Imogen longed desperately to find a good husband. Shed already tried marriage once, and it hadnt ended well.
She had a twenty-year-old son, James.
Years ago, Imogen had come home from a business trip a day early. She caught her husband, half-dressed, hurriedly making their bed, and her closest friend in the kitchen, brazenly brewing coffee in Imogens silk dressing gown. The classic betrayalthere was no need for further investigation. She kicked them both out of her life in a flurry of outrage. Divorce was instant. Her husbands belongings were thrown out the door. She banned James from speaking to his father. At the time, Imogen hadnt even reached thirty.
Over a decade had passed since. Shed gone on to earn first a PhD and then a DPhil in English Literature. By forty, she was Dr. Imogen Stanley, chairing the department at the local university. Colleagues held her in high esteem. Yet through those ten years of womanly solitude, Imogen never abandoned hope that shed find a decent companion. She thought it far too early to start knitting or embroidering for mere pastime.
Suitors werent lacking. But none ever made it to her hearts safe harbour. One man, after only one date, proposedand promptly borrowed some money (Were basically family now, arent we?) before vanishing. Another was a widower searching for someone to mother his children. He swiftly invited Imogen to his house and asked her to cook dinner for his entire brood. Three children, youngest to eldest. Imogen wasnt expecting such a warm greeting, but she made the meal, fed the little ones, then wept on returning home. She felt sorry for them, father and children alike. But she knew she couldnt take on that mountain. Maybe Im selfish, she reasoned to herself.
Each year left her with fewer options. When shed all but given up, resigned to writing off these futile escapades for good, He appeared on the horizon.
A former studentan Englishman named Oliver, twenty-eight. Hed once studied in Imogens class, and she remembered his diligence and wit amongst the sea of drifting undergraduates. After university, hed set up a small garage in Oxfordshire.
Once, stopping to fill her tank, Imogen realised Oliver owned the petrol station. They fell into conversation, sharing a laugh over university memories. He handed her his business cardjust in case. Imogen found herself visiting each week, both for fuel and to see Oliver. He began inviting her outrestaurants, symphony concertsbut Imogen demurred, finding it difficult to believe in the sincerity of a former student.
Oliver, however, persisted. She remembered him as someone who stood apart, both in intellect and charm. All the girls on the course would sigh longingly when Oliver passed by. Once, as a student, hed given Imogen an intricately carved box containing a note. When she read it, her cheeks burned, then drained of colour. Furious, shed shredded the message, which read, Dr. Stanley, I love you.
She immediately assumed it was a joke and shoved the box back at him before fleeing. The next day, Oliver arrived at her office.
Dr. Stanley, please forgive me. I didnt mean to upset you. I just… really like you.
She took his apology and dismissed him back to class. Until his graduation, Oliver kept his distance, only ever glancing her way when he thought she wasnt looking.
Now, faced again with his affection, Imogen was torn. Should she accept his courtship or send him away? Now, Im nobody to him. Just a man and a woman. Who knows what could happen? she mused.
At last, she surrendered to fate.
A brief, luminous romance began. Their first date left Imogen breathless. Oliver was thoughtful, witty, and romantic in a way shed never known. The age gap faded into irrelevance; she felt giddy, young, full of delight. Oliver, she teasingly renamed as Edwardand he didnt protest, calling her Emily in return. Imogen was euphoric; for the first time she felt cherished, utterly desired. The love that flamed between them seemed impossible to extinguish.
Yet Oliver never asked Imogen to marry him. He planned to return to his family in Cornwall soon and wouldnt defy his mothers wishes. A suitable bride had already been chosen for himRebecca, a girl of seventeen, from a respectable family. Imogen couldnt imagine leaving her own son or mother behind, nor did she believe Olivers family would accept an older woman from elsewhere. It just wasnt meant to be.
Better a dry crust at home than someone elses lavish cake.
With her decision made, Imogen poured all her unspent tenderness and passion into Oliver, determined to love him with her every fibre, however brief the happiness might be. How much happiness does a woman of my age get? Just scraps. Ill give Oliver everythingIll love him till he cant breathe for it! she confessed candidly to her mother.
Her mother was utterly opposed to a match with an outsider.
Immy, why do you need this strange boy? Arent there enough Edwards in England? Ill never give my mothers blessing! Your ex-husband keeps turning up, begging your forgiveness. Dont you see? If you only forgave him, life would be so much easier. You have a son together! her mother lamented.
Mum, Richard cheated on me! Have you forgotten? Imogen retorted.
Hes repented a hundred times! And youre not faultless eitheryou chased your degrees and let him slip through your fingers. If a husbands not watched, hes bound to be tempted. Men rarely say no, her mother persisted.
Well, why didnt you forgive Dad, then? He begged too, Imogen countered.
Oh, lovetheres no comparison. Your father left before you were even born. He had three children with another woman, came back wanting to see you, but do you think Id take him onwith three strays in tow? And I wouldnt have stolen a father from those kids. But your Richard has drifted for a decade, waiting for you to call him back. James adores him, her mother finished sternly.
Oh Mum, Im not marrying Oliver. I know Im too old for him. Ill wait until he leaves me firstbut I cant walk away. After that… well, well see, Imogen answered quietly.
Her mother gave a deep sigh. Well, loveeven old mares dream of sugar lumps.
Three years later, Oliver bid a final farewell. Ill stay in touch, my darling, was all he said.
Imogen was ready for it, but it hurt dreadfully to see him go back to sweet, young Rebecca. For her parting gift, Oliver returned the trinket box. Inside, this time, was a delicate ring shaped as two angels holding a diamond heart.
My heart stays with you, Emily, Oliver whispered fervently, kissing her one last time before leaving for Cornwall.
A year later, he sent a wedding photo: My wife, Rebecca. The next year, another: My second wife, Mary. In Cornwall, it seemed, family traditions ran deep.
Imogen, looking at these bulletins from Olivers married life, felt not a trace of envy. What can those green girls know about true love? she thought, almost amused to note the sadness in Olivers eyes. Perhaps he still missed her. But with time, the old fire fades and new winds blow.
The story was over; the page had turned. In time, James married and brought his bride home. When their daughter was born, Imogen asked them to name her Emily, wanting the memory of that passionate love to live on.
Shed forgivenperhaps simply pitiedher ex-husband Richard. His guilt was real, but in the end, mercy ruled. Richard appealed through her mother, and the wise old matriarch persuaded Imogen to reconcile.
Hes long understood his mistake. And who among us is without sin? Temptation walks among us all. Not everyone has the strength to resist.
Now, Imogen and Richard live as a family again, inseparable. Imogen even finished a knitting courseand now, she crafts little socks with intricate patterns for her granddaughter Emily, preserving a fragment of her fiery past, stitch by loving stitch.
