Im here, Mike, he whispered, settling beside me. Its too late to change anything now. Youre almost eighty, Mum, he added, turning and walking away before I could finish a word.
Ethel Harper, with the last gasp of strength, hauled a bucket of icy tap water from the kitchen tap. She shuffled, legs heavy, along the frostcrusted path back to her cottage. The wind nipped at her cheeks, her fingers clinging to a frozen, splintered handle. At the doorway she paused, breathing shallow, set the bucket on a step, reached for the second, and suddenly her foot slipped on the glaze.
Oh, heavens, help me, she muttered, before crumpling to the floor. Her shoulder struck the edge of the step, a dull throb blooming at the back of her head. For a few seconds she lay there, unable to move, unable to sigh.
She tried to rise, but her legs obeyed nothing. It was as if everything below her waist had vanished. Gasping with terror and pain, she began to crawl toward the door, clinging to whatever she could find: an old stool, a broken broom, a torn corner of her dress. Her spine twisted, sweat gathered on her brow, the world swayed and spun.
Come on, dear just a bit more, she whispered to herself, trying to pull herself onto a battered couch in the narrow hallway. On the windowsill lay a telephone. With trembling fingers she dialed her son.
Paul love, somethings wrong come quick, she breathed out, then darkness claimed her.
By evening Paul rushed in. The door slammed, a gust of wind hurled itself through the house. Hatless, windblown, he froze on the doorstep, seeing his mother halfcollapsed on the couch.
Mum whats happened to you? he asked, taking her hand. Good Lord, shes as cold as a stone.
Without hesitation he called his wife:
Olivia, get here straight away shes really ill I think she isnt moving at all.
Ethel heard everything, though she could neither smile nor stir. A flicker of hope rose in her chest: if he was frightened, it meant he cared. Perhaps this was the moment the family would finally rally. Would they save her?
She attempted to wiggle her legsnothing. Only her fingers trembled. Then tears rolled from her eyesnot from pain, but because, perhaps, not all was lost.
Olivia arrived two days later, irritated, clutching little Agness handas though something more important had been pulled away.
Now look, you old thing, she muttered softly, glancing at her motherinlaw. Go lie there like a log.
Agnes pressed against her mother, eyes wide with worry, trying to smile, but her face wouldnt obey.
Olivia slipped inside silently. Paul led her to the kitchen. Their conversation was low, the air thick with tension. Though Ethel could no longer discern words, she felt the bitterness in their voices.
Minutes later their son returned. Wordlessly he lifted her into his arms.
Where are you taking me? she whispered.
Paul said nothing, his jaws clenched. She hugged his neck, inhaling a familiar scentold oil, tobacco, something homely.
To the hospital? she asked again.
He stayed mute. His steps quickened.
Instead of a hospital, he carried her to the outbuildinga former storage for potatoes, sleds, forgotten things. The room was cold, the floor a patchwork of cracked boards, the windows damp with chill. The smell of neglect hung heavy.
He gently placed her on a threadbare sofa, covered with a faded quilt.
Youll stay here, he said dryly, avoiding her gaze. Its too late to change anything now. Youre almost eighty, Mum.
He turned and left, giving her no chance to speak.
The shock didnt strike instantly; it crept slowly, inexorably. Ethel lay staring at the ceiling, the cold seeping into her bones. She could not understand why he acted so, for what?
Fragments of the past floated before her eyes: dragging Paul to school, scrubbing the classroom floor, buying him a winter coat on credit, paying for a wedding when his inlaws refusednot the right match.
Ive always been on his side, she whispered, still unable to accept what had happened.
Olivias face came back, always cool, restrained, sharp as a blade. Never grateful, never visiting without a reminder. Only once, for Agness birthday.
Now she lay in that cold storeroom, feeling like an unwanted relic. She didnt know if morning would ever come again.
Each day the signs grew clearer: something was terribly wrong. Paul visited less often, leaving a bowl of soup without looking, then hurrying away. Olivia and Agnes stopped appearing entirely.
Ethel felt life slipping away. She stopped eating, sipping only water to stave off starvation. Sleep eluded her; a relentless ache in her back kept her awake. But the worst was the crushing loneliness, a weight she could no longer bear.
Why? she thought. Why this? I loved him more than anyone. I gave everything for him
No answer came, only cold and emptiness.
One morning, when thin sunlight filtered through a grimy window, she heard a soft, persistent knockquiet, but insistent, unlike Pauls heavy slam.
Whos there? she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
The door creaked and an elderly man entered, silverbearded, wrapped in a threadbare coat. His face was familiar, though she didnt recognize him at first. He sat beside her, took her hand.
Its me, Mike, he said, settling next to her.
Ethel shivered. Mike Harcourther neighbour, the man she had once loved and later driven away because he didnt fit her world.
Mike she exhaled.
He remained silent, squeezing her hand. Then, in a low voice, he asked, What happened to you, dear? Why are you here? Paul told me you were in a care home
She tried to explain, tears blurring her words. He understood without needing them. He wrapped his arms around her as he once had.
Dont be afraid. Ill take you away from here.
He lifted herlight as a featherand carried her out into the daylight. Paul was gone, having driven to the city. Olivia too. Only Agnes peeked from a window before quickly hiding again.
Mike brought her to his own house, laid her on a warm bed, tucked her under a thick blanket, brewed tea with honey, fed her like a child.
Rest now, he said. Ill call a doctor.
The doctor arrived swiftly, examined her, and shook his head.
A spinal fracture, old but not hopeless. With proper treatmentsurgery and rehabshe might stand again, he said.
Mike nodded. Well do whatever it takes. Ill sell what I must, but well save her.
Ethel looked at him, tears streaming.
Mike why? After everything
He gave a sad smile. Because I love you. I always have. I always will.
She weptjoy, pain, the sudden understanding that life was not yet finished.
Mike tended to her as if she were his ownfeeding, washing, reading aloud. He spoke of the years hed waited, hoping she would return.
I always knew youd understand one day, he said. And Ill be here.
A week later Paul returned, stepping into a bright room rather than a damp storeroom.
Mum how did you get up? he stammered.
She stared at him, cold.
I didnt. Mike brought me.
Paul lowered his gaze. I I didnt expect this
Go, Paul. Dont come back, Mike said, his voice firm.
Paul left without looking back. Olivia and Agnes never returned.
Ethel stayed with Mike, who became her pillarliterally and figuratively. He helped her onto walkers, then a cane.
Look, dear, Im walking, she laughed, taking her first steps.
Mike wept with happiness.
One goldensunlit morning she awoke and said, Thank you, Mike, for everything.
He took her hand. I thank you for coming back.
They lived on, quietly, in a peace they had long awaited.
Ethel sat on a bench, warming herself in the sun. Her legs still ached, but she walkedslowly, steadily. Mike carved a small wooden toy for Agnes, who would sometimes dash in, hiding from her mother.
Do you think Paul will forgive? she asked.
Mike shook his head. Dont think of him. Think of yourself. Youre alivethats what matters.
She nodded, feeling, for the first time in ages, truly alive.
On the kitchen table lay a photograph: a young Ethel with Mike, captioned, Finally together.
A month later Paul barged in without knocking, finding Ethel sipping tea, Mike nearby.
Mum we need to talk, he began, avoiding Mikes eyes.
She remained silent.
Olivia says youve gone mad, that this old man has muddled your mind, Paul accused.
Mike rose, but Ethel stopped him with a gentle hand.
Leave, Paul. This isnt your place, she said.
He shivered. But Im your son!
You were. Not now. Go.
He stormed out, slamming the door. Ethel didnt cry. She simply squeezed Mikes hand tighter.
Thank you for being here, she whispered.
He smiled. And thank you.
Life moved forwardwithout Paul, but with love.
A week later Agnes ran in, sat on the bench, and hugged her grandmother.
Grandma, why is dad so angry?
Ethel stroked her hair. Hes forgotten what love feels like. You wont forget, will you?
No, Agnes replied. I love you.
I love you too, Ethel said.
Mike watched them, smiling. Life, he thought, sometimes breaks you, then mends you. The key is never giving up.
Ethel stood on the doorstep, watching the road as the sun set, painting the sky pink. Mike came beside her, arms around her shoulders.
What are you thinking about? he asked.
Just that everythings finally alright, she answered.
He kissed her temple. Yes, dear. At last.
Together they stepped insidetogether, forever.
