One winter night, in a tiny English hamlet tucked between rolling hills, the sky was a sheet of soot. Snow fell in gentle flakes, each one a soft, silent whisper. Stars hid behind a thin veil of cloud, and the moon, shy and wan, tried to peer through but gave up as dawn began to bleed pink over the fields. By noon a shy sun peeked over the thatched roofs of Wrenford.
The day moved on like any other, and as dusk settled, Blythe Hart trudged home. A grey bank of clouds rolled across the heavens, and a fierce wind began to howl through the lanes.
Where did that sudden roar come from? Blythe thought, just before the storm swallowed the world in a blinding swirl. She was nearly at her cottage when the whiteout took hold, erasing the path ahead.
She breathed a small relief that the snow had not yet piled into deep drifts. The wind rattled the garden gate, and a massive pine, swaying as if dancing, leaned precariously against the stone wall. Thank heavens she reached the door in time. She pulled it open, slipped her boots into warm felted slippers, and stepped inside.
After supper she climbed onto the cold hearth, ears attuned to the whistling wind in the chimney, and soon the warmth lulled her into doze. A sharp rap on the door jolted her awake.
What brings a stranger at such an hour? she muttered, shuffling her feet into the slippers and moving toward the wood.
Whos there? she called.
A bit of a nighttime visitor, if youll let me in, came a gruff male voice.
And who might you be? she asked, halfasleep.
Geoff Mason, a driver. My van got stuck outside your cottage; the snows piled up and I cant see the road. Ive been trying to scoop it away with a shovel, but it just keeps falling. Im from the neighbouring village of Ashbrook. Please, let me in; I wont trouble you, he pleaded.
Blythe hesitated, the night pressing close, yet she eased the latch and a tall, snowclad figure stumbled into the entryway.
Come in, Geoff, she said.
He brushed the snow from his woollen coat and cap, smiling ruefully. Thank you, miss. I was afraid youd shut the door and Id have to keep trudging in this blizzard.
Would you like a cup of tea? Blythe offered, setting a tray of fresh scones and a steaming teapot on the low table.
Would be grand. Im chilled to the bone, that wind is a rogue, he replied, taking the teacup with a grateful nod.
Blythe introduced herself. Im Blythe Hart, but you may just call me Blythe.
Living alone? Geoff asked.
For five years now, she answered, eyes flickering to the empty hearth.
Wheres your husband?
My husband he overindulged on pears and fled to the city with a newcomer, she said, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Any children?
None. And you? Do you have a family?
None either, Geoff murmured, a shadow crossing his face. I was married once, but it fell apart. I wont go into detail.
Same here, Blythe replied, her voice soft. Have a sip, eat a scone, and Ill make a bed for you by the fire.
Geoff settled onto the hearth and soon a rhythmic snore rose from his chest. Blythe lay awake, the weight of solitude pressing down like fresh snow. She imagined a husband of her own, gentle and diligent, warming the hearth beside her.
At first light she rose, stoked the fire, and even baked thin pancakes on the hot coals. Geoff, waking with a smile, inhaled the fragrant steam. Morning, he said, those pancakes are heaven.
After a modest breakfast, Blythe prepared to head to work at the village bakery.
Geoff, I wont lock the door. If youre staying, just latch it. Keep warm; theres a kettle on the fire and boiled potatoes waiting. Safe travels, perhaps our paths wont cross again, she said.
Farewell, Blythe. Thank you for the nights shelter, he replied.
Later, during her lunch break, she returned to find Geoff wrestling with his van, halfburied in snow. He looked stranded, the engine silent.
You still here? Blythe called.
Yes, the batterys dead and the road is invisible, he answered.
Come in, have a bite. Ive just returned from a snowy trek myself, she invited.
Whats the nearest place to get a tractor? I cant get out until the road is cleared, he asked.
Its at the garage in Stonebridge, but theyre only open from one to two oclock. After that we can figure something out. Lets eat first, she suggested.
A strange kinship blossomed in Blythes heart as she watched him; his presence felt oddly comforting. Geoff chuckled, Ive been hacking away with this shovel all morning.
She noted a faint silver thread at his temples and tiny creases near his eyes that deepened when he smiled.
Hes only thirtyseven, perhaps, with a touch of early grey, she mused. How nice it would be to have a kind man in the housetrue domestic bliss.
She escorted him to the garage, then back to her own work.
Safe journey, Geoff, she called as he drove off.
Same to you, Blythe! he shouted.
Twilight fell quickly over the English countryside. As she approached her cottage, a soft glow spilled from the windows, and her heart leaptnothing felt sweeter than being awaited.
Come in, miss, Geoffs voice greeted her from the doorway, the kettles on.
Why didnt you leave? she asked.
The tractor will be ready tomorrow. No spare machinery today; they promised it by morning, he explained.
After dinner, Blythe tended to her chores and slipped under the covers. Geoff lingered on the hearth, his thoughts tangled, then suddenly rose and settled beside her on the bed. Blythe froze, unsure what to say, as he slipped under the blanket and wrapped her in a firm embrace. She reached for him instinctively.
Silence held them for a long while. At last Blythe whispered, Geoff, I could spend my whole life like this, right here with you.
He startled, sitting up. What does that mean? Am I to marry you?
What? she asked, voice trembling.
He spoke, a note of bitterness in his tone. Marrying? I dont trust women at all. I was married once; my wife left for another man. Ive had other women, but none stick. Youre no differentjust a body under the blanket. Ill leave tomorrow, and youll find another.
Youre wrong, Geoff. Ive never had anyone before, she protested.
Nothing left, nothing right. You barely know me, and now you want a family? he muttered.
Yes, Blythe said, her voice cracking, I want a family, children, a husband to love. I want the happiness of a mother.
He sighed, Dont weep. Think it through; we barely know each other. What children? He brushed past her, turning away.
Blythe fell silent, shame and selfreproach flooding her. She lay awake until dawn, unable to sleep. Early that morning Geoff began packing; a tractor was due at six. Blythe stepped onto the porch to see him off.
Forgive me, Blythe, he said.
Goodbye, Geoff. If you ever get stuck again, I wont open the door, she whispered, though part of her shouted for him to stay.
Geoff drove away. When she returned from her midday break, the van was gone. She waited, hoping hed return, but he never did. Days slipped by, and Blythe felt a strange change within herself. She confided in her friend Lucy, who lived nearby.
Blythe, youre pregnant! Lucy laughed, eyes bright. Go to the town doctor right away.
Blythe thanked the heavens; she felt a surge of joy that the strange encounter with Geoff had led to this new life. She visited the doctor, who confirmed the news. Gratitude filled her, not resentment toward Geoff, but thanks for the path that brought her to motherhood.
When the time came, she gave birth to a boy. The midwife, handing the tiny infant to her, asked, What shall we call him?
Ill call him Stevy now, and hell be Stephen later. Hell be my joy in old age, Blythe replied, eyes shining.
The midwife chuckled, Dont think of old age yet; you have a lot of raising to do.
Had I a husband, hed be here, Blythe murmured.
On the day of discharge, Lucy called with bad news: she couldnt fetch Blythe and the baby from the hospital, though she had promised to bring supplies.
How will I get back to the village with a baby? Blythe fretted, but the midwife assured an ambulance would take them home.
She gathered a few belongings, cradled her son, and stepped into the hospital lobby. There, like a phantom from a dream, stood Geoff holding a bouquet of wildflowers, with Lucy smirking beside him.
Blythe, Geoff said, I told you Id be your husband, and I wont let anyone take my son and wife from the ward.
Blythe handed her child to Geoff, a bright smile breaking across her face as tears of happiness streamed down her cheeks. The strange, snowfilled night had turned into a new, unexpected dawn.
