“Granny, you were so beautiful when you were young, but Grandad—though a good man—wasn’t much to look at. Did someone force you to marry him?” Val, Anfisa’s granddaughter, asked curiously. Anfisa laughed. “Not at all! In my youth, I was a real handful. If anything, I was the one who roped him into marrying me.” Val’s eyes widened. “But you must have had a line of suitors!” “Oh, I did!” Anfisa replied, a trace of mischief in her voice. “But I fell for Yegor—well, for his accordion, if we’re being honest. He got into all sorts of scrapes as a lad. Blew off his ear, half his nostril, and a finger with an old cartridge he tossed in a fire, silly boy. Didn’t keep him from running wild, stealing apples, or climbing fences. But when it came time to settle down, no girl would have him—until a stranger traded him an accordion for a bit of bacon. Turned out the boy had a real ear for music. Started playing at dances, and when he got that thing going, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. My heart just leapt the first time I heard him. I only ever went to the dances because of him after that. Eventually, I cornered my father: ‘I want to marry Yegor.’ Mum sobbed, thought I’d lost my senses to take up with a lad who was half-ruined, but Dad reckoned if Yegor wanted to marry a daft lass like me, he’d count his blessings. I hinted to Yegor that I fancied him, but he was stubborn, said he’d only ruin my life, everyone would point and stare. So I got clever—spent the whole night with him out on the bench. Came home and threw myself at my father’s feet, crying about how I’d stayed out all night with Yegor. Well, after that, my dear boy had no choice! Of course, everyone gossiped at first. Said my husband’s mother must’ve bewitched me, or that I was touched. Even my mother-in-law was running off behind the gate, chopping chickens and carrying on. But soon enough, children came—boy, girl, boy, girl—and all the talk stopped. We had a good life together. After milking, I’d come home to find the garden weeded, potatoes boiling, and cabbage being pickled—he wouldn’t let me near it! He was great with the children, unlike most men who’d run from the house just to escape the noise, he was right there playing with them. Though up to his last day, he’d be shy—‘You walk ahead, I’ll come later,’ he’d say. ‘Are you my husband or a bashful girl?’ I’d tease, take his arm, and off we’d go. It’s been a decade now since he’s been gone. When the longing hits, I clutch his accordion and cry, feeling as if he’s right there beside me, only unable to speak. So you see, my dear granddaughter, you don’t marry for looks that fade, but for love that stays in your heart.”

Grandma, you were so beautiful in your youth. But Grandad, though he was lovely, wasnt what youd call handsome. Did they marry you off to him against your will? I couldn’t help but ask, being a curious grandchild.

Oh, absolutely not! I was quite the catch back then, let me tell you not easy for anyone to keep in line. Actually, it was me who put my foot down and insisted we get married! My gran, Margaret, laughed heartily as she remembered.

How come? I asked, feeling rather astonished. Surely you had plenty of young men interested in you?

I did indeed, Gran said with the hint of mischief in her smile. But it was Patrick I truly fell for or, more truthfully, his accordion.

He was always a rascally sort, even as a boy. Once, he found an old bullet and thought itd be a lark to toss it on the bonfire. All the lads scattered except him. He was too busy rummaging in his nose with his little finger. Poor thing; it blew off half his ear, part of his nostril, and a finger.

Didnt stop him though. Still climbed over neighbours fences and pinched apples from their orchards. But when it came time to settle down, none of the girls in the village would look his way.

He might have stayed a bachelor if that old farmer wandering by hadn’t traded him an accordion for a hunk of bacon. But, as it turned out, Patrick had a real ear for music.

He started practising, cautiously at first, then making up his own tunes. I remember the first time he turned up at a dance with his accordion. The moment he played, he had the room in tears. And in that moment, my heart simply leapt. It was like hearing his soul singing straight into mine.

After that, Id only go out in hopes of bumping into him. Eventually, I started pestering my father: I want to marry Patrick. Mum wept, Our Margarets gone barmy, wanting to marry a cripple. But Dad just sighed and said, If hell have her, fair enough and best of luck to him!

I started dropping hints, making it clear how fond I was of him. But he was stubborn as a mule, always protesting, Why would I ruin your life? People will stare at you if you walk with me. Youll always be shamed in this village.

Thats when I hatched my plan. Sat out on the bench with him all night long. When I finally swung the door open at home, there was Dad waiting, leather strap in hand, fuming and ready for a row. I threw myself at his feet, sobbing that Id spent the night with Patrick. Well, after that, my dear lad had no choice but to marry me.

People did whisper at first. The mother mustve bewitched him, theyd say. Or, Shes damaged goods. Even my mother-in-law, Hilda, would run off shrieking if anyone tried to behead a chicken. Then they said I was cursed inside. But as soon as I started having children a boy, then a girl, another boy, and a girl everyone shut their mouths.

We had a good life, we really did. Id come in from milking, and hed have the potatoes on and the garden weeded. He used to make his own pickled cabbage because he didnt trust the way I did it. Always lent a hand with the little ones. Most men made themselves scarce so they didnt have to put up with a baby screaming, but Patrick would coo and cuddle the children.

Yet, right up to the end, he was self-conscious. You walk ahead; Ill join you after, hed always say. Id simply laugh and tell him, Are you my husband or some sheepish love-struck girl? Id take his arm, and off wed go together.

Its almost ten years since hes been gone. When loneliness creeps in, I take down his old accordion, hold it close, and weep. It almost feels like hes right there, silently sitting beside me. Thats the truth of it, love. Dont choose someone for their beauty with all the gloss and glamour. Marry the one your heart calls for.