A Surprising Encounter: How a Taxi Driver Found a Piece of Her Lost Past in One Shift
Emily glanced at the calendar and sighed softly. Another gruelling shift was coming to an end—same as always. She flipped through the newspaper job listings for what felt like the hundredth time, but nothing suited her. She longed to quit her current job—the endless shifts, the measly pay, the kids left alone at home. She wasn’t sixteen anymore.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Her eldest, Oliver, answered it, and a cheerful voice echoed down the hall:
“Well, hello there, love!”
Standing in the doorway was her best mate—bubbly, unstoppable Sophie. She swept in like a whirlwind, arms laden with bags of fruit, cakes, and a bottle of wine. The kids swarmed her like bees to honey. Without missing a beat, Sophie handed out treats, asked about school, and somehow managed to wash grapes in the kitchen all at once.
“Sophie, not again!” Emily laughed. “You’ve got money to burn, haven’t you?”
“Not for me—for morale. Though I did bring something for you too,” her friend winked.
“Go on then. What’s the scheme this time?”
“A new job, darling. Tomorrow’s your day off, and the day after—interview.”
“What job?” Emily frowned. “Why am I always the last to know?”
“Because you second-guess everything! So I took matters into my own hands.”
Once the table was set, Sophie poured the wine and raised her glass.
“To your fresh start!”
“Hold on!” Emily interrupted. “Explain. What’s this job?”
“Taxi driving.”
“Pardon?”
“Your car’s just sitting there, petrol’s not free, and there’s no shortage of fares. Plenty of women do it. Don’t fret—they’re expecting you.”
Emily laughed and shook her head, but two weeks later, she was behind the wheel, driving an elderly woman to the local clinic.
“Oh, you’re a gem, love!” the old lady cooed. “Never thought I’d see a lady cabbie. Is this your husband’s car?”
“No. He passed,” Emily replied quietly.
“Ah, well. You’ll see—this job’ll bring you luck.”
And it did. The pay was better than her old job, and her days filled with faces, chatter, and a strange sense that life hadn’t ended when her husband did.
James had died three years ago—a cold that turned into pneumonia overnight. Emily still blamed herself for not forcing him to hospital.
On the anniversary of his death, she and the kids—Oliver, little Rosie, and baby Ella—visited the cemetery.
“Mum, will you be home tonight?” Oliver asked.
“I’d like to, love. But Ella’s shoes are falling apart, and your trainers are barely holding on. Got to work a bit extra. Busy night ahead.”
So she drove. The jobs kept coming, one after another. After midnight, calls from regulars trickled in. One dispatcher passed her number to another driver.
“Hey, it’s Nathan. I’m out of town, but there’s a decent fare needing a ride—pays well. Fancy it?”
“Go on, then. What’s the address?”
Emily pulled up at the hotel as directed. A man stepped out of the lobby and slid into the back seat.
“Evening. Head to Meadowbrook, please,” he said briskly.
Emily froze. Her heart leapt into her throat. In the rearview mirror, she saw… James. No, it couldn’t be. His voice, the way he sat, even his hands—all identical. But he was gone. She’d buried him, held his hand at the end.
“Everything alright?” the passenger asked.
“Who are you?” she whispered, lightheaded.
“Does it matter?” he replied, puzzled.
She stopped the car, stepped outside, gulping the cold air. The man followed, looking baffled.
“Listen,” she finally managed, “you look exactly like my husband.”
“That’s odd…” He stared at her, lost. “I’ve been looking for him. They told me he might be my brother. I was adopted at three. My mum only just told me—said I had a twin. I found his name, a photo, an address. And… well, here I am.”
Emily pulled a picture from her purse—James with the kids. The man studied it, then looked away.
“He’s gone,” she said softly.
“I didn’t make it in time,” he murmured. “Just wanted to see him once.”
They talked a little longer. Emily invited him home. Something about him felt familiar—safe.
That evening, setting the table, she called the kids:
“Someone’s visiting tonight. He looks just like Dad.”
“How?” Oliver frowned.
“Just does. But it’s not him, alright?”
The door opened, and there stood Daniel—tall, holding a bag of gifts.
“Hello, kiddos! I’m your dad’s brother. So, presents!”
Oliver studied him. The moment Daniel spoke, it was clear—this wasn’t James. His voice, his mannerisms—different. Close, but not the same. Rosie exhaled in relief; Ella giggled and ran to hug him.
Over tea, Daniel explained:
“My mum couldn’t take us both. James was adopted separately. I only found out last year. But I always felt—someone was missing.”
Emily told him everything—the illness, their life, James’s own search for family. Daniel listened, his fingers tightening around his cup.
“I’ll stay in town a week. Could take the kids out—park, museum, whatever. Or just sit and talk. Don’t want to lose you now.”
He meant it. By week’s end, the kids adored him, and Emily saw in him the warmth she’d missed for years.
A year later, they married. The children started calling Daniel “Dad.” And Emily knew—this wasn’t chance. It was meant to be.
