Martha loved everyone, but she never really liked her own boys. She thought they were dumb, crude and as unrefined as their dad.
Hey mum, whats for dinner? shouted Gene, the eldest, his voice already deep, a bit of fuzz sprouting on his chin, his hands long and wiry like his fathers, ending in big, clumsy fists.
Martha knew Gene was already out there chasing older widows, the ones left without a husband, the sort who stare flirtatiously at any young bloke or even at teens, brazen as you like. She pulled one of them, Emily, aside and warned her, Dont get any ideas about Gene, hes still a kid, barely fifteen. Emily laughed so loudly that it made Marthas stomach turn.
From that day on, Martha stopped feeling any motherly warmth toward Gene. He reminded her of his father rough, always smelling of bacon, garlic and homebrewed gin, with filthy hands in every pocket.
Shed tried every single girl in the village, even tried to push Gene into a forced marriage. He didnt want it, he wept, but there was no one to stand up for him; old Mrs. Harding was the only one left who could arrange something for him.
Why are you meddling, girl? the old woman would say, look at Tom, isnt he a fine lad? All the girls swoon over him, just waiting for him to glance their way. And you go on.
Im not staying, sobbed little Martha, Im going to the town, get a job in the mill, learn something, make a life for myself.
Town? You should have thought of that before you, the old woman snapped, her voice harsh and cruel. She kept beating Martha with words, telling her that soon her belly would be bigger than her nose, that shed end up like the rest of the village girls.
In the end Martha was taken in by Tom. He was older, brought her into his house, his mother at first was outraged youve chosen the wrong daughter but she settled down, even pitied Martha when Tom tormented her at night.
She kept complaining that the girl was weak, that shed never manage anything. One by one the village boys grew up, all turning into Tomtype lads. Martha loved them fiercely, until they grew up and turned into the same rough men.
War came and took Tom, crushed him, spat him out alive, while many lads never returned. Three of Marthas sons went off to the front; when they came back five more blackhaired lads showed up in the village, eyes like dark berries.
Martha had three more boys after that, no daughters at all. There was never a single girl to keep her company. When Tom announced he was leaving for Lucy Barker, a widowed soldiers wife, Martha finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Gene got into a fight with his dad, and Martha, trying to calm things, bandaged his arm and patted his head like she used to when he was a toddler. Let him go, deardont bother, she whispered.
Dont worry, mum, we wont let you down, Gene said, stumbling over his words. He was about to get married himself, and Martha tried not to think about what would happen with his fragile, bigeyed bride, just like shed feared for Tom.
She shook her head, We all end up looking the same, dont we? Shed hoped each son might be different, that nature would give her a daughter someday. But the only thing that ever grew was another boy, little Sam.
Sam wandered through potential brides for ages, hoping one day a girl would finally appear. Then came Lily, a bright, sprightly thing, darting around the kitchen, as slender as a willow. When Martha saw her, she thought of a calf clinging to its mother. Lily clung to Sams chest, froze, and he brushed her hair and kissed her forehead gently, like a mother with her child.
Martha started watching all her sons, checking if any of them behaved like Tomgrabbing their wives, pulling them onto the bed. None did. No, Lord, no! she cried, halfmad, halfrelieved. It took her years to realize that not all her boys were monsters.
One day Gene came home and Martha asked, Hey love, everything alright? He answered, All good, mum, anything wrong? Is the new daughterinlaw causing trouble? Theres room for her. He spoke slowly, always the quiet one.
Dont be shy, if you need anything said Kat, Genes wife, stepping in. No worries, dear, just checking in, miss everyone, Martha replied, trying to sound upbeat.
By the time the day was done, Martha dragged herself back home, exhausted. She wondered why some daughtersinlaw would have tea while others refused, not wanting to hurt anyones feelings. Six daughters, Ive got none, she muttered to herself, halfjoking, halfsad.
Lily baked some crumpets, and Martha, eyes watering, begged, Lily, could you maybe have a grandchild for me? Lily laughed, Sure, mum, and later gave birth to two little girls, Olivia and Chloe, Marthas beloved granddaughters. They were the sunshine of the house, the little princesses that melted her heart.
Now Martha swore shed raise every girl she could, teach them well, keep them safe, and never let anything ruin their lives. She kept her promise; the girls grew up, excelled in their careers, always called their granny with affection, and loved Martha in return.
So, did Martha ever truly not love her sons? Of course she did, otherwise they wouldnt have turned out the way they did. A mother can love a child even when shes angry or hurt. As for Tomwell, God knows, Martha forgave him long ago and even loved him a little still.
