If Its Meant to Be
Mary and her husband Michael came home from the funeral feeling weary and heartsick. Theyd just buried Michaels mother, AnnaMarys mother-in-law.
“Well, at least shes at peace now, laid to rest beside Dad,” Michael murmured. “She kept talking about it, asking for it while she was bedridden.”
“I know,” Mary replied softly. “She understood wed never bury her anywhere else, but still, it was all she could think about.” She sighed. “At least shes free of that awful diseaseso cruel, so relentless.”
The evening passed quietly, both lost in their own thoughts. Mary found herself drifting back to her younger days, especially before she married. There hadnt been much joy in that life. Shed lost her parents earlytheyd died in her grandmothers house, staying there after her grandfathers funeral. That night, the house caught fire, and no one made it out.
Mary had been home with her older brother, Nick. By morning, they knew the terrible truth. The village helped bury their family. Just like that, they were orphans. The neighbours whispered:
“Old George took his wife and Mary and Nicks parents with him.”
Nick was nearly grown, seventeen, while Mary was just thirteen. They stayed in the family cottage, Nick working on the farm while Mary went to school. Everyone has their own path in life, but some are harder than othersMarys was one of those. Even now, she could hardly believe everything that had happened.
Their village was smalljust forty-two cottages. The local school only went up to primary, so from Year 5, the children walked three miles to the next village. In winter, they cut across the frozen river to save time. There used to be an old man, Nigel, whod take them by horse-drawn cart on Mondays and bring them back Saturdays. The kids stayed in a boarding house during the week.
But not everyone wanted to stay there, especially the older boys. They had an arrangementtheir leader was Mark, the village chairmans son.
“Anyone heading home today, meet by the bench after lessons. Were walking back.”
And so they did. Three miles wasnt so bad in a groupalone, the woods were frightening, but together, it was fine. The lads had started noticing girls, passing notes, asking them to meet in the evenings. On weekends, theyd gather at the village hall for dances.
By Monday, everyone knew whod walked whom home, who fancied who. Back then, village life was livelyanyone stepping out would drift toward the hall. Films were rare, so even the grown-ups would come.
Mary went to that school too. As she grew older, the whole village couldnt help but stare. She was beautiful, delicatelike an angel. Boys her age and older couldnt resist her. A single glance from her would unsettle a lad for days; her soft voice lingered in their ears long after shed spoken.
Mary was perfect in every waykind, clever, lovely. Its rare to find someone like that, but it happens. Her only “flaw” was being an orphan. She lived with Nick, now married to a local girl, with a baby son.
Nicks wife, Lucy, never warmed to Mary. No matter how hard Mary triedhelping with chores, being helpfulshe always felt like a burden. But where else could she go?
“Once I finish school, Ill leave for town,” Mary thought. “Train to be a cook. I cant stay here. Lucy wont let me breathe. And I get ittheyve got their own family. Im just in the way.”
She never complained to Nick. She didnt want to come between them.
The boys respected Mary. No one ever dared insult her. They all hoped one day shed pick one of them. But she kept her distance, modest and guarded.
Then rumours spreadMark, the chairmans son, and Mary were together. Holding hands on evening walks, leaving school arm in arm. Mark was handsome tootall, broad-shouldered, more man than boy now. Top of his class, just like Mary. They had plenty to talk about.
The lads all looked up to himhe never drank with them, though some older boys sneaked off during holidays. Mark and Mary made a striking pair, utterly smitten, inseparable.
“Two lovebirds, meant to be,” the village women whispered when they saw them. “Therell be a wedding soon, mark my words.”
But not everyone approved. Marks parents were against it. Simon, the village chairman, was the wealthiest man aroundfirst to own a car, a solid farm, even a motorbike Mark sometimes rode.
When Simon learned his son was serious about an orphan girl, he put his foot down.
“Listen, Anne,” he told his wife, “whats Mary thinking, setting her sights on our Mark? Pretty, sure, but shes got nothing. Lives off her brother, and Nicks barely scraping by.”
“I dont know, Simon. Our boys head over heels. Out with her till all hours. No parents to keep her in checkthough they say shes decent.”
“I want Mark married to a girl from a family like ours. The chief agronomists daughter, over in Farthington. Not as pretty, but their house is full, theyve got a car. Good match.”
“How do we even talk to him? He wont listenhes in love. We need a plan.”
“Leave it to me. Ill think of something. No son of mines marrying a girl with no prospects.”
Simon tried reasoning with Mark first.
“Mark, come out here. We need to talk,” he called from the yard.
Mark stepped onto the porch. “What about? Im meeting Marydont want to keep her waiting.”
“Sit down. This is serious.”
“Dad, I really cant”
“Wont upset her, will you?” Simon sneered. “Village is buzzing about your great love.”
“Yeah, we love each other. Weve got plans.”
“Listen, son. Forget Mary. Ill find you a proper wife, not some penniless orphan. Her brothers no better. Shes beneath you. Take my word or Ill make you.”
“Dad, I dont want anyone but Mary. Thats final.”
“Dont defy me,” Simon snapped. “Ill break you of this.”
Realising his son was slipping from his controlno longer a boy to scoldSimon switched tactics.
Next day, he stopped by Nicks place, knowing hed be at work.
“Lucy,” he called, tapping the window.
Startled, she stepped out. “What brings you here, Mr. Chairman?”
“I hear youve got an auntClara, your mothers sister? Lives up in Scotland?”
“Yeah why?”
“Heres what youll do. Talk Nick into sending Mary awayto Claras.”
Lucy blinked. “You want to split them up? But theyre mad for each other.”
“Out of sight, out of mind. Ive got a better match for Mark. Do this, and Ill make it worth your while.”
Money talked. Soon, Nickeasily swayed by Lucyagreed.
“Lets send Mary to Aunt Claras. Better prospects there.”
With tears and little choice, Nick put Mary on a train north, pressing a letter and address into her hand.
Mark was devastated. He withdrew, barely speaking to his father. Even Anne regretted it.
Then came his army call-up. The village saw him off. His letters home were coldunforgiving. He served in Scotland, near a small town.
Two years passed. Near the end of his service, Mark wrote:
“Dad, prepare for a wedding. Im bringing my bride.”
“See?” Simon told Anne. “First loves easily forgotten. Well throw a grand dohes our only son.”
When the telegram came, the whole village gathered. The chairmans son, bringing a bride from afar!
“Bet shes pretty, maybe even as lovely as our Mary was,” the women gossiped.
A taxi pulled up. Out stepped Mark, taller now, in uniform, thena gasphis bride in white.
Mary. More beautiful than ever, poised like a city girl.
Simon and Anne froze.
“Meet my wife,” Mark announced, grinning. “This is final.”
The crowd cheered. “True love wins!”
Defeated, the parents welcomed them in. The wedding was joyous.
They lived wellhappy in their own cottage, raising two sons. Simon and Anne doted on Mary, who bore no grudges. If two people are meant to be, life finds a way.
Years passed. Simon went first, then Anne, grief-stricken. Mary nursed her tenderlyshed become the mother Mary lost.
Now, the house is quiet. Mary and Michael sit, mourning. The pain will fade. Life goes on.
