REBORN HAPPINESS
“Sir, please stop following me everywhere! I told you, Im still mourning my husband. Stop pestering me! Im starting to feel afraid of you!” My voice rises in frustration.
“I remember, I remember But it feels like youre grieving for yourself, not just your husband. Forgive me,” my persistent admirer responds, undeterred.
Im staying at a spa in the English countryside, seeking nothing but peace and the songs of woodland birdscertainly not the attention of importunate men. My husband, William, passed away suddenly only a short while ago. I need this time to grasp the magnitude of my loss.
William and I had just started renovating our flat in Cambridge. Each pound we saved, every little luxury put on holdand then, disaster struck. William collapsed. The paramedics couldnt help; it was his second heart attack. After his funeral, I found myself alone, the renovation unfinished, left with two teenage sons and no idea how to carry on.
My job offered me a place at a spa retreat. I resistedI could hardly bear to leave my flat. But my colleagues insisted:
“Youre not the first widow, nor the last. You have children to think of. You must keep living! Go on, Catherine, clear your head.”
So, heart heavy, I went.
Forty days had passed since Williams death, yet my grief clung to me. At the spa, I was assigned a cheerful roommate named Emily, who seemed to radiate happiness and light. She was so relentlessly upbeat it grated on me. Why share misery with a young girl like her? She was being pursued by the activities coordinatorlike everyone else here: divorced, single or lonely. I warned her about him; he looked like the type whod been married two or three times.
Emily just laughed. “Dont worry about me, Catherine. I can handle myselfbeen around the block, you know.”
Off shed go on her nightly dates, while I spent the whole week holed up in the room, pretending to read, flicking through channels without noticing the television at all.
One morning, in a rare good mood, I gazed out at the dewy countryside and decided to breathe in the fresh woodland air. Thats when I met a stranger.
Id seen him in the dining halla short man with a bold, assessing stare. He was at least a head shorter than I; something about him made my skin crawl. Fastidiously neat and sharply dressed, he would bow to me at dinner every evening. Id nod, out of politeness, but one night he sat down at my table.
“Feeling lonely, madam?” he asked in a velvet voice.
“No,” I answered, tersely.
“Dont lie,” he insisted. “Sadness is written all over your face. Perhaps I could help?”
“Youre right. Its grief for my late husband. Any more questions?” I wiped my hands with a napkin and stood, ending the conversation.
“Forgive meI didnt know. My condolences. Still, at least let me introduce myself. My names Jonathan,” he hurriedly put in.
It was clear that Jonathan dreaded losing sight of me.
“Catherine,” I said reluctantly, before making my escape.
But after that, Jonathan always sought out my table at meal times, presenting me with bunches of bluebells, which grew in profusion around the grounds. Ill admit, it was a lovely gesture, but I had no intention of letting anything develop.
Jonathan wasnt one to be dissuaded. Before I knew it, hed joined me on my evening walks. I started wearing flat shoes just to avoid the awkwardness of towering over him, but if he cared, he never showed it. I realised he charmed women with his warm, melodic voiceId never encountered anything quite like it. In spite of myself, I found I was falling into his carefully set net.
Soon we were dancing together in the evenings, going into town to buy fruit Jonathan tried more than once to lure me back to his room. I stood my ground firmly, never giving in.
At last, Jonathan said, “Cathy, I go home tomorrow. Perhaps youd come to my room tonight for a cup of tea?”
“Ill think about it,” I hedged.
When the final evening at the spa arrived, I didnt want to offend Jonathan, so I agreed, fully aware what I was walking into.
His table was beautifully laid, adorned with tempting treats. “He must have borrowed some cutlery from the dining room,” I thought wryly. Jonathan invited me to sit. Magically, a bottle of sparkling wine appeared.
“Shall we, Cathy? I dont know how Ill bear leaving you tomorrow. Give me your address, promise me Ill see you again,” he said, with unexpected sadness.
“Youll forget me in two days. I know your type, Jonathan. What shall we drink to?” By then, I was ready for anything.
“You really dont see? To love, Cathy, to love,” he replied, raising his glass.
The next morning, we woke up together, arms entwined. Why had I resisted him so long? Why hadnt I just come to him straight off? So much time wasted. I felt like a lovestruck teenager. And now, I had to pack my bags and leave.
I said goodbye to Emily, my roommate. She sat on the bed, crying bitterly.
“Whats wrong, Emily?” I asked.
“Im pregnant, Catherine. I dont even know by whom,” she sobbed.
“The activities man? Or?” I tried to get a straight story.
“I met someone else here too, from the other complex. Hes married,” Emily admitted, through tears.
“Call your parents, Em. Let them come sort this out. And how did they even let you come away alone? For now, lets go talk to the manager. Maybe theres something we can figure out,” I told her.
Sobbing, Emily ran from the room. Poor girlwith all her dalliances, shes in for a rough time.
My departure loomed. I didnt want to leave; in those twenty-four days, everything had become so dearand especially Jonathan.
The coach arrived. Jonathan came to see me off, a bouquet of bluebells in hand. Tears sprung to my eyes as I hugged him. That was it. Our fleeting romanceover. My heart ached. If only Jonathan asked, Id have dropped everything for him.
Jonathan and I lived in different cities; the only way to stay in touch was by post. But the letter I received wasnt from himit was from Jonathan’s wife. She knew about us, she wrote, and besides, I was forty whereas she was thirty. I saw no point in replying.
Then, six months later, Jonathan showed up at my door, completely out of the blue. My sons were stunned by the strange mans arrival, but kept politely quiet.
“Jonathan? Are you just passing through, or?” I asked, hoping hed say, “Im here for good.”
“Something like that Will you let me stay, Cathy?” Jonathan hovered awkwardly in the hallway.
My sons excused themselves to their room.
“Come in. What brings you here? You havent brought another letter from your wife, have you?” I couldnt resist teasing.
“Forgive me, Cathy. I did write, but she found the letter Ill admit my guilt. Were divorced now,” Jonathan explained.
“I didnt know you were married. None of this would have happened, believe me. So what now?” I had no idea what Jonathan had in mind.
“Marry me, Catherine,” Jonathan blurted out.
“I dont know. Ive got my boys, as you can see. How will they take it? I cant just jump into things,” I said, though secretly I was pleased.
“Children are wonderful. I have a ten-year-old daughter too,” Jonathan surprised me.
“Wait, you left your daughter?” I was taken aback.
“Never, Cathy. Her mother drinks, so Im bringing Alice to live with us. Well be a proper family,” Jonathan announced.
“Hold on, Jonathan. I barely know your daughter, and suddenly you want me to be her mother? Youre rushing things. Give me time. Ill talk to my boys, then well see. Now, come on, dinners ready’husband-to-be,’ I smiled.
Of course, things didnt magically transform into a blissful family. There were arguments, storming out, all sorts of dramadifferent personalities clashing. Not everyones ready to swallow their pride.
Time rushed on.
My elder son, Andrew, and AliceJonathans daughtereventually married, and then turned against us. They dredged up old grievances and shattered families, blaming us: Jonathan for leaving his drinking wife, me for remarrying after widowhood. They left for a rented flat, determined to have nothing to do with us.
Jonathan and I could only shrug and go on loving each other, as sincerely as before.
A year slipped by.
The “prodigal children” stayed away. Alice only rang her father on his birthday.
Three years passed, and then Andrew and Alice invited Jonathan and me over. We were wary, but accepted.
Turned out, Alice and Andrew now had a sona grandson Jonathan and I shared. Our happiness was overwhelming. Around the table, Andrew and Alice asked our forgiveness. “We realise, nowlife is unpredictable! The most important thing is forgiveness. And honouring your parentsthey gave you life. Thats why we called our son Miles, hoping for peace in the family.”
Thats how Jonathan and I have found our own reborn happiness.
