James married at twenty-four. His wife, Eleanor, was twenty-two. She was the only and late-born child of a university professor and a schoolteacher. Soon after the wedding, they had two boys close in age, followed by a daughter.
Jamess mother-in-law, Margaret, retired and devoted herself to her grandchildren.
James had a peculiar relationship with herhe always addressed her formally as «Mrs. Thompson,» and she responded with a reserved, cold «you,» using his full name, James. They never argued, but her presence made him uneasy. Still, he had to admit she never interfered, spoke to him with deliberate respect, and remained strictly neutral in his marriage.
A month ago, the company James worked for went bankrupt, leaving him jobless. Over dinner, Eleanor remarked,
«We cant stretch my salary and Mums pension forever, Jamie. You need to find work.»
Easier said than done. Thirty days of pounding the pavement, and nothing! Frustrated, James kicked an empty beer can on the sidewalk. At least Margaret hadnt said anything yet, but her pointed looks spoke volumes.
Before the wedding, hed overheard a conversation between mother and daughter.
«Ellie, are you sure hes the one you want to spend your life with?»
«Mum, of course!»
«I dont think you grasp the responsibility. If only your father were here…»
«Mum, stop! We love each other, and itll be fine!»
«And children? Can he provide?»
«He will!»
«Its not too late to reconsider, Ellie. His family…»
«Mum, I love him!»
«Just dont come crying to me later.»
«Later has come,» James muttered bitterly. Margaret had seen right through him.
He didnt want to go home. He imagined Eleanor offering hollow comfort»Dont worry, tomorrow will be better!»while Margaret sighed in silent judgment, and the kids teased, «Dad, found a job yet?» He couldnt bear to face it again.
He wandered along the riverbank, sat on a bench in the park, and as night fell, drove to the cottage where his family stayed from spring till autumn. A single light glowed in Margarets bedroom. Stealthily, he crept up the path. The curtain twitched; James crouched, landing squarely on a tree stump.
Margaret peered out.
«James is late. Have you called him, Ellie?»
«Yes, Mum. His phones off. Probably still job huntingor wasting time somewhere.»
Margarets voice turned icy.
«Eleanor, dont you dare speak about your husband like that!»
«Oh, Mum, honestly! I just think Jamies slacking. A whole month lounging on my earnings!»
For the first time in six years, James heard Margaret slam her fist on the table and raise her voice.
«Enough! You made vowsfor better or worse, in sickness and in health! To stand by him!»
Eleanor stammered,
«Mum, Im sorry. Dont upset yourself. Im just tired, thats all.»
«Go to bed,» Margaret sighed, waving her off.
The light went out. She paced, then pushed the curtain aside, peering into the dark. Suddenly, she looked up, crossed herself, and whispered fervently,
«Dear Lord, Merciful and Kind, protect the father of my grandchildren, the husband of my daughter. Dont let him lose faith. Help him, Lordmy dear boy.»
Tears rolled down her face as she prayed.
A warmth swelled in Jamess chest. No one had ever prayed for himnot his stern mother, whod devoted herself to her council job, nor his father, whod vanished when he was five. Hed grown up in nurseries, after-school clubs, then university, where hed worked straightawayhis mother despised idleness and insisted he support himself.
The heat spread, rising until it spilled over in quiet tears. He remembered Margaret rising early to bake the pies he loved, simmering hearty stews, her dumplings near miraculous. She cared for the children, kept the house, grew vegetables, made jams, pickled cucumbers and cabbage…
Why had he never noticed? Why hadnt he thanked her? He and Eleanor had just worked and raised kids, assuming it was how things should be. Or was that just him? He recalled once watching a documentary about Australia, and Margaret admitting shed always dreamed of visiting. Hed joked that the heat wouldnt suit her «ice-queen demeanour»…
James sat under the window for a long time, head in his hands.
At breakfast on the veranda the next morning, he scanned the tablepies, jam, tea, milk. The children, bright-eyed and smiling. He looked up and said softly,
«Good morning, Mum.»
Margaret startled, then after a pause, replied,
«Good morning, Jamie.»
Two weeks later, James found a job. A year after that, he sent Margaret on a holiday to Australiadespite her protests.
