Long, long ago, Emily desperately hoped to find a good husband. She had already experienced what it was like to have a disastrous marriage.
She had a twenty-year-old son, Thomas.
Years before, Emily had uncovered her husbands shocking infidelity. Shed returned from a business trip a day early to find him half-clothed, hurriedly straightening the sheets in their bedroom, while her closest friend busied herself in the kitchen making coffee and in Emilys favourite dressing gown, no less! It was the stuff of bad plays. Emily divorced her husband without delay, banishing the treacherous friend from her life for good. She didnt dig for sordid details if there was guilt, there must also be punishment. Her husband was shown the door, belongings in hand, and Emily forbid Thomas from keeping in touch with his father. Emily herself hadnt even reached thirty at the time.
Over a decade passed since those stormy days. In the meantime, Emily defended her masters thesis, then her PhD, and at forty, she was a Doctor of English Literature, heading the faculty at a respected college in London. Colleagues admired her expertise. Yet, in those ten years of solitude, Emily never gave up hope of finding a worthy companion. She felt far too young to be knitting socks and embroidering cushions just yet.
There were, of course, suitors enough. Yet none truly won her heart. One fellow, after their very first date, proposed marriage, borrowed fifty pounds (Were practically family now!) and vanished. Another, a widower, wanted a mother for his children; he invited Emily into his home and promptly requested she prepare a hearty meal for the lot of them. Emily obliged, cooking for him and his three children, each smaller than the last. She left that evening in tears, overcome with pity for the father and his little ones. He was, in his way, as helpless as an orphan. Yet Emily couldnt see herself shouldering such a burden. Perhaps Im selfish, Emily told herself.
With every passing year, the pool of possibilities seemed to shrink, and just as Emily was ready to call an end to fruitless hopes, He appeared on her horizon.
He was a young Englishman, Henry, twenty-eight years old. Years ago, he had studied in Emilys class, and she remembered him well as a diligent student. After graduation, Henry stayed in Oxford and opened a modest petrol station.
One afternoon, Emily stopped in to refuel her car. To her surprise, Henry was the proprietor. They reminisced, shared a laugh, and he gave her his business card just in case. Soon, Emily found herself calling by every week to visit Henry whilst topping up her petrol. Henry began inviting her to dinners, to concerts of classical music. Emily was bashful and couldnt quite believe her former pupils intentions, so she turned down every invitation.
But Henry wouldnt be discouraged. Emily recalled how, as a student, Henry had always stood out for his eagerness and hard work. He spoke flawless English and was admired by all the young women at the faculty, who always watched him pass, sighing dreamily in his wake. Emily remembered a delicate, carved box he once gave her, inside which there had been a note. On reading it, she had blushed fiercely, then paled; she ripped the message to shreds in anger. He had written simply: Miss Emily, I love you.
She thought him mocking, thrust the box back into his hands, and ran off. The following day, Henry knocked softly on her office door.
Miss Emily, Im sorry. I never meant to offend you. I really do like you.
Emily accepted the apology.
All right, Henry, please go to the lecture hall now. Lessons are about to begin.
For the remainder of his studies, Henry kept his distance, stealing only the occasional glance. And now, the situation returned to Emilys life. Accept Henrys attention, or refuse him? Were just a man and a woman now. Who knows how fate may turn? Emily mused.
She surrendered to the whims of destiny.
A fleeting romance began. The first date was unforgettable. Henry made her laugh, surprised and delighted her. He was gentle, witty, utterly romantic nothing like any man Emily had ever met. Their age difference faded into insignificance. Emily became girlish again, as Henry invited her to see the world afresh.
She began to call Henry Harry, while he took to calling her Eliza. Emily was over the moon. For the first time, she felt truly cherished.
But Henry never spoke of marriage. He planned to return to his familys estate in Cornwall, and didnt dare oppose his familys wishes. His mother wrote that a proper bride was already waiting for him a young woman named Beatrice, just seventeen, from an exemplary family. And, in truth, Emily could never have left behind her own home, her son, her mother. It would have been impossible. Henrys family would hardly welcome an older foreign bride with an adult son. Shed always be an outsider.
Theres no place like home, after all, Emily thought. So, she decided to pour all her unused tenderness and love into her time with Henry. What mattered after that?
How much longer do I have for happiness? she confessed to her mother. If only a little, Ill give this young man the very last of my heart.
Her mother was scandalised.
Emily, why do you need this stranger? Arent there enough Harrys in England for you? Ive never in my days approved of this sort. Your former husband still hangs about, pining after you! You never notice? Forgive him, wont you? You two have a son, after all. Her mother bewailing.
Mum, Jack cheated on me. Or have you forgotten? Emily shot back.
Hes repented a hundred times! Besides, what do you expect when youre always busy with dissertations? Neglect a man, and any woman might snatch him up and he wont be picky. Her mother would not rest.
And why didnt you ever forgive my father, then, Mum? Emily countered.
Oh, youve some nerve! First, your father left before you were even born. Second, he fathered three little ones elsewhere, then came back to have a look at you. What on earth do I want with a man who has three more children? Nor could I rob three children of their father! But your Jack has been around, alone, for ten years just waiting for you. And Thomas thinks the world of him. With this, Emilys mother silenced herself.
Oh Mum, Im not getting married to Henry. Im far too old for him. Ill wait for him to leave me first. I wouldnt have the strength myself. Then, perhaps… well see. Emily mused aloud.
Really, my girl! Even an old mare likes a lick of salt… her mother sighed.
Three years later, Henry said his last goodbyes to Emily. Ill keep in touch, my love, was all he said.
Emily had steeled herself for this ending, though it still stung bitterly to let Henry go to young Beatrice. As a parting gift, Henry gave Emily the same carved box where everything had begun. Inside, this time, was an exquisite little ring: two tiny angels holding a diamond heart.
My heart stays with you, Eliza, Henry whispered, kissing her tenderly.
He returned to Cornwall.
A year later, Henry sent a wedding photo, simply signed, My wife Beatrice. A year after that, he sent another photo: My second wife, Mary. Henry explained in his letter that his family approved of polygamous arrangements in their circle.
When Emily looked at these updates about Henrys life, she felt not a trace of jealousy. What did these fresh-faced girls know of a love that burns? The grooms melancholy gaze in those pictures gave Emily a strange comfort perhaps he missed her; perhaps he still loved her, despite everything. Then again, old love, like iron, starts to rust when new airs begin to blow.
The tale ended a page turned. In that same span, Emilys own son Thomas married, bringing home a daughter-in-law. When a granddaughter was born, Emily asked that she be named Eliza, hoping the memory of her burning love would live on forever.
Emily forgave (or perhaps simply pitied) her ex-husband Jack. The old grudge was put to rest. Jack petitioned Emily through her mother, who, with grandmotherly wisdom, persuaded Emily to accept him back.
Hes known his mistake for years. And really now, who among us is without sin? Temptation visits every one of us.
Now, Emily and Jack live together as a family, trying never to be parted. Emily, for her part, took up knitting classes. And now, she knits little socks for granddaughter Eliza, the patterns borrowed, perhaps unconsciously, from faraway lands a quiet echo of a love, once in a lifetime, that she never quite forgot.
