The Past, Love, and a New Union
Hope and her husband, Alexander, sat at the dining table in their cosy cottage in the village of Oakbridge. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Standing on the threshold was Faith, Hope’s old schoolmate. The couple exchanged glances, their faces mirroring astonishment. Faith rarely visited, and her arrival was unexpected.
“Come in, Faith,” said Hope, masking her bewilderment. “You’ve certainly surprised us.”
“I won’t beat around the bush,” Faith began the moment she stepped inside. “I think you, like me, want your children close and happy…”
“You’re speaking in riddles,” Alexander frowned. “Sit down, have some of Hope’s stew. It’s splendid.”
“My son has decided to marry,” Faith blurted, her gaze unwavering.
“Blimey! And what’s that to do with us?” Alexander set his spoon aside, baffled.
Hope and Alexander couldn’t fathom where this was leading, and the air in the room grew thick with tension.
Later, Hope and her daughter, Lily, walked through the village lanes. Two neighbours lingered by the roadside, deep in gossip. Spotting Hope, they fell silent and turned, clearly eager for news of her trip to visit her eldest son.
After greetings were exchanged, Hope briefly shared updates about her grandson and his mother before she and Lily moved on. Just then, a woman passed them. With a bright smile, she called out,
“Hello, old friend! Everything all right? No time for a chat?”
Hope met her dark, lash-fringed eyes and smiled faintly.
“I’m in a hurry. Haven’t seen Alexander in days—missed him.”
Faith smirked, her tone dripping with mock pity.
“Ah, love comes and goes. If you ever need sympathy, you know where to find me.”
Hope’s smile didn’t waver.
“Your eyes are full of sympathy, but I don’t believe a word of it.”
She and Lily walked on.
“Mum, why is that woman so sharp?” Lily asked. “She’s always got a chip on her shoulder.”
“That’s just her way,” Hope replied, though she knew the real reason for Faith’s bitterness.
“She needles you every time. And you always know how to answer. Why does she act like that?”
“Want the truth?” Hope chuckled. “Faith fancied your father once. He chose me instead.”
Lily froze in astonishment.
“Really?! He loved you both and picked you? Why?”
Hope laughed.
“Ask your father.”
That evening, after supper, Lily curled up beside her father as he watched telly. Leaning against him, she suddenly asked,
“Dad, why did you choose Mum over Aunt Faith?”
Alexander blinked at her, then glanced at his wife.
“Go on, she’s curious,” Hope smiled.
“It was years ago, but I remember it like yesterday,” Alexander began. “Before New Year’s, the school held a dance. Your mum played the Snow Maiden, and my mate Edward—tallest lad in class—was Father Christmas. That dress suited her so well—sky blue, the same as her eyes, with her braid down to her waist. That’s when my heart gave way. Knew I wanted her beside me forever.”
“But I was shy,” he admitted. “I waited for the right moment. After school, I didn’t get into uni, and your mum left for the city to study. I’d wander the village, hoping to catch her on weekends. One day, I saw her coming from the shops. Mustered my courage, told her I was joining the army. Thought she’d brush me off—but she burst into tears.”
“‘So I won’t see you for ages?’ she said. I near leapt for joy. Held her tight and whispered, ‘Two years’ll fly. Write me, yeah? Call?’ She nodded, kissed my cheek, and ran home.”
“The army flew by thanks to her letters,” Alexander grinned. “Came back, proposed straightaway, and here we are.”
“Dad, that’s the most beautiful love story!” Lily sighed dreamily.
“Oi, none of that—too soon for weddings,” he teased.
Lily giggled and dashed off.
Faith and Hope had been classmates. Faith was sturdy, sharp-featured, while Hope was delicate but tough. With three brothers, Hope’s father had drilled them in fitness—and she kept up, soon matching the boys on the pull-up bar.
One gym class, she asked to try and stunned everyone by outperforming the lads. After that, the boys respected her; the girls seethed, masking envy with jibes.
Hope stayed kind and cheerful, never rising to bait, deflecting barbs with proverbs or wit.
By sixth form, most girls had sweethearts. Faith fancied Alexander, slipping him notes, inviting him to dances. But after his army service, he proposed to Hope. From then, a silent feud simmered between the women.
Faith soon married a classmate and settled near Hope, who’d had a son. Years passed. Hope bore two more sons and Lily, while Faith remained childless. Doctors found no cause, but Faith suspected an abortion in her student days had ruined her chances.
It killed her to watch Hope’s brood grow. The rift widened. Then, miraculously, Faith conceived, bearing Andrew almost alongside Hope’s fourth—Lily.
The boys became friends in school. When Lily turned seven, Hope had her youngest.
Recently, Hope and Lily returned from visiting her eldest. On the lane, they met Faith, who couldn’t resist a dig. She never guessed Lily would soon rewrite their story.
Andrew, Faith’s son, loitered outside after a rowdy lads’ night when Lily passed with shopping. Spotting the group, she strode past, chin high.
“Oi, gorgeous, no hello?” Andrew winked at his mates.
Lily halted, arched a brow, and curtsied playfully.
“How fares His Lordship upon his featherbed?”
She swept on as laughter erupted behind her.
“What was that?” Andrew gaped.
“You’ve been put in your place,” they crowed.
“Who is she?”
“Your mate Oliver’s sister—Hope’s girl. Firecracker, that one. Takes no nonsense.”
“Oliver’s sister? But she’s just a kid—”
“Not anymore. Second year at uni.”
From then, Andrew was haunted by Lily’s emerald eyes. He tried talking to her at the shops—she just smiled and walked on. Next, he lurked by their garden, but her father appeared, sending him packing.
He couldn’t think of anything else. His last hope was the village dance. Andrew went—but Lily wasn’t there. His mates ribbed him until one nudged,
“There’s Sophie—and with her, your girl, I reckon.”
Andrew’s pulse leapt at Lily in sapphire blue. When a slow song played, he marched over—only for her to decline. He glowered, refusing others, watching if she’d choose anyone. None dared approach.
He tried again—another refusal. His mates egged her on, but she stood firm. The third time, she relented, and they swayed together.
“Having a laugh at my expense?” he muttered. “I came just for you. Why play with me?”
“Testing you,” she smiled. “If you ask thrice, you’re serious.”
Her grin left him dizzy. After, he walked her home. She wouldn’t stay out, fearing her dad’s temper.
Next evening, Andrew vaulted their fence, hiding by the shed till Lily appeared with a pail. As she tipped it, he swept her up.
“Caught you, my dove,” he whispered.
She wriggled free, panicking at parental voices, and fled. Andrew, elated, slunk home, more determined than ever.
Come Sunday, Hope, Alexander, and Lily were at lunch when the knock came. Faith stood there—she’d only visited once before, for Hope’s mother’s wake. Her presence stunned them.
“Come in, Faith,” Hope said, masking unease. “This must be important.”
“It is,” Faith nodded. “We both love our children. Want them happy.”
“You’re speaking in code,” Alexander scowled. “Eat—Hope’s stew’s divine.”
“My Andrew’s set on marrying,” Faith announced. “Says if I don’t arrange it, he’ll leave, and we’ll lose him.”
“Really? And we’re involved how?” Alexander pushed his plate away.
“He’s chosen your Lily,” Faith said bluntly.
Lily gasped, bolted from the room. Alexander froze, bread halfway to his mouth.
“Come again? My Lily? For marriage?”
“I’m sounding you out first. If you agree, we’ll do it proper—next weekend.”
“Agree?” Alexander spluttered. “She’s too young! She’s only—”
“Eighteen, love,” Hope cut in gently. “Don’t overreact.”
“You’d give her away so soon?” His voice shook.
“They’re always*But sometimes love doesn’t wait, and in the end, both families learned that the heart chooses when it’s ready.*
