**An Unusual Wifes Wish**
My son-in-law promised to pick me up on Saturday morning. Its a shame to leave the cottage, but its late October now. The waters been turned offtime to go home.
Vera! Vera, are you there? My neighbour, Leonard, knocked on the door. Come in, Leo, Im still packing. My son-in-laws coming the day after tomorrow. Hell probably grumble about all the bags again. But what else can I do? Most of it isnt even minejust the harvest. Dried apples, pickles, jams. Cant very well leave it all behind. I did it for them, not for me.
Tell me about it, Leonard sighed. Im staying a bit longer myself. Its beautiful in autumn. Ellen always loved this season. You know why I came, Vera? Remember how we used to close the summer season together? When your Stanley was still alivewhen we were young, and the kids were little. The plots were bare then, just saplings. Now look at them, all overgrown. He fidgeted with an envelope in his hands. Todays a year since Ellen passed. I thoughtmaybe youd join me? Its better with company. Ive fried some potatoes. We could talk, remember her. And theres something I need to discuss.
Of course, Leo. Take these picklesIll be over in half an hour.
Wed been friends for decades, ever since we got these plots from the factory. Built our homes, planted gardens, celebrated summers together. Now my grandchildren visit, and Stanleys been gone seven years. But Leo and Ellen were always good neighbours. *Were*because Ellen died last autumn. Shed been so proud of losing weight, then This summer felt strange. Leo dug up the vegetable beds, though whod plant them now? Mostly, I heard him tinkering in the shed, cursing when things went wrong. My grandchildren barely visitedoff to camp or the seaside. Sometimes I wondered who I grew all this for.
I sighed and changed before heading to Leos.
Hed laid out fried potatoes, tomatoes, my pickles, sliced sausage. Sit, Vera. The kids are coming tomorrow, but tonightwell remember Ellen. He pulled out old photos. LookStanley planting cherries with you. And here, all of us back from foraging, baskets full. Thats the barbecuesee the smoke? Ellens squinting. He poured us each a drink. To them. To Ellen. To Stanley.
We ate in quiet. Then Leo pulled out that envelope.
Dont be shockedjust listen. Ellen faded so fast last autumn. By September, she was bedridden. But she was strong. We relived our memories, watched old films. Then one day, she made me promise something. Its my last wish, she said. And gave me this. He handed it to me. Read it.
I unfolded the letter in Ellens handwriting:
*My dearest Leo, Im leaving too soon. But live for us both. Be happynot because youve forgotten me, but because I cant bear the thought of you breaking. Dont be afraid. Maybe youll find someone. If its Vera, Id be glad. Shes good, shell understand. Ask her to stay with you. We never gave updont start now. Your Ellen.*
I read it twice, stunned.
I promised her, Leo said. Its your choice, Vera. But weve shared so muchwhy not this? Joy isnt a sin. Marry me. Ill make sure you dont regret it.
I didnt know what to say. Thensomething in his words felt right. Alright, Leo. Ill think. Ill tell my son-in-law I need another week.
That night, I couldnt sleep. My whole life played in my head. Near dawn, Stanley appeared in a dream, laughing. *Stop fussing. Its easier with someone. Marry himId be glad.*
By next summer, wed taken down the fence between our gardens. Double the grandchildren now. Leo built a swing, made bows for the boys. I planted enough for everyone. The kids visit on weekends, relieved were not alone.
Some might judge. But Ellen and Stanley are smiling down. The wish for happiness has been kept. And life, stubbornly, goes on.
