One Winter Evening, Once Upon a Time

Winter Evening

The first light of dawn slipped through the thin veil of clouds as I stepped out of my cottage in Little Whittle, a scattered hamlet on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales. Snow fell in gentle flakes, not enough to blanket the fields but enough to make the world look softer. The stars were hidden behind the overcast sky, and the moon barely managed a pale glimmer before the day broke. By noon a shy sun peeked over the hills, warming the icy ground.

The day passed much like any other. As evening settled, I started the walk home, feeling the wind pick up and dark clouds rolling in from the west.

What on earth is happening? I thought, halflaughing at the sudden hush. I hadnt reached the front gate when a blizzard took hold, reducing visibility to almost nothing.

Fortunately I was already near the cottage. I pushed open the gate and whispered to myself, Lucky that the drifts havent piled up yetseems the weather isnt joking about this one. The wind roared around the yard, making the ancient oak by the gate sway like a ships mast. Thank heavens I made it to the door. I slipped inside, closed the latch, and let the warmth of the hearth greet me.

After a modest supper I climbed onto the stove to listen to the howling wind through the chimney. The crackle of the fire lulled me into a light doze. Not long after, a sharp knock echoed through the house.

Who could be out here in such weather? I muttered, pulling my snug woolen slippers on and shuffling down from the stove.

Whos there? I called.

Open up, love, I need a place to warm my bones, a gruff male voice replied.

Im sorry, who are you? I asked, curiosity mixed with caution.

George Mason, a coachdriver. Im stuck just opposite your cottagesnows piled up and the roads vanished. Ive tried to shove it away with my spade, but it just keeps coming. Let me in, I promise I wont cause any trouble. Im from the neighbouring village of Brackenford.

The night was deepening, but I eased the latch and let the snowcaked stranger into the entry hall. He shuffled in, shaking the crust of snow from his coat and cap.

Would you like a cup of tea? I offered.

Thatd be grand, Im chilled to the bone, he said, smiling as he loosened his heavy coat.

I set a plate of scones Id baked the day before on the low table, fetched a steaming kettle from the stove, and poured us both a mug.

Thank you, dear, George said. And whats your name?

Emily Hawthorne, I replied, smiling warmly. You can just call me Emily.

Live alone? he asked.

For five years now.

And your husband?

My husband he vanished after a night out in Leeds with a city girl.

Any children?

No, none at all.

Do you have any family?

No, Im on my own, George said sadly. I was married once, but it didnt work out.

I nodded, feeling the ache of my own solitude. I understand. Its hard not having anyone. I gestured to the stove. Make yourself comfortable. Ill get you a blanket.

George settled on the hearth and soon a soft snore rose from him. I lay awake, listening to the crackle of the fire, thinking of how Id always imagined a husband beside mekind, caring, a partner to share the chores and the quiet evenings. The ache of loneliness pressed heavily on my chest.

When dawn finally broke, I rose, stoked the fire, and fried a few slices of bread on the hot coals. George woke with a grin, inhaling the aroma.

Nothing like a good breakfast after a night in the cold, he said.

After wed both eaten, I prepared to head to the dairy for my morning shift.

George, I wont lock the door. If youre leaving, just shut the latch behind you. If you get cold again, theres still a kettle on the stove and a pot of boiled potatoes in the pantry. Safe travels.

Thanks, Emily. Im grateful for the shelter.

During my lunch break I returned to find George tinkering with his battered old van, trying to free it from the snow.

You still here? I called.

Yes, the batterys dead and the roads still a white wall.

Come in, have a bite. Ive just finished my own lunch; the snow made it a long trek.

Emily, is there a tractor I could borrow? I cant get the van out until the roads cleared.

The local garage has a few, but theyre only open from one to two oclock. After that we can head there together.

Something unexpected stirred inside mea kinship with this stranger. I found comfort in his presence, a feeling of being understood without words.

Man, Ive been swinging this spade all morning, George complained, wiping his brow.

I watched his silverthreaded hair at his temples and the fine lines gathering around his eyes whenever he smiled. He must have been about thirtyseven.

Having a helpful man around feels like a blessing, I thought, feeling a rare flutter of hope.

I escorted him to the garage, then turned back toward the dairy.

Take care, George, I called as he walked away.

You too, Emily!

The evening grew darker quickly, typical of an English winter. As I approached my cottage, a soft glow spilled from the windows, and my heart lifted at the thought of being awaited.

Come in, love, the kettles boiling, George called from inside.

Why havent you gone home? I asked.

The tractor will be here tomorrow morning. The workshop is short of equipment today, they promised it for tomorrow.

After dinner I settled down to finish the chores. George lingered on the hearth, his gaze distant. Suddenly he rose, moved to the bed, and slipped under the covers beside me. I froze, unsure what to say, as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. I reached for him instinctively.

We lay there in silence, the fires glow fading. Finally I broke the quiet.

George, I could spend my whole life like this, next to you.

He turned, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

So you want me to marry you? he asked, a faint edge to his voice.

Is that what you think? I asked softly.

He sighed, a bitter laugh escaping.

Ive never trusted women. I was married once; my wife ran off with another. Ive had a few relationships, but none stuck. Youre not my wife, yet youre under the covers with me. Tomorrow Ill be on my way, and youll find another man.

My life has been empty. I never had anyone.

There was someone, then there wasnt. Youd have married me if youd wanted.

I felt tears well up, a mixture of shame and longing.

Yes, I need a family, children, someone to care for, I whispered, the words tumbling out. I want a proper life.

He chuckled, a weary sound. Dont cry, love. We dont even know each other. What children?

I fell silent, embarrassed by my sudden confession. The night stretched on, and sleep eluded me.

At six in the morning the tractor was due. I stood on the porch, watching George gather his things.

Forgive me, Emily.

Farewell, George. Next time youre stuck, I wont open the door, I said, though a part of me wanted to shout, Youll always have a place here.

He left. By my lunch break his van was nowhere to be seen. I waited, hopeful, but he never returned.

Later, over tea with my neighbour, Natalie, I confided in her what had happened.

Emily, youre pregnant! she exclaimed, halfjoking, halfserious. You should see a doctor in the city.

I thanked the heavens, feeling a sudden surge of gratitude for the strange twist of fate that might finally give me a child.

At the hospital, the midwife confirmed I was indeed expecting. I thanked my luck for the chance that Georges misfortune had brought me this news.

When the baby arrived, a nurse asked, What shall we call the little lad?

Ill call him Stanley, I replied, already hearing the name echo through the years. Hell be Steady Stan when he grows up. Itll be my joy in later life.

The nurse smiled. Dont think of old age yet; you have a boy to raise first.

Had I a husband, hed be here, I said wistfully.

On the day of discharge, Natalie told me she couldnt drive me home with the baby, though shed arranged a taxi.

How will I get back to the village with a newborn? I fretted, but the nurse promised an ambulance would take us.

I gathered my few belongings, cradling my son, and stepped into the hospital lobby. There, under a bouquet of roses, stood George, handinhand with Natalie, both wearing uneasy smiles.

Emily, George said, Ive decided Ill be your husband. I wont let anyone take my son or you away.

I handed my baby to George, smiling through tears of happiness.

The world felt suddenly brighter, as if the cold winter had finally thawed.