DEAR DAUGHTER-IN-LAW
Mother, Im marrying Eleanor. Were expecting in three months, my son said, leaving no room for discussion.
To be truthful, I wasnt especially surprised by this announcementafter all, my son had introduced me to Eleanor some time ago. What concerned me was her age: she wasnt yet eighteen. And as for the groom, my son still had his obligatory service in the military ahead of him. Barely out of childhood themselves, yet already wanting a wedding and a baby on the way.
We struggled to find Eleanor a wedding dress that would fit. The seventh month of her pregnancy made itself quite clear.
Once the celebrations died down, the young couple moved in with Eleanors parents. My son still visited me each week, shutting himself in his old room and asking not to be disturbed. As a mother, I couldnt help but worry.
I rang Eleanor.
Is everything alright with William?
Of course, why wouldnt it be? she replied, calm as you like.
Eleanor, do you know where your husband is right now? I pressed, needing to get to the bottom of things.
Mrs. Collins, do busy yourself elsewhere. Well sort ourselves out, thank you, she shot back. It wasnt the first time she spoke to me so curtly, nor, alas, would it be the last.
Forgive me for troubling you, I murmured and hung up.
By nature, I am a gentle, peaceful soul, so I decided not to meddle further in their affairs. Let them figure it out alone; far be it from me to interfere.
Soon enough, Eleanor brought Charlotte into the world. I confess, that name never sat right with me, so in my heart I called my granddaughter Lottie.
William was drafted into the army. His posting was far from home, and for all two years of his service I regularly visited my darling Lottie. With every visit, I noticed how radiant Eleanor was becomingshe was truly striking, almost too much so. That worried me. University was soon upon her, and temptation walks the halls there. I wondered if she would ever wait faithfully for William.
Eleanor was never keen on her mother-in-law, that is to say, me. When I came to visit Lottie, Eleanor would sigh, hand me the pram with remarkable speed, and send me off to the park. In her manner, in her glance, was a certain open disdain. She knew her own worth, that much was clear. I wasnt eager to quarrel, and I often found myself wanting to leave their chilly home as soon as possible.
When William finished his service and returned, I watched as harmony seemed to reign. Eleanor busied herself about the house, beautiful and deft, William doted on his family, and little Lottie blossomed. Those were sweet yearsfifteen passed in peace.
Then, as if overnight, Eleanor changed. Suitors began appearingmany of them. She didnt trouble herself with secrets, flaunting her affairs openly. Truly, you cant keep the lid on a boiling pot for long. William endured this for three years, out of love and misery both.
Eleanor, for her part, mocked him, cut him deep. I was stunned by my daughter-in-law, yet never confronted her on the subject of morals. In truth, I was a little afraid of Eleanor; she could wither a saint with a glance.
Son, whats happening between you and Eleanor? Trouble? I ventured.
Dont worry, Mum, itll sort itself out, William soothed me.
It seemed to me that William felt guilty, and thats why he put up with her behaviour. Eventually, I worked up the courage to speak with Eleanor. Their break-up weighed too heavily on my mind.
Eleanor, might I ask you something? I broached gently, not wishing to arouse her wrath.
Mrs. Collins, perhaps you should be asking your son whator rather, whomhe occupies himself with at his firm? My aunt works there as well. Shes told me everything in remarkable detail. Your precious boy has been unfaithful! He started it, she cried.
Good heavens, why did I even get involved? I told William nothing. It is what it is. Youll run yourself ragged trying to please everyone.
Eleanor and William eventually divorced. Lottie remained with her mother.
William went off the rails for a time, changing women as often as his shirtsbrunettes, blondes, redheads, you name it. His bed was never cold.
Eleanor remarried almost at once. William himself broke the news, even shedding tears over it. Eleanors new marriage, it seemed, warmed her heart.
Williams next wife was Janeta petite, wily, determined woman. At thirty-five, my son was utterly besotted with her, seven years his senior, trailing at her heels like a puppy. Janet soon made her terms clear: a legal wedding, a flat for her daughter, and her every need seen to.
William melted at her every command.
Janet, unlike Eleanor, tried very hard to befriend me, calling me by my first name informally, seeking a closeness I found rather forward. But I disliked unpleasantness and let it be. All the gifts Janet bought me with Williams money hang unused in my wardrobe. I simply cant warm to themor her.
Her smile is forced, her words insincere, her affection for William nothing but show. She found herself a purse in my son and, heedless, demands ever more, cunning all the while. I couldnt help but compare her to Eleanor: true, Eleanor hurt and even yelled at me, but she did so with an open heart, calling me formally, and truly loved my son.
Janet couldnt be bothered to cook; she preferred to buy ready-made meals from the delicatessen. Once, I said to her, Why not make William a soup, at least? You two are always eating cold.
She retorted, Gail, dont teach me to suck eggs.
Her friendships came firstother party girls, all keen on expensive spas, lounging in cafes, aimlessly wandering boutiques. If something displeased Janet, shed put on a scenedrama, tears, hysteria.
Ask her for an egg, she demands it peeled. How could William settle for a wife like that? I just dont understand. Im sure his union with Janet was a mistake, a mismatch borne of folly.
Lately, I find myself thinking often of Eleanor, comparing the two. I remember her jellied fish, marvellous stuffed cabbage, cakes that could compete with any bakers… Why did William have to ruin his marriage to Eleanor? He couldnt hold onto such a womanhis own doing. Still, Im grateful that Lottie keeps in touch with me, bringing little trinkets to brighten my days.
Eleanor, for all she is now my former daughter-in-law, remains dear to me. You only know what somethings worth when its lost. Janet is merely an extra. My poor Williamhis heart, I believe, still belongs to Eleanor. But that path, I fear, is closed to him foreverOne afternoon, Charlotte came to visit, her arms laden with tulips, cheeks aglow from the April wind. She poured us tea and spoke of university, of her friends, of Eleanorso lively, so herself, raising Lotties half-siblings now with a steadiness that surprised me. Her happiness, it seemed, did not depend on William or any man, but on a courage that perhaps I had not understood until now.
Mum says you make the best apple pie, Lottie grinned, nudging me. She sends her love, by the way.
For a moment, I was transported: flour dusted on Eleanors brow, the kitchen warm, William laughing. How complicated love is, I thought, twisting hearts in directions we never choose, leaving us longing for what might have been and yet giving us memories that sweeten the bitterness of loss.
I pressed Lotties hands in mine and hoped she could see how much I cherished her, how grateful I was for the unbroken thread that bound us.
That evening, after Lottie left with a slice of pie for her mother, I sat quietly with the dusk. Through the open window drifted ache and hope, mingling like dusk and dawn. I realized our lives are not the stories we plan, but the ones we endure, learn from, and ultimately accept.
A message lit up my phone. It read simply:
Thank you, Mrs. Collins. For everything.
The sender was Eleanor.
I smiled. In the gentle hush of twilight, I found a strange comforta peace not born from winning, or even from understanding, but from loving and surviving, however imperfectly. Whatever mistakes and heartbreaks lay behind, I could wish them all well. In this quiet, even my own heart felt forgiven.
