This is me, Michael, he whispers, sitting down beside her. Its too late to turn things around. Youre almost eighty, Mum. He turns and walks out without letting her finish a sentence.
Grandma Lucy, drawing on the last of her strength, drags a bucket of icy water from the kitchen tap. She shuffles, legs trembling, along the muddy track toward the cottage. The frost bites her cheeks, and her fingers barely cling to the cold, weatherworn handle. At the doorway she pauses to catch her breath, sets one bucket on the step, reaches for the other and her foot slips on the ice.
Oh dear, help me, Lord, she murmurs before she crashes to the floor. Her shoulder hits the edge of the step, a dull ache blooms at the back of her head. She lies there for a few seconds, unable to move or even sigh.
She tries to rise, but her legs wont obey. It feels as if everything below her waist has vanished. Gasping from the shock and pain, she begins to crawl toward the door, grabbing at anything that offers purchase: an old stool, a broken broom, the hem of her skirt. Her back twists, sweat beads on her forehead, the world spins and sways.
Hold on, Lucy just a little longer, she whispers to herself, trying to pull herself up onto the threadbare sofa in the hallway.
On the windowsill rests a telephone. With trembling fingers she dials her sons number. Paul love, somethings very wrong please come she breathes out and collapses into unconsciousness.
By evening Paul bursts through the front door, the wind howling into the house. Hatless and dishevelled, he freezes on the threshold, seeing his mother halfreclining on the sofa. Mum whats happened to you? he leans down, taking her hand. Good heavens, shes like a block of ice.
Without hesitation he calls his wife: Olivia, come at once shes really ill I think she isnt moving at all.
Lucy hears everything, though she cant smile or move. A flicker of hope stirs in her chest: if hes frightened, he must still care. Perhaps this is the moment the family finally comes together. Will they save her?
She attempts to wiggle her legsnothing. Only her fingers twitch faintly. Then tears roll down her cheeksnot from pain, but because perhaps not everything is lost.
Olivia arrives two days later, looking annoyed, holding little Annies hand as if shed been pulled away from something urgent. There you are, Grandma, she mutters, glancing at her motherinlaw. Now lie down like a log. Annie clings to her mother, eyes darting nervously at Lucy, trying to smile though her face wont cooperate.
Olivia slips silently into the house. Paul leads her to the kitchen. They speak in hushed tones, the air thick with tension. Though Lucy cant make out the words, she feels the bitterness in their voices.
A few minutes pass and Paul returns, lifting her gently in his arms without a word. Where are you taking me? she whispers.
Paul says nothing, his jaw tightening. She wraps her arms around his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of oil, tobacco, something homely. To the hospital? she asks again.
He stays silent, his steps quickening. Instead of a hospital, he carries her to the outbuilding where they once stored potatoes, skis, old junk. The room is cold, the floor made of cracked boards, damp seeping in through the windows. The smell of neglect hangs heavy.
He places her carefully on an old armchair draped with a faded blanket. Youll stay here, he says flatly, avoiding her gaze. Its too late to change anything. Youre nearly eighty, Mum. He turns and walks out, not giving her a chance to speak.
The shock settles slowly, inexorably. Lucy lies there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the cold seeping into her bones. She cant understand why he does thiswhat for? Memories flash: pulling Paul by the hand, scrubbing school floors, buying him a winter coat on credit, footing the wedding costs when his inlaws refused to help. Ive always been on his side, she whispers, still unable to accept whats happened.
Olivias cold, sharp face drifts back into her mindnever grateful, never showing up without a reminder. She only visited once, for Annies birthday. Now Lucy feels like a forgotten object in a chilly storeroom, unsure whether shell see another sunrise.
Each day makes it clearer that something is terribly wrong. Paul comes less often, placing a bowl of soup down without looking, then hurrying away. Olivia and Annie disappear completely.
Lucy feels life slipping away. She stops eating, sipping only water to keep from starving. Sleep eludes her; a backache keeps her awake. The worst pain is the crushing loneliness.
Why? she thinks. Why me? I loved him more than anyone. I gave everything. No answer comes, only cold and emptiness.
One morning, as the sun barely pierces the grimy window, a soft knock soundsdifferent from Pauls heavy bangs. Whos there? she whispers, voice barely a rasp.
The door creaks and an elderly man in a threadbare coat steps in. He has a silver beard, a familiar face she barely recognises. He sits beside her, takes her hand. Its me, Michael, he says softly.
Lucy startles. Michael, the neighbour she once loved, the man she drove away because he didnt fit her familys expectations. Michael she sighs.
He says nothing, just squeezes her hand, then asks gently, What happened to you, Lucy? Why are you here? Paul told me youre in a care home
She tries to explain, tears blurring her words. He understands without a single extra sentence, pulling her into an old embrace. Dont be afraid. Ill get you out of here.
He lifts herlight as a featherand carries her out into the daylight. Paul has gone to the town, Olivia is elsewhere. Only Annie peeks from the window before scurrying away.
Michael brings Lucy to his own house, tucks her into a warm bed, covers her with a fresh blanket, brings tea with honey, feeds her like a child. Rest now. Ill call a doctor.
The doctor arrives quickly, examines her, shakes his head. Spinal fracture, old injury. With proper treatment she could recover. Shell need surgery and rehab.
Michael nods. Well do whatever it takes. Ill sell what I have to fund it.
Lucy looks at him, tears streaming. Michael why? After everything
He smiles sadly. Because I love you. I always have, and I always will.
She sobsjoy, pain, relief that life isnt over. Michael cares for her day by day: feeding her, washing her, reading to her, recounting his own lonely years while waiting for her to get better.
I always knew youd understand one day, he says. And Ill be here.
A week later Paul returns, sees his mother in a proper bedroom, not the damp outbuilding. Mum how did you get up? he stammers.
She looks at him coldly. I didnt. Michael brought me.
Paul hangs his head. I I didnt expect this
Go, Paul. Dont come back, Michael says, his jaw set. Paul leaves without looking back. Olivia and Annie never appear again.
Lucy stays with Michael, who becomes her pillarliterally and figuratively. He helps her onto walkers, then a cane. Look, Lucy, Im walking, she laughs, taking her first steps. He weeps with happiness.
One bright morning, sunlight gilding the windows, she wakes and says, Thank you, Michael, for everything. He takes her hand. Im the one thanking you, for coming back.
They live on quietly, peacefully, in the love they finally found.
Lucy sits on a garden bench, soaking up the sun. Her legs still ache, but she walks slowly, steadily. Michael carves a small wooden toy for Annie, who sometimes darts in to hide from her mother.
Do you think Paul will ever forgive me? she asks.
Michael shakes his head. Dont think about him. Think about yourself. Being alive is what matters.
She nods, feeling alive for the first time in years. On the kitchen table sits a photograph of a young Lucy and Michael, captioned, Finally together.
A month later Paul drops by unannounced, finds Lucy sipping tea, Michael nearby. Mum we need to talk, he begins, ignoring Michael.
She stays silent.
Olivia says youve gone mad, that youre being brainwashed by that old man, Paul continues.
Michael stands, but Lucy raises her hand. Leave, Paul. This isnt your place.
He shivers. But Im your son!
You were. Youre not anymore. Paul storms out, slamming the door. Lucy doesnt cry; she tightens her grip on Michaels hand. Thank you for being here.
He smiles. And thank you.
Life moves onwithout Paul, but with love.
A week later Annie runs in, sits on the bench, hugs her grandmother. Grandma, why is Daddy so angry?
Lucy strokes her hair. Hes forgotten what love feels like. You wont forget, will you?
Annie nods. No. I love you.
I love you too.
Michael watches them, smiling. Life can break you, but it can also mend you. The key is never giving up.
Lucy stands at the doorway, watching the road as the sun sets, painting the sky pink. Michael comes up, wraps an arm around her shoulders.
What are you thinking about? he asks.
How everything finally feels right, she replies.
He kisses her temple. Yes, Lucy. At last.
Together they step back into the house, hand in hand, forever.
