It had been raining for three days
straight, the kind of relentless downpour that turned the village roads to mud
and the air to mist. Katherine sat at her kitchen table, staring out of the
window, watching the droplets race each other down the glass. A fire crackled
in the hearth behind her, but its warmth did not provide comfort.
On the table lay a single letter. The envelope was creased
at the edges, the ink slightly smudged from having been carried for too long in
damp post bags. Her name, etched in flamboyant calligraphy, stared back at her.
She hadn’t opened it yet. It had arrived the day before,
slipped under her door by Mr Harris, who delivered the post when the rain made
the usual service impossible. She had set it aside, telling herself she’d get
to it later. But even now, the next morning, it lay there, untouched.
Letters brought news, and news had rarely been good—not
since the day she had received notice that her mother had passed away peacefully
in the night. She hadn’t cried then. There didn’t seem to be enough energy left
in her to produce the tears.
The fire snapped loudly, startling her, jolting her to reach
out and pick up the envelope.
It felt heavier than it should. Her fingers hesitated on the
edge. What could it possibly say? She had no close family left, no friends who
would send a letter instead of calling. And yet, here it was, waiting, in a
handwriting that seemed familiar.
She slid her finger under the seal and tore it open. The
paper inside was thick, expensive. She unfolded it slowly.
The letter was brief—only a few lines written in the same extravagant
script as the address.
“Katherine,
I’ve thought about you every day since we last met. There
are things I should have said back then, things I should have done. I don’t
expect you to forgive me, but I hope you can understand. I’ll be in the village
on the first day of May. If you’d like to talk, please meet me by the oak tree
at noon.
—J.”
Katherine stared at the words in disbelief. J. It couldn’t
be. It had been years. Too many years.
The oak tree. That old, gnarled thing that stood on the hill
at the edge of the village, where they used to meet when they were younger,
before everything fell apart. She hadn’t been there for ten years. It was where
she had last hoped to see him, on a day much like this, just before he left for
good.
She’d waited for him then. Waited for hours, watching the
road, hoping he’d change his mind, but he never came.
Now, he was asking her to meet again, after all this time—today.
She drew out her pocket watch. The morning had already
progressed to half-past eleven—but she had read the letter just in time—and if
she left now, she could make it to the oak tree before noon.
Katherine paced the small kitchen. She had built a life
without him. She had learned not to think of him. And yet, here he was, pulling
her back with a few simple words.
The rain showed no sign of stopping. But Katherine grabbed
her coat from the hook by the door and stepped out into it.
As she walked, patches of cold rainwater soaked through her outerwear,
although she barely noticed. Her feet knew the way, carrying her along the
familiar path, past the houses with their drawn curtains, past the churchyard
with its leaning gravestones.
When she finally reached the oak tree, it stood just as she
remembered—its thick branches spreading wide, offering shelter from the rain.
And beneath it, there he was.
John stood with his back to her, hands in his pockets,
gazing at the village below. His hair was streaked with grey now, and his
shoulders, once broad and confident, had a slight stoop.
Katherine hesitated for a moment. Then, her voice came out,
softer than she’d intended.
“John.”
He turned slowly, and their eyes finally met. For a moment,
neither of them spoke.
“I’m sorry, Katherine,” he said quietly.
The weight of the years unravelled as the rain continued to
fall around them. They stood together under the oak tree, in the village where
it had all begun, and where, perhaps, something new could start again.
Without warning, he stepped forward, closing the distance
between them in a few swift strides. His hands, warm and steady, cupped her
face, and before she could say another word, his lips pressed into hers.
The kiss became a storm, fierce and unrelenting, washing
away the distance, the pain, the regrets that had kept them apart for so long.
It was a kiss that spoke of every moment they had missed, of every night they
had spent apart, longing for the other. Katherine’s hands fisted in his shirt,
pulling him closer, desperate to close the gap that had once felt
insurmountable.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their
foreheads pressed together as they stood there shielded from the rain, clinging
to one another.
“I never stopped loving you,” he said. “Not for a second. I
tried to move on, but—”
Tears mixed with the remnants of rain on her cheeks as she
looked up at him. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” she whispered. “I thought I’d
ruined everything.”
His hands tightened on her. “We were both foolish. But we’re
here now. You’re here. That’s all that matters.”
Katherine was overcome with the intensity of it all—the
rain, the kiss, the overwhelming relief of being back in his arms. She had
spent so long imagining this moment, but nothing had prepared her for the
reality of it. The feel of his hands on her skin, the heat of him against her
lips, the way his heart pounded against her body.
John kissed her again, slower this time. And as they stood
there, tangled together, the world seemed to fall away. There was no past, no
future—only the present, only them.
When they finally pulled apart again, John smiled at her,
brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. “Come with me,” he said softly,
his voice full of the warmth and affection she had missed so desperately.
Katherine nodded, her body pulsating with a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation, remembering a happiness that before that morning she thought had been lost forever.
