Shadow in the North

Chapter Fifty-Four - Healing and Hoping

'John!' said she, rising in surprise. 'We did not know you were to come to-day. We received no note.' And her voice held a hint of accusation, which he did not feel unjustified.

'I am sorry I did not write, Mother, but I did not know when my business would be complete, and then I did not know how long the journey should take; the weather was so poor.'

'But no note, John! Nothing at all, and your son left at two days old! Your wife left!'

'Yes,' said he, swallowing thickly, and he hung his head in shame. Mrs Thornton frowned at him with displeasure, and with a deeply furrowed brow, she turned away and grumbled, -

'I thought I had raised you better than to suffer from your father's weakness.' His eyes flashed in pain, for although he loved his father, he could not respect him, for he took his own life and left his family destitute. There could be no greater slight to Mr Thornton; not from the lips of his mother.

'I am sorry, Mother. I did wrong; I ought not to have gone. I do know that, but once I was aboard the boat, I could not turn about, and I was detained long on business, and then further on behalf of Watson. The weather was against me, and now I have been kept from home a fortnight! It was never my intention.' He was panting as he finished, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement, as his eyes looked pleadingly at his mother.

'Well!' said she, merely shaking her head.

'And Isabel, and Johnny? How do they get on, Mother?' asked Mr Thornton, anxiously.

'Healthy; both healthy, but your wife has sorely been in need of you. I - John,' and the matriarch's voice cracked. She faltered, and she felt her eyes brim, but she did not hide away her feelings. They had long been repressed. Some twenty-six years or so, in fact - for never had she confronted her late husband, when he had turned away and buried his head in his work, at the loss of their infant girl. Never had she let her husband see her mother's tears, but had cried them over her young son's forehead, as she wept for her lost babe.

'I needed you, John!' came Mrs Thornton's strangled, guttural cry, as she pointed to her breast. And hearing the crack to her voice, seeing that unfettered emotion from his mother; the trembling of her body, as tears - never seen before - slipped from her lashes unbidden, Mr Thornton strode quickly to his mother, and placed himself at her feet. 'I needed you, John. Your grief is my grief, and I have felt the babe's loss, too. I have been a mother to your wife, John, but it was not me she needed! A Thornton left me to my lot once before, and now you punish me by doing it again!' came her anguished cry.

'No, Mother. I would never leave you; never leave you,' insisted he, now grabbing at her skirts. 'I did not leave you; I only went for a little while, but I am back, and I shan't go again; you shan't be on your own.'

'A little while!' cried she. And anger swept through her, as she stared down upon her son. How dare he! cried she to herself. He calls two weeks a "little while"! She saw he did not know a mother's love. He could not know her pain; his wife's pain, and so he belittled it, with that careless and dismissive turn of phrase. And in a lash of frustration - some collective quarter century of hurt - she raised her hand, and struck her son about the face. Now breathing deeply, nostrils flaring, as she sought to regain her composure, she stared at him with a smiting look, and said, 'two weeks is far too long when one's babe has died. A husband's place is with his wife. You chose that wife - that quick tongue - and if her words anger you, it's on your head. You'll not have my sympathy, John. You made Isabel your wife, and now you'll stand beside her.'

He only stared up at her in stunned surprise. He could not find his voice. She had struck him. Never - not even as a boy - had his mother struck him. Never had she cried, and in the space of not five minutes, both eruptions of emotion had spewed forth. He trembled at the thought of causing in her, such unrestrained pain and emotion, and he tightened his fists on her skirts, as though he were a young boy pleading to stay beside his mother.