Michael its me, he whispered, settling down beside me. Its far too late to change anything now. Youre almost eighty, Mum. He came back and left without even a word.
Grandma Lucy, with the last of her strength, hauled a bucket of icy water from the tap. She shuffled on shaky legs along the mudsplattered path towards the cottage. The frost nipped her cheeks, and her fingers clung to the frozen, wornout handle of the bucket. At the doorway she paused for a breath, set one bucket on the step, reached for the other and then her foot slipped on the ice.
Oh God, help me, she muttered before she hit the ground.
Her shoulder slammed into the step, a dull throb shot through the back of her head. She lay there for a few seconds, unable to move or even gasp. She tried to get up, but her legs wouldnt obey. It felt as if everything below her waist had vanished.
Gasping from terror and pain, she began to crawl toward the door, grabbing onto anything she could: an old stool, a broken broom, the hem of her skirt. Her back ached, sweat beaded on her forehead, the world swirled and tilted.
Come on, Lucy just a bit more, she whispered to herself, trying to pull herself up onto the threadbare sofa in the hallway.
On the windowsill lay a telephone. With trembling fingers she dialed her sons number.
Paul love somethings wrong come quickly she breathed out, then blacked out.
By evening Paul rushed in. The door slammed, a gust of wind blasted the cottage. He stood there, hatless and dishevelled, frozen on the threshold, seeing his mother halflying on the sofa.
Mum whats happened to you? he asked, clasping her hand. Good heavens, shes like a block of ice.
Without hesitation he called his wife.
Olivia, youve got to come straight away shes really ill I think shes barely moving.
Lucy could hear everything, even though she couldnt smile or shift a muscle. A flicker of hope sparked in her chest: if he was scared, he still cared. Maybe this was the moment the family finally pulled together.
She tried to wiggle her legsnothing. Only her fingers twitched. Then tears rolled down her cheeks, not from pain but because perhaps not everything was lost yet.
Olivia didnt appear until two days later, looking irritable, holding little Ethels hand as if something more pressing had snatched her away.
Well, look who finally turned up, grandma, she muttered, glancing at her motherinlaw. Now just lie still like a log.
Ethel clung to her mum, eyes darting anxiously at Lucy. She tried to smile, but her face wouldnt cooperate.
Olivia slipped quietly into the house. Paul led her to the kitchen. They talked in hushed tones, the tension practically tangible. Though Lucy couldnt make out the words, she felt the bitterness in the air.
A few minutes later Paul returned, lifted his mum gently into his arms without a word.
Where are we going? she whispered.
Paul only tightened his jaw. She wrapped her arms around his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of oil, tobacco and something homey.
To the hospital? she asked again.
He stayed silent. His steps quickened.
Instead of a hospital, he carried her to the outbuildingonce used for storing potatoes, old skis and other tattered things. The little shed was cold, the floor made of cracked boards, damp seeping in through the windows. It reeked of neglect.
He placed her carefully on an old cot covered with a faded blanket.
Youll stay here, he said flatly, avoiding her gaze. Its too late to change anything now. Youre almost eighty, mum.
He turned and left, not letting her finish a sentence.
The shock didnt hit her instantly; it crept in slow, irreversible waves. Lucy lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the cold biting into her bones. She couldnt understand why hed done it. For what?
Memories flashed: pulling Paul by the arm as a child, scrubbing school floors, buying him a winter coat on credit, paying for his wedding when his inlaws refusednot right, not from the proper circle.
Ive always been on his side she whispered, still disbelieving what had happened.
She recalled Olivias cold, clipped demeanorsharp as a blade, never grateful, only showing up for Ethels birthday. Now Lucy was left in that dank shed, feeling like a discarded thing, unsure if dawn would ever come.
Day by day it became clearer that something was seriously wrong. Paul visited less often, leaving a bowl of soup and hurrying away. Olivia and Ethel stopped coming altogether.
Lucy felt life slipping away. She barely ate, just sipping water to stave off death by starvation. Sleep eluded her; a throbbing back kept her awake. The worst part was the crushing loneliness.
Why? she thought. Why me? I loved him more than anyone. I gave everything for him
No answers, only cold emptiness.
One morning, as the sun barely pierced the dirty window, a soft, persistent knock soundednothing like Pauls heavy thud.
Whos there? she whispered, her voice barely a whisper.
The door creaked, and a silverhaired man in a worn coat shuffled in. His face was familiar, though she didnt recognise him at first. He sat down beside her and took her hand.
Its me, Michael, he said, settling next to her.
Lucys heart jolted. Michaelher neighbour, the man shed once loved and then driven away because he didnt fit her familys expectations.
Michael she breathed out.
He stayed silent, just squeezing her hand, then asked in a low voice, What happened to you, Lucy? Why are you here? Paul told me you were in a nursing home
She tried to explain, but tears blurred her words. He understood without a single more sentence, pulling her into a familiar embrace.
Dont be scared. Ill get you out of here.
He lifted herlight as a featherand carried her into the sunlight. Paul had gone to town, Olivia was nowhere in sight. Ethel peered out the window but quickly ducked away.
Michael took her to his own cottage, tucked in a cosy bedroom, covered her with a warm blanket, and brewed tea with honey, feeding her like a child.
Rest now, he said. Ill call a doctor.
The doctor arrived quickly, examined her, and shook his head.
Its an old spinal fracture, he said. If treated properly she might stand again, but shell need surgery and rehab.
Michael nodded. Well do whatever it takes. Ill sell what I have to pay for it.
Lucy looked at him, tears welling.
Michael why? After everything?
He gave a sad smile. Because I love you. I always have, and I always will.
She sobbedjoy, pain, the realization that life wasnt over yet.
Michael tended to her day after day: feeding, washing, reading aloud. He told her stories of the past, of waiting, hoping shed come back.
I always knew youd understand one day, hed say. And Ill be right here.
A week later Paul returned, saw his mother in a proper bedroom rather than a damp shed.
Mum how did you get up? he stammered.
She gave him a cold look. I didnt. Michael brought me.
Paul lowered his eyes. I I didnt think itd end like this.
Go, Paul. Dont come back, she told him.
He left without a glance back. Olivia and Ethel never returned either.
Lucy stayed with Michael. He became her rockliterally and figurativelyhelping her onto walkers, then a cane.
Look, Lucy, Im walking, she laughed, taking her first steps.
He cried with happiness.
One bright morning, as the sun gilded the windows, she turned to him and said, Michael, thank you for everything.
He squeezed her hand. Im the one who should thank youfor coming back.
They lived on, quietly, in a love that had finally found its time.
Lucy would sit on the garden bench, soaking up the sunshine. Her legs still ached, but she kept movingslowly, steadily. Michael carved little wooden toys for Ethel, who would dart in now and then, hiding from her mother.
Do you think Paul will ever forgive? she asked.
Michael shook his head. Dont think about him. Think about yourself. Youre alivethats what matters.
She nodded, feeling, for the first time in years, truly alive.
On the kitchen table lay a photograph: a young Lucy and Michael, smiling, with the caption, Finally together.
A month later Paul barged in, unannounced, finding Lucy sipping tea with Michael by her side.
Mum we need to talk, he began, ignoring Michael.
She stayed silent.
Olivia says youve gone mad. That old man has messed with your head, Paul sneered.
Michael rose, but Lucy placed a hand on his arm.
Go, Paul. Theres no room for you here.
He flinched. But Im your son!
Used to be. Now go.
He stalked out, slamming the door. Lucy didnt cry; she only squeezed Michaels hand tighter.
Thank you for being here, she whispered.
He smiled. And thank you for staying.
Life moved onwithout Paul, but with love.
A week later Ethel burst in, ran straight to Lucy, and asked, Grandma, why is Daddy so angry?
Lucy stroked her hair. Hes just forgotten what love feels like. Youll never forget, will you?
Ethel shook her head. No. I love you.
I love you too, Lucy replied.
Michael watched them, smiling. Life can break you, but it also mends youif you never give up.
Lucy stood at the doorway, watching the road as the sun set, painting the sky pink. Michael came over, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
What are you thinking about? he asked.
Just that everythings finally alright, she said.
He kissed her temple. Yes, Lucy. At last.
Together they stepped back into the house, hand in hand, forever.
