After six months of silence, Margarets mother-in-law finally spoke. Her first words left her own daughter frozen. “Mum, please, just say something,” Emily pleaded, squeezing the cold hand of the woman lying in the hospital bed. “I know you can hear me. The doctor said your hearings fine.”
Margaret Williams stared blankly at the ceiling, silent. Six months had passed since her stroke, and she hadnt uttered a word. Only occasionally did she blink when Emily read letters aloud from her grandchildren in America.
“Sophie called today,” Emily continued, adjusting the pillow. “Little Lilys started nursery. Speaks English better than she does anything else. Can you believe it?”
The door to the ward burst open. Standing there was Valerie, Margarets eldest daughterhair dishevelled, a large bag of groceries in her hands. “Always taking charge, arent you?” she snapped, not even bothering with a greeting. “Think I dont know what youve been telling the doctors? That we, her own flesh and blood, abandoned her?”
Emily sighed. These scenes had become a weekly routine. “Val, keep your voice down. Mum gets tired when you shout.”
“My mother!” Valerie shoved past Emily to the bedside. “Mum, its meyour real daughter. Not some stranger who moved into your flat.”
Margaret twitched her hand, as if trying to speak, but only a faint groan escaped.
“See how upset she gets when you yell?” Emily stepped between them. “Maybe we should talk outside?”
“Or maybe you should just leave?” Valerie shot back. “Im sick of your act. Think I dont know why you come every day? Guilt, isnt it? After what happened with Michael?”
Emily paled. They avoided mentioning Michael around Margaretthe doctors had warned any stress could trigger another stroke.
“Val, please”
“Im not asking, Im telling!” Valerie pulled a jar of homemade apricot jam from her bag. “Mum loves this. Not that hospital slop you feed her.”
“She cant have anything acidic. You know that.”
“Oh, of course you know best!” Valerie set out containers on the bedside table. “Homemade custard, boiled chicken, broth in the flask. And whatve you brought? Those awful yoghurts again?”
Emily watched as her mother-in-laws eyes followed Valeries movements. For the first time in months, there was a flicker of life in them.
“Mum, want some custard?” Valerie perched on the edge of the bed. “Just like you used to makesugar and all, remember?”
Margaret gave the faintest nod.
“See?” Valerie turned triumphantly to Emily. “She understands me. Not you with your hospital rules!”
Emily bit back the fact that custard was bad for kidney patients. Maybe the doctors were rightsometimes emotional connection mattered more than medicine.
“Val,” Margaret whispered suddenly.
Both women froze.
“Mum! Youre talking!” Valerie grabbed her hand. “You recognise me!”
With effort, Margaret turned her head. “Wheres Michael?”
Silence. Valerie glanced helplessly at Emily.
“Mum, he he cant visit. Works abroad,” Emily lied.
“Liar,” Margaret murmured. “I know everything.”
Valerie burst into tears. “Mum, dont think about that. Please.”
“Was he drinking?” Margarets eyes fixed on Emily.
“Yes,” she admitted. “Badly, the last few years.”
“Did you forgive him?”
Emily nodded, unable to speak.
“Then so will I.”
Margaret closed her eyes, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Dont cry, Mum,” Valerie pleaded, stroking her hand. “Youll get better, come live with me. My place is big, bright”
“No.” Margaret shook her head. “Home I want to go to Emilys.”
Valerie flinched as if struck. “But Im your daughter! Your real daughter!”
“And she is too. Thirty years by my side. You only holidays.”
“We were busy!” Valerie protested. “We had families, kids!”
“She had a child too,” Margaret said softly. “A good boy. I helped raise him.”
Emily turned to the window. Outside, a light drizzle fellthe kind her soul ached for. She wanted to stand in it, let the rain wash away the pain of the last few years.
“Michael called,” Margaret continued. “Before he died. Asked for forgiveness. I gave it.”
“Mum, dont,” Valerie begged. “The doctors said no stress.”
“Need to say it. Emily was good. Tried to save him.”
Margaret turned to her daughter-in-law. “Thank you.”
“For what, Mum?”
“For being with him. When he died.”
Emily sank into a chair, legs weak.
“He loved you so much. Said no one had a mum like you.”
“And now Im a burden.”
“No!” Emily said fiercely. “Never that. Youre the only family I have left.”
“You have grandchildren. In America.”
“Theyre building their lives there. Sophie married an American. Maybe its for the besteasier for the young ones.”
“Miss them?”
“Lily, so much. But what can you do?”
Valerie listened, face darkening. “This is touching,” she sneered. “But what if I say Ive got rights too? That I wont hand my mother over to an outsider?”
“Val!” Margaret chided weakly.
“What? I worked double shifts for thirty years, raised kids alone because my husband drank as much as your Michael! Now I can help, and Im the villain?”
“No one said that,” Margaret whispered. “But I want my home. My flat.”
“With her?” Valerie jabbed a finger at Emily. “What if she leaves? Goes to America?”
Emily stared out the window. Dusk had fallen, lights flickering in the hospital opposite. So many lives, so many stories.
“I wont leave,” she said quietly. “I promise.”
“What if you remarry?”
Emily laughed bitterly. “At fifty-two? Whod have me? Old, ill, with baggage.”
“Not old,” Margaret said. “Still beautiful. And kind.”
“Youre tired, Mum. Let me help you wash up, take your pills.”
Valerie watched them, then sighed. “Maybe this is for the best. My Daniels off to uni soon, and my husband well, hes not fond of elderly underfoot.”
“Valerie,” Margaret sighed.
“What? Its true. Hes stressed enough without night-time moaning and doctors visiting.”
“Fine,” Emily said. “Once shes discharged, she comes home with me.”
“What about your job?”
“Ill quit. Go part-time. Ill manage.”
Valerie hesitated. “Ill send money. Monthly. And groceries. Call me if anything happens.”
“Alright.”
“Just no lectures. I dont need to hear daily how I failed as a daughter.”
“I wont,” Emily promised.
Margaret listened, eyes closed but awake.
“Mum, what do you think?” Emily asked.
“I think God gave me a second daughter. A good daughter.”
Valerie choked back a sob and fled.
“Shes hurt,” Margaret murmured.
“Shell be fine. Always was sensitive. Her husband made it worse.”
“Men dont understand a womans heart.”
“Not all. Your Michael did. When he was sober.”
“Yes good boy. Pity how it ended.”
They sat quietly, the sounds of the hospital around them.
“Emily,” Margaret whispered.
“Yes?”
“Do you regret it? Marrying him?”
Emily thought. “There were moments. Especially during the worst of it. But then I thoughtwould another man have been better? Life doesnt give guarantees. With someone else, I might not have had Sophie. And shes turned out well.”
“Clever girl like you.”
“And stubborn like you.”
Margaret smiledthe first in months. “Good women need strength.”
A nurse peeked in. “Visiting hours are over.”
Emily stood. “Ill come early tomorrow. Maybe a walk if its nice.”
“Come. And dont be hard on Val. Shes tired.”
“I know. Goodnight, Mum.”
As Emily left, the receptionist stopped her. “Are you related to Margaret Williams?”
“Her daughter-in-law.”
“The other daughter made a scene earlier. Demanded we ban you from visiting.”
“She was upset. Said things she didnt mean.”
“We need clarity on who makes medical decisions.”
Emily handed over a document. “Power of attorney. She signed it before the stroke.”
The receptionist checked it. “All in order. Families do get emotional.”
Outside, Emily breathed in the cool air. The rain had stopped, stars peeking through. The bus took ages, but she waited, thinking
