“Dad, meet hershes going to be my wife, your daughter-in-law,” beamed Marcus, his face alight with joy.
“Who?!” Professor Edmund Whitmore, a man of letters and dignity, stared in disbelief. “If this is a joke, it isnt the slightest bit funny.” His gaze flickered to the rough hands of the girl before him, dirt caked under her nails as if soap were a foreign luxury. *Good Lord*, he thought, *my dear Eleanor would never have lived to see such disgrace. We raised this boy with every refinement.*
“Its no joke,” Marcus declared boldly. “Emily will stay with us, and in three months, well marry. If you refuse to attend, Ill manage without you.”
“Hello,” Emily chimed, bustling toward the kitchen like she belonged there. “Ive brought steak pies, blackberry jam, dried mushrooms” She listed off items pulled from a worn satchel.
Edmund clutched his chest as a glob of jam smeared across the pristine tablecloth. “Marcus! Snap out of it! If this is revenge, its too cruelwhere did you even find this simpleton? She wont stay under my roof!”
“I love Emily. And my wife has every right to live in my home,” Marcus shot back, smirking.
Realizing his son was mocking him, Edmund retreated to his study in silence.
Their relationship had soured since Eleanors death. Marcus had abandoned university, grown insolent, and lived recklessly. Edmund had hoped hed return to his former selfclever, kindbut each day drove them further apart. And now this: a country girl dragged into their home. Marcus knew his father would never approve, so hed brought the one thing he couldnt comprehend.
They married soon after. Edmund refused the invitation, unwilling to accept this unwelcome stranger. He seethed that Eleanors placeorderly, refinedhad been usurped by this girl who could barely string two words together.
Emily, oblivious or indifferent to his disdain, tried to win him over, only making it worse. Edmund saw nothing in her but ignorance and coarse habits.
Marcus, playing the dutiful husband briefly, soon returned to drink and carousing. Their arguments echoed through the house, and Edmund secretly relished them, hoping Emily would vanish.
“Edmund, your son wants a divorcehes throwing me out, and Im expecting a child!” Emily burst in one day, tears in her eyes.
“And why the streets? Youve got a home to return to. A child doesnt grant you rights here after separation. Forgive me, but I wont interfere,” Edmund said, privately relieved to be rid of her.
Emily, crushed, packed her things. She couldnt fathom why Edmund had despised her from the start. Was it because she was from the country? Did she not have a heart, feelings?
***
Eight years passed. Edmund lived in a care home, frail and forgotten. Marcus, seizing the chance, had him committed to avoid the burden.
Resigned to his fate, Edmund knew there was no undoing it. Hed taught thousands about love and care, received letters of gratitude from former studentsyet failed his own child.
“Edmund, youve visitors,” his roommate announced after a stroll.
“Who? Marcus?” he croaked, though he knew better. His son wouldnt come; he loathed him.
“Dunno. They asked for you. Go see.”
Edmund took his cane and shuffled toward the dimly lit parlor. Halfway down the hall, he recognized her.
“Hello, Emily,” he murmured, bowing his head. Guilt gnawed at himthis kind, simple woman hed once scorned.
“Edmund!” she gasped. “Youve changed so much Are you ill?”
“A little,” he admitted weakly. “How did you find me?”
“Marcus mentioned it. He still wont speak to his son. But the boy begs to see you Johns innocent in all this. He needs family.” Her voice trembled. “Forgive meI shouldnt have come.”
“Wait,” Edmund pleaded. “How is he? The last photo you sent, he was three.”
“Hes here, by the entrance. Shall I fetch him?”
“Please.”
A boy with russet hair, Marcus in miniature, stepped in shyly.
“Hello, lad,” Edmund whispered, embracing him. “Youve grown so”
They talked for hours, strolling the autumnal garden paths. Emily spoke of her strugglesher mothers early death, raising John alone, tending their smallholding.
“Forgive me, Emily,” Edmund said. “I was a fool. All my learning, and I never understoodits the heart that matters, not breeding.”
“Edmund weve an offer,” Emily said nervously. “Come live with us. Youre alone; we are too. Wed love to have you.”
“Grandad, come!” John tugged his hand. “Well fish, forage for mushrooms The countrysides lovely, and theres plenty of room!”
“Lets go,” Edmund smiled. “I failed as a father. Perhaps I can do better as a grandfather. Besides, Ive never seen the country. Might grow on me.”
“It will,” John giggled.
