Love Isnt for Show
I stepped out of our cottage with a heavy bucket of pig feed, fuming, and marched past my husband, Henry, whod spent the last three days tinkering with the old well. Now he fancied carving ornaments on it, wanting it to look beautiful, as if there wasnt anything more important to do! I ran about minding the house, feeding the animals, while he just stood there, chisel in hand, covered in wood shavings, grinning at me. What sort of husband had fate landed me with? Never a tender word, never raising his voicejust quietly working away, rarely coming over except to look me in the eyes or run his hand through my thick braidthats about the extent of his affection. But I longed for more: to be called dearest or darling swan
Lost in thought about my lot as a woman, I nearly tripped over old Buster, the dog. Suddenly, Henry dropped his tools and caught my arm, casting a stern look at Buster.
Oi! Mind where youre going, youll have the mistress off her feet, he scolded.
Buster dropped his head, slinking back to his kennel. I was struck again by how well animals understood my husband. Id asked him about it once, and hed simply said: I love animals, and they love me back.
I secretly longed for such love too, to be swept off my feet, whispered sweet nothings, or wake up to fresh flowers on my pillow But Henry rarely showed much affection, and I began to wonder if he loved me at alljust the tiniest bit?
Morning, neighbours! our neighbour Chris called over the fence. Henry, still faffing about with the well? Whats all that decoration for, eh? Whos it for?
I want my children to grow up good folk, appreciating beauty, Henry replied.
Well, youll have to start having kids first, Chris laughed, winking at me.
Henry gave me a wistful look. Embarrassed, I hurried back inside. I hadnt been rushing to have childrenI was young, pretty, wanting to live a little myself, especially as Henry was neither here nor there. Now Chrishe was tall and broad-shouldered, a proper-looking fellow next to Henry. And whenever he caught me near the gate, his voice would soften, like a summer breeze: Rose, my morning light My heart would flutter, and my knees weaken though I always kept my distance, remembering my vows and the way my parents marriage had been one of soulmates.
Yet, why was I itching to peer out the window just to catch Chriss glance?
The next morning, as I was herding our cow to the field, I ran into Chris at the gate.
Rosie, my dove, why keep dodging me? Are you scared? Every time I see you, my head spins from your beauty. Come and meet me at dawn tomorrow, when your Henrys off to fish. Ill show you the affection you truly deserve, he murmured.
My cheeks flared; my heart skipped, but I marched past him without a word.
Ill be waiting, he called after me.
I couldnt get Chris out of my mind all day. I craved the kindness and attention he offered, and he was such a striking manbut I just couldnt bring myself to go to him. Yet tomorrow morning was still a ways off, and maybe just maybe
That evening, Henry fired up the old garden shed for a steam, and even invited Chris to join him. Chris was happy to acceptmeant he didnt have to waste wood firing up his own. The two of them whacked each other with birch twigs in the steamy heat, grunting in pleasure. Afterwards, they cooled down in the porch. Id already set out some home-brewed cider and nibbles, then remembered there were pickled cucumbers in the cellar. I popped down to fetch some, but as I was coming back, I overheard them talking and paused by the door.
Really, Henry, youre hopeless, Chris was saying quietly. Come on, mate, you should come with me. Lovely widows down at the tavern, pampering you all nightreal beauties, not like your Rose, shes a plain little mouse.
No, mate, I heard Henry reply in a soft but firm voice. Ive no need for other women, I cant even think about it. My wife isnt a grey mouse, shes the most beautiful woman on this earth. No flower, no fruit could compare. When I look at her, theres no sun brighter, no waist slimmer. Im so full of love for her it feels like a spring river in flood! Trouble is, I cant say the words, cant tell her how much I love her. Shes cross with me for that, I know. Im at fault. Im terrified of losing her; I couldnt live a day, not a breath, without her.
I listened, frozen, my heart pounding, tears rolling down my cheeks. Then, head held high, I strode into the porch and declared, Chris, off you gogo cheer up your widows, weve more important things to do here. Theres no one yet to admire Henrys woodwork. Forgive me, my dear, for my silly thoughts and blindnessI had happiness in my hands but didnt see it. Lets not waste any more time
That morning, at dawn, Henry didnt go fishing.
