On the day Eleanor Harper was laid to rest, William Harper stood by the grave and not a single tear escaped his eyes.
You see, Susan whispered to her neighbour Lily, I told you he never loved Eleanor.
Quiet, you, Lily hissed back, what does it matter now? Two orphaned children have been left with a father like that.
Give me time and youll see hell soon be courting Kate, Susan promised.
Whats Kate to him? Lily asked. Maggie is his true love. And havent you forgotten how theyd sneak through the haylofts together? Kate will never be involved; she has a family and has already forgotten him.
Do you really know? Susan pressed.
Of course. Kates husband is a farmer at the forefront of the coop. Shed never need Williams lot. Shes practical. As for Maggie, shes still tangled with her Michael.
So theyll start a new romance, Lily concluded.
Eleanors funeral was a solemn affair; the children clutched each others hands.
Mick and Polly had just turned eight that summer. Eleanor had married William out of a great affection, though whether William ever returned that feeling was a question no one in the village could answer.
Some folk said Eleanor fell pregnant and that forced William into the marriage. Their first child, little Clara, was born seven months early and lived only a few weeks. After that, the Harpers struggled to have any children.
William was a grim, laconic man, and the villagers called him Billy. It was a nickname earned by his stinginess with words and even more so with affectiona fact Eleanor knew well.
Nevertheless, Providence eventually smiled on her. She prayed in secret, and the heavens granted her twins at last.
Polly grew up as a quiet, withdrawn girl, locking her heart behind a hundred gates. Mick, on the other hand, turned out to be as gentle and caring as his mother. Their temperaments mirrored each other, and Mick often helped his mother sweep the floor or fetch water in a tiny pail, however small the contribution. Eleanor adored both children, though she never quite understood Pollys reticence.
When the old womans strength waned, she called Mick to her bedside.
My boy, Ill be gone soon. Youll have to look after your sister. Shes weaker than you, and shell need your protection.
What about Father? Mick asked.
Father? Eleanor seemed startled. Will he protect us?
I dont know, son. Time will tell.
If you go, how will we survive without you? Mick sobbed.
Ah, my child, Eleanor sighed, if only it were up to me. She passed that night, and the next morning the house felt colder than ever.
William stood beside his late wife, his hand gripping hers, but not a single word or tear escaped him. He huddled, his shoulders stooped, as if the very light had left the room.
Life in the little Yorkshire village crept on its familiar track. Polly took on the role of keeping the household in order, trying her hand at cooking and tidying, though she was still quite young. Aunt Natalie, Williams sister, often dropped by to lend a hand and teach Polly the ways of a proper English home.
Aunt Natalie, Polly asked one afternoon, is Father going to marry again?
I cant say whats in his mind, love, Natalie replied. Hes a private sort.
Natalie had her own familya husband named Thomas and several sprightly childrenso she could offer shelter if ever needed, but she insisted William loved his own offspring and would not forsake them.
Meanwhile, gossip curled through the village like smoke from the hearth. Folks claimed that William and Maggies old flame had flared anew.
Did you hear? Susan muttered over the garden gate. Maggies gone off with William again and forgets her own family.
Honestly, that woman is daft, the women at the corner shop chattered.
At the village meeting, Chairman Max Leonard called the room to order. Enough of this idle chatter, he warned. Youre digging at the bones of your neighbours without knowing the truth.
It was true that William and Maggie had once been lovers, a romance strong enough to write verses about. But William was posted to a distant farm in Lancashire to help a struggling coop, and he spent two months away. During that time Maggie had taken to the company of Michael Cherry, a roguish lad who roamed the local inns.
When William returned and learned of the affair, he gave Michael a firm rebuke and, after that, cut ties with Maggie altogether. Maggie soon married Michael, a man whose drinking and gambling made her weep for the life she had lost. William, by contrast, remained a sober, diligent husbandthough a man of few words.
Soon the villagers started noting that William seemed to have taken a particular liking to Eleanor again. She blossomed like a bluebell in spring, drawing admiring glances from all who passed her cottage.
The way love twists peoples hearts, theyd say, shaking their heads.
Eleanor had loved William for years, keeping her feelings quiet while Maggies name hovered over the village gossip. And, as life often does, the two finally wed, their ceremony modest, attended only by Aunt Natalie and Eleanors aged mother, who had given birth to her late daughter in the winter of 1887. The villages own chairman, Thomas Proctor, oversaw the register.
Eleanors mother, a proud woman named Agatha, had never married and was a frequent topic of whispered speculation, but Eleanor never let that tarnish her own path.
The villagers pitied Eleanor, especially after she married William. What a pity, sighed old Mrs. Penrose, he doesnt love her, and shell spend the rest of her days suffering.
Yet, oddly enough, William proved faithful to his wife. In a small hamlet, it was hard to hide such things from prying eyes.
For fifteen years the Harpers lived together without a serious quarrel, and the village settled into a quiet rhythm until a harsh winter fell and Eleanor fell ill with a terrible disease that offered no cure.
On the day William finished his work in the fields, a neighbour called out, Will, could I pop over for a spell? Ive baked some scones for the children. It was Maggie, holding a tin of fresh scones.
No, thank you, Maggie, William replied. We already have enough.
Just a friendly offering, Will, she persisted.
Even my sister would do the same for you, he answered.
Lets meet at the mill at dusk, Maggie suggested.
What for? William asked.
Dont you remember what we once had? she asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.
That belongs to the past, William said. My children, my Eleanorshes gone now.
Youre not loving her, Maggie snapped. You married her out of spite.
Go home, Maggie, William whispered, turning his back.
She stood alone on the lane, the evening wind tugging at her skirts.
Years later, the children had grown. Aunt Natalie still visited now and then, though shed learned the truththat her brother had been a onewoman man.
Polly, Aunt Natalie said one afternoon, stepping over the threshold, I hear youre courting Graham Vorn.
Yes, Polly replied, blushing. What of it?
What I mean is, be careful with him.
Why?
Youll know soon enough. Youre no longer a child.
I love him, Aunt Natalie, for the rest of my life.
Love can be a fleeting thing, the aunt warned. Dont think it will last forever.
Im sure of it, Polly insisted. Ill love him even if he betrays me. Ill never love again.
Its good to believe in love, Aunt Natalie said, smiling.
That evening Mick and Polly waited for their father to come home from the fields.
Fathers late again, Mick muttered.
Its Friday, Polly reminded him.
Ah, but he always goes to his mothers grave on Wednesdays, Fridays, and weekends, Mick replied.
How do you know? he asked, his eyebrows rising.
Because you never feel his heart beating for you, a neighbour teased.
They walked softly to the old churchyard, Polly leading Mick along a hidden path through the garden rows.
There, she pointed, look at that hunched figure.
Mick listened as his fathers voice seemed to drift from the stone.
You see, my dear Eleanor, such is life. Soon Polly will be married, and Ive gathered a modest dowry with the help of Aunt Natalie. Life goes on, quiet as a whispered prayer.
My sweet Zinnia, he murmured, for the few tender words I never gave you in life, know my heart spoke louder than any syllable.
He paused, his voice hoarse, and drifted toward the iron gates of the cemetery.
Polly watched Micks eyes fill with tears, the weight of years settled upon them, as the last echo of William Harpers quiet lament faded into the dusk.
