Fate favours the grateful
By his thirtieth birthday Tom had already logged ten years on active duty, two wounds to his side, and every scar a reminder that Providence had kept him alive. After the second, more serious injury, he spent months in a military hospital before being sent home to his native village in the Yorkshire Dales.
The hamlet had changed while he recovered, and its people had moved on. All his schoolmates were married, yet one afternoon Tom caught sight of Lucy, a name that barely sparked a memory. When he left for the army she was a shy girl of about thirteen; now, at twentyfive, she was a striking beauty, still single, unwilling to settle with a man she didnt love.
Broadshouldered, stubbornly fairminded and bristling with a sense of right, Tom could not walk past Lucy without speaking.
Are you still waiting for me, and havent you married yet? he asked, a grin tugging at his lips as he looked at her.
Perhaps, Lucy replied, a blush colouring her cheeks, her heart suddenly fluttering.
From that moment they were inseparable. It was late autumn; they walked along a leafstrewn lane, the dry foliage crackling beneath their boots.
Tom, my father will never bless our union, Lucy said sadly, even though Tom had already proposed twice. You know my father.
What can he do to me? Im not scared of your father, Tom declared, confidence hardening his voice. If he tries to hurt us, theyll lock him up and hell be no obstacle any more.
Tom, you dont understand my father, Lucy whispered, eyes darting away. Hes cruel, his whole world is ironfisted.
Edward Whitaker was the most powerful man in the village. Once a modest farmer, rumors now whispered of his links to shady dealings. Heavyset, with a cold, calculating stare, he ruled the two local farms he owned, employing more than half the villagers. Everyone bowed politely, almost reverently, while he imagined himself above the law.
My father wont allow us to marry, Lucy continued, and he wants me to wed the son of his old friend from Manchestera stout, drunken fool called Victor. Ive begged him a hundred times.
Lucy, were living in a stoneage mentality, Tom muttered, bewildered. Who in this day and age can force a woman to love a stranger?
He loved Lucy with a fire that warmed every part of her, from her gentle gaze to her quick temper. She, in turn, could not picture life without him.
Come on, Tom said, gripping her hand tighter and quickening his pace.
Where are we going? Lucy began to guess, but she could not stop him.
In the courtyard of the Whitaker manor, Edward was deep in conversation with his younger brother, Serge, who lived in the adjoining cottage and was always ready to act.
Mr. Whitaker, Tom announced, Lucy and I intend to marry. I ask for your daughters hand.
Lucys mother, standing on the porch, clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with fear as she watched the tyrant husband she too had suffered under.
Edwards glare hardened at Toms boldness. Get out of here, you reckless fool, he snarled. My daughter will never be yours. Forget this road. Youre just a soldier, nothing more.
Well marry regardless, Tom replied, his voice steady.
The villagers respected Tom, but Edward cared only for money. The insult gnawed at Tom, his fists clenching. Serge stepped between them, aware that neither would yield.
As Serge pushed Tom out of the yard, Edward forced his daughter inside as if she were a child. The old man never forgave any challenge to his authority.
That night a fire roared through the village, devouring Toms newly opened garage.
Bloody scoundrel, Tom muttered, certain whose hand had lit the blaze.
Ten minutes later they were speeding down the M1.
The next night Tom slipped silently to Lucys cottage. Earlier hed sent her a message, urging her to pack a bag. She agreed, and from her bedroom window she handed him a suitcase before climbing down into his waiting arms.
By morning well be far away, Tom whispered. You have no idea how much I love you, Lucy pressed against him.
Im frightened, Tom, she confessed, her voice trembling.
Within seconds they were on the highway, Lucys breath shallow with excitement and fear. The taillights of a sleek Mercedes flashed behind them, and her heart leapt. Soon Edwards car cut them off, horn blaring.
No, not this! Lucy shrieked, curling into herself.
Edward and two thugs leapt from the vehicle, dragged Lucy out by the arm. Tom tried to intervene, only to be knocked to the ground and beaten mercilessly. The men fled back to Edwards car, leaving Tom bloodied on the roadside.
He eventually limped home, spent a week recovering. The arson investigation blamed faulty wiring, and the case closed. Tom understood everything, but Lucys silence haunted him. Her phone was dead, her number unreachable.
Edward sent Lucy to Manchester, to stay with his sister, Vera, depositing a tidy sum of pounds in her account and issuing a stern warning:
Dont let Lucy leave the house. No phone. If she returns to the village, Ill see to it she never walks again, or Ill bury her in the woodsdoesnt matter to me.
God dammit, Edward, Vera hissed, why are you breaking your own daughters life?
She placed Lucy in a spare room, hoping the storm would pass before Edwards temper cooled.
Whispers spread that Lucy was to marry Victor in the city and would never come back. Vera tried to console her:
Youll find work, youll build a lifewithout Tom?
Without him, Lucy whispered, tears spilling.
Weeks later Lucy discovered she was pregnant. Vera coaxed her, Your father must not know.
Lucy wept, hating the man who had stolen her future. Her phone was gone; even if Vera offered her line, she had no idea where to call.
I hate my father, Lucy sobbed, Hes not a man. Vera stayed silent, knowing the hatred was justified.
Time marched on. Tom never stopped thinking of Lucy. He drifted through days, drinking to numb the ache, then quitting. Meanwhile Lucy gave birth to a healthy boy, Matthew, who bore his fathers strong shoulders. Lucys mother visited occasionally, spoiling the child. Edward never learned of his grandson; he never returned to the village.
Four years passed. Matthew grew tall and clever. One spring, when blossoms scented the air, Lucys mother, nursing old bruises from Edwards blows, arrived at Veras doorstep and sank into a kitchen chair.
Oh, the tragedy, she cried.
Mother, whats happened? Lucy asked.
Edwards dying, she sobbed. The doctors say its too late; cancer has taken him. Hed been a robust man, never a patient.
How will I survive alone? Lucy whispered, the room silent.
No one mourned Edward. When he finally passed in June, only his cronies attended. Town folk muttered, He treated people like rubbish; the heavens have dealt his just deserts.
Meanwhile Tom was on a remote posting, returning only occasionally. He lived with his mother, who had finally shaken off the bruises of her tyrant husband, even removing his portrait from the wall.
Two weeks after Lucys return to the village, she learned Tom was away on duty. She walked with Matthew along a hedgerow, the boy chasing butterflies while she rested on a fallen branch, a cool breeze brushing her face.
Memories of her childhood swirled, and suddenly she sensed a familiar presence.
Lucy, a voice called softly. She leapt, and they both rushed toward each other.
Tom had changedhis eyes held a deeper sorrow, his posture steadier. Lucy remained as beautiful as ever, a little softer now. They looked at each other, wordless, love still burning beneath the years.
Tom, Lucy whispered, forgive me for everythingmy father, my silence, for never telling you about our son. I never married Victor; father spread that lie. I lived with Vera in the city.
Toms breath caught as Matthew, hidden in the grass, sprinted toward them. In an instant he recognized his child, the spitting image of his younger self.
My boy, Tom lifted him high, laughter spilling. My own son! Ill never let you go.
Dad, Matthew asked, can you buy me a football?
Of course, lad. Well go to the shop right now. Anything you want, Tom replied, turning tenderly to Lucy, who nodded through tears.
Lucy thanked fate for this second chance. And as the old saying goes, gratitude draws fortune, and the universe repaid them with a happiness that finally felt like home.
