Emma knew everything. Of course she didshe wasnt twenty, not even thirty, and after all those years she could read the room like an open book.
She was weary of dragging this lonely cart alone.
Clara, why am I always the odd one out? Whats wrong with me? Am I a bore? Do I stink? Am I too clingy? Or perhaps I give love and tenderness too sparingly. Whats wrong with me? Emmas voice cracked with desperation.
Everyone around hertall, short, chubby, thin, drinkers, beauties, the plainseemed to have someone, a life, a lover. And she? Nothing.
Whats wrong with me? Why am I alone?
Clara leaned in, eyes bright. Listen, Emma dont laugh, but my Gran used to talk about something a crown of spinsterhood.
Emma scoffed. Oh, come off it. Do you think we live in the Middle Ages?
Dont you believe it? Clara sprang from her chair. My thirdcousins Gran actually took that crown off her. Its real.
How old is this Gran? Emma asked, curiosity masking indifference.
Never mind. Ill ring Sophie, my sistershes the one who had the crown lifted. Ill get the full story.
A few minutes later Clara was scribbling on a napkin, the tip of her tongue flicking the paper.
Right, Sophie hows it going? Still planning to get hitched? What about Gary? Oh, youve kicked him out, havent you? Fine, Ill be there She hung up, eyes narrowing.
Whats happening? Emma asked.
Its happening, love. Another wedding, another gift to buy. My sisters getting marriedher fifth time, apparently that crown finally fell off. Heres the address. You coming? Clara pushed a piece of paper toward her.
Emma shrugged. She set off, but the old crone who prowled the market turned her back and sent her away emptyhanded.
Theres no crown for you, the woman rasped.
What? Of course there isI
Youve been picking the wrong men, the old woman snapped. First one was a cheat who abandoned his child and pretended to be single. Second? Not yours either. Third? Same story.
Emma smirked, Did the second also not belong to me?
Not yours, the crone confirmed. And the third.
Which third? I have no one. Emmas voice trembled.
There will be noneuntil you stop waiting for a perfect fairytale. When you least expect it, the right one will appearthough not whole. Hell be a good man, reliable, and youll find your own happiness with him. Just be patient, dont rush. The crones eyes glinted. Tell your friend to see a doctor, give her these herbs, and stop prying into others lives. That was my advice years ago.
Desperate to find her own happiness, Emma had visited the old woman, a local wisewoman, countless times. Every prophecy seemed to come true. She finally met a fourth man, but the old womans words slipped away. He was kind, treated her daughter well, yet something always went missinghed vanish in a heartbeat, leaving no explanation.
Then Emma met Jack.
The flat next door had been empty for years. When Emma moved in with her little girl, the neighbour, a cheerful older lady named Martha, mentioned the landlord was a nightshift worker who only appeared now and then. One afternoon Emma, curiosity tugging at her, peered through the ajar door of the neighbouring flatonly to see a man applying wallpaper.
She slipped away, assuming the owner had simply returned. The next week, they collided in the hallway. The doors of their flats were absurdly linkedopening one would seal the other unless you shut the first. Emma rushed to work, tried to open her door, and it stubbornly stayed shut. The neighbour hurriedly apologized, closed his door, and Emma heard his light footsteps fading away. A moment later she blocked his exit, then later they met again on the buildings communal landing where he let her go first.
One day Jack helped Lucy lift her bike, and Emma baked scones, delivering them to him. Later in the park, Jacks sonabout Lucys agejoined them, and the children raced on the swings while Emma and Jack laughed together.
Six months passed before Jack asked Emma out on a proper date, introduced her to his family, and suggested they move in together. Before they did, Jack laid his heart bare.
Emma, Im no twentyyearold lad, nor some brutish oaf. Im a man, with my own opinions and history. I promise, if you live with me, I wont be unfaithful. Ill do the hard work, earn a decent wage, stay sober, and respect you. I have no nasty habits. He paused, eyes searching hers. Ill love you, even if love isnt the fireworks I imagined. Im not a stone, but I feel for youjust not the way you hoped. He sighed. I once fell for a girl in my youth. She saw me as a friend, and I spent years trying to toss her from my heart. It never worked. Ive had other womenmore beautiful, smarterbut none fit.
Emma, voice trembling, asked, Should I have spoken to her?
Jack chuckled bitterly. You think Im some tragic hero, wallowing in misery? I tried to explain, to make her understand my love. She told me shed always been a friend, even a brother, to me. I told her it didnt matter whether she loved me; I loved her anyway. She listened, then asked why I left Inna. I said honestlyI didnt love her. She shrugged, Shes pretty, smart, fun, why not?
He stared into the distance. I married eventually, but it feels like punishment. Im a wreck, unable to give a woman true happiness. I cant lie to you.
Do you think I should stay, live a quiet life without passion? he asked, voice barely a whisper. Think about it, Emma. Dont answer now.
Emma took a week to weigh her heart. When she finally visited Jacks bustling householda warm, noisy lother daughter was welcomed with hugs, and the familys laughter filled the rooms. Emma feared being seen as a replacement, a standin for someone else, but the welcome was genuine. She never regretted saying yes to Jack. He proved reliable, resolving her problems, and she learned to set aside fantasies of grand romance. Occasionally, a fleeting glance would cross Jacks face, a ghost of a past love, but it never tore their life apart.
One spring afternoon, Jack stood in the kitchen, washing windows while the sun beat down on the garden. Emma sang softly, humming as she cleaned. Jack entered, watching her, his eyes soft with a freedom shed never seen before. He felt liberated, as if a weight had lifted.
Something on your mind, love? he asked, wiping his hands on a towel.
Just everything feels right, Emma replied, eyes on the gleaming glass.
Jack smiled, took her hand, and kissed her gently. I finally understand how much you mean to me, he whispered. The old crone was rightjust wait.
Emma thought of the crones words, a smile playing on her lips. Good morning, love. May the love weve found flutter in through every window, and if its already here, may we cherish it forever.
