Its me, Michael, he whispered, settling down beside her. Its too late to fix anything now. Youre almost eighty, Mum. He turned and walked away, not giving her a chance to speak.
Gran Lucy, clutching a bucket of icy water from the old pump, dragged her weary legs along the muddy lane toward the cottage. The frost nipped at her cheeks, and her fingers barely held the frozen, splintered handle. At the doorway she paused to catch her breath, set the bucket on a step, reached for the second one and her foot slipped on the ice.
Oh God, help me, she muttered before she hit the floor.
Her shoulder slammed into the step, a dull throb blooming at the back of her head. For a few seconds she lay there, unable to move or even gasp.
She tried to rise, but her legs refused. It was as if everything below her waist had vanished. Gasping with terror and pain, she crawled toward the door, clinging to anything that could support her: an old stool, a broken broom, the torn hem of her skirt. Her back twisted, sweat beaded on her forehead, the world spun and swayed.
Come on, Lucy just a bit more, she whispered to herself, hauling herself onto the battered settee in the hallway.
On the sill lay a telephone. With trembling fingers she dialed her son.
Paul love, somethings wrong come home, she rasped, then blacked out.
By evening Paul burst through the door, the wind howling behind him. He stood at the threshold, hat in hand, staring at his mother halfcollapsed on the settee.
Mum whats happened to you? he crouched, taking her hand. Heavens, youre as stiff as a board.
Without missing a beat he called his wife.
Evelyn, get here straight away Shes terribly ill Im scared she wont move a muscle.
Gran Lucy heard everything, though she could neither smile nor stir. A flicker of hope sparked in her chest: if he was frightened, he must still care.
Perhaps this was the moment the family would finally rally. Could they save her?
She tried to wiggle her legsnothing. Only her fingers twitched feebly. Tears welled, not from pain but from the thought that perhaps not all was lost.
Evelyn arrived two days later, looking harried, clutching her daughter Mollys hand as if distracted from something urgent.
Well, looks like youve finally caught up with us, Gran, she said softly, glancing at Lucys motherinlaw. Now lie down like a log.
Molly pressed against her grandmother, eyes darting anxiously. She forced a smile, but her face wouldnt obey.
Evelyn slipped into the house, Paul led her to the kitchen. Their voices were low, the air thick with tension.
Although Lucy could no longer decipher words, she felt the bitterness in their tone.
Minutes later Paul returned, lifting her without a word.
Where are you taking me? she whispered.
Pauls jaw clenched. He only tightened his grip. She clutched his neck, inhaling his familiar scentoil, tobacco, something oddly comforting.
To the hospital? she asked again.
He stayed silent, his steps quickening.
Instead of a hospital, he carried her to the outbuilding where they once stored potatoes, old skis, forgotten trinkets. The space was cold, the floor creaked on broken planks, damp seeped through the windows. The smell of neglect hung heavy.
He laid her gently on a threadbare mattress, covering her with a faded quilt.
Here youll stay, he said flatly, avoiding her gaze. Its too late to change anything now. Youre nearly eighty, Mum. He turned and left, giving her no chance to speak.
Shock rolled over her slowly, inexorably. Lucy lay staring at the ceiling, the chill sinking into her bones. She couldnt understand why hed done this. For what?
Fragments of her past flashed: dragging Paul to school, scrubbing the factory floor, buying him a winter coat on credit, paying for his wedding after his inlaws rejected her as unsuitable.
Ive always been on his side she whispered, still unable to believe it.
She remembered Evelyns cold, sharp starenever grateful, never visiting without a reminder. Only once, on Mollys birthday.
Now Lucy lay in that icy cellar, feeling like a forgotten relic. She doubted shed see another sunrise.
Each day made it clearer: something was terribly wrong. Paul visited less often, leaving a bowl of soup and hurrying out. Evelyn and Molly vanished completely.
Lucy felt life slipping away. She stopped eating, sipping only water to avoid starving. Sleep eluded her; a relentless back ache kept her awake. The worst of all was the crushing loneliness.
Why? she thought. Why this? I loved him more than anyone. I gave everything.
No answer camejust cold and emptiness.
One morning, as the sun barely filtered through the grimy window, a soft knock sounded. It was quiet but insistent, nothing like Pauls heavy thuds.
Whos there? Lucy rasped, voice barely a whisper.
The door creaked and an elderly man shuffled in, silver beard peeking from an old coat. His face was familiar, though she didnt recognize him at first. He sat down, took her hand.
Its me, Michael he whispered, settling beside her.
Lucys heart leapt. Michael, her old neighbour, the man she once loved and then drove away, saying she was not right for her family.
Michael she breathed.
He said nothing, just squeezed her hand. Then, softly:
What happened to you, Lucy? Why are you here? Paul told me youre in a care home
She tried to explain, but tears blurred her words. He understood without a sound, pulling her into an embrace like years ago.
Dont be afraid. Ill get you out of here, he promised.
He lifted herlight as a featherand carried her into the morning sun. Paul was gone, off to the city. Evelyn too. Only Molly peered from the window before disappearing again.
Michael took Lucy to his own cottage, tucked a warm blanket over her, brewed tea with honey, fed her like a child.
Rest now. Ill call a doctor, he said.
The doctor arrived swiftly, examined her, and shook his head.
A spinal fracture, old injury. With proper treatment she might stand again. Surgery and rehab are needed.
Michael nodded.
Well do whatever it takes. Ill sell what I must, but well save you, he vowed.
Lucy looked at him, tears streamingnot from pain, but from gratitude.
Michael why? After everything?
He gave a sad smile.
Because I love you. Ive always loved you, and I always will.
She weptjoy, pain, the realization that life wasnt over.
Michael tended to her, feeding, washing, reading aloud. He spoke of the years hed waited, hoping shed return.
I always knew one day youd understand, he said. And Ill be here.
A week later Paul returned, saw his mother in a proper bedroom, not the cold outbuilding.
Mum how did you get up? he stammered.
She stared at him, cold.
I didnt. Michael brought me.
Paul lowered his gaze.
I I never meant for this, he whispered. Leave, Paul. Dont come back.
He fled without looking back. Evelyn and Molly never reappeared.
Lucy stayed with Michael, who became her pillarboth literally and figuratively. He helped her onto walkers, then a cane.
Look, Lucy, Im walking, she laughed, taking her first steps.
He wept with happiness.
One bright morning, sunlight gilding the windows, she turned to him and said, Thank you, Michael. For everything.
Its I who should thank you, he replied, taking her hand. For coming back.
They lived on, quietly, in a love that had waited decades.
Lucy sat on a bench in the garden, the sun warming her face. Her legs still ached, but she moved slowly, steadily. Michael carved a small wooden toy for Molly, who would sometimes dash 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 alivethats what matters.
She nodded, feeling truly alive for the first time in years.
On the kitchen table lay a photograph: a young Lucy and Michael, smiling, captioned Finally together.
A month later Paul stormed in without knocking, found Lucy sipping tea with Michael beside her.
Mum we need to talk, he began, ignoring Michael.
She stayed silent.
Evelyn says youve gone mad, that this old man has poisoned your mind, Paul spat.
Michael rose, but Lucy placed a firm hand on his arm.
Go, Paul. This isnt your place, she said.
He shivered. But Im your son!
You were. Youre not any more.
He slammed the door, the house rattling. Lucy didnt cry. She squeezed Michaels hand tighter.
Thank you for being here, she whispered.
He smiled. And thank you.
Life moved onwithout Paul, but with love.
A week later Molly ran in, hugged Lucy tightly.
Grandma, why is Daddy so angry?
Lucy stroked her hair. Hes forgotten what love feels like. Youll never forget, will you?
Mum, I love you.
And I love you, Lucy replied.
Michael watched them, smiling. Life breaks us, then mends us. The key is never to give up.
Lucy stood at the doorway, watching the sun set, painting the sky pink. Michael came up behind her, arm around her shoulders.
What are you thinking? he asked.
that everythings finally alright, she answered.
He kissed her temple. Yes, Lucy. Finally.
Together they stepped back inside, hand in hand, for the rest of their days.
