By the time I turned thirty, Id already logged ten years in the armed forces, serving in the hotspots of the Middle East. Id been wounded twice, but Providence kept me safe. After the second serious injury I spent months in a military hospital and, when I was finally discharged, I was sent back to my home village in Kent.
Ashford had changed in those years, and so had the people. All my schoolmates were married, settled down, but one day I caught sight of Emily. I could barely remember her. When I left for the army shed been a shy thirteenyearold; now, at twentyfive, she was a striking beauty, still single, with no intention of marrying just for the sake of it.
Im a broadshouldered, sturdy bloke with a fierce sense of right and wrong, and I couldnt walk past Emily without speaking to her.
Are you really waiting for me? Still not married? I asked, smiling at the lovely girl.
Perhaps, she replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, her heart fluttering.
From then on we started seeing each other. It was late autumn, the leafstrewn lane crackling beneath our boots.
Steve, my father will never allow us to marry, Emily said sadly. I had already proposed twice. You know my father.
Whats he going to do? Im not scared of him, I replied confidently. If he tries to hurt us, the law will stop him, and he wont be a problem.
Emily shivered. You dont know my father, Steve. Hes a cruel man, and everything around him is under his iron grip.
Arthur Whitaker was the most powerful man in the village. Hed started out as a modest farmer, but rumours now swirled that he dabbled in shady dealings. He was a stout fellow with a cold, haughty stare, and a reputation for brutality. He owned the two farms that dotted the countryside, raised cattle and pigs, and employed more than half the villagers. Everyone bowed to him, almost reverently, as if he were a god.
My father wont let us marry, Emily whispered, and he wants me to wed the son of his friend from the city. I cant stand that hulking, drinking lad, Victor. Hes nothing but a pubcrawling oaf. Ive told my father a hundred times.
Emily, we live in the 21st century. Who can force a girl to marry someone she doesnt love? I asked, amazed.
I loved Emily completelyher gentle glance, her fiery temper. She felt the same; life without each other seemed impossible.
Lets go, I said, taking her hand and quickening my pace.
She began to guess where I was headed, but she could not stop me.
In the front yard of the Whitaker manor, Arthur was deep in conversation with his younger brother Simon, who lived in the adjoining cottage and was always ready to lend a hand.
Arthur, Emily and I intend to marry, I declared boldly. I ask for your daughters hand.
Emilys mother stood on the porch, hand over her mouth, eyes wide with fear at the sight of her tyrannical husband.
Arthurs face hardened as he stared at me, his gaze like a blade. You have some nerve, he snarled. What do you think youre doing? My daughter will never take you. Get out of here, you fool. Youre nothing but a soldiers pawn.
Well marry nonetheless, I replied, unshaken.
In Ashford everyone respected me, but Arthurs son, Thomas, cared only for money. I felt a surge of anger. My fists clenched, and Simon stepped between us, understanding that neither side would back down.
While Simon ushered me out, Arthur locked his daughter away as if she were a tenyearold girl. He never forgave anyone who challenged him.
That very night, a fire broke out in the village, engulfing the garage I had just opened. Scoundrel, I muttered, certain it was Arthurs hand behind the blaze.
The next night, I slipped quietly to Emilys home. Earlier that evening Id sent her a message, asking her to pack a bag so we could disappear together. She agreed. From her window she tossed a bag down to me, then clambered out, landing gently in my arms.
By morning well be far away, I whispered. You have no idea how much I love you, Emily clung to me.
I feel nervous and scared, she admitted.
Within ten minutes we were on the road, the countryside rushing past. The thrill made my breath catch; she shivered with excitement, aware that a new life lay ahead. The headlights of a car flashed behind us, and Emily tensed. Soon a sleek Mercedes, Thomass, roared up, cut us off, and forced us to a stop.
No, not this, Emily cried, curling into herself.
Her father and two henchmen stormed our vehicle. He grabbed Emilys arm; I tried to intervene, but a brutal blow sent me sprawling. They battered me silently, then climbed into their car and drove off, leaving me on the roadside.
I staggered home, barely conscious, and spent a week recovering. The arson case was closed, blamed on faulty wiring. I understood the truth, but what gnawed at me most was Emilys fate. She stopped answering my messages; her number was unreachable.
Her father sent her to London, to stay with his sister Vera, and left a decent sum of moneyseveral hundred poundsin a sealed envelope. He warned her sternly: Dont leave the house, dont use a phone. If you return to the village, Ill make you disappear, or bury you in the woodswhatever it costs me nothing.
Damned you, Arthur, Vera muttered. Why ruin your own daughters life?
Vera gave Emily a spare room, knowing she needed to hide until Arthur calmed down.
Arthur spread rumors that Emily was to wed Victor in the city and would never come back to Ashford.
Time will heal, Emily. Find work, build a life, Vera advised.
Without Steve?
Without him, Vera replied.
Weeks later Emily discovered she was pregnant. Vera comforted her, pitying her niece.
Your father must never know.
Emily wept, her thoughts no longer on her father but on telling me about the baby. She had no phone; Arthur had smashed it. Even if Vera let her call from her line, there was no way.
I hate my father, Emily sobbed. He isnt a man. Vera stayed silent; there was plenty to hate about himhe could ruin destinies.
Time passed. I couldnt shake Emily from my mind. I drifted, working without joy, turning to drink and then quitting. Meanwhile Emily gave birth to a healthy boy, whom she named Matthew. He was a spitting image of me. Occasionally, Emilys mother visited to spoil her grandson, keeping the boys existence secret from Arthur, who never learned of his grandson.
Four years later Matthew grew into a clever, lively lad. One spring, when the fields were in bloom, Emilys mother arrived at Veras house, slumped into a kitchen chair, and burst into tears.
Mother, whats wrong? Emily asked.
Arthur is dying. The doctors say its too late; they only discovered his cancer now. Hed always prided himself on his health and never went to a doctor.
Her mother wept, bruises from a lifetime of his abuse still visible. How will I manage alone?
No one sympathised with Arthur. As he lay dying, the whole village turned its attention to Matthew, cooing over the boy. Arthurs wife stayed by his side, wanting to tell him about their grandson but keeping her mouth shut. All the strength and years Arthur had spent on his empire now seemed wasted.
He was buried in June. Emily did not attend, unable to forgive him, and only a few of his cronies came to the funeral. People whispered, He treated people like rubbish; now heavens justice has caught up with him.
During all this, I was still away on patrols, returning only intermittently. My mother, who had endured Arthurs tyranny, finally began to recover from the constant strain and even seemed a little brighter, as if the tyrants shadow had lifted. She removed his portrait from the wall, not wanting me to see it.
Two weeks after Emilys return to the village, her mother told her that I was on another deployment. A few days later Emily walked with Matthew along a narrow lane, the boy chasing butterflies through the tall grass. She sat on a fallen, dry branch, a gentle breeze brushing her face, and thought back to her childhood and to the love shed left behind. Suddenly she felt his presence nearby.
Emily, a soft voice called. She sprang up, and we both rushed toward each other.
I had changedhardened by years of loss, yet the sorrow still lingered. Emily remained as beautiful as ever, a touch more graceful. We stared at each other in silence; I had never forgotten her, and the love that had lain dormant now flickered back to life.
Steve, Emily whispered, forgive me for everythingmy father, the lies, for not telling you about our son. It could have been different. I never married Victor; that was my fathers scheme. Ive been staying with my aunt Vera in London.
My heart pounded as Matthew, who had been playing in the grass, ran to us. Without a word, I recognised my sonexactly my own reflection from childhood. I lifted him high, laughing. My boy! Ill never let you go.
Dad, Matthew shouted, will you buy me a football?
Of course, lad. Well head to the shop straight away. Right, Mum? I said, looking at Emily, whose eyes were wet with tears.
Emily felt the gratitude of fate, for we had found each other again. Fate rewards those who are grateful, and it blessed us with a new happiness that would last a lifetime.
