New Husband
Life throws all sorts of curveballs, but Olivia Hart never liked recounting the particulars of her own love saga.
Olivia was 46 when her husband walked out for a girl ten years her junior. It was a textbook case of heartbreak that makes you grind your teeth the new flame was a freshfaced twentysixyearold. She spent about four miserable years wallowing in a deep slump, but eventually the ache dulled, her son welcomed a baby, and she bought a modest cottage in the Cotswolds so her grandson could pop over in the summer and breathe some country air. One day she got her mind off the gloom, started planting tomatoes and peppers with the grandchild, and even adopted a sprightly dachshund she named Benny. She never forgave her ex, but she managed to forget him. When she hit fifty, she realised she didnt mind meeting someone new she just didnt know where or how.
Olivia worked as a nurse at a childrens health centre in Birmingham, a place hardly known for matchmaking. Her mates suggested she keep an eye on a neighbour from the cottage community, but Olivia brushed it off everyone seemed married, and who would be single enough to drive to a cottage alone? She sighed that perhaps her destiny was simply to spend her days as a solo lady.
At 52, her former husband suffered a sudden heart attack and died quickly. Olivia was surprised that she felt nothing more than a pinch of sympathy for her son, for whom it was a real blow. She attended the funeral mostly for his sake; shed rather have stayed home.
While she was perched at the memorial table, a handsome bloke caught her eye. Not bad at all, she thought, then chided herself Remember, this is a funeral, even if its for an ex. She stared at her plate to avoid gawking, but a few minutes later a voice beside her said:
May I join you?
She looked up to see the same gentleman sliding his chair in, a polite smile playing on his lips.
Sorry for being so forward, he said, grinning. I havent seen eyes as kind as yours in ages. Id love to introduce myself. Im Michael Clarke.
Olivia, she managed to whisper.
Michael turned out to be a pleasant conversationalist, and, crucially, there was no wedding band on his finger. Youve gone daft, love, she muttered to herself, but she couldnt help being taken with him. As they wrapped up, Michael asked:
And how are you related to the departed?
My wife, Olivia blurted.
Michael glanced skeptically at a young widow across the room pale, eyes rimmed with tears and then back at Olivia.
Thought the wife would be over there, he said, pointing.
Thats the second one, Olivia clarified. I was the first.
Michael chuckled and said:
I think this will make a cracking story
And so it did. Michael loved bragging that hed shown up at a colleagues funeral and walked off with his first wife. Olivia, on the other hand, blushed and kept stressing that the man was not her husband, just her ex. By the time anyone got the gist of the tale, they were already picturing the whole thing and forgetting to think of anyone else. But the point wasnt the gossip. The point was that Olivia truly fell in love and, oddly enough, felt a quiet gratitude to her first husband for setting this meeting in motion.
