, ready to take any risk for it.
Chapter 9: The Farewell
The next day, Valentina Stepanovna was brought to the shelter under guard. She was given a suspended sentence — her age and the fact that she returned the child herself played a role. She was allowed to say goodbye to the children.
Dima waited for her in the assembly hall.
“Grandma…” he began.
“Don’t say anything,” Valentina Stepanovna stopped him. “I know what you think of me.”
“I think you searched for me for fifteen years.”
The old woman cried:
“I loved you so much…” she sobbed. “And my daughter… she died when you were born. You were placed in the orphanage. I took you for a week — just to be near you, to show you’re not alone. But I got scared and returned you.”
“And then what?”
“Then I got sick. Heart. I was treated for many years. When I got better — I started looking. Fifteen years. Until I found you here.”
Chapter 10: The Family’s Return
Six months later, Dima was allowed to visit his grandmother. She continued baking pies — now only for him.
“You know,” he said once, “everyone misses you at the shelter. They say there are no more storytellers like you.”
“And do you miss me?”
Dima thought for a moment:
“No. It’s better to know the truth. Even if it’s scary.”
“Love is a scary thing,” Valentina Stepanovna nodded. “It makes you do foolish things.”
“But also find those you lost.”
“And find them,” she agreed.
Outside, snow was falling. On the table, apple pies cooled. Two people sat side by side, learning to be a family again — after fifteen years of separation, pain, and mistakes.