**If Fate Means Them to Be Together**
Emily and her husband, William, returned home from the funeral weary and heavy-hearted. They had just buried Williams mother, MargaretEmilys mother-in-law.
“Well, at least shes at peace now, laid to rest beside Dad,” William murmured. “She kept asking for it, right till the end.”
“Honestly, she knew wed never bury her anywhere else,” Emily replied with a sigh. “But she couldnt stop thinking about it. Poor thingsuch a cruel illness.”
The evening passed quietly, each lost in their own memories. Emilys mind wandered back to her life before marriage, though there wasnt much joy to recall. Shed lost both parents youngtheyd perished in a fire at her grandmothers house after her grandfathers funeral. That night, the old cottage burned down, taking them with it.
Emily had been home with her older brother, Thomas. By morning, they were orphans. The villagers helped bury the family, whispering, “Old George took his wife and their children with him.”
Thomas was seventeen, Emily just thirteen. They carried on alone in the little houseThomas working odd jobs, Emily in school. Life had been unkind, she often thought, so much so she sometimes wondered how shed even survived it.
Their village, Little Wellingford, was tinyjust forty-two houses. The school only went up to Year 4, so after that, children trudged three miles to the next village. In winter, theyd cut across the frozen river to save time. Once, old Mr. Barnaby used to ferry them in his horse-drawn cart on Mondays, and theyd board the week at the schoolhouse.
But the older kidsespecially the ladsoften sneaked home on foot. The ringleader was Charlie, the head farmers son.
“Anyone walking back today, meet by the benches after lessons!” hed call.
Three miles wasnt so bad in a group, though the woods at dusk were no place to wander alone. Soon enough, the boys started eyeing the girlspassing notes, arranging walks, gathering for dances at the village hall on weekends.
By Monday, everyone knew whod walked whom home. Back then, village life was livelyif the rare film rolled into town, even the adults turned up.
Emily had been one of those schoolgirls. By sixteen, shed turned heads without even tryingfair-haired, delicate, with a smile like sunlight. Boys her ageand olderwatched her like she was something out of a dream. One glance from her could leave a lad moonstruck; one word, and her soft voice lingered in his ears for days.
She was everythingkind, clever, lovely. The only mark against her? She was an orphan. Living under her brothers roof since his marriage to local girl Lucy, Emily felt like an intruder. No matter how hard she triedhelping with chores, doting on their baby sonLucys resentment never eased.
“Ill leave for college in town after school,” Emily often thought. “Train as a chef, anything to get away. Lucy wont rest till Im gone.”
She never complained to Thomas. It was his home, his family. She wouldnt come between them.
The village boys treated her with respectno teasing, no cruelty. They all hoped, one day, she might choose one of them. But Emily kept her distance, polite yet firm.
Then the whispers started: Charlie and Emily were courting. Holding hands on evening walks, strolling home from school entwined. Charlie was tall, broad-shoulderedmore man than boy. Clever, too, with a quiet confidence the others admired. No drinking, no nonsense. Together, they made a striking pairsmitten, inseparable.
“Two lovebirds, if I ever saw one,” the village women murmured. “Wont be long till wedding bells.”
Not everyone approved. Charlies parentswealthy landownerswere horrified. His father, Richard, had been the first in the village to own a car, their farm thriving, their home grand.
“Anna,” Richard said to his wife, “whats that orphan girl thinking, setting her cap at our Charlie? Pretty, sure, but shes got nothing. Lives off her brothers scraps!”
“Hes besotted, Richard. Out with her till all hours. And no parents to keep her in checkthough they say shes decent.”
“Ill find him a proper matchsomeone from a good family. The head agronomists daughter, perhaps. Not as pretty, but their farms prosperous. A useful connection.”
“But how do we even talk to Charlie? He wont listen!”
“Leave that to me,” Richard said darkly.
He cornered Charlie in the yard.
“Son, forget that girl. Shes not for you.”
“I love her,” Charlie said stubbornly.
“Dont cross me,” Richard warned. “Ill break this nonsense.”
But Charlie was no longer a boy to be scolded. Richard needed a subtler plan.
The next day, he paid Lucy a visit.
“Your auntthe one up in Scotlandshes alone, isnt she?”
Lucy, though puzzled, nodded. “Aunt Moira. Why?”
“Get Thomas to send Emily there. Ill make it worth your while.”
Lucy, never one to refuse money, convinced Thomas.
“Its for the best,” she insisted. “Maybe shell make something of herself.”
With tears and little choice, Thomas put Emily on a train north, pressing an address into her hand.
Charlie was shattered. He barely spoke to his parents. Even Anna began to regret their meddling.
When Charlie left for his military service, his letters home were curt. Posted in a small Scottish town, he wrote near the end of his two years: *”Found a girl. Bringing her home.”*
“See?” Richard crowed. “First love never lasts.”
The village buzzed. The head farmers son bringing a bride from afar!
When the taxi pulled up, the crowd gasped. Out stepped Charlietaller, broaderand a woman in a white dress.
Emily.
More beautiful than ever.
“Meet my wife,” Charlie announced, grinning.
The villagers erupted in cheers.
“Now *thats* love for you!”
Richard and Anna had no choice but to welcome her. The wedding was merry, the marriage happy. They raised two sons in their own cottage. Even Richard grew fond of Emilyand she, forgiving, held no grudge.
Years passed. Richard died first; Anna, heartbroken, followed. Emily nursed her tenderly, for shed become a second mother to her.
Now, sitting quietly after the funeral, Emily and William let the grief settle.
Life, as it always does, went on.
