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 at the top of small hill, 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.
Robert Walker 