Fortune favours the grateful
By the time Stuart Harper turned thirty, he had spent ten years in the armed forces, serving in Afghanistan and Iraq. He had been wounded twice, yet he survived each time as if a higher power watched over him. After his second serious injury he spent months in a military hospital and was finally sent back to his native hamlet of Willowbrook in Kent.
Willowbrook had changed over the years, as had its people. All of Stuarts former schoolmates were now married, but one day he caught sight of Ethel Turner, a girl he could barely remember. When he left for the army she had been a shy thirteenyearold; now she was twentyfive, a striking beauty who was still single. No man had yet seemed worthy of her hand, and she didnt feel the urge to settle down.
Broadshouldered, sturdy, with a keen sense of justice, Stuart could not ignore Ethel.
Are you waiting for me and still havent married? he asked with a smile, looking at the gorgeous girl.
Perhaps, she replied, a faint blush crossing her face as her heart quickened.
From then on they began to see each other. It was late autumn, the two walked along a wooded lane, leaves rustling beneath their feet.
Stuart, my father will never let us wed, Ethel said sadly. He had already proposed twice. You know my father, after all.
What can he do to me? Im not afraid of him, Stuart declared confidently. If he tries to hurt me, hell be arrested and cant bother us any longer.
Ethel gasped. You dont know my father. He is ruthless and controls everything.
George Whitaker was the most powerful man in the hamlet. He had started as a local entrepreneur, but rumours now linked him to shady dealings. He was a stout man with a cold, haughty stare and a cruel streak. In his youth he built two farms, raising cattle and pigs, and employed more than half the village. Everyone bowed to him as if he were a lord, and he behaved as though he were a god.
My father wont allow our marriage, Ethel insisted. He even wants me to marry the son of his old friend from the cityVincent, a drunken, piglike brute who only knows how to drink ale. I have told my father a hundred times.
Ethel, we live as if in the Dark Ages, Stuart laughed. Who in todays world can force a woman to marry someone she does not love?
He adored Ethel, from her gentle gaze to her fiery temperament. She, too, could not imagine life without him.
Lets go, Stuart said, grabbing her hand and quickening his pace.
Where to? Ethel began to guess, but couldnt stop him.
In the courtyard of the grand Whitaker house, George was conversing with his younger brother Samuel, who lived in the adjoining cottage and was always ready to help.
Mr. Whitaker, I wish to marry your daughter, Stuart announced. May I have her hand?
Ethels mother stood on the porch, hand over her mouth, terrified of the tyrannical husband who had long ruled their household.
Georges eyes flashed with fury at Stuarts boldness, but Stuart met his gaze without flinching. The old man could not understand where such audacity came from.
Get out of here, George snarled. Youre a fool, a broken soldier. My daughter will never marry you. Forget this road, you military dog.
We will marry regardless, Stuart replied steadily.
The villagers respected Stuart, while George cared only for money. The insult stung Stuart. He clenched his fists, and Samuel stepped between them, sensing that neither side would yield.
As Samuel shooed Stuart away, George dragged his daughter inside as if she were a tenyearold child. George never forgave anyone who dared defy him.
That night, a fire raged through Willowbrook, engulfing the garage Stuart had recently opened.
Scoundrel, Stuart muttered, certain the blaze was no accident.
The next night, Stuart quietly pulled up to Ethels cottage. He had sent her a message earlier, asking her to pack a bag so they could leave together. She agreed. From her bedroom window she tossed a suitcase to him, then slipped out, landing gently in his arms.
By morning well be far away, he whispered. You have no idea how much I love you, Ethel pressed against him.
I feel nervous and scared, she admitted.
Within ten minutes they were on the A2, the countryside flashing past. Excitement made Ethels breath quicken and a shiver ran through her. Behind them, headlights glimmeredGeorges sleek Mercedes. It surged forward, cutting them off.
No, not this, Ethel cried, her body tensing.
George stepped out, flanked by two thugs. He grabbed his daughter by the arm. Stuart tried to intervene but was struck hard, knocked to the ground and beaten silently, the men saying nothing. They then fled in Georges car, leaving Stuart unconscious on the roadside.
Stuart eventually dragged himself home, spent a week recovering. The arson case was dismissed as faulty wiring. He understood the truth, but his greatest worry was Ethels fate. She was silent, her phone dead.
George sent Ethel to the city to stay with his older sister, Vera, giving her a modest sum and ordering:
Dont let her leave the house. No phone. If she comes back, I will make her disappear.
Goddamn you, George, Vera snapped, why ruin your own daughters life?
Vera took Ethel in, knowing she must wait until George cooled.
George spread rumours that Ethel was to marry Vincent in the city and would never return to Willowbrook.
Soon youll find work, settle down, Vera told her. Without Stuart?
Without him, she replied.
A few weeks later Ethel discovered she was pregnant. Vera comforted her, pitying her niece.
Your father must never know, Vera warned.
Ethel wept, her thoughts turning to Stuart. She could not remember his number; George had smashed her phone. Even if Vera let her use the landline, there was nowhere to call.
I hate my father, Ethel sobbed. He isnt human. Vera stayed silent; his cruelty deserved such hatred.
Time passed. Stuart could not forget Ethel. He drifted, avoiding any new relationships, working hard, even turning to drink before quitting. Meanwhile, Ethel gave birth to a healthy boy she named Matthew, a spittingimage of his father. She visited occasionally, spoiling her grandson. George never learned of the child; he never returned to the hamlet.
Four years later, Matthew grew into a bright, cheeky lad. One spring, when blossoms scented the air, Ethels mother arrived at Veras house, collapsed into a chair, and wept.
Father is dying, she sobbed. Cancer. He never went to a doctor.
How will I manage alone? Ethel asked, silence filling the room. No one mourned George; his friends gave a halfhearted farewell, muttering, He treated people like rubbish, so heavens justice caught up with him.
George was buried in June. Ethel did not attend, unable to forgive him. Few came to the graveside; only his cronies. People talked openly, saying, What goes around, comes around. God sees all.
Ethels mother gradually recovered, the weight of her abuse lifting. Stuart was away on a posting, returning intermittently. He lived with his own mother, who finally removed her late husbands photos from the wall.
Two weeks after Ethels return to Willowbrook, she learned Stuart was on duty elsewhere. A few days later she walked with Matthew along a path, the boy chasing butterflies, she perched on a fallen log, a gentle breeze caressing her face.
She recalled her childhood, her lost love. Suddenly she felt his presence.
Ethel, a soft voice called. She leapt, both rushing toward each other.
Stuart had changedmore mature, a trace of sorrow in his eyes. He had endured much, but his love for Ethel never faded, only dulled by pain.
Stuart, forgive me for everythingmy father, for not telling you about our son. I never married Vincent; that was my fathers lie. Ive been staying with Vera in the city.
Stuart stared, stunned, as Matthew burst from the grass, running to them. Instinctively Stuart lifted the boy.
My son! he cried, holding the child high, laughter spilling out. My own flesh and blood! I will never let you go.
Dad, will you buy me a football? Matthew asked.
Of course, lad. Well pop to the shop right now, Stuart answered, turning to Ethel, who nodded through tears.
Ethel thanked destiny for this second chance. Fortune indeed favours the grateful, and she and Stuart now embraced a future built on love, forgiveness, and the quiet wisdom that gratitude and compassion can heal even the deepest wounds.
