James got married when he was twentyfour. Emily was twentytwo. Shed been the only child, a lateborn, of a university professor and a schoolteacher. A couple of years after the wedding they were blessed with two little boys they called them their weatherchaps because they were born on a stormy night and then, a little later, a daughter.
Jamess motherinlaw, Margaret, had just retired and now spent most of her time looking after the grandchildren. Their relationship wasodd. James always called her Margaret just her first name while she answered him with a chilly, formal Mr James. They never argued outright, but whenever she was around James felt an odd, uncomfortable chill. Still, Margaret never made a scene; she always spoke to him with a measured respect and kept a steady, neutral stance in his marriage.
A month ago the company where James worked went bust, and he was made redundant. Over dinner Emily dropped a bomb:
James, we wont stretch Mums pension and my salary forever. You need to find a job.
Easy for her to say find a job! He spent thirty days knocking on doors, and nothing.
In a fit of frustration he kicked a stray beer can away. Lucky for him, Margaret stayed quiet but tossed him a very pointed look.
Just before the wedding, James had overheard a chat between Emily and her mum:
Emily, are you sure this is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with?
Mum, of course!
Im not sure you realise the weight of it all. If only your father were still here
Mum, stop! We love each other, everything will be fine.
What about the kids? Will he be able to provide?
He will, Mum.
Its not too late to think again, Emily. Look at his family
Mum, I love him!
Oh dear, you wont have to bite your elbows then!
Looks like its time to bite, James muttered with a sour grin, watching his motherinlaw stare into his soup.
He didnt feel like going home. Emilys comforting words Dont worry, tomorrow will be better seemed fake, her mothers sighs felt judgmental, and the kids kept teasing, Dad, found a job yet? He just couldnt stand hearing it all again.
So he took a walk along the river, rested on a park bench, and as night fell he drove out to the family cottage they used from May to September. One window in Margarets bedroom was still lit. He slipped down the garden path, the curtain fluttered, and he plonked himself on the porch step, exhausted.
Margaret peeked out:
Whats taking James so long? Did you call, Emily?
Yes, Mum, the line was dead. Probably he still hasnt found work and is wandering somewhere.
Her tone hardened:
Emily, dont you dare speak of your childrens father like that!
Oh, Mum, are you serious? I just think James is being a fool and not looking for work. Hes been sitting on my lap at home for a month!
For the first time in six years James heard Margaret slam her fist on the table and raise her voice:
Dont you dare speak about your husband that way! What did you promise when you married? To stand by him in sickness and sorrow, to support him!
Emily stammered, Mum, Im sorry. Please dont worry. Im just exhausted, Im tired. Im sorry, love.
Alright, go to bed, Margaret said, waving a weary hand. The lights went out. She paced the room, pulled aside the curtain, stared into the darkness, then looked up and crossed herself earnestly:
Lord Almighty, have mercy on my grandchildrens father, my daughters husband. Dont let him lose faith in himself. Help my son, please!
She whispered, tears tracing her cheeks.
A hot knot grew in Jamess chest. No one had ever prayed for him not his strict mother, a woman whod devoted her life to the local council, nor his father, whod vanished when James was five. Hed grown up in crèches, then a junior school, then secondary, then a sixthform college. Straight out of university he landed a job because his mother hated idleness and believed James could fend for himself.
That heat rose higher, filling him with a sudden surge of tears. He remembered Margarets earlymorning pies, the stews she simmered, the dumplings and pasties that were practically miracles. She tended the garden, made jam, pickled cucumbers and cabbage for winter, and kept the house shipshape.
Why had he never noticed? Why never said thank you? He and Emily just went about work and children, assuming that was all there was. Or maybe thats what he thought. He recalled a night they all watched a documentary on Australia, and Margaret sighed, Ive always wanted to see that mysterious continent. James had laughed, Its too hot there; they wont let a lady in an ice suit through.
James lingered by the window, hands clasped around his head, long after the night grew quiet.
The next morning he and Emily headed down to the veranda for breakfast. The table was laid with fresh scones, jam, tea, and milk; the kids beamed, eyes bright. James looked up, smiled, and said gently,
Good morning, Mum!
Margaret startled, then after a beat replied, Good morning, Jamie!
Two weeks later James landed a new job, and a year after that he booked Margaret a holiday to Australia, despite her fierce protests.
Elena Dolgikh.
