Ten Years in the Making
Zachary had little luck in marriage. He divorced his wife after three yearshe was barely thirty at the time.
“At least we never had children,” he’d tell his colleagues at work. “Wouldve been a shame to leave them behind.”
Hed misjudged Tatiana. She never wanted a familyjust nights out with her girlfriends, the same crowd where hed first met her, swept up by her lively charm. But as it turned out, she was too lively, too sharp-tongued for anything lasting.
“Zachary, were sending you to Cliffside Village, about thirty miles from the city,” the chief engineer told him. “They need help fixing some equipment. A month, maybe less, depending how fast you work. Youre a free man now, no family tiesso the worlds your oyster.” He grinned.
Zachary didnt mind the change. Hed never been to Cliffside, and the idea of a fresh setting appealed to him. The village offered two choices: “You can stay in the dormitory, though its under repair, or theres a cottage near the substation where youll be working.”
“No, I cant stand renovations,” Zachary laughed. “Better to board with a landladymight even get a decent meal out of it. A single mans got to eat.”
They settled him in a small house with a widow named Eleanor. She was stern, reluctant to speak, always dressed in long black garments with a shawl pulled low over her brow. At first glance, Zachary assumed she was elderlybut her movements betrayed a quiet energy.
They lived quietly, exchanging few words. Still, Eleanor cooked well, and Zachary struck a deal with her for meals. The local canteen held no appeal, and money was money, whoever it went to.
“Listen, Charlie,” he asked his workmate one day, “my landlady, Eleanorshes not old, but she dresses like it. Thought she might be religious, but Ive never seen her pray. Odd, isnt it?”
“Eleanor? Youve never seen her without that shawl?” Charlie asked.
“No. By the time Im up, shes already wrapped up like a nun. We exchange a word or two, thats it. But she feeds me wellbreakfast, dinner, no complaints.”
“Thats what matters, Zachary. A man likes a good mealtake it from me. My Alice always feeds me, even if I come home three sheets to the wind. Shell scold me first, of coursethats a wifes dutybut then shell dish it out. Stands over me grumbling the whole time, but I know her. Loves me, she does.” Charlies eyes glowed when he spoke of her.
“Agreed, Charlie. We men have our weaknessesa good meals one of them.” Zachary smiled. Then, after a pause: “Whyd you ask if Id seen her without the shawl? Whats the story?”
“Nothing much. Lovely hair, thats all. Shrinks away from showing it. Young woman playing the widow.”
“Why?”
“Because of what happened. She and Michaelthey were mad for each other. Never seen a love like it. Married barely a month before he was gone.”
Zachary let out a low whistle.
“Spring. Still ice on the river. Michael took the shortcut home in his Land Rover instead of the bridgefive extra miles, but he was in a hurry. Ice gave way. They found him downstream when the thaw came.”
Zachary was quiet. Poor Eleanorwidowed so young.
That evening, he returned lost in thought. Pushing open the door, he froze. Eleanor stood with her back to him, combing out long, dark waves of hair. The creak of the hinge made her turnand for a moment, Zachary couldnt speak. Without the shawl, she was breathtaking.
“Oh!” She twisted her hair into a knot, yanking the shawl back over her brow.
“Eleanor, why hide such beauty?” Zachary managed. “Youre youngI thought you were older, the way you dress.”
“I made a promise.”
She retreated to the kitchen. Later, over supper, she grew quieter than ever, avoiding his gaze.
Then, one day, Zachary returned with a fistful of wild daisies. Hed picked them on impulse, and when he saw her in the yard, he thrust them forward with a grin.
“These are for you. No refusalstodays my birthday.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “Then thank you. Id have baked a cake if Id known.”
“Dont trouble yourself.” He pulled a shop-bought cake, a bottle of wine, and two chocolate bars from his rucksack. “Lets celebrate.”
She set the table. Zachary poured the wine, but Eleanor declined after a single sip.
“I dont drink. But happy birthday, Zachary.” Her voice was soft, gentle.
“Eleanor, since were heretell me about Michael. I know a little. Talking about it might help.”
She hesitated. Then Zachary spoke of his own pasthis failed marriage, his illness after the army. Slowly, she opened up.
“I still love him. Fate gave him to me, then took him just as fast. I barely had time to be his wife before grief swallowed me whole. At his grave, I promised to live only in his memory.”
“Memories matter,” Zachary said quietly, “but we only get one life, Eleanor.”
She nodded. “I know. But I cant break that promise. Youre a good man. Youll find happiness again.”
Days later, his work finished, Zachary left Cliffside with a heavy heart. Eleanor had given him no hopeonly a quiet, “Goodbye, Zachary. Be happy.”
For years, he dreamed of her. Even as time passed, he never remarried. Then, a decade later, driving home from holiday, he saw the sign for Cliffside.
“Should I?”
The road was paved now. The fence around Eleanors house was new. He stood there, heart hammering, until a voice called from behind.
“Looking for someone?”
He turned. There she stoodmore beautiful than ever, her hair free, her eyes bright with recognition.
“Zachary. The man who told me we only get one life.” She smiled. “Come in. Ive just made tea. What brings you here?”
“Fate,” he said. “I couldnt drive past. I never forgot you.”
They married five years later. Now, in their city home, Eleanor raises their little girla mirror image of her mother. Happiness, at last, has found them.
