Chapter 5 Blythe
BLYTHE
“I saw the prince,” Maggi whispers, after crawling into my lap.
“Oh, yeah?” I feign excitement. “And where did you see the prince?”
“In the garden,” she says matter-of-factly as she wraps her arms around my neck and presses her nose to mine, causing me to go cross-eyed. “He is very tall.”
I haven’t been to the garden yet, but I assume there’s a statue or something out there. “Was he wearing a crown?”
Maggi looks at me like I’ve lost my mind even though I thought it was a good question. “No,” she says, her face scrunching as she giggles. “He has lots of hair and marker all over his arm.” Her hand encircles her left forearm.
“A tattoo?”
She nods enthusiastically.
“A prince with a tattoo?”
“And brown hair.”
“Oh yes, well of course, we cannot leave out that detail. What else did you see in the garden?”
She tips her head back, and I watch her little mouth twist this way and that as she thinks, and then she shrugs.
“You only saw a prince?”
Her shoulders slump, and she lets out a long sigh. “Flowers?”
“Are you asking me if you saw flowers, Roo?” I chuckle. She’s at the age where she’ll answer questions with what she assumes we want to hear, so they end up coming out as a question.
“No. I saw flowers. There were purple ones, and they looked like this.” She raises her pointer finger into the air and waves it around, painting a picture for me.
“Beautiful. And did y—”
“Roo Roo Baloo,” my sister-in-law’s sing-song voice dances through the air, and I’m very quickly old news as Maggi squeals in joy and jumps off my lap to run to her aunt.
Sarah sweeps her up, and I watch as Maggi wraps her arms and legs around her, koala style.
I had been so worried that Maggi wouldn’t have a strong relationship with Eric’s family because we lived so far away, and then after his death that worry grew.
My parents are gone, and my sister lives in Germany, so the thought of Maggi not being close emotionally to family, weighs on me.
My husband’s family has been unflinchingly mine since the day he introduced me to them.
Maggi and her grandparents have a standing FaceTime date every Saturday morning, and she talks to Sarah every couple of weeks.
The way Maggi looks at Sarah, you’d suspect they saw each other daily, though.
“Are you ready to be the prettiest person in the wedding?” Sarah asks.
“Yes,” my daughter confirms. “But Mommy too,” she adds.
Sarah’s dark brown eyes find me, the corners crinkling as she smiles. “Yes, you and your mommy are going to be the prettiest for sure.” She chuckles, walking over to sit in the armchair beside mine, balancing Maggi on her knees. “How was the flight?” she asks.
“It—”
“We met the prince,” Maggi says over me, drawing our attention to her.
“The prince?” Maggi nods. “Oh?” Sarah turns her attention to me, one elegant eyebrow arched high.
I shrug because I don’t know why my daughter is firmly on this prince thing.
Maggi stares back at me, her little forehead crinkling in concern. “He helped Mommy,” she explains, looking back at Sarah.
Sarah’s eyes are now firmly on me. “He helped Mommy, eh?”
“The nice man on the plane who switched seats because you were kicking his?” I ask Maggi, and she nods back. “Is everyone a prince now?”
“No,” she states.
“Well, I hope I get to meet the prince,” Sarah says, tickling Maggi, who flails uncontrollably but makes no attempt to get away from her aunt.
“There you are,” Martha sighs from the doorway.
“Me?” Sarah asks.
Martha shakes her head, her eyes glued to her granddaughter. “I was wondering if Mags would like to go for a walk before dinner. Papa and I are going to head down to the loch to see if we can see old Nessie.”
Sarah and I are immediately forgotten at the mention of Nessie. At this point in her life, if you asked what she wanted to be when she grows up, Maggi would say something related to the Loch Ness Monster.
“Can I bring Nessie?” she asks as she takes Martha’s hand and drags her out of the room.
Sarah and I laugh at the expression Martha throws over her shoulder.
While some may expect to see wide eyes lined with fear, I only see a mischievous grin.
At this point in time, I’m not entirely sure my in-laws are simply playing into Maggi’s love of the myth.
I have a sneaky suspicion they believe in it themselves.
Once they’ve disappeared down the hall, Sarah turns and leans in, studying me.
“What?”
“So, tell me about this prince.”
I bark a laugh. “I told her we were going to a castle, and she got it in her head that there was going to be a prince here.”
“Well, that is fair. I’d expect the same thing at her age. Hell, I half expect it at my age.”
“You’re marrying yours,” I remind her.
A dreamy look washes over her face, and she leans back into the chair, sighing. “He does make me feel like a princess.”
“It’s a good feeling.”
“I wish Eric had gotten to meet him,” she laments.
I roll my head to look at her. “Does it help that he thought he was a good player?” I inquire. Colin played for Eric’s favourite rugby team, not that I knew who the guy was, but when Sarah mentioned who he played for, I recognized the team name immediately.
“You know what? Kind of.” She sighs. “Eric would be very excited about this entire wedding. Surrounded by some of his favourite athletes.”
“Definitely a nice break from the bank,” I say.
“If any part of this week gets to be too much, please let me know,” she says seriously, reaching for my hand and squeezing. “I won’t be offended.”
I squeeze back and shake my head. “Not a chance. I’ve been looking forward to this. Besides, I got a great love story, even if it was short. I’m excited to be part of yours.”
“You amaze me,” she whispers. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do it.”
I don’t know how you do it. It’s one of the most common things I hear.
I do it because I have to do it. I do it because the very last thing Eric would want is for me to dwell on the end of his life when I have so much more of mine to live.
I wake up every day grateful to have known what it felt like to be truly loved.
I’m reminded daily of that love in the form of a little ball of energy with big brown eyes and untamed hair.
I shrug. “Maggi,” I state simply. “I do it because of her and for her.”
“She’s pretty great.” Sarah smirks, and I nod in agreement.
Our hands remain clasped between our chairs for a few minutes while we sit there quietly. Sarah has become another sister to me, and as glad as I am that she has been so engaged with Maggi, I’m happy that she seems as interested in keeping me close as well.
“So you know,” she says quietly. “A few of the guests are single, very eligible men. And if you, say…” she drops my hand, rolling her wrist, “were in need of a break from the little to partake in a little… fun, we’ve all got your back.”
A snort leaves me before I can stop it. “I am not hooking up with someone at your wedding,” I insist.
I did that once, and even though it was with my husband, I’m pretty sure that was the night Maggi was conceived.