Tears of Joy
The hospital corridor was drenched in the blinding afternoon sun that streamed through the tall windows of St.Georges. Poppy blinked against the light, and when she opened her eyes her heart seemed to freeze for an instant before it thudded wildly.
He was walking toward her. Her husband. The one whose smile she could picture down to the tiniest crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Yet that could not behe had been gone for three long years.
Just my imagination playing tricks, she muttered, gripping the strap of her handbag as if it might tether her back to reality.
The man drew nearer, and the resemblance was uncanny: height, gait, the set of his jaw only his gaze was steadier, more restrained. He stared straight at her, unblinking, as though he too had glimpsed a phantom.
Heat flushed Poppys cheeks. She lowered her eyes, slipped past him, and hurried into the ward where her aunt lay. It turned out she was the only family her aunt had, and after the operation the old woman required special care.
Their next encounter happened in the dressing room.
Poppy pushed an empty trolley along when she saw him, clad in a white coat, murmuring to a nurse. The squeak of the wheels caught his attention; he lifted his head and froze, his eyes fixed on her with the same probing intensity as the day before.
Doctor Bennett, the nurse called, breaking the uneasy silence. All set?
Yes, thank you, he replied, nodding, though his gaze never left Poppy.
Flushed with a shy pink, she hurried past with the trolley, feeling like a foolish schoolgirl.
Days dripped by slowly in the hospital. Their eyes kept meeting in the hallways. Each time Poppy saw him, a childlike joy bubbled up inside her, lifting her spirits. He would sometimes stop by the ward to check on her aunt, always courteous and professional, yet his glance would linger on Poppy a heartbeat longer than required.
One evening, just as her son Tommy was due for his night shift, Poppy slipped into the lobby for a glass of water. By the window stood Doctor Bennett, gazing out at the darkening city.
Is that your son? he asked softly, turning toward her. The young man who looks after Aunt Margaret?
Yes, Poppy replied, surprised that he knew her aunts name. Tommy hes a bit of a troublemaker, but hes got a heart of gold.
He smiled, and that smile was painfully familiar.
He loves you. You can see it in his eyes.
Something clicked in Poppys chesta tremor she hadnt felt in years. The body ages, but the sensation remained fresh, sharp as it had been in her youth.
Indeed, she murmured, cheeks warm. Just dont tell him Im blushing; hed get a big head about it.
He laugheda warm, lively sound.
My name is Alex Bennett.
Poppy, she answered.
At that moment Tommy burst into the lobby, a paper bag of pastries swinging in his hand.
Mum, hi! Doctor! Ive brought the promised treatssorry, only cabbage rolls left.
Alex took a pastry gratefully, and Poppy caught the quick, assessing look Tommy gave her, full of understanding.
The next morning, chatty nurses whispered that Doctor Bennett had fallen ill and was on sick leave. A hollow settled over Poppy. So it isnt meant to be, she thought with a bitter resignation. Maybe its for the bestno awkward goodbyes, no whatifs, just sweet memories. It was a lot to take in, but she realized grief isnt endless; someday the sun would shine again.
Aunt Margaret was discharged three days later. As Poppy packed her things, she tried not to dwell on the emptiness waiting beyond the hospital walls. She was saying goodbye not only to the place but also to the ghost of a possibility that never materialised.
Tommy, loading the car, suddenly said, You know, Doctor Bennett is a widower. His wife died in a crash three years ago.
Poppy froze, as if rooted to the spot. Three years. Coincidence? Fate?
How do you know? she asked quietly.
We talked while we were sharing those pastries, Tommy shrugged. He asked about my dad, very politely. You could tell he was lonely. And the way he looks at you not like a doctor.
Silently, Poppy slipped into the passenger seat. Hope fluttered anew in her heart.
At home, the house was hushed. She brewed a pot of tea and sat by the window, watching the familiar garden. Then her eyes fell on an envelope on the kitchen tableshe hadnt placed it there. Tommy, perhaps.
Inside was a postcard depicting an old hospital that looked just like the one theyd just left. With trembling fingers, Poppy opened it.
Dear Poppy,
I know this may sound mad, and Im sorry I fell ill and couldnt say goodbye properly. But I cant just let you vanish from my thoughts. Three years ago I lost my love, and when I saw you in the corridor, it felt as if the sun rose twice in one day.
I am not your husband. I am another man with my own wounds and story. Yet perhaps our stories could meet again?
If this doesnt sound utterly ridiculous, Ill be at the Edge Café at five tomorrow, opposite the park.
With hope,
Alex
Tears sprang from Poppys eyestears of joy. She wasnt alone in that strange feeling; he felt it too, and he had the courage to take a step she had never dared even to imagine.
The next day, halfpast four, she stood before the mirror, nervously smoothing her dress.
Mom, you look lovely! shouted Tommy from the kitchen. Just dont overquestion the past, okay? The future matters more.
She smiled.
The Edge Café was cozy, scented with fresh scones. Alex was already there, hunched at a window table, scanning the menu with a tense expression. When the door opened and she stepped in, he rose, and the same familiar, yet new, smile blossomed on his face.
I was afraid you wouldnt come, he said, pulling out a chair.
I was afraid youd regret sending that letter, Poppy admitted as she sat down.
Not for a second, Alex shook his head, his eyes serious. You know, the first time I saw you it felt like a miracle, a reminder that life doesnt end with loss.
I felt the same, Poppy whispered. It was as if a warm wind from the past brushed my cheek, but it wasnt the past it was something new.
He reached across the table, and she took his hand. His palm was warm.
Lets try, Poppy, he said gently. No rush. Just try to be happy together.
She met his gazethe eyes of a man who had walked through the same pain yet never stopped hopingand nodded. For the first time in three long years she felt not sorrow for what was gone, but a bright, trembling anticipation of what lay ahead. It was her happy ending, which in truth was merely the beginning of a new story.
