THE YOUNGEST SONS LEGACY
Emma could hardly take her eyes off the Operating Theatre sign. The letters had blurred after so many hours of waiting, her heart pounding like a marching band. She twisted Thomas favourite little toy in her handsa plastic red digger. Thomas, her four-year-old, had consistently begged for a blue one, just like on the telly, but once his dad handed him the red, hed never looked back. That battered tractor, with its wonky front bucket, was a constant in their lives ever since.
At last, a male silhouette appeared behind the frosted glass. The doors swung open and out stepped the weary surgeon. Emma leapt up and all but flung herself at the poor man.
Doctor! How is it? Hows Thomas? she choked.
He lowered his head, slipping off his mask in the process.
Mrs Taylor, Im terribly sorry… We did everything we could
***
Emma lay curled on Thomas bed, the duvet still holding his faint smell. His sticky-fingered handprint was still faintly visible on the mirror opposite. Thank heavens she hadnt wiped it off, she thought. Hed never be able to smudge it again. Hed never rest his tired head on this pillow again.
A fresh salty tear trickled down Emmas wind-chapped cheek. Grief had scorched her heart to a cinder. Healthy heart, mind yousomething poor Thomas had never had. Her eldest, Matthew, was a robust 18, already at university and well into young adulthood. But Thomas… oh, Thomas, her late surprise, the source of joy that had become agony. All through pregnancy, the scans were fine, until a random checkup just before birth revealed a complicated heart defect. And now, after the failed surgery, shed lost him. Her youngest was gone.
***
Emma slipped into a fitful, fretful sleepthe only kind shed had these days. And there she was again, on a brilliant meadow splashed with wild, sweet-smelling English blossoms. In the distance stood Thomas, bright-eyed and grinning in his car-print shirt, cheeks full and rosy, holding a huge bouquet of daisies.
Thomas! Sweetheart! Emma cried, but he seemed far away, idly pulling petals from the bouquet.
She raced across the wildflower field, arms flung wide for an embrace, but no matter how fast she ran, Thomas never seemed any closer. In factshe shiveredhe was drifting away, further across the meadow with each step. Emma shrieked in despair, reaching out, but it was hopeless. Suddenly, Thomas looked up, his smile gleaming, andpoofmelted away. Only a cloud of daisy petals glided gently to the ground
Emma ran to the spot where the petals landed and looked down. Neatly spelled out in white petals on the green grass was an address.
***
The ringtone of her mobile woke Emma. It was Matthew.
Yes, love? she rasped out.
Mum, Im coming round today, can you make something for me?
Emma managed a thin smile. Thats enough, she thought. It had been three months since Thomas died, but she still had Matthew. It was time to pull herself together and give living another go.
Of course, darling. How about a nice stack of pancakes?
Haha, brill, Mum! Im already on the busIll be there soon!
Matthew did his best to visit every weekend, trying to lift the heavy cloud over his parents heads. He hurt too, thinking about his little brother, but they had to work through ittogether. After all, they were family.
Dragging herself upright, Emma shuffled into the kitchen. She popped open the fridge, rummaged about, and quickly discovered the milk was gone. Her husband, William, was at the table, poking at some laptop gadget. He blinked at Emma over his reading specs.
All right, love? Heading to the shop?
Matthews on his way. He wants pancakes, Emma replied, flatly. No milk, though. Ill go out and stretch my legs.
William raised an eyebrowwell, thats a surprise, he thought, but wisely said nothing as Emma took her coat and slid out the door.
A gentle spring breeze swept her face. The birds were chirping, and the trees were just starting to turn a fresh, hopeful green. Nature, clearly, hadnt realised it was supposed to stop. Emma sighed: Poor lad, missed his fifth spring. She shook herself, stomped on gloomy thoughts, and marched toward the corner shop.
***
She made for the till with milk, bread, chicken, and Matthews favourite chocolate biscuits, when a sudden, familiar giggle erupted from the next aisle. Emma frozeThomas laugh? It couldnt be. Still, instinct took over and she dashed toward the sound, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of a childs silhouette. Emma realised how absurd she was being, but she still followed the phantom, nearly bowling over a cardboard sign for a two-for-one special.
Bending to pick it up, Emmas stomach dropped: in bold red letters against the white background, there was that very address from her dream.
Thomas, what are you trying to tell me? Emma whispered.
She trudged home, her head spinning. Thomas was sending a message, but what? Shed look up the address later. For now, she needed to see Matthew and somehow keep it together.
***
The evening was surprisingly warm and cheerful. Emma even managed real smiles, listening to Matthews stories of student life. He munched his way through home-cooked food while Emma and William looked on, hearts jumbled with love and loss. Eventually, everyone retreated to their rooms, and darkness settled across the house.
Emma dropped off to sleep almost instantly, drained by the day. In the wee hours, she woke with a startthe faint sound of singing drifted from the bathroom. Emmas heart flipped as she strained to hear it. It was Thomas voicethere was no mistaking itsinging his favourite tractor song.
Stifling a sob, Emma slipped out of bed and crept toward the music, moving as if she might catch Thomas if she was quiet. She nudged the bathroom door open, but of course, there was nobody there. The tears fell freely.
What did you expect, Emma? she berated herself. That Thomas would be here, having a bubble bath? My minds playing tricks. Enough!
She splashed her face with cold water and glared at her reflection. A pale, worn woman with shadowed eyes stared back.
In her frustration, she lathered her hand with soap and smeared suds across the mirror, not entirely sure why. As the foam dripped down, it bizarrely began to form the outline of letters that address again. A chill swept over her. Behind her she swore she heard, clear as a bell, a little boys voice:
Im waiting for you, Mum
***
William squinted at the light from Emmas laptop.
Why arent you in bed? he mumbled as she sat cross-legged in her dressing gown, gazing at the computer.
Will, come here… If you feel anything half as strange as I do, then maybe Im not losing my mind, she said.
William heaved himself up and joined Emma. He felt a wave of warmth as his eyes settled on the photoa little boy, not much different in age to Thomas.
Edward Green, 4 years old, the screen read. Lost his parents in a car accident three years ago. Raised by gran until six months backnow in the care home after his gran passed away.
Emma explained quietly: That address has followed me for days. Thomas is showing me.
She recounted the dreams, the supermarket, the bathroom. William considered it for a moment, then nodded.
All right, Em. Lets go see.
***
Mrs Margaret Richards, the care home manager, ushered Emma and William down the bright, echoing corridor, nattering away as she went:
When Edward arrived, we thought hed be here a short while. Hes sweet as anythingbright lad, brought up right. But hes turned down three foster families. Freezes up, wont even talk to them. Tells us he knows his mum and dad are coming and that hell know them when he sees them. Bit odd, but, well, hes a good judge. Last few months hes mentioned an imaginary friend. Calls him Thomas. Said the other day Thomas told him Mummy and Daddy are coming soon.
Emma and William studiously avoided each others eyescould it be that their Thomas was helping this lonely child?
Well, anyway, Mrs Richards concluded, opening the playroom door, perhaps youll get through to him.
Immediately Emma saw himsmall, skinny, in the middle of a pile of blocks, humming Thomas favourite tune. As soon as Edward spotted them, he leapt up and ran straight to Emma and William, shouting:
Mummy! Daddy! I knew youd come!!
***
Mrs Richards, moved to tears, smoothed the way for the adoption herself. When she heard about Thomas death, she nearly burst into tears for a second time. Within a month they were back at the homeEmma, William, and Matthewto take Edward home for good.
Just as they were leaving, Edward tugged his hand free of Emmas and said, Wait, Mum! before glancing back down the corridor. Thomas wants to say goodbye!
Emma felt her heart ache again, though this time it wasnt sharpthe grief had softened, it was gentle, hopeful. Now there was a new little boy who needed her strength, and she owed it to him to give it. Shed never, ever forget Thomas, but now there was Edward, toosomeone to live for.
Edward ran to the window at the corridors end, paused, then scampered back to his familymum, dad, and his big brother Matthew. Outside, just beyond the glass, a beautiful white dove swooped down, looped a circle above their heads, and soared off into the blue English sky.
