Elizabeth realised her happiness was boundless.
She decided to spend the weekend in her childhood village, visiting her ageing mother and sister. Living now in the county town, working as a cardiologist at the hospital, she seldom found time to return.
At forty-five, Elizabeth was a pleasant-looking woman, long divorced, with a daughter who had finished university and married a fellow student before moving to his hometown. Her own marriage had lasted seven years before they parted ways—too different, they agreed.
“Three whole days off,” Elizabeth thought cheerfully. “I’ll stop at the supermarket first, pick up a few things for Mum and Helen.”
She had grown up in the village, dreaming of becoming a doctor and leaving as soon as possible. Honest truth—country life was dull, despite the village’s hopeful name, *Joyful*. Not much joy lingered there now. The place was fading, its residents scattered in search of work, the young fleeing to the city.
Autumn and winter were especially bleak, though spring brought some light back with the fieldwork. The lush greenery and sun made *Joyful* feel, at least a little, true to its name.
Now, in mid-June, Elizabeth watched the passing fields from the bus window, heart lifting. Nearly two months since she’d seen her family.
“Mum hasn’t been well. Thank God Helen still lives with her. Such a blessing—otherwise I’d have to travel more often. Three hours by bus isn’t exactly close,” she mused.
Helen, her younger sister, had never left. Married to a local lad, she stayed put, raising twin sons who’d since left for college. Their father had died young, so Helen and her husband, Zachary, lived with their mother. Zachary was handy—he’d fixed up the house, added an extension with its own entrance.
“Helen always wanted village life,” Elizabeth once told her friend Victoria. “I couldn’t wait to escape.” She’d even brought Victoria to *Joyful* once; the city girl had marvelled at the fresh air and scenery.
“You’d feel different if you lived here,” Elizabeth had laughed. “Autumn mud, spring floods—would you still be charmed then?”
This time, the journey passed swiftly—she dozed off, waking only as the bus neared the village. Soon, the sign appeared: *Joyful*, in bold letters. The driver turned onto the dirt track, the bus jolting over bumps.
Stepping off, Elizabeth looked around.
“Nothing ever changes,” she smiled, heading home.
The sun warmed her skin. Air sweet with birdsong. She was glad to be back.
“Hello, Lizzie!” A frail voice called out. Old Mrs. Ludlow, their neighbour, stood before her. “Come to see your mum?”
“Hello, Grandma Ludlow. Yes, it’s been too long.”
“Your mother’s been waiting. Off I go—pension came in, need a few bits.”
“How’s your health?”
“Oh, love, at my age, what do you expect?” The old woman shuffled away.
Elizabeth pushed open the garden gate. Empty yard. Inside, the cat, Whiskers, rubbed against her legs.
“Hello, my darling,” she cooed, scratching his chin. He purred loudly.
“Darling? That lump!” Helen laughed from the kitchen. “He’s a proper barrel now! Hello, little traveller. Hungry?”
“Absolutely. Where’s Mum?”
“Garden. Oh—here she comes, with strawberries for you. Spoiling you already.”
“Hello, Mum!” Elizabeth hugged her tightly. “I’ve missed you.”
“Hello, my love.” Her mother beamed, both daughters home.
They ate outside, swapping village news—mostly sad. The elderly dwindled, familiar faces gone.
“Where’s Zachary?”
“Away on contract work. No jobs here. Gone two weeks, home a month. Good money—see the car he bought?”
“You’re lucky. Not like me,” Elizabeth sighed.
“Should’ve married local, like me,” Helen teased.
The postwoman, Margaret, arrived with a notice for Helen.
“Margaret, could I collect it for her?” Elizabeth asked.
“Suppose so. Ring the post office, tell them you’re coming.”
“Why the sudden urge?” Helen frowned.
“You’re busy. I’ll take a walk. Fancy the bike?”
Helen grinned. “Remember how you used to ride? Go on, relive your youth.”
Soon, Elizabeth cycled through the village, breeze in her hair. At the post office—a creaking wooden building—she parked by the fence.
“Hello!”
“Lizzie!” The postmistress, Theresa, greeted her warmly. They chatted, reminiscing about school.
Leaving, Elizabeth mounted the bike, turning towards home—then nearly crashed.
“Careful!” A man on another bicycle swerved just in time.
“Oh! I was distracted—Gladys’s garden…”
“No harm done.” He smiled—tall, handsome, in a pale shirt.
Elizabeth flushed. *What must he think of me?*
“I haven’t seen you here before,” she said.
“Visiting my aunt. Used to live here.”
“I’m heading home—my mother and sister.”
“Thought I’d revisit childhood joys,” he laughed, eyes bright. “I’m Stephen, cousin to Alfred—your classmate?”
“Elizabeth—Lizzie. Alfred Griggs! Small world.”
“Fancy a detour by the river? Perfect day for it.”
They rode together, talking easily. Turned out Stephen was a surgeon at the city hospital—hers was just across town. Shared acquaintances, shared stories.
Forty-nine, divorced three years. His wife had left him for a younger man, promising a “paradise” by the seaside. It failed; she returned, but he wouldn’t take her back.
“When do you leave?” he asked.
“Tomorrow evening, by bus.”
“Stay another day. I’ll drive us back.” He picked her a bouquet of wildflowers, honey-scented, warm from the sun.
“Where *were* you?” Helen demanded later, eyeing the flowers.
“Out.” Elizabeth smirked.
“Who gave you these?”
“A gentleman.”
“Already? Well, well.” Helen grinned.
“He’s not local. Stephen—Alfred’s cousin.”
“Ah! Good man. A doctor, too.”
The next day, they walked, laughed, the spark between them undeniable. Elizabeth felt like a girl again—certain, suddenly, that Stephen was her happiness, boundless and true.
They left together in his car, the boot stuffed with homemade jams and vegetables. Her mother and sister watched, pleased—they’d never seen Elizabeth so radiant. Stephen’s gaze barely left her.
They didn’t wait long to marry. They’d known, that weekend in *Joyful*, they were two halves of one whole. Now, they live happily—in joy, just as the village promised.
