The air in the cottage was thick with quiet sorrow. Mary and her husband, Michael, had just returned from the wakeexhausted, hollow. They had buried his mother, Anne, the woman who had become Marys own mother-in-law.
«At least shes at peace now,» Michael murmured, staring into the fire. «Laid to rest beside Father, just as she always asked.»
«Yes,» Mary replied softly. «Though she knew wed never bury her anywhere else, it was all she could think about in the end.» She exhaled, weary. «She suffered so much. That illnesscruel and relentless.»
The evening stretched on in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Marys mind wandered back, far back, to the life shed lived before marriage. There had been little joy in it. Shed lost both parents younggone in a single night when theyd stayed at her grandmothers after her grandfathers funeral. A fire had claimed them all.
Thirteen years old, left with only her older brother, Nicholas. Seventeen and suddenly the head of their shattered household. The villagers had whispered, «Old George took his wife and their parents with him.»
Nicholas worked the fields while Mary attended school. Their village was smallbarely forty cottagesand the school only went so far. After primary, the children walked three miles to the next village, crossing the frozen brook in winter to shorten the journey. In years past, old Nigel had driven them in his horse-drawn cart each Monday, returning them on Saturday. But the older boysled by James, the village chairmans sonpreferred to walk.
«Meet at the bench after lessons,» James would say. «Were heading home today.»
Three miles wasnt far, not when they walked together. Alone, the woods were frightening, but in a pack, they laughed, teased, scribbled notes to girls, and planned dances at the village hall on weekends. By Monday, everyone knew whod walked whom home, who fancied whom.
Mary had been one of themquiet, delicate, with an angels face. The boys noticed. One glance from her could steal a lads peace; a word from her lips lingered in his ears for days. She was beautiful, kind, cleverrare perfection. Her only flaw, the villagers said, was that she was an orphan. She lived with Nicholas, his wife, Sarah, and their young son.
Sarah despised her. No matter how hard Mary workedscrubbing, mending, tending the childshe knew she wasnt wanted. «Once I finish school,» she promised herself, «Ill leave. Train as a cook in town. Sarah will never accept me.» She never complained to Nicholas. It was his family now; she wouldnt come between them.
The boys respected her. None dared speak ill of Mary. They all hoped, one day, she might choose one of themthough she kept them at arms length.
Then the whispers began: James and Mary were courting. Walking hand-in-hand at dusk, lingering together after school. Jamestall, broad-shouldered, more man than boywas as smitten as she. They were a golden pair, inseparable.
«Two doves in love,» the old women murmured. «A wedding soon, mark my words.»
But not everyone approved. Jamess parents, Thomas and Margaret, were the wealthiest in the villagefirst to own a car, a sturdy house, livestock, even a motorcycle James now rode. When Thomas learned his son was entangled with an orphan, he refused to allow it.
«Listen, Margaret,» he said sharply. «What does Mary think shes doing, bewitching our boy? Pretty, yes, but shes got nothing. Lives off her brothers scraps.»
«Hes besotted, Thomas,» Margaret fretted. «Out with her till all hours. No parents to keep her in checkthough they say shes modest.»
«Ill marry him to a girl from good stock. The chief agronomists daughterplain, perhaps, but her familys well-off. Thats the match we need.»
«But how? James wont listen.»
«Leave it to me.»
Thomas cornered James one evening. «Forget Mary. Shes beneath you.»
«I love her,» James shot back. «And Ill marry her.»
«Defy me, and youll regret it.»
When words failed, Thomas turned to cunning. He visited Sarah, knowing Nicholas was at work. «Youve a great-aunt in Scotland, yes?»
«Aye, Aunt Clara. Why?»
«Send Mary there.»
Sarah hesitated, then understood. «You want them parted.»
«Ill pay you well.»
Money spoke. Nicholas, ever under Sarahs thumb, agreed. Tearfully, he dragged Mary to the station, shoved a letter and address into her hand, and sent her away.
James was devastated. He stopped speaking to his parents, left for his military service in sullen silence. Two years passed before he wrote: «Found a girl. Bringing her home.»
Thomas preened. «See? Hes forgotten her.»
The village buzzed. When the taxi pulled up, crowds gathered. James stepped outtaller, broaderthen helped a woman in white from the car.
A gasp rippled through the crowd. Mary. Their Mary, radiant as ever.
«Meet my bride,» James announced, voice ringing.
The villagers roared with laughter, cheers erupting. «Thats love for you!»
Thomas and Margaret had no choice but to welcome her. The wedding was merry, the marriage happy. They raised two sons in their own cottage. In time, even Thomas softened, and Mary bore no grudge.
Years later, Thomas passed first. Margaret, heartbroken, followed soon after. Mary nursed her tenderly, grieving the mother shed found in her.
Now, the house was quiet again. The grief would fade. Life went on.
