The Unusual Bequest
Robert had promised to pick up Margaret on Saturday morning. She hated leaving the cottage, but it was late October now. The water had been turned offtime to go home.
“Margaret! Margaret, are you there?” Her neighbour, Edward, knocked on the door.
“Come in, Edward. I’m still here, just packing. Roberts coming the day after tomorrow. Hell moan again about all the bags, but what else can I do? Its not my thingsits mostly the harvest. Dried apples, pickles, jamsthe year was good for fruit. Cant just leave it here, can I? I did it all for them, not for me.”
“Tell me about it,” Edward sighed. “Im staying a bit longer myself. Its beautiful in autumn. Emily always loved autumn.” He hesitated, then added, “Do you remember how we used to close the season all together? Back when your Michael was still alive, and we were young? The kids were small then. Now everythings overgrown, but back thenbare earth, tiny saplings, seemed like theyd never grow.” He fidgeted with an envelope in his hands. “Today marks a year since Emily I thought we could remember her together. Ive fried some potatoescome over? And theres something I need to talk to you about.”
“Of course, Edward. Here, take these pickles. Ill be there in half an hour.”
Theyd been neighbours for decades, ever since theyd each been given a patch of land by their old company. Theyd built their homes, planted gardens, celebrated summer birthdays together. Summer was a little lifetime of its own. Now, Margaret had her grandchildren visiting every year, keeping her busy. Michael had been gone seven years, but Edward and Emily had still been next dooruntil last autumn, when Emily passed away.
This summer had felt strange. Edward had dug up the vegetable beds, though there was no one to plant themno Emily. Hed spent hours tinkering in the shed, cursing when things didnt work. Margarets grandchildren barely visitedalways at camp or away with their parents. She didnt even know who shed grown all this food for.
She sighed, changed her clothes, and went next door.
Edward was waiting. The table was setfried potatoes, tomatoes, her pickles, sliced sausages.
“Sit down, Margaret. My kids are coming tomorrow, but tonightlets remember Emily.” He pulled out old photos. “LookMichael planting the cherry tree with you. And here we all are, back from mushroom picking. See those baskets? And here, the barbecueEmily squinting from the smoke.” He poured them each a drink. “To them. To Emily. And to Michael.”
They sat quietly for a moment, crunching on pickles. Then Edward took out the envelope.
“Margaret, dont be surprisedjust hear me out. Last autumn, Emily faded so quickly. We left the cottage in August, and by September, she was bedridden. But she stayed strong. We relived our whole life together, day by day. Watched our favourite films. Talked about everything. Then one day, she made me promisepromise to do what she asked. And she gave me this.” He handed her the envelope. “Read it.”
Margaret unfolded the letter, written in Emilys hand:
*My dear Edward, Im leaving too soon, but life goes on. Live for us both. I want you to be happynot to forget me, but not to be afraid of joy either. If you find someone, know Id be glad. I always thought you and Margaret got on wellshes kind, shed understand. Ask her to share your life. Please, Edwardbe happy, for me. Love, Emily.*
Margaret read it twice, then looked up.
“I promised Id do as she asked,” Edward said quietly. “Margaret, lets try. Weve got years of friendshipthats something. Theres nothing wrong in choosing happiness. Will you marry me?”
Margaret didnt know what to say. But as she looked at him, something in his words felt true. “Alright, Edward. Ill think about it. Ill tell Robert I need another week.”
That night, she couldnt sleep. But just before dawn, she dreamed of Michaellaughing, telling her not to fuss. *Its easier with two. Marry Edward, and thats that. Im glad you wont be alone.*
By next summer, the fence between their gardens was gone. Their combined grandchildren ran back and forthEdward built them a swing, made them bows and arrows. The vegetable patches overflowedMargaret had planted enough for everyone.
Their grown children visited on weekends, glad to see them happy.
Some might judge. But Emily and Michael, looking down, only smiled. The bequest had been fulfilled. Life, against all odds, went on.
