The soninlaw, Rowan, seemed to Margarets daughter a stranger made of fog. He was never trained for anything, and domestic life looked like a foreign landscape to him. At home Rowan vanished for days, claiming work overflowed, then slipping away with friends on urgent errandsnothing like a normal mans routine.
Margaret began to worry for her daughter. The couple were three years married and still childless; Rowans mates appeared more precious than family. The daughter claimed they were not ready yet, still young. Yet Margaret imagined a secret lover hidden somewhere, and Blythe, the daughter, blinked at every word her husband whispered, believing him completely.
Although Blythe was content with her husband and they lived apart, Margarets chief desire was that Blythe be truly happy. She felt she ought to intervene, but how? Margaret was not a meddling motherinlaw; she never told others how to live. Still, she couldnt simply watch the situation drift. She needed to watch Rowan more closely, to understand him, hoping clarity would emerge.
In time, Margaret saw through his nature: he liked to flash his feathers, to be seen. On her birthday he presented a massive bouquet of roses; the guests gasped, lavishing him with praise.
What a soninlaw, a real treasure, they chorused, you must love your motherinlaw dearly, not a pennypincher.
The grand bouquet was indeed a delight, yet it was clear Rowan offered it more to flaunt himself than from love or respect. Margaret, silently judging the extravagance, thought, If only youd have given me the money, Rowan; that bunch costs more than fivethousand pounds. She kept quiet, though the gesture still pleased her a little.
She reflected and decided that Rowan possessed potential; his qualities could be harnessed for the familys good. Other sonsinlaw helped on the cottage or earned more; Rowan shunned the cottage, forever on the road, impossible to lure.
Then an incident presented itself, though not a pleasant one: her husband Michael was caught in a minor crash. He stopped at a traffic light when the red glowed; suddenly brakes squealed and a reckless driver slammed into his bumper, claiming hed tried to beat the light and hadnt calculated. He blamed Michael for forcing him to stop, insisting the fault lay with him.
Michael, a quiet, dutiful man, was ready to shoulder blame, even if only partially, just to avoid a quarrel. He was clumsy, never finding himself in such messes, and Margaret wondered what sort of men these were.
She recalled Rowans recent promise:
If anything happens to the car, Ill jump to help right away. All sorts of situations arise.
Surprisingly, Rowan responded instantly. Though he often hid behind work, he said, On a red light, you say? Ill be there, Margaret. Where did it happen? Ill call Michael now, dont worry! He raced to the scene, sorted the chaos, quoted the appropriate roadtraffic statutes, and cleared Michael of blame.
After that, Rowan strutted before Margaret as if he were a character from a GGGogh painting, a joy she had never seen before. Later Blythe explained to her mother:
Mother, thats just how Rowan is. The office is always in a flurry, and he needs to feel like a hero. Hell move mountains for that feeling. Quiet, steady life isnt his style; hes like a boy. Thats why hes in the fireservice, always racing to help friends. If someones car is stuck, he pulls it out. Just last week his mate Leos boat capsized while fishing; Rowan hauled out a whole sack of fish as a thankyou.
Margaret smiled, I feared youd say my husband was unresponsive.
Blythe laughed, I thought youd say I chose the wrong man, that you and Father wanted everything neat and proper. Our lifes a volcano, but we love the eruptions.
Wonderful then, Margaret embraced her daughter, already charting a fullscale plan for the future.
When their motherinlaw, Kath the grandmother of Margaret suffered a severe back spasm at her country cottage and needed a trip to the city hospital, she called Rowan straight away.
Rowan, we cant manage without you; Granny weighs a lot, we need to transport her.
Rowan arrived with a colleague in a workvan equipped with a special seat. They lifted Kath, settled her into the chair, and drove her to the clinic. After that, Margaret held Rowan in higher esteem.
Later, an odd mishap befell Margaret herselfa rarity for her. One winter she bought a tiny pair of garden rakes from a neighbours shop, something shed long searched for despite the offseason. As she approached home, she slipped on the neighbours icy path, barely staying upright. She clutched the rakes, inadvertently scraping the neighbours car. The alarm blared; panic surged. The owner stormed out, shouting, What have you done, you old hag? Youve scratched my new car! Ive got a dashcam inside!
Just then Rowan, driving his battered foreign car, turned his head.
You think you can yell at my motherinlaw? My cars ancient, I barely brushed yours. Look, theres no scratch at all. Here, take a thousand pounds and be done with it. He inspected the vehicle, agreed to the payment, and the embarrassment lifted from Margarets shoulders.
Because Rowan called her mum in a teasing tone, Margarets affection for him deepened even more. She now understood why Blythe adored himhis warmth and readiness to help.
The cunning twist came on a birthday when Michael visited with Blythe and Rowan to wish him well. Blythe, recalling childhood, asked about her school friend, a girl named Gwendolyn from the next flat.
Margaret, knowing Gwendolyn and her husband were on holiday, slipped in, Lydia, Gwendolyns mother, confided that theyve long dreamed of a son. Winter often brings boys, so theyve gone away to try their luck.
She raised an eyebrow, hinting at more.
Rowan perked up, scratching his head, Boys, you say? In winter? Maybe we need a lad too, someone to join me in the fireservice rescues.
Soon Blythe announced she was expecting, and by late summer Margaret welcomed a grandson, Dennis, into the world.
Now Rowan worshipped his motherinlaw, and she, in turn, loved her soninlaw all the more. He was a good lad; you never went wrong with him. Though he disliked the cottage, he would soon cherish it when grandchildren arrived to stay with their grandparents.
We are all different, yet it is wiser to look for the good in each other, for it is almost always there, rather than clutching at flaws.
May everyone find happiness, health, and the quiet wisdom of everyday life.
