Good heavens, what a sight! the man exclaimed as the emberkissed furnace threw his gaze upon his new daughterinlaw, and he turned his back on her A year later, at a fresh encounter, his heart was struck once more
Emily pushed open the front door of the cottage and, after setting the heavy shopping bags down in the kitchen, heard a faint clatter from the upstairs room. She need not have been a seer to realise that James was once again glued to his computer.
Another tank game? she muttered reluctantly, noting the familiar picture on the laptop screen.
Yeah, dont bother me, he grumbled, eyes never leaving the monitor.
Exhausted after a long day at the textile mill, Emily began to unpack the groceries. Her head throbbed; all she wanted was to lie down and forget her worries. Meanwhile James glanced into the kitchen, rubbed his belly and asked, Youll feed me, or what?
Later, love. First I have to cook it, she replied, trying to hide her fatigue. By the way, Mother called. Theres a family gathering on Saturday. Dont forget a present, he added, already retreating to his room where the laptop waited, a slice of ham already in his hand.
Emily sighed heavily. The thought of seeing her motherinlaw filled her with dread. From the first moment their relationship had been icy; Mrs. Whitaker constantly found fault and deemed Emily unworthy of her son. Emily had once tried to win her favour, only to discover it was futile. Now they met merely on special occasions.
While the stew simmered on the stove, Emily stepped out to check the yard. She tended a modest flock of hens, a pair of geese and a few rabbits, all of which she cared for herself. James never helped with the farm, but he devoured every dish she prepared with gusto. She did it all for him.
When she returned, she found James sitting at the table, a blissful smile on his face as he polished off the last cutlet. Thats why I love you, Emily! Youre a marvelous housekeeper! he declared, his mouth full.
She smiled, made herself a sandwich, brewed a pot of tea and sat opposite him. James, I really want a child. Weve been together five years and you still arent ready. Why? she asked.
A child? Emily, we can barely scrape together enough pennies. Im out of work and you do all the earning. What child? he snapped, irritated.
Talk of children had become more frequent. Emily had long dreamed of motherhood, but James always sidestepped the subject. Youre looking for work, arent you? Once you find it, everything will fall into place. Just start, she urged, hoping he would hear her.
I want to live, not merely survive! he muttered and stormed out of the room.
Emily held herself together, but in the bedroom tears fell. The next morning she rose before dawn; her shift at the mill began early. James lingered over his computer, playing until the small hours. Emily barely slept, her mind turning over the state of their marriage.
Did she love James? Yes. Yet lately she felt he was exploiting her affection, dumping every burden on her shoulders. He had become inert, but Emily clung to the belief that a job and a child would mend things, even as her hopes drifted further from reality.
When the alarm rattled her awake, she saw James asleep in the armchair. She quietly covered him with a blanket and dressed for work.
The whole of Friday she spent hunting for a gift for Mrs. Whitaker. She knew it would never please her, but she did not wish to arrive emptyhanded. Saturday arrived, and they set off for the gathering. The moment she crossed the threshold, Emily felt Mrs. Whitakers cold stare. It was clear they were not expected, and Emily would have preferred to stay at home. Yet James insisted they go.
At the fête, Jamess sister, her husband and their daughter were present. Emily spent the evening looking after the child, never being invited to sit at the table, ignored by all. She fetched herself a glass of water, slipped into the kitchen and overheard a conversation.
Son, why did you choose her? I told you she was no good for you. Shes a country girl! Dont even think about having children with her, the older man scolded.
Youre being harsh, James replied. Shes decent enough Im tired of this. There are plenty of pretty girls, and she
What good is a man without money or work? Shell agree to anything. When I get a proper job, Ill find someone else, the younger voice said.
Emily froze. Her motherinlaws words were no surprise, but Jamess betrayal cut deeper than any blade. She left the room without a word, dressed and fled. Tears blurred her vision as she wandered aimlessly until a familiar voice called out.
Are you hurt? a man asked.
She turned and saw Thomas, an old friend of Jamess, standing there. He invited her to a nearby tea room for a chat. Emily accepted.
Over steaming cups of tea in the cosy tearoom, Thomas confessed he had never been able to forget her. She remembered the day she had chosen James over him. Thomas told her he had moved to Manchester, started a business, and had only recently returned because his mother was ill. Seeing Emily again, he could not believe fate had brought them together once more.
He drove her home. The house was dark, the windows lit with a faint glow. As she stepped inside she heard Jamess voice: Where have you been? Why did you leave without saying goodbye?
Goodbye to whom? To those who look down on me? To you, who whispers about me behind my back? Youre right, James. I wont bear a child with a man who brands me a country girl. Thats all I ever tried to prove to you, she said through sobs, retreating to another bedroom.
That night, during her night shift at the mill, a coworker burst in: Your house is on fire! Panic seized her. She ran to the burning cottage, the flames already visible from the road. Neighbours gathered, waiting for the fire brigade. Not seeing James, she leapt inside. The last thing she recalled was a burning beam crashing onto her.
She awoke in a hospital, her whole body aching, her face bandaged. Fear of the prognosis gripped her. Suddenly a hand rested on hers it was James.
Youre alive she whispered.
Why should I be dead? Im still young. But you that scar on your face how shall I kiss you now? Disgusting! Very well, get better, he muttered before leaving.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking the gauze. Days later he returned, uttered a few words and vanished again. Emily saw from the window as he met another woman, embraced her and walked away. It hurt, but she no longer expected otherwise.
Later the surgeon announced the scar could be removed; modern plastic surgery performed wonders. He added that a man had saved her life. In the intensivecare ward she spotted Thomas, the man who had pulled her from the flames, though he himself bore serious injuries. From that day on Emily visited him daily. When he recovered enough to speak, he admitted he had long wanted to see her again but had been too afraid, yet he had risked his life to rescue her.
Months later, while pushing a pram with her little girl in the park, Emily heard a familiar voice. Standing before her was James gaunt and bewildered.
How are you? he asked.
Fine. Im out for a walk with my daughter, she replied, noticing Thomas approaching with an icecream.
Wheres your scar? James inquired.
Love works miracles, Emily said with a smile, hugging Thomas. They walked off together, leaving James standing alone, watching them disappear.
