Eleanor Whitford awoke to an empty house before dawn. Her father had long since passed, and her mother had slipped away while she was still in her fifth year at universitya brutal season of lectures and impending dissertations, haunted by grief. The only hand that steadied her was the one of James Collins, the son of the only family she now truly belonged to.
Eleanor and James had been classmates since their third year, and the Collins parentsMary and Peterhad always welcomed Eleanor with a gentle warmth, treating her as one of their own. Everyone waited for the day when their studies would end and the two would tie the knot.
The wedding was modest, and Eleanor mourned the fact that her mother had not lived to see the ceremony. She remembered her mothers last words, whispered in the kitchen before the vows: Before you step into marriage, dear, you must have a checkup.
Her mother had once warned her about a childhood accident a tumble down an icy hill that had scarred her body and left doctors uneasy about her future womanly health. They had watched her closely, yet could offer no certainty.
The anxiety lingered like a fog. On the eve of the wedding, Eleanor obeyed her mothers counsel and underwent the examination again. Though overall health seemed restored, the question of whether she could bear a child remained a thin, trembling thread.
First she spoke with Mary. The matriarch paused, eyes narrowing, then said, If theres even the slightest chance, dont lose hope. Ill talk to James myself.
After the bachelor party, a slightly inebriated James stumbled into Eleanors flat, his face a mask of frustration. I want children, Ellie. What if we cant? Does that make us a family? he blurted, voice cracking. Tears welled in Eleanors eyes; she told him the decision lay with him, but they could try. The doctors had left a sliver of hope, and James was the only man she had ever known.
The first year of marriage brought no miracle. Mary, who adored her daughterinlaw, shared Eleanors worry. Together with Peter, they pulled great strings to keep the family afloat, even sending Eleanor to a specialist clinic in Bath for a programme called Womens Shield. The treatment promised good results, yet after months still no child.
Two years later the reality settled like a cold stone: there was no hope. Despair settled over Eleanor like a dark quilt. James tried to support her as best he could, but tension crept into the household. He didnt blame Eleanor, yet he could not accept a childless life. Eleanor suggested adoption. Lets raise a little one as our own, she whispered. James recoiled. That child could never be mine. I cannot love him as a father, he said, voice trembling. Understand me, Ellie. I cant do that.
Strangely, Peter and Mary backed her. They knew how James longed for a child of his own and felt it wrong to let an orphan grow up unloved.
Eleanor, still loving James, spoke of divorce herself, not wanting to torture him. Lets part, James. Youre still young; youll find another wife and have children. He hesitated, but when a vivacious new colleague named Olivia arrived at his office, his heart seemed to snap into a new direction.
The conversation with Eleanor was painful for James. He felt he was betraying her, abandoning her to fate. She answered, Everyone has their own destiny. You deserve a brighter one. Dont blame yourself. That night James packed his things and left, while Peter and Mary arrived with tea, apologising for not steering James away from his drunken nights. They promised never to turn away, to treat Eleanor as a daughter forever.
Yet those words were thin air. Eleanor accepted, thanked them, and spent the night weeping. The separation was swift; they divided no assets. Eleanor stayed in the parental flat they had shared, while James soon remarried.
She did not remain alone long. A handsome, kind man named Paul entered her life, courting her with relentless care. Yet Eleanors heart did not open to him; in her dreams James still floated, eyes sad, hands outstretched yet never quite reaching. She fought the thoughts of him, yearning for a different life.
Winter brought a fierce illness. One evening Eleanor, having cooked dinner at Pauls, felt a sudden weakness; by nightfall her temperature spiked. Paul called an ambulance and kept her under his roof. The next morning he was distant, tending to her in silence. When she finally recovered, he confessed, That night I never left your side. You called his name, clutched at me, called me Jimmy, begged me not to go. Do you still love him?
Eleanor answered honestly, Yes. I think Im a oneheart kind of soul. Its hard, Paul. I cant build a relationship without love. She walked away, and Paul did not protest. Soon after, Eleanor learned that James had finally welcomed a son. The news struck her like a sudden gust, a fresh wound in a heart already bruised.
Three years passed in a mist. Jamess parents visited occasionally, as promised, offering moral support. She held no anger toward them nor toward James. One day she saw him in a park with his son, but she did not approach; he did not notice her. Tears fell again, a lingering ache of unrequited love.
Gradually, Eleanor began to stitch herself back together, comforted by the thought that James was happy. His parents spoke of his good, caring wife, though they kept a cool distance. They adored his son, Eddie, and asked her not to bear a grudge.
I havent held it against you, Eleanor replied. He never deceived me; he loved in his own way. I was the one who pushed for the divorce.
On her birthday James called, casually, wishing her well. His voice felt like a distant echo, stirring the old dreamscape. She decided it was his parents gentle nudging, though the call unsettled her once more. She resolved to keep her distance.
A year later tragedy struck: Olivia, Jamess wife, fell ill. Mary called her, saying there was little hope left, weeping for her son and grandson. Eleanor, unable to find a place for herself, worried for the family.
At the cemetery, Eleanor lingered behind the mourners, unsure why she had come, yet unable to stay away. A former motherinlaw embraced her, whispering, Thank you, dear. Theres no malice in you. James never noticed her then. He later called, sparse in words, asking to visit. She welcomed him, sensing his heaviness.
He had aged beyond his years, his vigor waning. They sat at a modest table, sharing lifes fragments. Why dont you marry again? he asked. Eleanors reply was simple: I love you. I need no other. Tears streamed down Jamess cheekssomething she had never seen before.
Lets go to the grandparents house; I need to pick up Eddie, then we can walk if youre willing. He proposed. Eddie was a quiet boy, shy as a mouse, his mother having left him too younga harsh trial for any child. Eleanor kept a neutral stance, watching him with gentle curiosity.
Their meetings became a quiet routine, every weekend, free of obligations, simply easing each others solitude. Then Mary called, saying James was considering asking Eleanor to return. He was struggling, a year of loneliness weighing on him, and the child suffered.
Eleanor promptly phoned James, agreeing. Theres no one else for me, she said. They moved back together, though the house felt cold, James distant, and Eleanor learning to love a child who was not hers.
On Eleanors next birthday, little Eddie presented a drawing of the three of them under a sunny sky, a childs hand scribbling Mum above it. Eleanor wept, hugging the boy, saying, Your mother watches you from above, happy youre so wonderful. I love you tooyoure my son now.
They lived together in a gentle harmony. James thawed, embracing her love, becoming the caring, tender partner he once was. Eleanor finally found the happiness she had chased through lonely years. Though she never was devout, she sometimes visited a church, lighting a candle for the woman who had left this world but given her a beloved son and a loving husband.
