Page 72 of Winter Solstice
MARGARET
Time remains a mystery to Margaret. A game of Monopoly can consume an afternoon, and an hour on the treadmill seems like forever. But a lifetime passes in an instant.
On Thursday evening Lara, the hospice nurse, comes into the kitchen.
“It won’t be long now,” she says.
Margaret stands in the hallway outside of Kelley’s room as first Bart, then Ava, then Kevin, and finally Patrick go in to say good-bye to their father. Margaret has witnessed all kinds of difficult things in her life, but nothing quite as difficult as seeing her grown children crying when they emerge from the room.
When Patrick comes out, he says, “It’s your turn, Mom.”
Margaret didn’t think she would take a turn. It seems selfish and maybe even improper. Mitzi is in the room, at Kelley’s bedside, where she should be. She’s his wife. Margaret is… who is Margaret to Kelley anymore? His former wife? The mother of his three older children?
His best friend, she thinks. She has known him longer than anyone.
Drake appears beside her. The Monopoly game must have finally ended. As if reading the indecision on Margaret’s face, Drake says, “Go in and say good-bye. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Margaret nods. He’s right, of course. She cracks open the door and sees Mitzi standing by the bed, holding Kelley’s hand, staring lovingly at his face.
“Is he awake?” Margaret asks. “Or…?”
Mitzi nods and beckons Margaret forward.
“He asked for you,” Mitzi says.
He did?Margaret thinks. Kelley can no longer speak, so it’s not likely he “asked” for Margaret, but Margaret is grateful for the lie, or the exaggeration, or the intuition. Maybe Mitzi feels that if Kelley could talk, he would ask to see Margaret. In some strange way, this whole story—the inn, the kids, even his marriage to Mitzi—started back in New York City on the day that Kelley and Margaret met.
Margaret leans down so that her voice is in Kelley’s ear.
“Hey there, old friend,” she says. “It’s Maggie. I just want to say…” Here, Margaret chokes up. She takes a moment to compose herself and squeezes Kelley’s hand. “I want to say thank you, Kelley Quinn. For all the years we had. For our three remarkable, miraculous children. And for your love. Because despite everything, there was always love.”
Kelley’s eyelids flutter.
Margaret kisses Kelley’s cheek, then she releases his hand. She backs up a step at a time, and she watches as Mitzi climbs into the hospital bed with Kelley and rests her head on his chest.
She’s going to hold him until he passes, Margaret thinks. It’s beautiful and right—but it’s also really, really sad. Tears flow silently down Margaret’s face.
Drake is standing in the open doorway, waiting for her. He puts an arm around her shoulder, but he knows not to rush her out. She looks into Drake’s eyes.
“I never thought it would end,” she says.
“I know,” Drake says.
Butdoeshe know? Margaret turns to take one last look at Kelley, but the person she sees in the bed is herself, in the moments after she gave birth to Patrick. The baby had just been laid on Margaret’s chest, and Kelley was next to her, both beaming and weeping.
“We have a son, Maggie,” he said. “A healthy baby boy.”
Margaret remembers how it felt to hold a newborn, the love expanding inside her until she was sure she would burst. Life seemed like a golden ribbon, unspooling into eternity. They were parents. It was all just beginning.
“Come to bed,” Drake says.
“Yes,” Margaret says. “Okay.” She knows it’s the right thing to do. She follows Drake out into the hallway and closes the door behind her, leaving Kelley and Mitzi in peace.
