You never truly loved me, did you? You only married me because it made sense. Now that Im ill, youll leave me like everyone else does, wont you?
I wont! Emily said, wrapping her arms around me. Youre the best man Ive ever known, and Im not going anywhere.
I couldnt quite believe her. My mood was grim, my confidence at rock bottom but Emily pressed on.
Emily and I have been married for twenty-five years, and all this time, she’s always seemed to turn heads. Even as a girl, she was the one everyone wanted to know. At school, all the boys would hang about, hoping shed spare them a smile. Funny, really, since Emily was never what youd call a classic beauty.
She never left her first husband, however complex a fellow he was. No, Emily stayed with William right to the very end. Together, we raised our daughter Sophie, saw her through university, and married her off. Sophies husband swept her away to France, and now they send back lovely photos, inviting us to visit. We never quite made it over together, though Emily might visit yet, but for poor Will, thats that.
Will died in a car crash. Such a stupid, senseless accident though Emily was later told his heart had probably given out while he was driving. Off-balance, he lost control.
Maybe he fainted? she guessed.
Well never know now, sighed our friend, Claire, whos a doctor. Too many injuries for survival, thats all the report can tell us.
The shock threw Emily for six. Claire did everything for her, handling all the arrangements. She even used her contacts to find out what she could. We laid Will to rest, and after, Emily found herself alone in the big house she and Will had built together, brick by brick, over half a lifetime.
It was alright for two when we had guests, it never felt particularly huge but for one person, a woman alone, it felt enormous and heavy, like a burden.
A house needs a mans hand, I suppose
Sophie came back to say goodbye to her dad. She started talking about selling the house, buying a flat, even persuading her mother to move to France with them.
Absolutely not! Emily exclaimed. I didnt build this house just to sell it off. And your France Ive seen enough of that for a lifetime.
Mum!
Oh come now, Sophie. Dont mind me, Emily managed a wobbly smile through her tears. Just teasing you, love.
Well, if you’re joking, things cant be too bad.
The truth was always a little complicated, a bit like Will himself. Sometimes Will was wonderfully caring and loving. But other times, hed be ruled by his moods, wearing Emily down with his moods and regrets. Hed always apologise. Emily was never the brooder shed just shrug it off, move on. And so they lived. Twenty-five years worth! Enough to test anyones patience.
Sophie stayed a bit, but with her husband working long hours, she hurried back to keep her own home together. Emily was left to rattle around the house, alone.
She knew herself well enough to realise it wouldnt last.
And she was right. After a half-year of mourning, she dried her tears and suddenly discovered shed acquired a small team of admirers.
Even Emilys mum had often wondered aloud at her daughters popularity.
What is it about you, Em? Men practically line up! And you arent really a looker or am I missing something?
Youre sweet, Mum, Emily would say, dabbing her lips with a bit of lipstick. Beautys a hollow thing. Women should have charm. Something a little different.
Off you go then, missus, her mum would laugh. Or your suitor will get tired of waiting and find someone else.
Someone else will come along, Emily would shrug, unbothered.
Its nearly thirty years since that chat, and nothings truly changed. Women still moan there arent any good men left, that after forty, theres no one worth marrying.
But Emily just never had that problem. Even now, aged forty-six, she found herself with not one but two suitors, both of them upstanding chaps.
Emily felt herself drawn to Edward. He was clever, suave, charming to look at and even better company. They could talk for hours and she never grew bored.
Edward was a talker, mind you. Say what you will he was masterful, but only ever at conversation. Emily sometimes joked she had fallen in love with him through her ears, and she was wise enough at her age to know Edward was not the man for life. Not for her, nor for her big house.
Her other suitor, George, was a simple, brawny fellow. The kind who could demolish a barrel of ale on a holiday, but for whom everything in the home simply worked, thrived, and sparkled. A real man with hands of gold, gentle but staunch at heart.
With his wife, a chap like that is quiet and mild as a lamb, but if the need arose, hed move mountains for her. Oddly enough, George appealed to Emily less the strange logic of women, I know.
He never made her speeches or showered her with compliments. Stone-cold sober, George was a man of few words. Give him a pint, mind, and hed spin you a funny tale or join in the banter.
He could drink, George, theres no denying, but by the next morning, he was back on his feet, dousing himself in cold water and charging into the day again. Not much talk, but always on point. Emily chose him.
Edward was offended that his sweet words got him nowhere, and bowed out.
Emily married George, and he was over the moon. He overdid it at the wedding, too, singing and dancing till dawn.
You never change, do you? Claire grinned. Its not even a year since Will passed, and here you are, married again. Women out there can barely find a man with a searchlight, but all you have to do is go for a walk and they queue up for you.
Go on! Dont tell me Im not a beauty, Emily teased.
I wont, Claire laughed. But youve always had a suspicious knack for attracting suitors. Cant deny that!
I havent a clue why. Ask my mother!
Emily winked and went to dance with George he was waiting, hand outstretched. She danced, shooing away the last little doubts.
So George is a little unrefined? At least hes strong, practical, and not half bad to look at. And if hes quiet most of the time, maybe thats for the best.
Had she chosen Edward, what then? You cant cook dinner with flowery speeches.
Within months, George had transformed Emilys plot into a beautiful garden. He uprooted unneeded trees, levelled the ground, built her flower beds and a gazebo. You could feel his touch throughout the house.
Emily knew shed picked the right man. No question.
George also brought in a steady wage, always trying to surprise Emily with thoughtful gifts.
She compared their brief time together to her twenty-five years with Will and quite honestly regretted not having met George earlier. He was gold.
In summer, theyd grill food in the garden and dine in the gazebo, where George had installed a lovely wooden table and benches. After filling up on barbecue, Emily would squint in contentment like a fat cat. George would watch her, grinning.
Whats up, George?
Nothing. Just glad to be here.
His first wife had been a bore. Hed stopped dreaming hed meet someone like Emily.
They basked in their happiness for nearly four years, and then, all at once, George began feeling off.
He tired quickly. Lost weight. Drinking, which he enjoyed now and then, made him feel worse and worse.
George, you must see a doctor! Emily pleaded. Somethings obviously wrong why wait?
Oh, nonsense, Em. Itll blow over!
Its the twenty-first century! What if it doesnt? Are you like most men, scared of doctors?
No.
George never wanted to tell Emily what he was really afraid of. Truth be told, he feared only one thing that if he was truly ill, Emily would leave him. That she wouldn’t want to live with a sick man.
He wasnt a fool. He knew Emily had married him for practical reasons, not for some romantic fireworks. But he loved her, in spite of it all.
Hed fallen for her years ago, seeing her in a shop, fumbling through her bag for her purse, vulnerability tugging at his heart. He wanted to scoop her up and keep her safe forever. But even his mother had been mystified by Emily.
Its your life, son. But what you see in her, I dont know. Not a great beauty, not exactly young. You could have married some fresh-faced girl!
Nobody but Emily mattered to George. But now, if he really was ill, would Emily want an invalid around?
She simply couldnt persuade him to see the doctor. It was a Saturday evening. Claire and her husband, John, came round. George and John sipped some lager, minding the grill. In the kitchen, Claire asked Emily quietly, Is George unwell?
Im so worried! Emily burst out. He refuses to see a doctor. Youre the doctor, Claire. What do you think? Doesnt he seem sick to you?
Well he does look worse for wear. Thinner. His skins a bit jaundiced too.
Oh God, Claire, please talk him into a check-up! He might listen to you.
Claire looked at her long and hard.
Emily do you love him? I remember your hesitation
Emily nibbled her lip and didnt answer.
But Claire never had the chance to talk George round he collapsed at the table not an hour later. We called an ambulance, and I rode with him to hospital. He didnt regain consciousness. I held his hand, praying as hard as I ever have.
They operated on him straightaway.
Its a tumour in the liver.
Cancer? I sobbed.
Were waiting for the final tests.
Turns out it was benign, but it was large by the time they operated.
He was banned from nearly everything. Recovery would be long. Who could say how fully hed recover, at his age.
George became utterly despondent. While Emily was at work, Georges mother, Mary, visited with the few foods he was allowed.
I barely recognise you! she fussed. You survived. No cancer. Count your blessings now eat these steamed cutlets.
Im not hungry.
You must eat! Whats wrong? Is Emily visiting?
She comes at least for now.
Afraid she’ll leave you, are you? Thatd be stupid!
Im useless now! Can’t even work. Im not yet fifty, and here I am, an invalid. Who wants that?
Emily walked in, hearing the commotion.
Whats all this shouting? Hello, Mary!
Ill be off now. Look after him, Emily.
Whats happened? Emily asked quietly.
Mary shooed her worries away and left. Emily washed her hands and went to Georges side.
Whats all this, calling yourself an invalid? Youve got all your bits. The rest will heal. You know what I read about the liver?
What?
It can heal itself! If youve got fifty-one percent left, it can grow back. Youve got sixty. Give yourself a chance!
Have I got time, though?
What do you mean?
Time.
Is there something youre not telling me? Have you told the doctors to keep secrets from me?
No its not that.
George was released home. It was a rough patch. Any physical work left him exhausted, and it got to him more than anything.
His fiftieth birthday was coming up, something that now just filled him with dread. No special food, no drinking what a laugh.
Emily acted as though she didnt notice how quickly he tired. Instead, cheerfully sharing his bland meals.
Emily he finally ventured. Whats going to become of us?
What do you mean?
Well Im taking ages to recover. Youll leave me, wont you? You can tell me now.
And why would I do a thing like that? I love being with you.
Well, thats when I could do things, when I could work and look after you. Whats there to like now? Even Im fed up with myself.
Oh, dont be daft. Chin up, George.
Im trying! But how is this fair? Two swings of the hammer, and Im bushed.
Emily came behind him and hugged him, nestling her cheek against the back of his head.
I love you, she whispered. And Im not going anywhere. Take your time getting better. Let life run its course.
You love me? Truly?
Truly, I do.
And she didnt leave. Slowly, George did get better.
For his birthday, Emily planned a dry celebration, so he wouldnt feel left out.
A few mates came round, and they spent the evening in the gazebo, playing board games and talking.
Youve done well for yourself, George, one of them said as they left.
Going home for a tipple in my honour, are you? George teased.
They laughed and parted ways. That night, George and Emily sat quietly on the porch, watching the English stars. Happy, night air warm and sweet. For the first time in months, George felt hope again.
He believed in his recovery. He believed in Emilys love. He squeezed her hand tight.
Whats wrong, George?
Nothing at all, I said.
At last, Emily murmured, kissing my cheek.
We were happy
And if Ive learned anything through all this, its that simple loyalty, honest conversation, and patience matter more than good looks or pretty speeches. Sometimes lifes best miracle is finding someone happy to stick by you through the worst times, not just the easy ones. Id never swap that for all the charm in the world.
