A Kind Heart
After waiting for his first leave, Oliver set off to the village to visit his father, who had raised him until he was nine. Then his mother had passed. He could still remember that day—how she lay on the bed, pale and worn thin, the illness unsparing. He remembered crying, how much he missed her.
Gregory—Oliver’s father—was shattered by grief. They had been happy with his wife. Left alone with his son, fear gnawed at him:
“Can I raise him right?” he worried. “A boy needs his mother. I’ll have to ask my own mum to look after him while I’m at work. At least she lives nearby.”
**A New Wife**
Life moved on. A year passed, then another, and a friend introduced Gregory to Vera, a distant relative. They met, and soon Vera moved in. She had no children of her own—well past thirty and never married, though she’d had men in her life, even lived with one briefly—but nothing stuck.
From the first day, Vera and Oliver bristled at each other, though neither showed it.
“What do I need this boy for?” she thought. “Best send him to his grandmother’s. She looked after him before anyway.”
“Why did Dad bring this woman home?” Oliver wondered. “She’s nothing like Mum. Her cooking’s awful, and she glares at me like I’m a thorn.” He was nearly eleven.
Gregory noticed none of it. He was content—his son was fed, the laundry done, the house tidy. What more did he need? Vera was cunning. With Gregory around, she spoke sweetly to Oliver. Alone, she hissed and snapped, even saying outright:
“Oi, you little brat, you’d be better off at your gran’s.”
The boy caught on.
“Gran, can I live with you? I don’t want to stay with Vera. I don’t like her, and she doesn’t like me. When Dad’s not there, she calls me names.”
“Of course, Oliver. I was going to ask you myself,” said his grandmother, Alice, who’d seen the hatred in Vera’s eyes.
At first, Gregory was surprised his son had moved out, but Oliver never complained about Vera. They weren’t married—just living together. Gregory never proposed, thinking it wasn’t the right time.
Oliver stopped visiting his father. Instead, Gregory came to him and Alice, bringing money from every paycheck, knowing his mother’s pension couldn’t stretch far. He spared nothing for his son—anything Oliver wanted, he got. But Vera gnawed at him:
“Why give half your wages to your mum? They’ll manage.”
“Don’t we have enough? You work too, and we’ve no kids,” Gregory replied. She’d fall silent.
**A Dream and the Right Path**
Oliver grew up quiet and thoughtful. He dreamed of joining the military—something about the uniforms, the discipline, the men he saw on TV.
“Gran, I’m joining the military academy after school,” he announced one day before graduation. “There’s one nearby. My grades are decent—just three Bs. I’ll make it. And I’m fit enough.”
“Oliver, I’m so proud. You’ve made the right choice. I’ll pray for you, ask the Lord to guide you,” Alice said, relieved he’d picked a steady path.
**A Handsome Soldier**
Oliver got into the academy. On breaks, he visited Alice—never his father. Gregory came to her instead. Then came graduation. He earned his lieutenant’s stripes and returned to the village, striding down the street in his crisp uniform—tall, broad-shouldered, every inch the dashing officer.
“Lord, Oliver,” Alice gasped in the yard. “You look just like your grandfather. He was tall and strong too.”
After a short leave, Oliver left for his posting. He had no sweetheart—just a few flings during school breaks, never love. Back home, he’d fancied Emma, a classmate who lived two doors down, but she’d gone off to university, and they’d lost touch.
Now, on leave, Oliver found Alice older, frailer, but still spirited despite her aches. She never complained—age spared no one.
“Gran, why hasn’t Dad come?” Oliver asked after two days. “He knows I’m here.”
“He’s poorly. Came by last week, clutching his stomach.”
“He should see a doctor.”
“I told him, but Vera won’t let him. Hates doctors, says they’ll kill him. Brews him herbs instead while he wastes away. Says he can’t eat.”
“Right. I’ll go see him,” Oliver said.
**Meeting an Old Flame**
Outside the gate, he nearly collided with Emma. She’d grown even lovelier—bright-eyed, smiling, dimpled cheeks, slender.
“Emma? Is that you?” He swept her into a hug, and she laughed, wriggling free.
“Oliver!” She beamed. “You’re a proper heartbreaker now!”
They talked for ages, Oliver’s pulse quickening—schoolboy feelings surging back. Then she dropped the bombshell:
“I’m getting married. This Friday, at the pub. You know Jake, from the next street over? He was a year below us. My maid of honour’s Lucy—remember her? Sat beside you in class.”
“Oh.” Oliver forced a smile. “I’ll be there.”
**A Failing Father**
In his father’s yard, Oliver found Gregory slumped on a bench, gaunt and hollow-eyed.
“Hi, Dad. You look rough.”
“Hello, son. Waited for you—can’t walk far. Too weak.”
Vera bustled out, barely glancing at Oliver.
“Hi. Off to the shop. No bread, Greg,” she said, as if Oliver had never left.
Then Anton, Oliver’s old friend, bounded in.
“Blimey, Oliver! Army’s done you good!”
They hugged, clapping each other’s backs, and sat talking for hours. When Anton left, Oliver stood.
“Right, Dad. Best get back to Gran’s.”
“I understand, son,” Gregory said sadly.
**A Fishing Trip and a Broken Heart**
The next day, Oliver went to Anton’s to prep for a night fishing trip—he didn’t even own a proper rod. Anton had everything ready.
They gossiped about old classmates.
“You know Emma’s marrying Jake in three days?” Anton said. Oliver nodded. “What does she see in him? Useless bloke—boozing, larking about. While she was at uni, he was out every night. Only behaved when she visited.”
“Suppose it’s love,” Oliver muttered, though Emma hadn’t left his thoughts.
Walking home, lost in his head, Oliver nearly missed Emma—weeping on the pavement.
“Emma? What’s wrong?” He gripped her shoulders.
“I—they—she—” She choked on sobs.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.”
In Alice’s garden, Emma gulped water, calming slightly.
“What’s happened, love?” Alice asked.
Emma’s wedding was off. Jake had claimed a fishing trip with mates. Instead, she’d found him in bed with Lucy—her maid of honour.
“They were asleep, didn’t even lock the door. My best friend!” she wailed. “No wedding. I’m leaving this village tomorrow.”
Oliver’s heart ached for her—and leapt. Anton had been right about Jake.
“Emma… come with me,” he blurted.
“Where? How? My leave’s almost up—”
“Come to my posting. I’ve a two-bed flat.”
“You won’t… bother me?”
“Oh, I’ll bother you alright. You know how persistent I am.”
Alice watched them, smiling. Her grandson had found his match—they just didn’t know it yet.
**A Fresh Start**
The rest of Oliver’s leave was spent with Emma. Jake tried apologising, clueless.
“You don’t get it?” she snapped. “Should’ve locked the door with Lucy. I saw you.”
Jake paled and slunk away.
**A New Life**
Leave ended. Oliver took Emma—and convinced his father to come.
“Dad, come with us. My mate’s mum’s a doctor. You need checking.”
Gregory resisted, but Oliver insisted. At the hospital, tests revealed stomach trouble—treatable. The chief physician, Eleanor Whitmore, widow of Major Whitmore (who’d served where Oliver now did), took special interest.
Oliver liked Eleanor. She reminded him of his mother—kind eyes, warm smile. He often visited Gregory, now improving under Eleanor’s care. Oliver noticed the way they looked at each other—not as doctor and patient, but something more.
Gregory recovered, his eyes bright again. He’d fallen for Eleanor. She felt the same.
“Dad, you look brilliant,” Oliver said at discharge.
Gregory teared up.
“Son… you called me
