Its me, Michael I whispered, sliding onto the chair next to her. Its too late to change anything now. Youre almost eighty, mum. He came back, walked out and didnt even give you a chance to speak.
Granny Lucy, with the last of her strength, hauled a bucket of icy water from the old well. She shuffled her legs, stumbling along the frosthardened path back to her cottage. The wind bit at her cheeks and her fingers clung to the frayed, frozen handle. When she reached the front step she paused to catch her breath, set one bucket on the step, reached for the other and the ice gave way under her foot.
Oh my God, help me she whispered before she hit the ground. Her shoulder slammed into the step, a dull throb shot through the back of her head. She lay there for a few seconds, unable to move, unable to even gasp.
She tried to get up, but her legs wouldnt obey. It was as if everything below her waist had vanished. Gasping with terror and pain, she started to crawl toward the door, clinging to whatever she could find a broken stool, a snapped broom, the torn edge of her skirt. Her back ached, sweat ran down her forehead, everything swayed and spun.
Come on, Lucy just a bit more she muttered to herself, trying to hoist herself onto the old settee in the hallway.
On the windowsill lay the telephone. With trembling fingers she dialed her sons number.
Paul love somethings wrong please come she breathed out, then slipped into unconsciousness.
By evening Paul rushed in. The door slammed, a gust of cold wind slammed through the cottage. He stood on the threshold, hat in his hand, hair a mess, eyes locking on his mother halfcollapsed on the settee.
Mum whats happened to you? he asked, taking her hand. Lord, shes like an ice block
Without a moments hesitation he called his wife:
Emily, get here as fast as you can shes really gone down I think shes not moving at all.
Granny Lucy heard everything, even though she couldnt smile or wiggle a finger. A spark of hope fluttered in her chest: if he was scared, it meant he still cared.
Maybe this was the moment the family would finally pull together? Save her?
She tried to wiggle her legs nothing. Only her toes twitched. Then tears rolled down her cheeks, not from the pain but because perhaps not everything was lost.
Emily didnt arrive until two days later. She stood on the step, irritated, holding little Annies hand as if something more important had been pulled away.
Well, look who finally showed up, Gran, she murmured, glancing at her motherinlaw. Now just lie still like a log.
Annie clung to her mum, eyes darting worriedly at Granny Lucy, trying to smile, but her face wouldnt cooperate.
Emily slipped silently into the cottage. Paul led her to the kitchen. They talked in hushed tones, the air thick with tension. Though Lucy couldnt make out the words, her heart knew the bitterness in the conversation.
A few minutes later the son returned. Without a word he lifted her into his arms.
Where are you taking me? she whispered.
Paul said nothing, his jaw set. She hugged his neck, inhaling that familiar scent oil, tobacco, something homey.
To the hospital? she asked again.
He stayed silent. His steps quickened.
Instead of a hospital, he carried her to the outbuilding the old store room where they once kept potatoes, old skis, forgotten trinkets. The room was chilly, the floor made of cracked boards, windows letting in damp air. The smell of neglect hung heavy.
He gently laid her on an ancient mattress, covered with a faded quilt.
Youll stay here, he said flatly, avoiding her eyes. Its too late to change anything now. Youre almost eighty, mum. He turned and left without a word.
The shock didnt hit her all at once it crept in slowly, irrevocably. Granny Lucy stared at the ceiling, the cold crawling into her bones. She couldnt understand why hed done this, what shed done to deserve it.
Fragments of the past flashed through her mind: pulling Paul on her back as a child, scrubbing school floors, buying him a winter coat on credit, paying for his wedding when his inlaws refused not the right family.
Ive always been on his side she whispered, still unable to accept what was happening.
Emilys face came back, cold and sharp, never grateful, only showing up for Annies birthday. Now Lucy lay in that cold store room, feeling like an unwanted piece of furniture. She didnt know if shed see another sunrise.
Day after day it became clearer that something was terribly wrong. Paul visited less often hed leave a bowl of soup, glance away, and hurry out. Emily and Annie stopped appearing altogether.
Lucy felt life slipping away. She stopped eating, only sipping water to keep from dying of thirst. Sleep eluded her; a throbbing back kept her awake. The worst part was the crushing loneliness.
What for? she thought. Why me? I loved him more than anyone. I gave everything to him
No answers came, only cold and emptiness.
Then one morning, when the sun barely pierced the grimy window, she heard a faint knock gentle but persistent, nothing like Pauls.
Whos there? she whispered, voice barely a whisper.
The door creaked and an elderly man shuffled in, grey beard, old coat. His face was familiar, though she didnt recognize him at first. He sat beside her, took her hand.
Its me, Michael he said, settling next to her.
Lucy shivered. Michael the neighbour shed once loved, the man shed driven away because he didnt fit the familys idea.
Michael she breathed out.
He stayed silent, just squeezed her hand, then asked in a low voice, What happened to you, Lucy? Why are you here? Paul told me you were in a care home
She tried to explain, but tears blurred the words. He understood without needing them, wrapped his arms around her like old times.
Dont be scared. Ill get you out of here.
He lifted her she felt as light as a feather and carried her into the sunlight. Paul was gone, off to the city. Emily was gone too. Only Annie peeked out a window before quickly hiding.
Michael took her to his own cottage, tucked her into a warm bed, covered her with a fresh blanket. He brewed tea with honey, fed her like a child.
Rest now. Ill call a doctor.
The doctor arrived quickly, examined her, shook his head.
A spinal fracture, old injury. If we treat it right, she might walk again. Shell need surgery and rehab.
Michael nodded. Well do whatever it takes. Ill sell whatever I must, but well save her.
Lucy looked at him, tears streaming.
Michael why? After everything
He gave a sad smile. Because I love you. Always have, always will.
She sobbed part joy, part pain, part realization that life wasnt over yet.
Michael tended to her like a devoted son: feeding, washing, reading aloud. He told stories of the past, of waiting and hoping shed come back.
I always knew youd understand one day, he said. And Ill be right here.
A week later Paul showed up. He walked in, saw his mother in a proper bedroom, not the cold store room.
Mum how how did you get up? he stammered.
She gave him a cold look.
Didnt. Michael brought me.
Paul lowered his head. I I didnt think itd end like this.
Go, Paul. Dont come back.
He left without looking back. Emily and Annie never returned.
Lucy stayed with Michael, who became her pillar both literally and figuratively. He helped her onto walkers, then a cane.
Look, Lucy, Im moving, she laughed, taking her first steps.
He wept with happiness.
One bright morning, sunlight flooding the window, she turned to him and said, Thank you, Michael. For everything.
He squeezed her hand. No, thank you. For coming back to me.
They lived on, quietly, peacefully, in the love theyd both waited years to find.
Lucy sat on a garden bench, basking in the sun. Her legs still ached, but she walked slowly, but she walked. Michael sat nearby, whittling a little wooden toy for Annie, who would sometimes dash in, hiding from her mum.
Do you think Paul will ever forgive? she asked.
Michael shook his head. Dont think about him. Think about yourself. Youre alive, thats what matters.
She nodded, feeling truly alive for the first time in ages.
On the kitchen table lay a photo: a young Lucy, arm in arm with Michael, captioned Finally together.
A month later Paul returned, slipped in without knocking, found Lucy sipping tea with Michael beside her.
Mum we need to talk, he began, ignoring Michael.
She stayed silent.
Emily says youve gone mad. That old mans messed with your head.
Michael rose, but Lucy stopped him with a gentle hand.
Leave, Paul. This isnt your place.
He shivered. But Im your son!
Used to be. Now go.
He stormed out, slamming the door. Lucy didnt cry, just tightened her grip on Michaels hand.
Thanks for being here.
He smiled. And thank you.
Life moved forward without Paul, but with love.
A week later Annie ran in, sat on the bench, hugged her gran.
Gran, whys Daddy so angry?
Lucy stroked her head. Hes forgotten what love feels like. You wont forget, will you?
Annie shook her head. No. I love you.
And I love you, Lucy replied.
Michael watched them, smiling. Life breaks you, then mends you. The key is never giving up.
Lucy stood on the doorstep at sunset, the sky painted pink. Michael came up, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Whats on your mind? he asked.
Just that everythings finally alright.
He kissed her temple. Yes, love, finally.
They stepped inside, together, forever.
