No, Mother, Im not coming back. Ill buy everything I need at the corner shop. But how will we keep our stores? The vitamins! You always say you love them! I dont need your stock, Emily said calmly. Let those who need it spend their own time and effort.
Just twenty more jars of cucumbers and thatll be it for today, announced Maggie Bradley, wiping her hands on her apron.
Emily brushed a bead of sweat from her forehead. Her blouse, soaked through, clung to her skin. The kitchen was suffocating; the air hung heavy with the sharp scent of vinegar and dill.
She glanced at the table, a mountain of jars, lids, and vegetables. In the cellar, tomatoes waited their turn, cabbage was ready for brine, and a dozen assorted salads lay in preparation. A weeks work still loomed.
Alright, Mother, Emily exhaled, reaching for another jar.
Her hands moved almost on autopilotcucumbers into the jar, brine poured over, lid tightened. Again and again. She pressed on, trying not to think of how much remained.
Look, Maggie said with satisfaction, surveying the rows of sealed jars, soon our family will be ready for winter.
Emily could hold it no longer. She set the jar down and stared at her mother.
Mother, wheres Olivia? Why isnt she helping?
Maggies eyes drifted away. She turned back to the nowclean countertop.
Olivias got a new job. She cant ask for leave, you see. Its a responsible position, and the boss is strict.
Emily pressed her lips together. Of course. Olivia always found an excuse. The previous year shed caught a cold just when the jars needed sealing. The year before that shed been sent on a work trip that fell perfectly on the harvest dates. Emily, on the other hand, had never been allowed any leave. Her mother had practically ordered her to quit work and come home.
Dont look so sour, love, Maggie said gently, noticing the crease in Emilys brow. At least well have our own preserves all winter. Vitamins! Nothing healthier than that.
Emily nodded. That was the only silver lining; the pickles really did turn out beautifully.
The following days blurred into an endless whirl. Emily sealed tomatoes, prepared salads, fermented cabbage. She hauled heavy boxes of jars up and down the steep cellar stairs countless times, helping to tidy after each round of pickling.
She swept the floor, polished the tables, took out the rubbish. Her hands ached, her back throbbed. By night she collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent.
When at last the work was done, Emily returned to her flat, exhausted. She had one day of holiday left and longed for nothing but quiet. The house was empty, the fridge halfempty. Yet her mother was pleased, and that mattered most. Olivia never called, never asked how things were going, never offered help.
Winter came. Emily would occasionally drive to her mothers cottage to collect a few jarscucumbers, tomatoes, salads. Everything tasted of home, and Maggie welcomed the visits, sharing tea and long conversations.
At the end of January Emily came again. Maggie greeted her with a smile and set the table. Emily sat down, looking around. There were bought sausages, cheese, bread, but no jars of her mothers preserves.
A frown crept across Emilys face. It was odd; Maggie always laid out something from her own stock. The table now seemed rather barren.
They chatted about everything. Maggie spoke of village news, asked about Emilys work. The absence of the preserves slipped from Emilys mind.
When it was time to leave, Emily stood and pulled on her coat.
Mother, Im going down to the cellar to fetch three jars of cabbage with carrots, she said, heading for the door.
Dont, Maggie snapped sharply.
Emily turned, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Why? I was just going to make a batch this week
Just dont, Emily. Stay out of the cellar.
Maggies gaze shifted away. Something in her manner made Emily uneasy. She tossed the coat onto a chair.
Mother, whats wrong? Why cant I take a couple of jars?
I simply cannot give you any preserves, Maggie muttered, staring at the floor.
Emilys eyes narrowed. Irritation boiled inside her.
Mother, I spent a whole week making those preserves, remember? And now I cant take a few jars? Please tell me whats happening.
Emily, its not the time to argue I just cant give them to you, thats all.
Emily spun and, nearly running, made for the cellar. From behind came her mothers shouted warning: Emily! Dont touch, I told you not to!
But Emily had already opened the door and descended the stairs. She flipped the light switch; the small room flooded with a harsh glare. The shelves were stark, the rows of jars that had only days ago been neatly stacked now reduced to less than half. Emily remembered them being almost full. Where had everything gone?
She climbed back up slowly, stepping into the kitchen, and found Maggie standing there, head bowed, cheeks flushed with shame.
Mother! Emily gasped. Are you short of money? Are you selling the preserves? You should have said so! I would have sent whatever you needed. You shouldnt be out in the cold selling jars at your age!
Emily reached for her mothers hands, but Maggie pulled away. Emilys frustration deepened, a cold chill spreading through her.
Its not about the money, is it? Youre not selling them, are you?
Maggie shook her head. Emily sank into a chair, meeting her mothers eyes.
Then tell me
Silence hung heavy. Maggie sighed, hand drifting across her face.
Its all gone to Olivia, she whispered. She met a young man with a large family in the city. She told them she was stockpiling for winter, and his whole clan started asking for jars.
So thats why, Emily breathed. You barred me from taking jars so Olivia would have enough? You only think of her?
Olivia cant say no now, understand? She wants to marry him. His family is wealthy, influential. Everything fell apart quickly.
Emilys breath caught. She had thought her mother needed the jars herself. The truth was far more mundane.
You stopped me from taking jars so Olivia would have enough? Emily said slowly.
Maggie said nothing.
Are you only thinking of Olivia? Emily stood, leaning on the table. And me? Mother, who sealed all those jars? Who? Olivia? Where was she while I toiled all week? And now she, as if nothing happened, empties the shelves!
Emily, try to understand Olivia is at a crucial point in her life, Maggie began, trying to defend herself. She must make a good impression on his family. It isnt critical for you. See it from both sides, love.
Emily shook her head, grabbed her coat, and said, Enough. I see everything now.
She left the cottage without looking back, slipped into the drivers seat, and gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Anger, resentment, and bitterness churned inside; tears threatened to spill. She turned the engine and drove away.
Months passed. Olivia moved in with her boyfriend. Emily visited her mother only rarely, and never asked for jars again. Maggie no longer raised the subject. Their talks drifted to the weather, work, the neighbours. Yet a wall seemed to have risen between them.
Then the next preserving season, a phone rang one evening. Emily saw her mothers name on the screen and answered.
Emily, dear, its time, Maggie said cheerfully. Ill need you next week. We have to build up our winter stores again, even more than before, so theres enough for everyone.
Emily froze. Everyone. So Olivia would once more be handing out jars left and right, and Emily would have to work herself to the bone.
I wont come, Mother, she said.
What? The line fell silent. Emily, what are you saying? Of course youll come. I cant manage on my own.
No, Mother. I wont come. Ill buy whatever I need at the shop.
But how will we keep our stocks? The vitamins! You love them yourself!
My mothers stock isnt for me, Emily replied calmly. Let those who need it use their own time and effort.
Emily! You cant do that! What about Olivia? Im your mother! You ought to
Emily hung up. She would no longer be the obedient mule toiling for others. She owed no one anything.
