Remembering You

by Stella MacLean

  “Did you tell Amy I was coming?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I wanted to. You don’t know how close I came to saying something last night on the phone. Amy was chatting away about Graham, how he was doing and how much she wished you and Connor could be here to see him.”

  “Yeah, secrets don’t have much of a shelf life with you,” he said, patting my hand.

  “Would you like to call Linda before we go to Amy’s?”

  “No, I'll do it later. I need time...We both need time,” he said half-heartedly, a sad expression on his face.

  Jonathan rubbed his hands together slowly, deliberately, and I watched as I considered what he meant by that. My heart picked up speed the longer he sat there saying nothing.

  “Jonathan, what’s wrong?”

  His jaw working as his eyes focused on some point over my shoulder, he took a deep breath and met my anxious gaze. “Linda and I aren’t getting along.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He looked at me, his eyes glistening. “My life is such a mess right now, and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

  “How bad is it?” I felt as if some unseen force was squeezing the air from my lungs.

  “We're talking about getting a divorce.” He stared down at his hands.

  In that moment, Jonathan looked so much like his father, and he was obviously in so much emotional pain. What should I say? How could I help him? I'd been through this. I knew what it took to survive.

  “Are you seeing someone else?” Oh, no! Of course I'd have to say something stupid like that. I wanted to hit myself over the head. I didn’t mean it for one minute. Jonathan would never... Yet I couldn’t block the idea that Jonathan was his father’s son. Did that extend to his personal behavior? Had the experience of losing his father changed how he saw his own life? He was clearly unhappy.

  “Not me. Linda.” He shrugged. “I can’t be sure. She’s been so distant these past few months, so angry and impatient all the time. We don’t talk anymore and she says it’s because I’m too preoccupied with my job. I want another baby, someone for Megan to share her childhood—like I had. Linda doesn’t want more children.”

  “And what about you? How do you feel?”

  “The firm’s never been busier, and there’s always a crisis to deal with. Linda doesn’t seem to understand that I can’t leave work on a whim.” Jonathan looked me straight in the eye, and his pain was almost palpable. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Of all the conversations in the world that I might've expected to have with my son, this wasn’t it. Jonathan, the son who showed stability beyond his years, who stayed at his father’s bedside every night for the last two weeks of his life, was facing something so painful, so soul destroying...and there was little or nothing I could do to ease his agony.

  I wanted to hold him the way I used to when he was a kid and needed consoling. If only this could be fixed with a Band-Aid and a hug. But the man seated across from me—his facial expression tense and his eyes clouded with uncertainty—needed more than simple reassurance. He needed me to understand what he was going through.

  Could I? Could I accept that a son of mine, especially this son, would consider a divorce when he was the child best able to remember what he lived through when his father and I separated? Or, like me, did he feel he had no choice but to separate?

  A thousand questions flitted across my mind as I looked at him, questions about how their marriage had gotten to this point. How hard were he and Linda willing to work to salvage what they had? Had they gone for counseling? What did he want to do?

  But whatever was going on between them was their problem to solve. “What about Megan?” I asked.

  Tears swam in his eyes and he looked away. “I'll do everything I can to protect Megan. I love her so much.”

  I placed my hand over his. “I know you love Megan, and you’ll take care of her. Whatever you need to do, I’m here for you. If you need to talk, I’m willing to listen.”

  He wrapped his hands around mine and I could feel them tremble. “Mom, the last few months have been hard, and so many times I’ve wished I could talk to Dad. I really miss him. I didn’t want to burden you with my troubles,” he said, misery in his voice.

  “Please remember that you and Linda need to be honest with each other about how you feel. Spend time alone together and talk about what’s bothering you. Don’t let work pressures keep you from seeing what’s important to your happiness. If you need me to keep Megan while you and Linda take a holiday, I'll do it.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “And you could never be a burden to me. Besides, I’m a tough old bird.” Well, not old, just a little worn around the edges. “Your dad and I managed to patch things up and go on with our lives. Maybe you and Linda will, too.”

  “We've tried counseling, but nothing seems to be working.” His hands clung to mine.

  Impulsively, I stood, grabbed my son and threw my arms around him, my tears dropping onto the top of his head. “I love you, and I wish I could fix this for you.”

  Jonathan hugged me back. “Like you did when I was a boy. Mom to the rescue. Half the kids in the neighborhood were afraid of you. Did you realize that?” he asked into my arm.

  “No, I didn’t, but they probably had reason,” I said, stroking his head. “I had no use for kids who were rude.”

  “I can still see the look on Robin Sinclair's face the day you ordered him out of our tree house.”

  “He had it coming.” I couldn’t help smiling at the memory of Robin the Terrible, who thought nothing of cruising through my flower beds on his way to the backyard.

  “Mom, are you sure you weren't a gladiator in another life?”

  When I heard the teasing back in his voice, my arms shook with relief. “You’re beginning to sound like those people with their reincarnation theories,” I said, glad to see signs that his pain had eased. I let go of my son and slipped back into my chair.

  “How about we head over to your sister’s?”

  Jonathan had his smile back. “Sounds great. I'll just put my bag upstairs.”

  He didn’t have to ask where. I hadn't changed one tiny thing in his room. I couldn’t. Other people might say I was a possessive mother but I really didn’t care. The house was mine, and there was no one else I was remotely interested in having in his room.

  Jonathan did that long-legged skip of his as he came down the stairs, gave the newel post at the bottom of the steps a thump as he’d always done and strode along the hall into the kitchen.

  “Are we ready to go?” he asked, grabbing the jacket he’d dropped on the chair earlier.

  “Whenever you are— godfather.”

  * * *

  We arrived at Amy's house amid much hugging and laughter.

  “I'm so glad to see you,” Amy said, her arms around her brother, her cheek pressed to his. Knowing what might lie ahead for Jonathan, I memorized the smile of glee on his face as I watched him hug his sister.

  These two had been close all their lives, and it made my breath catch to realize that so many years had passed and they hadn’t lost that closeness, despite living so far from each other.

  I knew with complete certainty that, thanks to Amy and her love and loyalty toward her brother, the distance would mean nothing if Jonathan needed her help and support through a divorce.

  As we entered the living room, I saw a smile of welcome on Thomas’s lips. “With Amy so busy with Graham, I’m chief cook and bottle washer. And I’m beginning to like it. The clothes washer gave me a few problems, but I figured it out. I read the manual for the stove and cooked a chicken. It’s nice to be able to help out, especially with Graham. What can I get you?”

  Would you believe it? My son-in-law doing kitchen duty? As long as had known Thomas he'd seemed to spend all his time on his programming work, showing little interest in what went on around him. Obviously, all that had changed.

  I pushed my surprise to the back of my mind and gav
e Thomas the once over. He had dark circles under his eyes and kept glancing toward Amy with a look of pure wonderment on his face. Thomas Cardwell taking charge. I liked it. “I'll have a cup of coffee if you have it.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I settled into the sofa, and as I sipped my coffee—very good coffee, by the way—I thought of the changes we’d gone through over the past few years. And despite everything, I felt great joy as I witnessed how happy Amy and Jonathan were to visit with each other.

  A cry of distress from the baby monitor brought Thomas and Amy to their feet. “I'll go,” Thomas said, heading for the stairs before Amy could respond.

  When he came back down with Graham cuddled against his shoulder, he gave a triumphant grin. “He was soaked. I had to change his diaper and his sleeper.”

  Amy winked at me as she motioned for her husband to pass the baby to Jonathan. A boulder-size lump closed my throat as my gaze held Amy’s. Happiness was a living, breathing thing, an entity created by loving someone more than you love yourself.

  The look in Amy’s eyes told me just how much she loved her son, how completely love possessed her heart. In the exquisite moment of sharing a glance, we understood each other...We shared a common path in life, this child of mine and I.

  After about an hour, Jonathan and Amy settled in for a long chat, while Thomas excused himself and went to his office in the basement. “Amy, would you drive Jonathan back when you're ready? I’m going home to get some rest.”

  “Mom, are you not sleeping well?” Amy asked, an anxious look back in her eyes.

  “No, sweetie, I’m fine, Too much gardening the past few weeks, that’s all.” And Amy needed time with Jonathan.

  I drove through the darkened streets, thankful that Jonathan was enjoying himself with his sister. He deserved every bit of happiness he could find. The phone was ringing when I got in the door. I checked the number—Jonathan’s in Bellingham. Afraid I might give some indication that Jonathan had confided in me, I made my tone purposefully upbeat. “Hi, Linda! How are you?”

  “I'm okay.”

  “And Megan, is she there? I'd love to talk with her.”

  She didn’t reply. “Is Jonathan around?” she asked, instead. “I need to talk to him.”

  My daughter-in-law sounded as if she’d been crying. “Is anything wrong, honey?”

  “I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to speak to Jonathan.”

  “Oh, Linda, he’s not here. He's at Amy's.”

  “Will you get him to call me when he comes in?”

  “Megan’s all right, isn’t she?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Megan’s fine. She and I were going to go to Seattle today, but there’s been a change of plans.”

  Jonathan had said Linda was looking forward to visiting with her friend. What could have changed? “Why don’t you call him at Amy's?”

  “No, I don’t want to interrupt his time with his godson. How is baby Graham? I'm sorry I haven’t had a chance to send a gift, but I will. I—”

  I could hear Linda crying now. If only she was here with me. I could hold her, comfort her, make her feel less alone. Despite what was going on between them, she was my daughter-in-law and I loved her. “Linda, what's wrong? What can do?"

  “Nothing. I have to talk to Jonathan. But thanks anyway,” ‘she said, her voice shaking.

  “Look, please call him. He won’t mind, and neither will Amy. Please.”

  “I'll see.”

  Her call stayed in my mind long after she hung up.

  An hour later, Jonathan came in the back door, whistling to himself. “Amy’s so happy.” Jonathan said, seeing me waiting in the kitchen.

  I wanted to ask if he’d talked to Linda, but he deserved the chance to at least get in the door before I pressed him. “She and Thomas are both very happy and contented.”

  “Yeah, Thomas’s so quiet most of the time, but he sure loves that baby.”

  Jonathan looked tired, which was hardly surprising given his busy week. I wondered if this was the time to mention Linda’s call...

  “Let's go to the living room,” I said, wanting him to have a few minutes to relax.

  “Okay.”

  Once we were sitting on the sofa, I looked at my son and my heart ached for him. How difficult it must have been to see his sister and brother-in-law so happy with a baby boy, when he wanted a son of his own. “How're you doing?”

  “I'm okay. I was more worried about how you'd take my news, Mom.”

  Feeling bad that he was worried about me, I smiled to hide my sadness, “Did you make any plans with Amy?”

  “Yeah. She wants me to spend the day with her tomorrow.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  Jonathan scrubbed his face with his hands, leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Linda and I will work this out, one way or another.”

  “Of course you will. Just remember, if you need anything, I’m here.”

  I was about to ask if he'd heard from a his wife when he spoke again. “Thanks, Mom, but what I need right now is to hear how you’re doing.” Jonathan looked straight at me in his direct fashion, and I cringed. “Want to talk about the letters?” he asked.

  “What about the letters?”

  He touched my shoulder. “Mom, I'm so glad Dad left those letters for you—if you’re all right with them.”

  “I am, truly. I’ve been reading one each day. I have to admit that early on, it was a little...disconcerting.”

  “And sad.”

  “Yes, that, too. But now it’s easier, and I find your father’s words reassuring. I’m sleeping better, too.”

  “That’s good.” Jonathan’s expression said he wasn’t reassured. “Amy’s back on the subject of you buying a condo.”

  “She thinks I’m going a little strange living alone in this house.”

  "You're not, are you?” He peered at me with a macabre expression, making me laugh.

  “No, silly. The only strange one in this house is Fergus.”

  “Promise?”

  “Don’t be smart,” I kidded with him, still watching for any sign that he’d heard from Linda.

  “I’m allowed. I’m the oldest. Speaking of that, I need to get some rest and so do you.”

  If, in fact, he’d had a disturbing call from his wife this evening, Jonathan seemed very calm. If he hadn’t received one, she must plan to call here. My instinct told me that Linda was far too upset not to get in touch with her husband, regardless of what was going on in their relationship.

  “I’ve got an idea. It’s time to celebrate baby Graham’s arrival, just the two of us. Your father’s Scotch collection is still in the liquor cabinet. "Want one?”

  “You're on.”

  I watched him move to the cabinet the way he knelt down, turned the brass handle on the cabinet door and moved the bottles around while he made his choice was so like his father.

  I couldn’t tell him that. He’d be afraid I was about to launch into tearful memories, the way I had in the early months after Graham’s death, when I'd cling to Jonathan and tell him how much he reminded me of his father.

  Jonathan returned with two crystal tumblers that Graham kept with his Scotch whiskey collection. “Macallan your favorite,” he said, passing me a glass.

  “To you and me, and to your father who kept only the best scotch in his cabinet.”

  “To us.” Jonathan touched his glass to mine and sat down beside me.

  A thumping noise erupted from behind the sofa. The window drapes swayed and Fergus appeared, his fur mussed and his eyes wide with indignation.

  “Oh, yeah, I nearly forgot. To Fergus" I said, and we laughed in unison at my cat.

  The ringing of the phone brought an abrupt end to our laughter.

  “I'll get it,” Jonathan said, jumping up and going to the kitchen.

  I waited and waited and waited some more. I could tell that Jonathan’s voice filled with disbelief, then what sounded l
ike an attempt to be conciliatory, but I couldn’t hear what he said. As much as I would’ve liked to know what was going on, I didn’t go near the kitchen.

  When he finally returned to the living room, his face was flushed, his eyes red rimmed.

  I wanted to hug him, but I sensed this wasn't the time. “Was that Linda?”

  He nodded, swallowing hard as he gulped the remainder of his Scotch.

  “Jonathan, what happened?” I asked, seeing the look of sheer panic in his eyes.

  “Mom, on top of everything else that’s been going on with us the past few months, Linda hasn’t been feeling well. She went to the doctor and he ran a bunch of tests.” He turned to me. “We’ re expecting a baby next May.”

  I wanted to shout with joy at the prospect of another grandchild, but I could tell by his face that the news wasn’t having the same effect on him—the person who should’ve been the most excited. “That’s good news—isn’t it?” I asked tentatively.

  “Well, if we didn’t already have marital problems, it might be.” Jonathan rubbed his short-cropped hair, scowling anxiously. “But Linda doesn’t want to be pregnant. She says our marriage isn’t going to work out, and she’s terrified of raising two children on her own.” He took a deep breath.

  “After her dad left, her mom worked two jobs. Linda and Janice had to fend for themselves a lot. Linda has so many bad memories of those years, and she’s terrified that she couldn’t manage two children on her own.”

  “Surely she doesn’t think she’d be a bad parent! She’s well educated with a good income, and you’d be more than willing to share custody. You'd be there for her where the children are concerned, even if you weren’t married. I mean, it'd be better if you could work out your problems, but if you can’t, she’d be okay, wouldn’t she?”

  “Mom, a part of me is so excited, so thrilled about this. I want another child. But if a baby’s only going to add to the list of problems we can’t seem to solve, what am I going to do?”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. This wasn’t my life, my dreams for the future. “Jonathan, you have to have faith in your love for each other. You and Linda were deeply in love when you got married. It was obvious to everyone. Now you've hit a rough spot, and it'll take time and patience to see it through. But your love’s worth it. Don’t you believe that?”