Arthur hired a modest car the day Eleanor was discharged from the infirmary, and together with the neighbour they hauled her into the cottage. Everything will be alright, he whispered, just keep breathing, stay and talk with me. Live on, my love, and Ill manage everything. Dont leave me, my dove.
Eleanor, at thirtyfive, thought she would never taste a womans happiness, but destiny had other plans. They met when both were nearing forty; Arthur had been a widower for three years. Eleanor had never married, yet she bore a child. As the old saying goes, she birthed for herself. In her youth she had a fling with the handsome, darkhaired James, who promised marriage and enchanted the young Eleanor. She fell for his empty vows, only to discover later that the city suitor was already wed.
Jamess lawful wife even came to plead with Eleanor not to shatter another family. The naïve, inexperienced Eleanor yielded, but decided to keep the child.
Thus she gave birth to Thomas. The boy became her sole comfort and delight. Thomas grew up wellmannered and diligent, excelling at school before enrolling at the School of Economics. Arthur visited Eleanor often, proposing they live together. Though Eleanor was hesitant, she liked Arthur. One evening, embarrassed by her sons independence, she confessed a longing to finally be happy. Thomas, sensing his mothers turmoil, said, Mum, I wont stay at home forever. Uncle Arthur is a dependable man. As long as he treats you kindly, I just want you to be happy. Arthurs own son agreed to the notion.
They married in a modest ceremony and settled into a simple life. Eleanor worked in the village library, while Arthur tended the fields as a farm manager. They shared chores, kept livestock, and cultivated the garden. They loved and respected each other, though God had not granted them a child together.
Both sons married and grandchildren arrived. At every holiday they prepared treats for the young oneshomefarmed eggs, fresh milk, clotted cream, pork, and chicken. Their cottage swelled with guests; Arthur and Eleanor sat at the table, content that there were people to celebrate with.
At night, when the elderly pair lay down, each quietly thought, Let me be the first to leave this world and never feel lonely again.
Time took its toll. One morning Eleanor felt ill while stirring a pot of soup. The aged woman collapsed. Arthur, with the neighbours help, called an ambulance. Doctors declared she had suffered a stroke; all functions remained except oneshe could no longer walk. Thomas arrived with his wife, contributed a few pounds for medication, and left.
Arthur hired a car again, and the neighbours helped move Eleanor back into the cottage.
Everything will be fine, he soothed the words to her, just keep living. Sit and talk with me. Ill manage it all. Dont abandon me, my love.
Arthur tended the house lovingly. Within a month Eleanor moved to an armchair, still assisting in the kitchen. Together they peeled potatoes, carrots, sorted beans, even baked bread. In the evenings they discussed how to get through the coming winter, knowing Arthur lacked the strength to chop firewood.
Perhaps the children could take us in for the winter, and in spring and summer we could find our own peace, they mused.
One weekend Thomas and his wife Grace arrived. After surveying the room, Grace declared, Well have to separate you two, dear. Well take Mother next week and ready a room for her.
What about me? Arthur whispered helplessly. We never split up. How can the children do that?
Grace replied, It was easier when you both could manage the household yourself. Now its different. Let the son take you both in. No one will take you apart.
Thomas and Grace left, and Arthur and Eleanor sighed bitterly, wondering what to do next. Each, as they drifted to sleep, dreamed of never waking, to the relief of escaping their grief.
The following weekend both sons returned, gathering belongings. Arthur sat beside Eleanors bed, staring at her, recalling their youthful days, and wept. He leaned into his ailing wife and murmured, Forgive me, Eleanor, for how things turned out perhaps we fell short in raising our children. They treat us like unwanted kittens. Im sorry. I love you.
Eleanor tried to touch his cheek, but her strength had left her. Arthur wiped his tears with his sleeve, then, climbing into the car, he could no longer hide his sorrow.
Thomas, his wife, and the neighbour bundled Eleanor into a blanket, wheeling her out of the cottage feetfirst. The frail woman thought it oddly symbolic. She offered no resistance; she passed away as Arthur drove away, and she had no wish to linger until nightfall.
A week later, on a crisp autumn day, on All Saints Day, their dream finally unfolded. Eleanor and Arthur met in another world, beyond the veil, together at last.
