The Stolen Heart
That winter in the Ural region was merciless, with temperatures plummeting to minus forty, freezing everything in sight. At night, the cold only deepened, as though nature itself was testing people’s endurance.
“John, bundle up warm! Wear that wool jumper I knitted for you,” Catherine urged her husband as she saw him off to work.
Despite the bitter cold, the farm couldn’t wait. The hungry, restless cows needed tending. John, nearing retirement, prepared for another day as usual, while Catherine stayed behind, waiting for their daughter and grandson. But the phone rang—her daughter calling from the city.
“Mum, we won’t risk the trip until the cold eases. We’ll come next weekend.”
“That’s wise, love. What if the bus breaks down in this weather? Keep yourselves safe,” Catherine replied, masking her worry.
Hanging up, she lingered in thought, memories flooding back. She recalled that winter nearly fifty years ago when she, young Cathy, had gone with her friend Vera to Vera’s grandmother’s village. The cold had been just as biting, but youth had made them fearless.
“Cathy, come with me to Gran’s!” Vera had pleaded. “It’s boring alone, and you’ll see our village. The bus stops short, but we’ll manage!”
Both sixteen, Cathy convinced her mother and packed for the journey. Wrapped in warm clothes, they shrugged off the frost. The bus took them as far as the next town, but the driver refused to go further.
“That’s it, road’s blocked! I’m not risking getting stuck,” he grumbled, ignoring protests.
Cathy and Vera, like the others, trudged out into the cold.
“Gran’s place is another seven miles from here,” Vera sighed. “We can’t walk in this. Let’s stay with Aunt Lucy—Mum’s sister. She’s nearby. We’ll decide in the morning.”
Aunt Lucy fed them hot stew, served tea with honey, and tucked them into a small room. By morning, their neighbor, Uncle Edward, agreed to take them the rest of the way by sleigh. Aunt Lucy had arranged it the night before.
“Edward, these girls need to get to their gran’s.”
“Course I’ll take ’em!” he replied warmly. “We’ll be there in no time!”
Cathy and Vera clambered onto the sleigh.
“Wrap yourselves in that fur, or you’ll freeze!” Edward tucked the heavy coat around them and urged the horse forward.
The sleigh glided over the snow-covered path. Beyond the town, pine forests gave way to endless white fields. The road was rough in places, but the horse pressed on steadily.
“Uncle Edward, how old are you?” Vera asked, breaking the silence.
“Pushing seventy-five,” he chuckled. “But I’ve still got life in me! Summer’s my time—shepherding in the valleys. You ought to see it—green as far as the eye can tell. You should visit then!”
The Storyteller’s Soul
Edward was beloved in the village, a man who could spin a tale so vivid you forgot the cold. As they rode, they chatted lightly until Edward narrowed his eyes and said:
“This very road, girls, is where I brought my Annie home. Fifty years ago, I stole her, you might say.”
“Stole her?” Vera gasped. “Tell us, Uncle Edward!”
“The same Annie who saw us off?” Cathy added.
“The very one,” he nodded, eyes alight. “She was just a lass then, bright as you two.”
They fell silent, eager for the tale.
“Long time ago,” Edward began. “I rode to the village I’m taking you to now. Sent by my father on business to his brother, Uncle Matthew. I was twenty-five, unwed, searching for a woman who’d set my heart ablaze—hadn’t found her in our village.”
Arriving at his uncle’s, Edward met his cousin, Lawrence, his own age.
“Edward, you old dog!” Lawrence greeted him. “Father’s out, but we’ll go to the dance tonight—plenty of bonny lasses there!”
Music filled the village hall. Girls pulled Edward into dances, but his eyes landed on *her*—the one who’d just walked in. Petite, with a long braid and cheeks flushed from the cold, she unwound her scarf, and he was lost.
“Lawrence, who’s that?”
“Annie, old Gregory’s daughter. Sweet girl, but her father’s a brute—no one crosses him,” Lawrence warned.
Edward didn’t hesitate. He danced with Annie all evening, laughing, talking. She was quick to smile, easy with words. Later, Lawrence left them alone at her doorstep.
Edward returned to the village often after that, but when he mentioned marriage, Annie’s eyes watered.
“Father won’t let me leave the village. Says I’ll marry local. He’s forbidden me to see you.”
“No, Annie. You’re mine,” Edward swore. “Wait—I’ll come for you.”
The Chase in the Night
Edward paused, staring at the snowy fields as though reliving it. Vera nudged him. “What happened next?”
“Her father refused me,” Edward sighed. “Gregory barred his gate. Said Annie would marry a local lad. But I knew she loved me. Couldn’t live without her.”
Edward asked Lawrence to pass a message: in three nights, he’d come. Under cover of darkness, Annie crept out with a small bundle, trembling as she climbed into the sleigh.
“I’m afraid he’ll follow,” she whispered.
Edward urged the horse on, but hoofbeats echoed behind them. Instead of fleeing, he stopped the sleigh.
“Annie, I won’t hide from your father like a thief.”
Gregory, red with rage, lashed Edward with his crop. But Edward stood firm.
“Come near my daughter again, I’ll kill you!”
“Kill me if you must, sir, but I love Annie. Neither of us will be happy apart.”
Whether moved by his words or his daughter’s pleading, Gregory relented.
“Her mother’s taken ill, hearing Annie fled. Turn the sleigh around. We’ll settle this proper.”
Edward trusted him—Gregory was harsh, but he kept his word.
“They blessed us in the end,” Edward finished, smiling. “Had the banns read proper, a wedding soon after. Fifty years together now.”
“What a story!” Cathy breathed. “Like something from the pictures!”
Years later, Catherine still remembered that ride—Uncle Edward’s tale of love and bravery. Back then, he’d seemed old to her young eyes. Now she knew: real love endures, untouched by time.
The Stolen Heart
27th May
8509
7 minNow, as the fire crackled in the hearth, Catherine smiled, knowing some hearts are never truly stolen—only freely given.
