Fate Favours the Grateful
By the time he reached thirty, Stanley had spent a decade serving in war zones, been wounded twice, yet Providence had spared him. After his second serious injury, he spent months recovering in hospital before returning to his hometown, a quiet village in the English countryside.
The village had changed in his absence, as had the people. All his old schoolmates had married, but one day, he spotted Eliza. He barely recognised her. When hed left for the army, shed been a girl of thirteen. Now, at twenty-five, she was a beautystill unmarried. No man had yet won her heart, and shed refused to settle for less.
Stanley, broad-shouldered and steady, with a stubborn sense of justice, couldnt walk past her without a word.
“Did you wait for me all this time?” he teased, looking at the lovely young woman before him.
“Perhaps,” she replied, flushing. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly.
From then on, they were inseparable. Late autumn found them walking along the edge of the woods, fallen leaves rustling underfoot.
“Stanley, my father will never allow us to marry,” Eliza said gloomily. Hed already proposed twice. “You know what hes like.”
“What can he do to me? Im not afraid of your father,” Stanley declared. “If he lays a hand on me, hell land in prisonthen he wont trouble us again.”
“Oh, Stanley, you dont understand. Hes ruthless, and he controls everything here.”
John Matthews was the most powerful man in the village. Once a simple businessman, rumours now swirled about his criminal ties. He was stocky, with a cold, arrogant gaze and a cruel streak. In his youth, hed built two farms, raising cattle and swine. Half the village worked for him, bowing and scraping as if he were a king. And hed come to believe it.
“My father wont permit our marriage,” Eliza murmured. “He wants me to wed his friends son from the county townthat oafish drunkard, Vincent. I despise him, but my father wont listen.”
“Eliza, this is the modern age. No one can force a woman to marry against her will,” Stanley said, baffled.
He loved her utterlyher gentle eyes, her fiery spirit. She couldnt imagine life without him.
“Come on,” he said abruptly, gripping her hand and quickening his pace.
“Where?” she asked, though she already guessed. She didnt stop him.
In the courtyard of the grand house, John Matthews was deep in conversation with his younger brother, Simon, who lived in the cottage on the estate and did his bidding.
“Mr. Matthews, Eliza and I wish to marry,” Stanley announced. “Im asking for her hand.”
Elizas mother stood on the porch, hand pressed to her mouth, watching her tyrant of a husband with dread.
Johns face darkened at Stanleys boldness. He glared, but Stanley met his gaze without flinching. The older man couldnt fathom where this fool had found such nerve.
“Get out,” John growled. “A broken-down soldier like you? My daughter will never marry you. Forget this path. Youre nothing.”
“Well marry regardless,” Stanley said firmly.
The villagers respected Stanley, but John had never known war. To him, money was everything. Stanleys fists clenched. Simon stepped between them, sensing neither would back down.
As Simon ushered Stanley out, John dragged Eliza inside like a child. He never tolerated defiance.
That very night, under a damp autumn sky, flames engulfed Stanleys newly opened auto repair shop.
“That bastard,” Stanley muttered. He had no doubt who was responsible.
Ten minutes later, they were on the road.
The next night, Stanley crept to Elizas house. Hed sent word earliershe was to slip out with her things. Shed agreed without hesitation. From her window, she passed him a bag, then climbed down into his arms.
“By dawn, well be far away,” he whispered. “Youve no idea how much I love you.” She clung to him.
“Im scared,” she admitted.
Ten minutes on the road, and Elizas breath caught, her hands trembling. Ahead lay a new life. Then headlights flashed behind them. Her stomach lurched.
A black Mercedes overtook them, screeching to a halt, blocking their path.
“No,” Eliza gasped, shrinking into herself.
Her father wrenched her from the car. Stanley moved to intervene but was struck down. They beat him silently, ruthlessly, before driving off, leaving him sprawled on the roadside.
Barely conscious, he dragged himself home and lay in bed for a week. The fire was dismissed as faulty wiring. Stanley knew the truthbut Elizas fate tormented him. Her phone was dead, her number disconnected.
John had sent her to live with his elder sister, Margaret, in the city. Hed left a stack of cash and a warning:
“Keep her inside. No phone. If she returns, Ill have that fool locked upor buried. Dont test me.”
“John, must you ruin her life?” Margaret sighed.
She led Eliza to a room, knowing they must wait for his temper to cool.
John spread word that Eliza was marrying Vincent in the city, never to return.
“Time will soften him,” Margaret assured her. “Youll find work, build a life.”
“Without Stanley?”
“Without him.”
Weeks later, Eliza realised she was expecting. Margaret pitied her.
“Your father must never know.”
Eliza wept. She cared nothing for her fathershe longed to tell Stanley. But she didnt know his number, and her phone was gone. Even if Margaret allowed a call, where would she reach him?
“I hate him,” she sobbed. “Hes a monster.” Margaret stayed silent. Hed broken many lives.
Time passed. Stanley never forgot Eliza. He worked, drank briefly, then stopped. Nothing mattered.
Meanwhile, Eliza bore a sonlittle Matthew, the image of his father. Her mother visited secretly, doting on the boy. John never knew.
Four years later, Matthew was a bright, lively lad. One spring, as flowers bloomed, Elizas mother arrived at Margarets, her face drawn.
“Oh, what sorrow,” she wept.
“Mum, whats wrong?” Eliza asked.
“Johns dying. Cancer. The doctor says its too late. He was always too proud for hospitals.”
Her mother weptthough hed bruised her body and spirit for years, she pitied him.
“How will I manage alone?”
No one mourned John. Little Matthew soon distracted them, his laughter easing the tension. John died at home, his wife by his side. She might have told him of his grandsonbut didnt. Hed wasted his life on greed and cruelty.
They buried him in June. Eliza stayed away. Few came to his funeraljust his old cronies. Many whispered:
“He treated folk like dirt. Now Heavens judged him.”
Stanley was away on work, drifting between jobs and home. Then, after five years, Eliza returned. Her mother had grown stronger, freed from his shadow. Shed even removed his portrait.
Two weeks later, Eliza walked with Matthew by the woods. He chased butterflies as she sat on a fallen log, the breeze soft on her face.
Memories flooded herchildhood, love. Then, her heart quickened.
“Eliza.”
She turned. Stanley stood there, older, sadder. They ran to each other.
“Stanley, forgive me. For my father. For never telling you about our son.” She gestured to Matthew, who bounded over.
Stanley froze, then lifted the boy high. “My son!”
“Papa, will you buy me a football?”
“Of course, lad. Right now.” He smiled at Eliza, who nodded through tears.
She thanked Providence for reuniting themfor fate favours the grateful, rewarding them with happiness at last.
