MY ENGLISH DAUGHTER-IN-LAW
Mother, Im marrying Lucy. Were expecting in three months, my son told me out of the blue, leaving no room for argument.
To be truthful, I wasnt taken abackhe had already introduced Lucy to me some time ago. What did concern me, however, was her age. She wasnt quite eighteen, and my son himself was still due to serve his time in the military. Still children themselves, and already demanding a wedding and preparing for a baby.
We spent ages hunting for a wedding dress that would fit the bride. After all, it was impossible to ignore her prominent bumpshe was well into her seventh month.
Once all the fuss of the wedding had died down, the newlyweds moved in with Lucys parents. Yet my son would visit me each week; hed retreat to his room and ask not to be disturbed. A mother cant help but worry.
I rang Lucy.
Is everything all right with Thomas? I asked.
Of course, why? Lucy replied, calm as you like.
Lucy, do you happen to know where your husband is right now? I prodded.
Jeanette, do keep to your own affairs. Well manage without your help. That was the first, but not the last, rudeness I received from her.
Forgive me for troubling you, I replied quickly and hung up.
Ive always been a peaceable soul, so I didnt pry into their relationship. Let them muddle through in their own way; I didnt want to be in the way.
Shortly after, Lucy brought little Barbara into the world. I hated the name, so I started calling my granddaughter Bess.
Thomas was summoned to serve his country, stationed far from home. For two whole years, I visited baby Bess faithfully. Every time I saw Lucy, it struck me how much lovelier she grew. She was truly a beauty, almost dangerously so. It gave me no peace; university would soon be teeming with temptations. I had my doubtswould this pretty student wait for her husband?
Lucy didnt much care for me, Ill admit. Whenever I came to see Bess, shed sigh significantly, hand me the pram with barely a word, and send me off with the babyalmost as though shed rather not see me at all. Even just her glance could wound. There was never any pretense: Lucy never warmed to me, her mother-in-law. She was full of her own worth, and the sense of being unwelcome in that house always sent me home sooner than later.
After Thomas finished his service, he returned to his family. It seemed all was wellpeaceful, affectionate. Bess was growing, Thomas doted on his wife, and Lucy was a capable beauty of a homemaker. It was a balm to my soul. Fifteen years passed in that happy routine.
And then Lucy seemed to change overnight. Lovers gallivanted in and outthe whole village whispered. She barely bothered to hide her escapades. As they say, you cant hold the lid on ferment. Thomas bore it for three years, loving Lucy and suffering in silence.
But she tormented her husband, mocking him openly. I was horrified at my daughter-in-laws manner, but never once spoke to her about her conduct. In truth, I feared Lucy as one might fear the plague; she could set even the righteous trembling with a single look.
Son, is there trouble between you and Lucy? Whats happened? Id probe.
Dont worry, Mother; things will sort themselves out, Thomas would reassure me.
It dawned on me that my son, as if feeling guilty himself, endured Lucys behaviour out of remorse. Unable to rest from worry over their falling out, I decided to approach Lucy herself.
Lucy, may I ask you something? I murmured, cautious not to trigger her temper.
Jeanette, youd best ask your son what, or rather who, hes been spending his time with at the firm. My aunt works there and gave me all the details. Your son was the first to stray! Lucy snapped, raising her voice.
Good heavens, why did I even meddle? I said nothing of this to Thomas. What will be, will betheres no pleasing everyone, and worry only makes ghosts of us.
Soon after, Lucy and Thomas divorced. Bess stayed with her mother.
Thomas cast himself into the single life, women coming and going like changing hatsbrunettes, blondes, redheads; his bed was never cold.
Lucy remarried almost at once. Thomas delivered the news himselfthere were tears in his eyes. Lucy had always been a devoted wife.
Thomass next great love was Joannaa petite, alluring, sharp woman. Thomas was thirty-five, Joanna forty. He lived with his head in the clouds, at her beck and call. She quickly set her terms: a registered marriage, a flat for her daughter, and complete financial support.
Thomas melted before her every demand.
Unlike Lucy, Joanna pressed to be friends, calling me Jeanette and speaking informally. I didnt care for such chumminess, but I hate squabbling and so let it pass. Still, the gifts Joanna gavepurchased with Thomass moneyhung, unworn, in my wardrobe. My heart never took to them.
Joannas smile was forced, her words insincereshe didnt love Thomas. In truth, she saw him only as a walking wallet, always making new demands, always scheming. Say what you will of Lucy; she may have shouted, but her soul was honest, she called me Mrs. Turner, and she truly loved Thomas.
Joanna never cooked, preferring ready meals from the local delicatessen. Once, I tried to offer a remark.
You might make Thomas a nice soupmeals are always so dry.
Oh Jeanette, dont try to teach an old bird new tricks, she retorted.
Her friends were her priorityendless rounds of luxury spa visits, idle teas in trendy cafes, window shopping through expensive boutiques. If anything went against her grain, she was quick to tears, tantrums, and drama.
She always wanted more, with everything handed to her on a silver plate. How can anyone bear such a wife? In my thinking, Thomas meeting Joanna was sheer folly, a mismatch from the start.
I found myself thinking more often of capable Lucy. The comparison was stark. I remembered her jellied fish, her divine stuffed cabbage, and the marvellous cakes shed bake. Why did Thomas upend happiness with his first wife? Such a woman deserved to be cherished. He has only himself to blame.
Im just glad Bess remembers me, her grandmother, and pampers me with little trinkets.
For me, Lucy remains my true daughter-in-law, even though shes no longer family; you never know the worth of something until its gone. Joanna is merely a passing acquaintance by marriage. I pity my poor sondeep in his heart, I think he still loves Lucy. But the path back to her is barred foreverSometimes, when the sun slants through my window just so, I hear Besss laughter in the garden, echoing her mothers easy charm. She visits with flowers and clever tales, always pausing to hug me with Lucy’s warmth. These are small mercies, but I cherish them fiercely.
Years have passed, and my hair has surrendered to gray. Thomas comes by less often nowhis eyes tired, his smile less quick. Hes learned the ache of choices that cant be unmade. Sometimes, while peeling apples together in silence, I see his longing drift past like spring rain: for the home he once had, for Lucys quick wit and the safe yoke of her love.
One afternoon, at Besss urging, I found myself at Lucysher new house on the lane with beds of white roses, second husband gone most days on business. Lucy answered the door, same piercing eyes, but softer somehow. We stood there, uncertain, the past brimming between us. Then, she offered me tea.
It was awkward at first, but Besss cheerful chatter soon filled the cracks. Lucy and I shared old memories and, in time, quiet laughter. We realized that, in our own imperfect ways, we’d both loved Thomas and, above all else, loved Bess. Hurt had grown between us like bramblespainful, tangled, but not unmendable.
I see now: lifes truest bonds can weather storms, grow wild and unruly, then find their shape again with patience and forgiveness. Lucy and I are not family by marriage anymore, but we are joined by something deeperby the love we gave and the losses we bore.
When Bess comes to visit now, sometimes she brings Lucy, and sometimes Thomas. We share a pot of tea and stories of old, the air thick with the scent of roses. Our worries have faded, leaving behind a gentle acceptance.
And quietly, in the twilight of my years, I count my blessings: a granddaughters laughter, the peace in sharing what once was, and the unlooked-for gift of understanding. Not every ending is a happy onebut if youre lucky, it leaves you with hope, and with love enough to last.
