Chapter 11
Later that night, Malcolm wandered out into the square and took a seat on one of the benches. This was becoming a habit. Off to one side sat the gazebo, Mary and Joseph patiently waiting. The square had become his peaceful place. He settled back.
When the phone rang he took it from his pocket, half expecting it to be Josie. They’d had such a good time that day at the clinic. She fit in so naturally, always ready to meet another need. He could tell that Phyllis and the other women respected the time and the attention Josie gave them.
Maybe this was her on the phone with another idea.
But no, it was his mother calling. Malcolm was in a good place that night.
Lately he'd been so abrupt with his mom.
Although he didn't agree with the role she’d taken with his ex-fiancée, didn't all mothers want the best for their children?
He clicked to answer the call. “Hey, Mom. What's up?”
A startled laugh was her reply. “What's up?” she repeated, as if he'd spoken in a foreign language.
Malcolm had to laugh. “Sorry. It's been one of those days. I’m in a fog.”
“A bad day?” She sounded so disappointed.
“No, no. Not at all.” Malcolm thought back over the clinic and all the good work he’d seen there that day.
The folks at the library had been so excited to hear about how the first reading had gone.
And Eileen had immediately gone online to find Christmas stories in Spanish.
They should arrive soon. “It's all good.”
He smiled when his mother eased out an audible sigh. “Thank goodness.”
Parents must get sick of having their children unload on them.
All the worries and the bad days. Malcolm had always tried not to do that.
But lately he’d slipped. “I'm sitting in the town square,” he told his mother.
“It's so beautiful here. I wish you would come for Christmas so you could see all this.”
“Well maybe I will.”
Malcolm sat up so straight, he nearly fell off the bench. “Really? I would love that.” And he meant it.
“Good, I'll check flights.” His mother sounded flustered. “I would like to see you. If I've almost made a mess of your life, then I feel I should at least make some effort.”
The response was so her. Malcolm held back his laughter. “You haven't totally messed up my life.” No way did he want his mother to feel like that.
“I'm glad you admit that. I did give it the––what do people call it––the old college try.”
“And your efforts were appreciated. Your heart was in the right place.” That was only partially true.
Malcolm was surprised that his mother would admit to her meddling.
Maybe a lot of parents felt that they should take a hand in deciding the destiny of their children.
She wanted the best for him, and he couldn't fault her for that.
The idea of having her visit soon propelled him into action.
His guest room was full of unpacked boxes.
“Thank goodness you didn't give that girl my mother’s ring.”
“Yes, thank goodness. Guess I was being careful. But then again, you never gave it to me so that I could give it to that girl.” Malcolm was glad to hear that Darcy was now relegated to “that girl.”
“Apparently I wasn't being careful enough. During the club Christmas luncheon, I learned that Darcy is already seeing the grandson of Mildred Wilson.”
“Wow. She didn't let much time pass.” What had happened to all those wedding plans?
His mother sniffed. Malcolm could imagine her lifting her beautifully arched nose with disapproval. “My thought exactly. I hope you don't mind me telling you that.”
“Not at all. Hearing that kind of clears the air.” That explained a lot and made him feel a heck of a lot better.
“Anyway, I think I'll bring the ring when I come.”
“Oh?” Sometimes he could never understand his mother. “Why now?”
“Safekeeping. I think it's safer with you.”
That made absolutely no sense. “Why would it be safer with me?”
“You know, in case you ever want to use it. I can't go flying back-and-forth every weekend with your grandmother’s ring.” Sometimes she could be so cute.
Although the ring was very precious to his mother and he respected that, Malcolm had a feeling that the family heirloom would never have passed muster with Darcy.
Smelling the pine trees and gazing over at the nativity scene, Malcolm hated to spoil the beautiful simplicity of this moment.
And yet there was one basic truth that he hadn't shared with his mother.
And he certainly didn't want to do that on Christmas Day.
She needed time to absorb what he was going to tell her.
“Mom, I have something to tell you.”
“Oh my.” Her voice lifted.” You mean you've already found someone new?”
Malcolm hated to crush her hopes. The poor woman had been waiting for him to get married. “No, but I do feel it only fair that you understand one thing. It's about the fever I contracted down in the .”
“Yes,” she said slowly, dread creeping into her voice. “But I thought you had that under control now. All those doctor visits.”
“Yes. It is under control. But still, I might never be able to father children.” He gave her a moment for that to sink in.
It had taken him weeks and then months to absorb the news.
And of course Darcy had refused to believe it.
She was so accustomed to having her parents make everything right.
She’d assured him that somehow they’d find a magic solution, which had seemed downright foolish.
How he hated to hurt his mother with this news. This was huge. No children gathered under the Christmas tree. No grandchildren to buy clothes for at Saks Fifth Avenue. His mind spun into the future. And he knew that his mother was probably doing the same.
Some things in life could never be made right.
“Oh Malcolm. I'm so very sorry.” The fact that his mother seemed sorrier for him than for herself shocked and impressed him.
After that there was a little more to say.
He guided her back to the excitement of the upcoming visit, which was only now about ten days away.
Then he glanced up at the dark window of his apartment.
He had no tree. No lights. “I live above a charming pantry you'll just love.” He had to throw out some encouragement.
“Pantry? You mean like a food pantry?” Horror laced her words.
“Oh no, definitely not, although we have a great food pantry here.” He had to laugh, thinking of the elegant Victoria and his mother’s rebranding of her snooty gathering place.
“Victoria's pantry is more of a fancy coffee shop with bakery.
I think that you're going to love some of the women who come there for coffee and croissants.”
“Croissants?” His mother's voice lifted with excitement. “That sounds wonderful.”
Malcolm was still chuckling when he went to bed that night.
But the pressure was on. He lay in bed studying the ceiling where no garish outdoor lights played across its surface.
The last few days had opened so many possibilities.
Malcolm thought back to the Christmas Wish Phyllis had pressed into his hand that day. Maybe he’d been blind all along.