Rebeccas heart no longer aches or weeps.
After the tragic loss of her husband Zachary, she could no longer bear the city that reminded her of him. Eight years had passed and a sudden accident had taken the life of her beloved. Rebecca thought she would never recover, left alone with her son Sam.
Ladies, Ive decided to quit everything and move to the country, she told the two friends who had come to visit. The family home is empty, my parents have long since gone. I cant walk these streets or stay in the flat. Zachary feels like hes still right beside me, sometimes I even catch a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn theres nobody. What is that?
Ethel, one of the friends, doubted her. Rebecca, I dont know if you can manage village life. You grew up there, but youve lived in the city all your life; everything is set up for you here.
Theres a school in the village and Ill teach, Rebecca replied firmly.
Then well come to visit you, said Charlotte, and they all laughed.
For the past five years Rebecca and Sam have lived in a modest cottage on the edge of a Yorkshire village, right by the woods. She works at the local primary school, has settled in, and the villagers respect her, since she was born in the area.
That winter was bitterly cold, and the second half of December brought snow and fierce gales. New Years was only a week away when, late one night, a blizzard roared outside, shaking the walls while the interior stayed warm and snug. Rebecca and Sam loved such evenings, drinking hot herbal tea with mint and lavender as the storm raged beyond the windows.
Mum, I think someones knocking at the door, Sam whispered.
Its just the wind, she said, but she listened and heard a faint rap. She stepped into the hallway. Whos there?
Please, open the door, a weak, hoarse voice pleaded.
Fear did not seize her, yet she could not understand why anyone would come to their remote cottage in such weather. The house sat far from the main road, near the forest. When she opened the door, a man stumbled in, collapsing onto the doorstep. She called for Sam.
Maybe hes drunk, she thought, but we cant let him freeze.
Together they hauled the man inside, where he lay on the floor, groaning. Their eyes saw the rough leather of a hunters coat, but no rifle. Rebecca, not a medic, knew there was no ambulance in a blizzard. After a couple of minutes the man turned onto his back, his eyes opening. His right pant leg was torn, and his leg bled.
What happened to you? Rebecca asked softly.
Sorry, please, he rasped as they stripped his outer garments. His pleading blue eyes made Rebeccas heart tighten with worry.
She examined his leg; there was no fracture, only a deep wound that oozed blood. She could dress it, and a small relief lifted her spirit. Sam and Rebecca settled him near the fire, propping him against the wall. The man managed a faint smile.
My name is Peter, he said hoarsely. Im sorry to intrude.
Rebecca, and this is my son Sam, she introduced herself.
Im a former army doctor, now a hunter, Peter continued, Ive been out for a hunt and slipped on ice, losing a lot of blood.
Rebecca sighed, relieved that he could tend to himself. After cleaning and bandaging the wound, Peter sat at the table, sipping hot tea with mint and raspberry jam. Over tea they talked, and Peter shared his story.
Im fortythree, he said. I spent years as a field medic overseas, moving from post to post. My wife could not cope with a life forever on the road; she left with our daughter for the city and remarried. I dont blame herfew women could endure that hardship.
Rebecca frowned. But what about love, in both sorrow and joy? she asked.
Peter nodded. Not everyone can bear such strain. When I married young, I promised things I couldnt keep. I understand why she left.
They chatted until past midnight, when Peter finally asked, Are you married?
No, Rebecca replied. My husband died tragically, and I left the city five years ago. This is my family home; here my soul has thawed. I worried Sam would dislike the village, but hes adapted well, made friends, and feels at home.
The city doesnt call you? Peter wondered.
No, I love the peace here. I teach English and literature at the school. What about you? Do you work in a hospital?
I left the army at forty, took a pension, cared for my ailing mother in the village, worked briefly as a forester, then moved back to the city after she passed. I opened a pharmacy, which is doing well, and Im thinking of opening another branch. Lately, though, Ive been haunted by a lingering melancholy, perhaps from my mothers death.
Rebecca nodded. A loss can leave a deep mark on the spirit.
Peter laughed ruefully. Friends suggest I see a psychiatrist, but I scoff. Thats why I came out here, to hunt, to wander the woods. I got lost, my car vanished, I ran into a herd of wild boars, one gored my leg. I managed to fire my rifle, though Im not sure I hit anything. The herd ran off, and I stumbled to your cottage, leaving my gun by the door.
Come, you can rest by the fire, Rebecca said, showing him a spare bed.
The next morning Peters temperature rose; the leg injury still throbbed. He could not continue his journey. The storm had eased, and Rebecca and Sam found Peters abandoned car halfburied in the snow near the woods.
Ill have to treat myself, Peter said, retrieving the firstaid kit from the vehicle.
Sam fetched the kit safely. Over the next few days Peter recovered, playing chess with Sam each evening. When he felt stronger, he prepared to return to the city, three days before New Years.
Rebecca asked, Is your heart still hurting?
Peter packed his bag, looked Rebecca in the eye and answered, Now its crying. He climbed into his 4×4 and drove away.
After he left the cottage fell quiet. Rebecca felt a hollow ache, realizing how much she had liked Peter a steady, caring man yet she expected nothing. The blizzard continued, though milder, and the wind blew only occasionally.
Everything turned out for the best, she told herself. It was good that Peter stayed only a short while; otherwise it would have been harder to let him go.
Peter never called, despite promising he would. Rebecca reasoned, He has his own responsibilities now, and his time here was just a brief adventure.
On December31st she drove her old car into town, bought groceries and sweets for a weeks worth of NewYear celebrations, even though it was just she and Sam. They set the tree, hung the lights, and Sam helped lay the table.
That evening another gust of wind knocked at the door.
Mom, someones at the door, Sam asked.
Its just the wind, she replied, but she listened. A firm knock echoed.
Standing on the threshold was a smiling Peter, arms full of parcels.
May I come in? he said, stepping straight into the hallway.
Sam shouted with joy, Hooray! Uncle Peter! and ran to him.
Peter turned to Rebecca, his eyes soft. Sam, wait, take the bags, thenlet me give your mother a kiss.
He kissed Rebeccas lips, his heart thudding like a childs.
Peter, I think Ive realized my life cant be happy without you, he said, pulling a small box from his coat pocket. Will you marry me?
You travelled all the way here for this? she asked, smiling as she nodded.
Sam looked at his mother with hope, and Rebecca returned his gaze, agreeing.
I cant leave this place, she said.
Neither do I, Peter laughed. Ill stay here; the forest needs a forester, and I can run my business from the city when needed.
Time passed. Sam, now ten, attended secondary school, and later the university. Rebecca and Peter built a larger house on the village green. Peters wounds healed, his soul no longer ached or wept; love and joy surrounded him.
Through grief and chance encounters, they learned that healing comes when we open our hearts to new beginnings, and that even the coldest winters can give way to springs warm promise.
