The ache in my heart finally eased, and the tears stopped.
After Zachs tragic death, Poppy Bennet could no longer bear the sight of the little market town where every corner whispered his name. Wed only been together eight years before a sudden accident snatched him away. Poppy thought shed never pull herself together, left alone with her son Sam.
Ladies, Ive decided to quit everything and move to the countryside, she announced to the two friends who were visiting. The family house is empty; my parents have long since passed. I cant walk these streets or stay in this flat. Zach feels like hes still right there, sometimes I swear I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn theres nothing. Whats that supposed to be?
One friend hesitated. Poppy, Im not sure you could manage life in a village. You grew up there, but youve built a life here everythings set up for you.
Poppy answered confidently, Theres a school in the village; Ill teach there.
Another friend chimed in, Then well come to visit you! and they all burst into laughter.
For the past five years Poppy and Sam have been living in a modest cottage on the edge of a Cotswold hamlet, right by the woods. She works at the local primary school, has settled in, and the villagers respect her after all, shes a native.
That winter was brutally cold, and the latter half of December brought relentless snow and howling gales. New Years was only a week away when a latenight blizzard rolled in, rattling the cottage while the hearth stayed warm and cosy. Poppy and Sam loved those evenings, watching the storm rage outside while they sipped herbal tea at the kitchen table.
Mum, I think someones knocking, Sam whispered.
Its just the wind, Poppy replied, though a faint rap did echo from the door. She rose to the hallway and called, Whos there?
A weak, hoarse voice answered, Please, open the door.
Poppy felt no fear, but she couldnt understand why anyone would brave such weather to appear at their remote doorstep. The house sat half a mile from the nearest road, near the forest, so visitors were rare even in fine weather. When she opened, a man staggered in, half buried in snow, his coat slumped over him. He collapsed onto the floor, and Poppy shouted for Sam.
Probably just drunk, she thought, lets get him inside before he freezes solid.
Together they dragged him into the cottage, laying him on the floor. He winced with every breath. From his battered attire it was clear hed been hunting, but his rifle was missing.
Poppy wasnt a medic, and an ambulance was a fantasy in a blizzard. After a couple of minutes the man turned onto his back and opened his eyes. His right trouser leg was torn, and his leg was slick with blood.
Who are you? What happened? Poppy asked quietly.
Sorry, he croaked, as they peeled off his outer jacket. He stared at them with pleading blue eyes, and Poppy felt a pang of worry could she really help him?
She examined the wound; luckily there was no fracture, just a deep cut that was bleeding briskly. She could at least clean it, which eased her own mind a little. She and Sam settled him by the fire, propping him against the wall. He glanced at his own leg and, as if in spite of everything, managed a faint smile.
My names Proctor, he said, and Im sorry to barge in like an unwanted guest.
Its Poppy, and this is my son Sam, she replied.
Im actually a doctor, Proctor added, so I can see the injury isnt that serious, just a lot of blood loss and exhaustion.
Poppy breathed a sigh of relief; a doctor who could tend to himself was a bonus. After cleaning and bandaging the wound, Proctors spirits lifted. He sat at the table sipping the same herbal tea, now flavored with thyme and sweet raspberry jam.
Over tea they chatted, and Proctor began to share his story.
Im fortythree. I spent years as a military medic, even served abroad when I was younger. It was a hectic life I was hardly ever home, often living in field conditions, but I loved the work. My wife couldnt stand the constant moving and left with our daughter for the city where her parents lived. She remarried and settled down. I dont blame her; not every woman can endure such a restless existence.
Poppy frowned. But what about love? Through the highs and the lows?
Proctor shrugged. Not everyone can handle it. When I married her, I promised things I couldnt deliver. Im not angry; I understand.
They talked late into the night, until the clock struck midnight. Finally Proctor asked, Are you married?
No, Poppy said, my husband died tragically, and I left the town five years ago because I couldnt stay there. This is my family home, the place where my parents lived. Its where my soul thawed after the storm of grief. I worried Sam might not like the village, being cityborn, but hes done well hes made friends with the local lads and feels at home now.
Do you ever miss the city? Proctor inquired.
Not really, she answered, Ive grown to love the quiet. I teach English and literature at the school. And you? Do you work in a hospital?
No, Proctor smiled, I left the army at forty, took a pension, and looked after my ailing mother. When she passed, I tried my hand at forestry, then opened a small pharmacy in town. Business is decent; Im even planning another branch. Lately, though, Ive been plagued by an odd uneasemaybe its grief, maybe something else. My friends suggest I see a therapist, but I laugh it off. I thought a change of scenery, some hunting in the woods, would clear my head. While tracking a boar, I got tangled, lost my rifle, and ended up with this leg. I did fire a shot, but Im not sure if it hit anything. At least the herd didnt come back, and I managed to crawl to your door, leaving my gun by the steps.
Poppy chuckled. Well, its late. Ive set up a bed by the fire for you. Good night.
The next morning Proctor ran a fever, and his leg wound hadnt healed. He couldnt continue his journey. The blizzard had finally eased, and Poppy and Sam found a buried car in the woodsa halfburied heap of snow not far from the cottage.
Ill have to treat myself, Proctor said, I have a firstaid kit in the car. Ill fetch it.
Uncle Proctor, well dig the car out, you give us the keys, well bring the kit, Sam offered.
Sure enough, Sam retrieved the kit in one piece. Proctor spent several days recuperating, passing evenings playing chess with Sam. When he felt stronger, he announced hed head back to the city. There were three days left before New Years.
Poppy asked nothing; she sensed his need to leave, having overheard him on the phone and linking his departure to those calls.
Before he left, she said, Is your soul still hurting?
He packed his bag, looked her straight in the eye, and replied, Now its crying. He stepped out, got into his 4×4, and drove off.
After he was gone, the cottage felt oddly quiet. Poppy realised shed grown fond of Proctor a genuine, steady man but she kept her expectations low.
The snow kept falling, though it was milder now. The wind only gusted occasionally, and the flakes drifted lazily.
Everythings for the best, Poppy told herself. Its good he stayed only a short while; otherwise Id have a harder time forgetting him.
Proctor never called, despite his promises. Hes got his own business, his own worries, Poppy rationalised, and here he only had a little adventure.
New Years Eve arrived. On the morning of December 31st Poppy took her ancient Mini Cooper into town, stocked up on groceries and sweets for a weeks worth of festive treats. Though it was just the two of them, they always celebrated the holiday together. The Christmas tree was already trimmed.
That evening another blizzard roared, but Poppy was relieved shed shopped before it hit. Sam helped set the table, and she flicked on the fairy lights on the tree.
Mate, someones knocking, Sam said.
Its just the wind, Poppy replied, yet she listened. A knock echoed.
At the door stood a beaming Proctor, arms full of parcels.
May I? he said, stepping straight into the hallway and then the living room without waiting for an answer.
Sam shouted with surprise, Yay! Uncle Proctor!
Hold on, Sam, let me grab the bags, Proctor said, then turned to Poppy, May I kiss you?
He moved toward the flustered Poppy and planted a gentle kiss on her lips, his heart thudding like a nervous schoolboy.
Sam, Poppy, maybe Im rushing things, he began, pulling a small box from his pocket, but Ive realised I cant picture my life without you two. Will you marry me, Poppy?
Did you drive all the way from the city for this? she asked, smiling and nodding.
Sam watched, hopeful, as his mother returned his gaze and nodded.
Ill say yes, but I cant leave this place, Poppy replied.
No need to, Proctor laughed. Ill stay here. I like it, and the forest needs a keeper anyway. I can still run my business in the city, travel when needed. He placed his hand on her shoulder.
Time passed. Sam, now ten, was heading to university, while Poppy and Proctor built a larger house on the edge of the village. Proctors old ache had vanished; love and laughter now filled his days. The soul that once ached and wept was finally at peace.
