Where Hearts Still Stand—A First Trip to the Countryside
“I can’t take it anymore!” exclaimed Emily, dropping her bag onto the sofa. “I need the sea! To lie like a seal in the sun all day, then dance till dawn. Music, cocktails, not a single thought about work!”
Thomas chuckled. He was used to her fiery outbursts. Emily was a rare sort—sharp-tongued, witty, sometimes prickly, but always true. She never pretended, never played games—being with her was effortless. And above all, with her, he never had to wear a mask.
They’d met a few months prior, and since then, Thomas had breathed easier. No awkward silences, no pretence—just warmth and the quiet certainty that he was right where he belonged. Always.
“What happened at work?” he asked gently, stepping closer.
“Everything! ‘Emily do this, Emily do that’—as if no one else exists! Today, I nearly told off the manager. One more word, and I’d have walked out.”
“Sounds like you need a break,” Thomas laughed. “We could go somewhere, even if it’s not the seaside.”
“Where? I’d be lucky to get a single day off. What’s the point of a one-day holiday?”
“What about the countryside, to Gran’s? The air there—just a stroll leaves you refreshed. And her pies! Fresh from the oven…”
“The countryside?” Emily’s eyes widened. “You’re serious? I’ve never even been.”
“Never?”
“Not once. All my family’s from the city. I’ve never seen a cow outside a milk carton.”
“Then you *have* to go! You’ve no idea how lovely it is. The river, the hearth, the stars at night, a bonfire—”
“Oh, Thomas, I wish I had your enthusiasm. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready to charm any grandmothers.”
“You’re missing out. My gran’s a treasure. She’ll stuff you full of pies, serve mint tea—you’ll adore her.”
“Well, if pies are the argument…” Emily smiled. “Fine. But on one condition—if I hate it, you owe me a new wardrobe. Because I won’t fit into mine after her cooking.”
He laughed, while she still wondered whether to join in or start worrying.
The journey wasn’t easy. The last few miles rattled them down a bumpy lane. But Thomas was calm. Emily, however, peered nervously out the window, half-expecting crumbling barns, manure piles, and geese ready to charge at strangers.
Yet it wasn’t like that at all. The village was tidy and spacious, with proper lanes, shops, even paved roads. No cows in sight—just barefoot children, women with neat braids, and men chatting idly by their gates.
Gran greeted them as if she’d waited her whole life. She hugged Emily like family, bustling about, ushering them to a table groaning with food: roast beef, dumplings, fresh bread, pies, and elderflower cordial.
Emily was stunned. Where was the stern, silent grandmother she’d feared? Where was the rustic rigidity that had haunted her city-bred imagination?
Thomas beamed. He’d known it would be just so.
After lunch, he led her to the river. And there—magic. The water sparkled clear, children splashed, men grilled sausages, women spread picnic blankets. No quarrels, no rush. Just laughter, the breeze, and the scent of woodsmoke.
That night, Emily fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. Dawn woke her with golden light—Gran’s curtains were thin, near-translucent. She pulled on a jumper and stepped outside. And froze.
Before her, the sky blushed pink, the sun just cresting the hills. Cows lowed in the distance, birds sang, the air thick with dew and wild thyme. The whole earth seemed to breathe peace. Emily slipped off her slippers and stepped barefoot onto the damp grass. She stood, silent. Her soul felt light.
“I lost you,” Thomas’s voice came from behind.
“I woke early… came out. It’s so quiet here. So… easy. I’ve never felt so at peace.”
“Like it?”
“Immensely. Can we come back?”
“Of course. As often as you like.”
Emily hugged him tightly. Happiness ached in her chest. The sea no longer called to her. She’d found her calm, her inspiration, right here. And she knew—she’d return, again and again, to this place where the world made her breathe anew.
