Marion, dear, gather yourself! Whom do you intend to marry? shrieked my mother, tugging at the lace of my veil.
Explain, at least, what it is about Simon that you find unacceptable? I was bewildered by her tears.
How could you? His mother runs a corner shop and barks at everyone. His father vanished somewhere unknown, and in his youth he only ever drank and chased after parties.
Our grandfather also partook in drink and chased ladies around the village. And what of that?
Your grandfather was a respected man in the hamlet, his name lingered in people’s thoughts.
Yet it wasn’t easier for Grandma. I was little then, yet I remember how she feared him. And you, mother, you tell me everything will be fine with Simon. Do not judge a man by his parents.
One day youll have children, then youll understand! my mother whispered, and I merely sighed.
Life would be hard if Mother never softened her stance on Simon.
Nevertheless, Simon and I staged a joyous wedding and began our own family. Fortunately, Simon inherited a cottage in the nearby village of Littleford from his grandparents, those same grandparents whose mysterious father had disappeared into the nights revelry.
Simon slowly renovated the house, and soon it transformed into a proper modern manorwhat I now call our home. All the comforts, live and be merry. What a splendid husband I have, and why did Mother once rail against him?
A year after the wedding our son James was born, and four years later our daughter Emily arrived. Yet as soon as the children fell ill, or something went awry, Mother would appear, chanting, I told you! Little children, little troubles! Theyll grow, bring you more headaches, and inherit this mess!
I tried to ignore her constant rebukes; she had taken to grumbling as a habit. In any case, my daughter had acted against her will by marrying without parental blessing.
Mother, after all, is a woman who likes everything her way. Over time she had come to accept my choice, and deep down, in the very core of her being, she was even grateful that my Simon was a good match on every level.
She would never have said it aloud, though; that would mean admitting she was once wrong, and that was simply impossible! She never spoke seriously of grandchildren, not even out of fear for them. In truth she loved them madly, and if any harm befell them she would have leapt into the river, her hair trembling at the very thought.
Yet sometimes I feared those great calamities spoken of in the oldfolk tales, inevitable as they are with growing children.
Children, of course, do grow. James had just finished his eleventh year of school and was setting out on adult life. His future lay at a respectable university in the nearest cityOxfordabout ninety miles away.
To a mothers heart, those ninety miles stretched as far as the distance between Earth and Mercury. Vast, indeed!
The first four nights I lay awake, worrying about my boy. What if someone offends him? What if he eats poorly? What if the city corrupts him? James is such a good lad.
At first James lived in a dormitory room that looked more like a farmers shed. My maternal heart could not bear it, so I persuaded Simon to rent an apartment for him in the city. James decided to contribute partially to the rent, taking odd jobs onlineafter all, hes the cleverest boy I know!
Every weekend I would drive to the cityto peek at James, to help, to tidy, to cookthough his flat was remarkably clean.
At home, James never cleaned his own room, preferring a classic chaos, and his meals were always strangely gourmet: steamed meatballs, casseroles in earthen pots. Smart kid, not just a son! Id mutter.
Soon my trips began to wear on Simon.
Marion! Stop clutching James by the hem of your dress! Let the boy breathe! You give me no time! Ill go talk to Lark, the postwoman, she greets everyone, youll see! he joked, but I shivered at his words. How could I live without my husband if he went to Lark? No way! Simon was rightit was time to let the boy go and live on his own.
I behaved like a nervous hen for a while, then slowly learned to accept that my son had grown. I gave him freedom, stopped hovering, but that proved utterly futile.
One day the deans office called, saying James was missing classes, teetering on expulsion. What? Youve got the wrong boy! This cant be! I rushed to the city, taking a couple of days leave, turning into a tank of determination.
James hadnt expected my arrival. He hadnt hidden the reason for his truancy.
It was a girlGrace. A lovely girl, an angelic face.
Everything would have been fine; a girl appears in a young mans life sooner or later. But Grace also had a baby in the flata oneyearold boy, to be precise.
I understood at once: this woman with a infant in her arms intended to wrap my son around her finger and marry him.
I am, of course, a modern mother; such affairs are not unheard of. Still, James was far too young to marry and raise children. Grace looked no older than eighteen. How could she have given birth already?
A storm raged inside me, but I kept my composure. I greeted Grace politely, then locked myself in the kitchen for a serious talk with James.
James, are you deeply in love? I asked, forcing a smile.
Very much, Mum, James replied, smiling too.
And what about your studies? I pressed gently, like a sapper in a minefield.
I know Ive slipped, Mum, but this is a rough patch. Ill sort it out.
What kind of patch? Care to share?
I cant, Mum, thats my secret. Perhaps later, when you and Grace get to know each other better.
Not knowing what else to do, I took a timeout and returned home.
This is all your fault! I lunged at Simon. Give the boy his freedom! Look where your liberty has led! What now?
What actually happened? the everoptimistic Simon asked. Why does a baby bother you? If James already loves her, she isnt a stranger.
And youre ready to be a grandfather?
Why not? Once you have kids, you become a grandparent eventually.
But she isnt my child!
Marion! I feel Im not speaking to you. A child cant be a stranger! Think on that.
Simon retired to the other bedroom, and I roamed the empty master suite at midnight. First I raged at everything: the surprise, Grace, my son, my husband, for siding with them. Then I calmed, realizing Simon was, as always, right.
The child was innocent. Grace, too, was likely blamelesscircumstances vary. By dawn I was berating myself, shedding tears, then clinging to Simons couch where he slept in the lounge.
Simon, forgive me! I truly have seen the light. I love you all dearly!
Come here, you silly woman! he pulled the blanket, and I lay beside him.
We fell asleep, a contented smile forming on my lips. Now Ill be a grandmother! I thought. What of it? The little boy in Jamess flat, what a marvel! His name was Mickey.
But things did not stay simple. Weeks later James announced he was transferring to an evening course at university and intended to marry Grace.
This time I didnt rush; I first let the information settle. Then Simon and I drove to the city for the weekend, trusting that Simon would help us untangle the knot without chopping woodthough I felt a sudden urge to split logs, as if an entire winters worth awaited.
In the hallway we were met by Grace, who brushed away a tear and said:
Please forgive me. I dont want James to act this way, but hes so stubborn, you know.
Stubborn isnt the word, Simon replied, slipping off his shoes. Our son isnt foolish. If hes decided, it must be necessary. Calm down, Grace, and well discuss.
We moved to the kitchen. James was apparently absent.
James went to fetch milk, hell be back soon, sorry, Grace said.
Why are you apologising all the time? Simon asked, turning to her. We havent even figured out what youre at fault for. Lets start by sorting everything. Would you like tea for the weary guests? I just drove ninety miles.
Oh, sorry, Grace stammered.
Simon rolled his eyes at another apology; Grace smiled at his reaction. I sensed Simon had already accepted his sons choice and sighed deeply.
When we all sat down, a fragrant steam rose from our cups. Simon was already munching on his third homemade biscuita rarity among young housewives. At that moment James returned, his face clouded, setting a basket of groceries on the table. I noticed a steelglint in his eyes, something new, distinctly masculine. It seemed I no longer had the right to lecture this grown man.
So, youve decided to marry? Simon asked, all of us gathered.
Yes, and thats final, James declared.
Agreed. But whats driving this haste? Expecting another child?
No, what do you think! Grace blushed, shaking her head.
A wild thought flashed through my mindabsurd, of course. Could their relationship have progressed so quickly that children were already a possibility? Impossible, yet
Then whats pushing the wedding forward? I asked.
Otherwise Mickey will be taken to a childrens home, Grace lowered her gaze.
Why would a child be taken? Simon pressed.
Because his mother died in prison, Grace whispered, her lips trembling.
Grace, you dont have to explain! James interjected. Mother and father, I ask you to accept only what Ive told you over the phone. The rest is our matter!
Wait, James, Grace cut in. If were together, then both our families are involved. I wont hide anything from them; that would be wrong.
She fell silent, and Simon and I exchanged looks.
Grace, is Mickey your son? I ventured.
No! Mickey is my brother on my mothers side; our fathers are different.
At that moment I felt ready to tear everyone apart, but held my tongue. Grace continued her tale:
My mother passed away in prison; she had a congenital heart defect. They say she lived a long time with that diagnosis. Moreover, my mothers temperament was explosive, I think.
Grace sipped her tea heavily, sighing. Words seemed to stumble out of her. Still, she kept speaking, despite James trying to interrupt and Simon listening with a sympathetic ear.
The first time my mother went to prison was after a fight with my father; she hit an old lady on a crosswalk. The newspapers even covered it.
When she was sentenced, my father took me, and we lived apart. Before my mother left prison, my father remarried. I dont blame him for abandoning my mother in a hard time. My mother was a difficult person, and my father struggled with her. His new wife, Teresa, is gentle; we have a wonderful relationship. Perhaps my life turned out stable because of my fathers actions. They raised me, and I truly consider them my family.
Grace fell silent again. I watched James and Grace clasp hands under the table, and sensed the darkest part of her story was still ahead.
Three years ago my mother fell in love, lost her mind completely. Denis was ten years younger than her. Then they had Mickey. I rejoiced at the arrival of a brother and often visited them. In their household there were no fights, but neighbours later testified in court hearing constant shouting, breaking dishes, and the like.
One day, later I learned my mother and Denis had a fierce quarrel; my mother shoved Denis, he tripped over a blanket and struck his head on a coffee table corner. Two days later Denis died in hospital, and my mother was arrested.
Grace inhaled sharply and added, hurriedly:
My mother died in a detention centre before her trial. Her heart simply stopped. Please, do not judge her harshly! She was like a hummingbirdbright, restless, ungovernable. Yet I loved her dearly.
Thank you, Grace, for sharing this, Simon said as she fell silent. Were now a family and must support each other.
A shameful thought rose: What are you doing, James! Stop this! We have no criminal lineage in our blood! Yet I stopped myself, picturing myself in a wedding dress while Mother wept beside me, trying to halt the marriage to Simon.
I whispered to myself, Dont judge people by their parents! Youd never know otherwise.
The internal beating of love created a miracle. A wildly brilliant idea sparked. I looked at my husband, saw his smile, and guessedyes! I agreed!
Simon, as if confirming my thoughts, nodded and said:
How about this, friends? Well take guardianship of Mickey, and youll hold off on starting a family and finish your studies.
How? Grace asked.
Dad, stop! James shouted.
Mickey will be fine in the village; you remember how your own childhood was. And if you wish, you can take him back anytime.
Father and I would be bored without you, James. Well gladly look after Mickey.
Your sister now shows more interest in boys than fathers.
Grace, the decision is yours, I said, meeting her eyes. How could I place such a burden on you? Even my own father and Teresa wouldnt have taken him.
We didnt notice the original source of the dispute awaken. He slipped from the sofa, shuffled to the kitchen, and extended his handsnot to anyone else, but to Simon.
What a heavy load, Simon joked, hoisting Mickey.
Simon, youre still putting the weight on dad, not granddad, I laughed.
Wait, he threatened, grabbing my wrist, leaning close to my ear, Ill show you grandpa at night.
The children fidgeted, but eventually agreed to our plan: adopt Mickey. The paperwork went smoothly.
The social worker who assisted us said its now common for families our age to take in youngsters. Our own children are grown, yet we still have a wagonfull of parental love to give. So Simon and I felt rejuvenated, caring for Mickey.
At night I would sit up with him, shedding tears of joy at this unexpected happiness.
Mother, as usual, scolded us for the decision. She scolded, scolded, yet loved Mickey more fiercely than anyone else, and he adored her.
Oh, Marion! What are you doing! she cried, then cooed at Mickey, Whose eyes are closing now? Who wants to sleep?
And again:
What are you thinking, Marion! Whose little fingers are dirty now? Oh, I dont know how youll manage! Where is my Mickey, where has he hidden?