One Frosty Winter’s Evening

On a bleak winter evening, Eleanor slipped out of her modest cottage in the rolling hills of Yorkshire as the first flakes drifted down, large and silent. The sky was a flat, leaden blanket; the stars were hidden, and the moon struggled to peek through the gloom, already yielding to the pale hint of dawn. By midday a weak sun finally crested the thatched roofs of the hamlet.

The day passed like any other, and as dusk settled, Eleanor made her way home. Dark clouds rolled in, and a fierce wind tore across the fields.

What on earth has risen from nowhere? she muttered, the silence of the empty lane suddenly broken by a sudden whiteout that swallowed everything ahead.

She was almost at the front gate when the storm intensified. She pushed the gate open, thinking, *Thank heavens the snow hasnt yet piled up into drifts. But this weather isnt playing games.* The wind howled through the courtyard, rattling a towering oak that swayed from side to side. Grateful that she had reached the door, she slipped inside and slammed it shut.

After a simple supper, Eleanor climbed onto the cold hearth, listening to the gale whipping through the chimney. The winds howl lulled her into a light doze. Suddenly, a sharp knock rattled the door.

Who could possibly be out here at this hour? she wondered, pulling on her sheepskin boots and descending the hearth.

Open up, love, let me warm my bones, a rough male voice called.

Who are you? Eleanor asked, wary.

Thomas, a driver. Im stranded just opposite your cottagesnow has buried the road, and the blizzards a wall of white. Ive been shovelling, but it wont quit. Please, let me in. I wont trouble you, I promise. Im from the neighbouring village.

The night was near black, but Eleanor hesitated only a moment before sliding the latch. A tall, snowcaked man stumbled into the entryway.

Alright, come in, Thomas, she said, stepping aside.

He shrugged off his heavy coat, brushing the frost from his battered hat.

Care for a cuppa? she offered.

Would be grand. Im freezing to the marrow, he replied, his breath fogging the air.

Eleanor set a fresh batch of scones shed baked the day before on the table, fetched a steaming teapot from the fireplace, and poured two cups.

Thanks, Thomas said, and whats your name, dear?

Eleanor Clarke, she replied, smiling warmly. Just Eleanor is fine.

Living alone? he asked.

Five years now, she said, a hint of melancholy in her voice.

Wheres your husband?

My husband he bolted to the city after a pearladen feast with a newcomer, she laughed bitterly.

Children?

None yet. Do you have a family?

No, Thomas said, his tone heavy. I was married once, but it fell apart. He didnt go on.

Its the same for me, Eleanor whispered, her eyes glistening. Drink your tea, eat the scones, and Ill make a bed for you on the hearth.

Thomas settled onto the warm stones and soon began to snore. Eleanor lay awake, the quiet of the room pressing down on her. A solitary woman, capable and resilient, yet cursed with loneliness. She imagined a husband of her ownkind, caring, a hardworking partnersleeping beside her instead of a stranger.

When morning finally broke, she rose, stoked the fire, and flipped a few thin oatcakes onto the hot coals. Thomas awoke, eyes bright.

Nothing beats a fresh breakfast by the fire, he said, smiling.

After a hurried breakfast, Eleanor hurried to her work at the local wool weavers shop.

Thomas, the cottage isnt locked. If you need to leave, just latch the door. Theres still a kettle on the fire and boiled potatoes if youre cold. Safe travels, and perhaps we wont meet again, she said.

Farewell, Eleanor. Thank you for the nights shelter, he replied.

At lunch she returned to find Thomas wrestling with his battered lorry, halfburied in snow. Hed managed to free the wheels, but the engine sputtered.

Still here? she called.

The batterys dead, and the roads still a white blanket, he sighed.

Come in, have a bite. Ive just come from the shop, barely made it through the drifts.

She ushered him inside, sharing a modest meal. A strange kinship blossomed; she felt an unexpected comfort in his presence.

You should be able to borrow a tractor from the workshop after two, Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck where a few strands of silver had begun to show.

Eleanor glanced at his temples, noticing the first hints of gray, the lines deepening around his eyes whenever he smiled.

Hard work at his age, around thirtyseven, she mused internally. A good, honest man in the housethats the dream, isnt it?

She walked him to the workshop, then back to her own duties, waving as she left.

Take care, Thomas! she shouted.

You as well, Eleanor! he called back.

The evening fell dark quickly over the countryside. As she approached her cottage, a warm glow spilled from the windows, and her heart fluttered at the thought of being awaited.

Come in, love, Thomas greeted, a kettle whistling behind him.

Why didnt you leave? she asked.

Tomorrow the tractor will arrive. No spare machines are available today, they told me, he explained.

After dinner and a flurry of household chores, Eleanor slipped into bed. Thomas lingered on the hearth, his thoughts knotting. Suddenly he leapt up, joining her on the bed. Startled, she froze, unsure what to say, as he pulled her under a blanket and held her close. She reached for him, trembling.

Silence stretched, then Eleanor broke it.

Thomas, I could spend my whole life like this, right here with you.

He lifted an eyebrow, halfamused, halfirritated.

So you think I should marry you? he asked.

What else? she whispered.

A flash of bitterness crossed his face.

Marriage isnt a game. I dont trust womennot one. I was wed once; my wife left for another man. Ive had my share of women, but none stayed. Youve just let yourself in under the covers. Ill be gone tomorrow, and youll find someone else. His voice rose, raw.

YoureThomas. Ive never had anyone before, she protested, tears spilling.

There was someone, then there wasnt. You didnt know me, yet youre already dreaming of a family, he snapped.

She sobbed, the words tumbling out. I want a family, children, a husband to protect them. I want a proper life.

He tried to soothe her. Dont cry. Were strangers. What children? Think of yourself

She fell silent, shame washing over her for trusting a man she barely knew. The night wore on without sleep.

At dawn, Thomas packed his belongings. By six a tractor was due. Eleanor stepped onto the porch, watching him leave.

Forgive me, Eleanor, he said.

Goodbye, Thomas. If you ever get stuck again, I wont open the door, she replied, though a part of her shouted for him to stay.

He drove away. When the lunch break came, his lorry was gone. Eleanor waited, then turned to her friend Molly, who lived nearby.

Molly, I think Im pregnant, she blurted, halflaughing.

Congratulations! Get to the city doctor at once, Molly urged.

Eleanor thanked fate for the twist that had brought Thomas into her life. She soon learned she was indeed expecting, and the news filled her with a fierce joy.

Months later, in the bustling maternity ward of Leeds General, a nurse handed her a squalling infant.

What shall you name him? the nurse asked.

Stewart, Eleanor whispered, already picturing him as a boy, then a man. Hell be my Stewie.

The nurse chuckled. Dont think of old age just yet; raise him first.

Had I a husband, hed be here, Eleanor replied wistfully.

When it was time to leave, Eleanor gathered a modest bundle of belongings, cradling her son close. As she stepped into the hospital corridor, a bouquet of fresh lilies appeared in Thomass hands, Molly standing beside him with a sly smile.

Thomas says hes your husband now and wont let anyone take your son away, Molly announced.

Eleanor handed her child to Thomas, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. She stared at him, the man who had once been a stranger in a snowstorm and now held the future of her family. The camera lingered on her shining eyes as the winter light filtered through the hospital windows.