**His Dearest Wish**
“William, you’ve come home from school with torn trousers again,” his mother scolded. “Fighting, I suppose? And likely with Thomas, am I right? How much longer must you two quarrel? You’re classmates, for heaven’s sake!”
“Yes, Mum, it was Thomas again—but I won,” the boy declared proudly. “Truth be told, he started it. Said Eleanor only talks to him. Well, we’ll see about that,” muttered the thirteen-year-old, shaking his fist at the window.
Thomas had taken a beating this time, though last week he’d gotten the better of William—sneakily tripping him when he wasn’t looking, then pinning him down. Since childhood, the two boys had clashed over pretty Eleanor, their classmate. She arrived home that evening in a huff, and when her mother asked what was wrong, she snapped:
“William and Thomas were at it again. Now Thomas has a black eye, and William’s torn his trousers—he’ll catch it from his mother, and serve him right! Why does he keep picking fights with Thomas? And why must Thomas brawl just to keep him away from me? I don’t like William one bit.”
“Darling, this is how it’s always been, and always will be,” her mother sighed. “It happens even among grown folk. A girl must make her choice—whom she prefers. And the lads? Well, they’ll settle things with their fists.” She worried, watching her daughter grow up too fast. Soon, the choice would be real.
“Mum, I don’t fancy William. I’ve told him a hundred times. That bespectacled beanpole! Thomas is handsomer, cleverer. I’ll never like William. Never.”
“Oh, love, never say never. Life has a way of surprising us—sometimes in ways we’d least expect. And who’s to say what fate has in store? God willing, all shall be well for you,” her mother murmured, shaking her head sadly.
“Mum, what’s fate got to do with it? Thomas is the one I like—surely you see that?” But her mother’s thoughts were elsewhere.
As school drew to an end, Eleanor remained sweet on Thomas, while William suffered in silence. He knew he couldn’t compete in looks. The fights had stopped; the outcome was clear. There were squabbles, but never blows.
On evenings by the river, Eleanor and Thomas dreamed aloud.
“Thomas, I want a big family. When we marry, we’ll have a great round table where everyone can gather. I’ll teach at the village school—you know I mean to study at the teachers’ college. And summers, we’ll take the children to the seaside,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.
Thomas listened quietly, neither agreeing nor refusing.
“Eleanor, a big family’s all well and good, but I’d have to work myself to the bone to keep them fed,” he said with a half-smile. “No seaside then, just exhaustion.”
“But I’ll work too! Between our wages, we’d manage.”
“Work? You’ll stay home, raise the children, and wait for your husband. That’s a woman’s place.”
Eleanor stiffened. “Why ever should I?”
“Because I’ll be master of my house. My word is final—remember that.”
She left in a huff, waving him off. Thomas scratched his head, baffled.
William was waiting by her gate with a red rose.
“Hello. This is for you.”
Eleanor scoffed. “William, not you again! What do you want? Can’t you understand I’ve chosen Thomas?”
“Because I adore you—just as he does. Take the rose.” She didn’t, slamming the door behind her.
Yet the next morning, she found the rose on the step. Despite her annoyance, she picked it up. “Still fresh,” she thought.
William never approached her again, but roses appeared on her step each evening. She pretended not to care, yet each one warmed her heart.
After school, Eleanor and Thomas wed. She enrolled in teachers’ college; he awaited his conscription. At the modest wedding, William sat quietly at the back, toasting silently before slipping away. He left for university in Manchester.
Life scattered the three classmates. Thomas was soon drafted.
“Oh, Thomas, how shall I bear it without you?” Eleanor wept.
“Now, now, love. Wait for me—it’ll pass quick enough,” he soothed, patting her shoulder.
Time flew. Before Eleanor had sat three exams, Thomas returned—and their love flared anew. They seemed the happiest couple alive.
A son, Edward, was born; Eleanor hoped for a daughter next. Thomas was a doting father, the envy of their friends.
But good things seldom last. Soon, Eleanor met her husband with wary eyes, watching for signs of drink. Three years in, the real Thomas emerged—or had he always been there?
“Shut that boy up, or I’m leaving! I’m worn out from work, and all he does is wail. Is this the life I signed up for?”
He stormed out to his mother’s, returning days later. “I don’t mind the noise when I’m drunk—so don’t expect me to quit. And remember: a man rules his home.”
Eleanor’s nerves frayed. She snapped at husband and child alike, though she stifled it at school. Then Thomas struck her. Again. She threw him out, forgave him, threw him out once more—for Edward’s sake, she told herself.
One day, her mother saw the bruises. “Eleanor—what’s this?”
“I thought Thomas would be the best of husbands…” she sobbed.
“Pack your things. We’re leaving. That wild look in his eyes—I fear what’s next.”
She filed for divorce. Thomas begged, threatened, brought flowers—but Eleanor stood firm.
Three years later, a classmate rang. “We’re having a reunion! You’ll come?”
“I’d rather not see Thomas.”
“Oh, he’s drunk half the time—lost his job ages ago. We’re not inviting him.”
“Then I’ll be there!”
By the school gates, the women waited. Eleanor, softer now, still outshone them all.
“Look who’s here! Goodness, what a vision!”
It took them a moment to recognize the tall, broad-shouldered man before them as the lanky boy they’d known. William—fit, besuited, contact lenses in place—was now a successful businessman. And unmarried.
His face lit up at the sight of Eleanor. He swept her into his arms, spinning her. “Eleanor! You’re even lovelier than ever!”
“And you!” she laughed, as the others clapped.
All evening, he stayed by her side. She saw him anew.
Days later, he handed her a velvet box. “My proposal. I’ve loved you all these years—you know that. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
She didn’t tell him there was no one left to fight.
On leave, William visited daily. Edward adored him. Soon, they were engaged.
With William, Eleanor found happiness—safe, cherished. How could she ever have chosen wrong?
Years passed. Three children now: Edward, soon to be a doctor, and two little girls. In their countryside home, time flew.
Often, Eleanor gazed at her family and prayed: “Let them choose wisely, dear Lord. Spare them my mistakes.”
