Molly never cared for her boys. She called them slowwitted, narrowminded, rough and uncouth, just like their father.
Ma, whats for breakfast? shouted Gene, the oldest, his voice already deep, a soft patch of hair sprouting on his chin. His hands, like his fathers, were long and thin at the wrists, ending in thick, clumsy fingers that could form a solid fist in an instant.
Molly was certain Gene was already prowling around the villages lonely widows, the women left without a husbands touch, who stared shamelessly at any young man or even a teenage boy. She warned one of them, Dottie, Dont go near Gene. Hes barely fifteen. Dottie laughed loudly, saying something so brazen that Mollys stomach turned.
From that day on, Mollys affection for Gene vanished. He reminded her of his fathercrude, always drunk, smelling of pork fat, garlic and homemade gin, his filthy hands sticking wherever they pleased.
She tried every widow in the little Yorkshire hamlet, and when she forced a match for her daughter, young Tilly, the old woman in the lane laughed, What are you doing, girl? Look at Perry, how tall he is. All the girls swoon over him, but you go on. Tilly wept, Ill go to the town, find work in a factory, get an education, make something of myself. The old woman shouted, The town isnt for you, you should have married sooner! and beat her with harsh words, insisting that Tillys future lay with Perry.
Perry, older and already settled, took Tilly into his house. At first his mother-inlaw grumbled that he had chosen the wrong bride, then softened, feeling sorry for Tilly, especially when Perry tormented her at night. She complained that the girl was too frail for the chores.
One by one the villages boys, all lads, fell under Tillys care, and she loved them fiercelyuntil they grew up and turned into men like Perry. Then Tilly became a harsh mother herself.
The war broke Perrys spirit; it left him broken, spitting out his life, while many men never returned. Three of Perrys sons went to the front; when they came back, five more darkhaired lads roamed the village, eyes shining like blackberries. Molly gave birth to three more boys; none of her hopes for a daughter ever materialised.
There was no escape from Perrys grasp. If he lingered at night, he would follow, pinch, grab a shoulder, or press his weight against you. Tilly always postponed his advances, inventing tasks to avoid his bedroom. When Perry announced he was leaving for widowed soldier Lucy Borden, Tilly exhaled in relief.
Gene fought with his father that night; Molly bandaged his wound, then stroked his head as she had done when he was a child. Let him go, son dont interfere. Gene, trembling, whispered, Mum, dont fear, we wont abandon you. He was about to marry himself off, and Molly tried not to imagine what he would do with that fragile, bigeyed girl, just as Perry had.
All her children turned out alike, she thought, shaking her head. Each little one seemed perfect, until they grew, their voices deepening, a patch of hair appearing on the chin, a sparkle in the eye. Thats why she never loved them when they were still small; it made her feel like a bad mother.
The last boy, Sam, finally found a girl. He adored her, watching Lily flit about the kitchen, thin and supple as a vine. Whats that? Molly asked as Sam left the bedroom, and Lily, not hiding, clung to his chest like a calf to its mother. He patted her hair, kissed her forehead gently, as a mother would a child.
Molly began to watch her other sons, wondering if any behaved like Perrygrabbing, pulling, forcing themselves on wives. None did. No! she cried, God, it cant be! She wondered if she had been blind all these years, missing the goodness in her other boys.
Years passed before she finally understood: her sons were her own, each different, each capable of love. One day she went to Gene, the eldest, and asked, Everything alright, love? He answered, All good, mum. Anything wrong with the new daughterinlaw? Theres room for her. He spoke slowly, his words always careful.
Dont be shy, dear, said Kat, Genes wife, if you need anything Molly replied, No, my children, everythings fine. I just came to see you all, maybe Im getting lonely. She whispered to Gene, Forgive your mother, if ever needed. He answered, Mum you werent a very good mother
Did I? Kat interjected, Weve all had mothers like that, but were here now. Molly, exhausted, dragged herself home, thinking of the tea shed offered her daughtersinlaw and the hurt shed caused. She muttered, Six children, how could I have missed a daughter? Yet Lily, now cooking pancakes, smiled at her.
Lily, could you give me a grandchild someday? Molly asked hopeful. Lily laughed, Im already a mother, Mum, and revealed shed given birth to two girls, Oliva and Yvonnegrandchildren the old woman adored, bright as sunrise, the very reason she kept going.
At last Molly swore, Ill teach the girls, raise them well, keep them safe, and never let their lives be wasted. She kept that promise. Her grandchildren grew up, succeeded in their professions, always recalled their grandmother with kind words, and loved Molly dearly.
So did Molly love themher sons, her daughtersinlaw, her grandchildren. She realized that a mothers love isnt measured by how early she shows it, but by the willingness to keep caring, even when mistakes have been made. In the end, she understood that love, however bruised, can heal when its given freely, and that the true worth of a family lies not in perfection, but in forgiveness and perseverance.
