“THE IMPERFECT HUSBAND…”
“Honestly, love, its about time you got married. Look at you, blooming like a rose. Take Simon, for instancestrong as an ox, hands like hammers. Bends horseshoes without breaking a sweat. Hed carry you in his arms all day, he would,” Mum mused, eyeing her daughter, Emily.
Emily burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, hed pick me up and bend me like a horseshoe out of habit. Id spend the rest of my life dragging my nose through the dirt.”
“Dont be daft! Im being serious, and youre just laughing. You ought to listen to your mother if you want whats best. I know who youve got your eye onAndrew. But mark my words, hell make a terrible husband,” Mum sighed.
Emily spun around. “Whats wrong with him? Hes hardworking! Their house is the tidiest in the village, all the outbuildings in order. Oursll be the same!”
Now Mum chuckled. “And who dyou think does all that, eh? His older brother, Greg. Everything he touches turns to gold. Your Andrews only got eyes for his accordion and the nearest hayloftdragging you silly girls there one after another.”
“Mum, dont talk nonsense. Gregs disabledhead always tilted, hunched, one leg shorter. Hows he managing all that?” Emily challenged.
“Go over there in daylight, then. Help Aunt Lucy pick apples. Youll see for yourself,” Mum advised.
So Emily went. She found Andrew snoozing under the shed. She nudged him. “Thought you were fixing the roof with your dad at dawn? Thats why you rushed me home last night.”
He yawned. “Whatre you doing here, checking up on me? I havent even proposed yet. Too soon for that.”
“Fine, too soon. I just came to help your mum with the apples. Join metheres loads, seems like they never run out,” Emily offered.
Andrew snorted. “As if! Let the whole village laugh’Look, Andy doing womens work!’ You run along, help Mum.” He rolled over.
Emily was hurt. Just last night hed held her, called her his love. She grabbed a basket and headed to Aunt Lucys.
As she picked apples, hammering echoed behind the house. “Whats Uncle Pete building? Thought everything was done?”
Aunt Lucy sighed. “Thats not Peteits Greg. My Petes laid up, threw his back out lifting metal. But Greg cant sit idle, always fixing something. Not like Andrewthat ones only after a good time. But we dont say anything. Gregll never marry. Whod have him? Andrewll give us grandkids. Thats how it is, love. Go see, if youre curiousbut hes shy. Might bolt.”
Emily followed the noise. Greg sat on a bench, carving wood.
“Hello,” she said softly. “Can I see?” He startled but didnt run. Handed her the blockand there she was. Her own face, unmistakable.
“Is that me?” She gaped. He nodded, then grabbed her hand, tugging her past the garden. She nearly panickedscream or run?but suddenly they were in a tiny shed.
Inside, she was everywhereclay, wood, even a sketch on paper. “Why?” she whispered.
His voice was rough. “Youre beautiful. Not like me.” He turned away, shoulders shaking. She reached to hug him.
“Dont be silly. I didnt know. You love me?” He turned painfullyhis eyes, blue as a summer lake, brimming with such adoration that she fled.
“Whyd you birth me a monster? Shouldve drowned me as a babe,” Greg wept, forehead to the table. “Andrews loved, but folks recoil from me like Ive got the plague. She ran from me! I cant bear her marrying him. Ill hang myself first.”
His mother stroked his hair, crying too. “Hush, son. You think Id kill my own child? Emilys a good girllucky the man who weds her. Forget Andrew; he doesnt love her. But youdont you dare give up. Fate finds us all.”
Meanwhile, Emily couldnt forget Gregs eyes. Shed never seen love like thatand her heart answered. Strangest of all? Shed stopped seeing his flaws.
“Emily! Here for me or Mum? Fancy a walk?” Andrew teased.
“No. I came for Greg. To apologise. You run alongor isnt Vera waiting by the oak?” She left him gaping.
The village was scandalisedbeautiful Emily marrying Greg?! They whispered pity, even muttered about love potions. Only Mum knew the truth: her girl was smitten. Greg and Emily sat for hours, heads bent, laughing, eyes locked.
They married quietlyno need for gossip over ale.
Andrew played the jilted suitor for the girls: “Nearly proposed to her myself! And she picks my crippled brother.”
Emily and Greg moved to the village edge. He drew up house plans, building feverishlywith help from both fathers. The cottage was a picture.
They blessed their parents with two grandsons and a granddaughter.
Andrew? Still playing the fieldthough now its widows and married women. Hes been thrashed and tarred, but shrugs it off.
As for Emily and Greg? Their home brims with joy. Envy thrives, of course. “God gave the beauty a broken husband,” some sneer.
Emily just laughs. “In thirty years, Ill be just as ‘broken.’ Look at yourselveshunched, aching backs, rheumatism. Gregs only different on the outside. Inside, hes the kindest, handsomest man alive.”
