This is me, Michael I whispered, pulling a chair up next to her. Its too late to fix anything now. Youre almost eighty, Mum, I said, and without waiting for a word she turned and walked out.
Grandma Lucy, using the last of her strength, hauled a bucket of icy tap water from the kitchen tap. She shuffled, legs wobbling, along the muddy footpath back to her cottage. The frost nipped at her cheeks, her fingers barely clinging to the cold, wornout handle of the bucket. As she reached the doorstep she stopped to catch her breath, set one bucket on the step, reached for the other and then her foot slipped on the ice.
Oh God, help me she breathed before she hit the ground.
Her shoulder slammed into the step, a dull ache throbbed at the back of her head. She lay there for a few seconds, unable to move or even sigh. She tried to get up, but her legs wouldnt obey; everything below her waist felt as if itd vanished.
Gasping with terror and pain, she began to crawl toward the door, grabbing at anything that might help a rickety stool, a broken broom, the hem of her dress. Her back twisted, sweat beaded on her forehead, the world spun and swayed.
Hang on, Lucy just a bit longer, she muttered to herself, trying to pull herself onto an old sofa in the hallway.
On the windowsill lay her phone. With trembling fingers she dialed her sons number.
Paul love, somethings wrong please come she whispered, then slipped into unconsciousness.
By evening Paul barged through the front door, the wind howling in behind him. He was hatless, his coat in disarray, and froze on the threshold when he saw his mother halfcollapsed on the sofa.
Mum whats happened to you? he asked, gripping her hand. Good grief, shes as frozen as a statue.
Without a second thought he called his wife:
Olivia, get over here straight away shes in terrible shape. I think shes not moving at all.
Grandma Lucy could hear everything, even though she couldnt smile or shift. A flicker of hope rose in her chest: if he was scared, it meant she still mattered.
Maybe this was the moment the family would finally pull together? Could they save her?
She tried to wiggle her legs no luck. Only her fingers twitched slightly. Then tears rolled down her cheeks not from pain, but because perhaps not everything was lost yet.
Olivia didnt turn up until two days later, looking irked, clutching her little girl Emilys hand as if something else had pulled her away.
Well, look who finally showed up, Grandma, Olivia murmured, glancing at Lucys motherinlaw. Now lie still like a log.
Emily pressed against her mother, eyes darting anxiously at Lucy, trying 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 air thick with tension. Even though Lucy couldnt make out the words, she felt the bitterness in their voices.
A few minutes later their son returned, lifted her gently without a word.
Where are you taking me? Lucy whispered.
Paul said nothing, his jaw clenched. She hugged his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of old tobacco and oil.
To the hospital? she asked again.
He stayed silent, his steps quickening. Instead of a hospital, he dragged her to an outbuilding that used to store potatoes, old skis, forgotten things. The room was chilly, the floor creaked, damp seeped in through the windows it smelled of neglect.
He placed her carefully on an old armchair covered with a faded quilt.
Just stay here, he said flatly, avoiding her gaze. Its too late to change anything. Youre nearly eighty, Mum.
He turned and left, not giving her a chance to speak.
Shock didnt hit instantly it crept in slowly, irrevocably. Lucy lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the cold biting into her bones. She couldnt understand why hed done it, what shed deserved.
Fragments of her past flashed: pulling Paul in a pram, scrubbing school floors, buying him a winter coat on credit, paying for a wedding when his inlaws refused not the right match.
Ive always been on his side she whispered, still in disbelief.
Olivias face popped up in her mind always cool, restrained, sharp as a knife. Never grateful, never showing up without a reminder. Shed only visited once, for Emilys birthday.
Now Lucy was stuck in that cold outbuilding like an unwanted relic. She didnt even know if shed see the morning.
Every day the signs grew clearer: something was seriously wrong. Paul visited less often, set down a bowl of soup without looking, then hurried away. Olivia and Emily never came back.
Lucy felt life slipping away. She stopped eating, only sipping water to avoid starving. She couldnt sleep; a backache kept her awake. But the worst was the crushing loneliness.
Why? she thought. Why me? I loved him more than anyone. I gave everything for him
There was no answer, only cold and emptiness.
One morning, as the sun barely squeezed through a grimy window, she heard a soft knock, steady and gentle not Pauls.
Whos there? she whispered, her voice barely a whisper.
The door creaked and an elderly man in a battered coat shuffled in. His silver beard and weathered face were familiar, but she didnt place him at first. He sat beside her, took her hand.
This is me, Michael he said, settling down.
Lucys heart leapt. Michael, the neighbour shed once loved and cast out because he didnt fit her familys plans.
Michael she breathed.
He stayed silent, just squeezing her hand, then asked quietly, What happened to you, Lucy? Why are you here? Paul told me youre in a care home
She tried to explain, but tears swallowed her words. He understood without needing them, wrapped his arms around her like long ago.
Dont be scared. Ill get you out of here, he promised, lifting her as if she were a feather and carrying her into the daylight. Paul was gone off to the town. Olivia too. Only Emily peeked out the window before scurrying away.
Michael took her to his own house, tucked her into a warm bed, covered her with a fresh blanket, brewed tea with honey, fed her like a child.
Rest now. Ill call a doctor, he said.
The doctor arrived quickly, examined her, shook his head.
A fractured spine, old injury. With proper treatment she might walk again. Shell need surgery and rehab, he explained.
Michael nodded. Well do whatever it takes. Ill sell what I can to fund it.
Lucy looked at him, tears streaming.
Michael why? After everything
He gave a sad smile. Because I love you. I always have, and I always will.
She sobbed from joy, from pain, from the realization that life wasnt over yet.
Michael tended to her like family, feeding her, washing her, reading to her. He talked about the past, about waiting, hoping shed return.
I always knew youd understand one day, he said. And Ill be here.
A week later Paul showed up, saw his mother in a proper bedroom, not the outbuilding.
Mum how did you get up? he stammered.
She glanced at him coldly. I didnt. Michael lifted me.
He lowered his gaze. I didnt know it would turn out like this
Go, Paul. Dont come back, she told him.
He left without looking back. Olivia and Emily never returned.
Lucy stayed with Michael, who became her pillar literally and figuratively. He helped her onto walkers, then a cane.
Look, Lucy, Im walking, she chuckled, taking her first steps.
He wept with happiness.
One bright morning, as the sun gilded the windows, she turned to him and said, Thank you, Michael, for everything.
He took her hand. Its me who should thank you, for coming back.
They lived on quietly, peacefully, in a love theyd long awaited.
Lucy sat on a bench in the garden, soaking up the sun. Her legs still ached, but she kept moving, slow but steady. Michael was nearby, carving a small wooden toy for Emily, who would sometimes dart in, 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 alive, and thats what matters.
She nodded, feeling alive for the first time in ages.
On the kitchen table sat an old photograph of Lucy, young, with Michael, and a caption: Finally together.
A month later Paul returned, slipped in without knocking, found Lucy sipping tea, Michael at her side.
Mum we need to talk, he said, not meeting Michaels eyes.
She stayed silent.
Olivia says youve lost it. That old man has turned your head, Paul blurted.
Michael rose, but Lucy placed a hand on his arm.
Go, Paul. This isnt your place, she said.
He flinched. But Im your son!
My son was once. Now go. He left, slamming the door. Lucy didnt cry, she just squeezed Michaels hand tighter.
Thank you for being here, she whispered.
He smiled. And thank you.
Life moved forward without Paul, but with love.
A week later Emily burst in, hugged her grandmother, and asked, Grandma, why is Daddy so angry?
Lucy patted her head. Hes forgotten what love feels like, but you wont, will you?
Emily shook her head. No. I love you.
And I love you, Lucy replied.
Michael watched them, smiling. Life can break you, but it can also mend you. The key is never giving up.
Lucy stood at the doorway, watching the road as dusk painted the sky pink. Michael came up, hugged her shoulders.
What are you thinking about? he asked.
Just that everythings finally alright, she said.
He kissed her temple. Yes, Lucy. At last.
They walked inside together, hand in hand, forever.
