Never Stop Believing in Happiness

Hey, youve got to hear this its a bit of a rollercoaster, but I swear it ends on a sunny note.

Back when I was a teenager, I wandered into a bustling county fair in Brighton. A fortuneteller with eyes as dark as midnight grabbed my wrist and sang softly:

Lovely, youll end up living somewhere warm, where the air smells of the sea and ripe grapes.

I laughed and tossed her a cheeky grin. Yeah, right! Im never leaving my little town.

Life went on as expected I married Jim out of love, we had a daughter named Emily, and I was dreaming of a second child. Before the baby came, Id taken a job to keep my skills sharp. Just a few years, five or six, and then maybe I can focus on the kids, I told myself.

Then the trip that changed everything happened. My neighbour, Mrs. Clarke, who works as a nurse, called me in a panic:

Emily, Jims been taken to the hospital. An ambulance showed up from an unknown address on the next street over.

You never know where family secrets will surface, do you?

The evening that followed felt like a bad thriller. I raced to the hospital, my heart pounding in my throat, while Jim, pale and with his arm in a sling, avoided my eyes.

Where did they take him from? I whispered.

He said nothing the silence said it all. It turned out the address was a flat where a lonely woman, a colleague of Jims, had been staying. Their friendship had been going on for over a year.

Everyones temperaments are different. Some close their eyes, some throw a fit, then force a smile and a bowl of soup at the cheater. I wasnt built that way. I didnt wait for Jim to come home; I needed to soothe a wounded soul.

I packed the essentials into an old suitcase, grabbed trembling Emily by the hand, and bolted out of our flat without looking back.

Were starting fresh, love, I told her, squeezing her tiny palm.

***

My mum took us in for a while, then I filed for divorce, split the flat with Jim and took out a mortgage on a modest house. I ran on autopilot, trying to secure a future for Emily.

Years later, exhausted and lonely, I booked a flight to a cosy cottage owned by Olivia, a friend of my mum, up in the Cotswolds, about an hour from Oxford. Id been saving every penny for a holiday, but something just snapped and I bought the tickets on a whim, hoping the English countryside sunshine could melt the ice in my heart.

Olivia listened to my bitter confessions Ill never learn to trust again, Love feels like a myth now and she could barely hold herself together. She slipped a quick call to her acquaintance, the owner of a local vineyard in Kent:

Mark, find me a Luke. Urgently! Tell him I have a bride waiting.

My thoughts were miles away from any romance. That night I was curled up in a soft robe, reading a novel, trying to chase away the gloom. The sky was a deep, unbroken night.

Suddenly there was a knock. A minute later, Olivia burst into the bedroom, eyes sparkling:

Emily, get up! Your fiancés here!

I laughed at the absurdity, tossed on my robe, and shuffled to the lounge.

There he was tall, silverthreaded at the temples, eyes that seemed to laugh. Luke stood with a battered motorbike propped against the wall, helmet in his hands. Hed ridden twenty miles up winding country lanes under a starfilled sky just to meet a stranger.

Olivia said youre a proper English lady? he said in his broken English, his accent strangely musical.

I was stunned, offered a handshake, but Luke took my hand in his warm, large palms and wouldnt let go. We plonked onto the sofa, hands still clasped. He barely spoke English, I didnt know a word of Italian, but our conversation of gestures, smiles and glances was so immediate and thrilling that Olivia, smiling, slipped away and left us alone with the newborn magic.

He left at dawn, hopping back on his iron steed. Later I learned his life had been a string of mishaps two failed marriages, no kids, no home, living above his brothers garage, and hed almost given up on happiness.

Ten days before he was due to go, we sorted everything. Ill be back, I said simply when he asked about staying. Well live together.

***

The next few months back home were a whirlwind I got laid off, packed up, argued with relatives who didnt get my madness. My phone exploded with messages every day.

My sunshine, how are you? I miss you Luke.

Our new window looks onto an olive grove. Your rooms waiting. Yours, Luke.

He wasnt bothered by the sevenyear age gap (Im older) or the twelveyearold Emily hed have to love.

One sunny afternoon on the terrace of our new house, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and asked,

Luke, why did you believe in us so quickly? Why werent you scared?

He turned to me, his eyes reflecting the Tuscanlike hills of the Cotswolds, and said,

An old winemaker once told me Id meet a woman from the east a soul full of storms, a heart looking for calm. He said shed bring the luck Ive been planting in my vines but never finding. Thats you, Emily.

What? I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. Did you find that luck?

He didnt answer with words. He pulled me close and kissed me as if it were both our first and last kiss, then smiled his bright, sunlit smile and said,

She found me herself! Im endlessly happy.

Life really did turn around after that. We landed a great job, took out a mortgage on a little cottage overlooking the rolling hills, and Luke grew to adore our stepdaughter Emily, who now gleefully studies Italian. He brings me cinnamonspiced coffee in bed each morning, and evenings are filled with the scent of pasta he cooks to perfection. His love shows up in wildflower bouquets on the table, gentle touches, and the caring glance he gives me every morning as he sees me off.

Ive blossomed. I never believed there could be lasting happiness, but now I know it isnt a myth. It walks the world, stubbornly looking for its other half, and when it finds you, it pulls you together so tightly that no storm can break you apart.

Just thought youd like to hear it. Take care, love.