Dont Take What Isnt Yours; Treasure What Belongs to You
When I stepped into the student halls of the oil college to see my brother, the first thing I noticed were his large hands, stained black with engine grease. Then, as I looked up, my gaze met Peters. He had kind, if somewhat weary, hazel eyes, and he smiled at me in a way that made it seem as though hed been waiting just for me. Only three years older, yet he carried himself with the calm certainty of someone who knew how to live in this world.
Hello thereany idea where my brother, Paul, is? I asked, a bit flustered.
Hello, he replied, turns out Pauls got a lovely sisterthough hes never mentioned her!
I just smiled, not sure what to say, and for a moment, a silence hung in the room. My brother saved me.
Here he comes, Peter nodded, relief flickering in his eyes as I turned to see Paul, arms already open.
Millie! Where did you spring from? Not a word in advance! Anyway, Peter, this is my younger sisterMillie, my brother rattled off.
Peter stretched out his hand, laughing when he saw it was still oily, and spread his arms instead. The room burst out laughing with him. Honestly, Paul, you never said anything about having such a charming sister!
You never asked, my brother shot back.
That was the start. Soon enough, Peter and Millie were meeting on their own. That autumn he was drafted into the Army; she promised to wait.
Millie waited faithfully, sending him letters filled with pressed wildflowers. When he came home, they had a modest weddingshe in her village, he in a town nearby. Youth made poverty bearable, but reality caught up; one could hardly earn much in the countryside.
Peter was attentive and loving from the start. Millie had always been beautiful, drawing admiring glances even from married men when she was young. But Peter, plain in appearance, was proud shed chosen him. With him, Millie felt safe and loved deeply.
Yet Millie never exactly burned with passion or thunderous love for her husband; instead, she let herself be loved, grateful for it, believing Peters affection was enough for both of them. Then one day, Peter bumped into an old classmate, Mike, he hadnt seen in years.
Pete, mate! Mike called, delighted. Living here now, are you married?
Hey Mike, yeahbeen here a while. Havent seen you around
Oh, I work up north on the oil rigs. Good money. Fancy it? Theyre always hiring.
Might do, why not? Cant hurt to have a bit more cash.
So Peter and Millie headed north in search of that so-called golden pound, as people used to say.
They faced bitter cold, shift work, and winds that nearly knocked you off your feet. Peter worked on the rigs; Millie found a post at a nursery schoola warm haven amid the endless winter. Up there, their blonde-haired, grey-eyed daughter Anna was born.
When Anna turned five, they moved back to familiar fields, buying a little house with a front garden. Life settled, grew predictable. Anna made friends in no time with a neighbour called Grace, who lived two doors down. The girls spent their days digging in Graces sandpit, their laughter ringing through the gardens. The parents, meanwhile, hadnt yet been introduced.
It was spring. The lilacs blossomed fiercely, their scent thick in the air. Millie came out, fixing her hair, when suddenly he stepped out from Graces housetall, wearing a simple work shirt, yet carrying himself as though he were heading not for an old car, but to some important appointment. Their eyes met.
Millie was lost in the depth of his blue eyes, creased with laughter lines. Time stopped for a moment, and she realised shed crossed some invisible boundary, one from which there was no turning back.
Before long, the families got acquainted.
Graces mother, Helen, turned out to be kind and gentle, wise in that quiet, undemonstrative way. She and Millie became true friends, sharing joys and worries, jam recipes and secrets, having endless kitchen chats late into the evening.
Between Millie and Benthe blue-eyed neighbour and Helens husbandthere hung an unspoken understanding. Never a word uttered, never a hint. Just lingering glances, accidental touching of hands while passing a cup, a fleeting smile through the hawthorn hedge. And silence, heavy as the scent of spring lilacs, where love quietly grew.
Once, by chance, the silence was broken. They were seeing in New Years Eve at Helen and Bens. After too much wine, Peter snoozed in an armchair as the clock struck twelve. Helen busied herself in the kitchen, plates clattering. Soft music played in the sitting room. Ben offered Millie his hand.
They dancednever too close, keeping the proper distance, yet their eyes said everything. All those years worth of feelingtenderness, pain, the aching impossibility of it. The music faded and, losing resolve, Ben bent and brushed Millies lips with his. She recoiled, as though burned. She couldnt.
What am I doing? This mustnt happen! she cried out inside her head.
Yet now she knew, without doubt, that he loved her too. Afterwards, they saw each other often, always within that fragile truce, and the secret lay only between them. Millie never crossed that line again. But in the twenty-eight years that followed, the four of them almost became one family. It wasnt easy. Yet neither Millie nor Ben, not even in gesture or gaze, ever gave their spouses cause for doubt. It was an unspoken, all-consuming love, but never stepped into forbidden territory.
Good Lord, its hard, Millie would think, only someone whos been here could understand. Ive never had anyone closer than my friend Helen. We share everything, like sisters. And thank heavens, I never let myself go too far
Not that she feared what people might sayrather, it was something her mother had told her since childhood, looking at her with steady, honest eyes:
Millie, my darling, never take what isnt yours. Better to cherish your own.
Mum, what does that mean? Millie had once asked, puzzled.
Youll understand when youre older, her mum just smiled.
Peter never had a clue, loving his Millie as ever, completely unaware of the storms churning inside her. She quietly bore it, not wanting to trouble himafter all, he was innocent, content in a world where only his family mattered, catching up with mates every now and then.
Millie guarded Helens peace, her own family, the garden where their girls played together, and the delicate friendship between the four of them. Thats how it was: twenty-eight springs of lilac blossoming, twenty-eight New Years, birthdays, family walks in the woods. Twenty-eight years of a love that kept silent, becoming a beautiful but untouched part of their lives.
Then the unthinkable happenedHelen was gone. It was sudden, a swift illness with barely any warning. Millie was inconsolable, bereft of her closest friend, her soul torn by acute emptiness. Ben shrank, faded, seeming lost and helpless. The sparkle in his eyes was gone, replaced by bewildered sorrow.
How is Ben supposed to go on without her? Peter wondered aloud, picturing himself in Bens shoesand not wanting to think any further.
Most of the village came to Helens funeral. She had been a beloved history teacher at the local schoolpeople loved her for her generosity and readiness to help.
What had lived inside Millie all those years vanished. Ben seemed suddenly much older, hunched, broken. Millie pitied him deeply. When she went to help him in those bleak days, she realisedwhat shed carried so long within her was gone. The love, the longing, had faded away like morning mist from the river. All that was left was a gentle sorrow.
I dont even love Ben anymore, she thought. Whats left in my heart is friendship with Helen. I miss her so much, still wait for her call, havent deleted her number even now
At supper, Millie told her husband, I promised Helen in my heart we wouldnt abandon Ben. More than half a year has passed but it still hurts. I see nowtime doesnt heal, however much people say so. Not truly. It only dulls the pain.
Peter replied, I get it, Milliebut what can we do? Its life. Life can be unkind and cold.
He saw clearly how his wife grieved, struggling with loss, always trying to talk to him, so he gently steered her away from it, trying to soothe whatever he could.
The next day was Bens birthday. He came overhis first birthday alone, heavy with sadness.
Millie watched him at the table, shoulders bowed as he tried to make conversation, and remembered her mothers words:
Dont take what isnt yours
And she hadnt. Shed kept everything safe: her dignity, her friendship with Helen, her family. She even preserved that loveunspoilt, out of reach. She kept it pure, untouched by disappointment or routine.
As she sat around the table, Millie felt a peculiar, sorrowful calm. Her love for Ben had died with her friend. What remained was life: her home, her Peter, her grown-up Anna, the scent of fresh pies in the air and lilacs blooming by the window, blooming once more.
She had not taken what was not hers. And, oddly enough, that was how she managed to keep all that was precious right to the last dropeven the love that would remain always delicate, beautiful, and unfulfilled, like the first lilac petals in that faraway, impossibly distant spring.
