Page 72 of A Miracle on Hope Street
‘You know something, Michael, I couldn’t agree more,’ he says. ‘I’d love to sing you one of my favourites – one I have been dying to sing all season but just haven’t been able to because of where I live. Thank you for the opportunity.’
Soon we are tucking in to the range of sweet treats with a hot cup of tea on our last course of the day as Nicholas plays a soft and gentle rendition of ‘O Holy Night’ on my father’s old piano, with baby Marcus sleeping sound in his pram in the corner, and Nicholas jokes, mid-song, that the baby next door to where he lives must be more fussy in his musical taste than young Marcus is.
The mood is dreamy, cosy and lazy, with everyone deep in reflective thought as darkness drops down outside, in what I would call a perfect end to a perfect afternoon – even with the frozen chips!
Chapter Thirty-One
The last of our guests depart just before seven thirty, leaving Michael, my mother and I time to relax and chat through what was a most magical Christmas Day, feeling all the richer knowing that our efforts have made such a difference to each of those wonderful people’s lives.
I think of each of them, back in their own homes now, full of positive thoughts and reminded, I hope, that they are worthy and important and deserving of a brighter future.
‘Marian has asked me to keep in touch,’ Mum says with a bright lilt in her voice as she enjoys a mug of steaming hot chocolate with marshmallows, made for her by Michael in the same way he does them for me in Gloria’s Café. ‘We plan to meet up for lunch next time I’m in town and go walking in the park. She says that walking every morning now has really lifted her moods and she feels like she has achieved something afterwards. It’s the little things in life that can make such a difference, isn’t it?’
I don’t know why, but I hadn’t really thought of my mother leaving this town again to go back to her life in Dublin. I stumble a bit at the thought of her going back, so far away and lonesome again, like a fish out of water living on sickness benefits and with no one to call upon.
‘Would you like to move back here one day?’ I ask her, and I realise just as I’ve said it that it might be too soon to even think of such a thing. ‘We can talk about it another time, I suppose. Just ignore me. We don’t need to deal with that today.’
Michael steps in with some good news, thankfully.
‘Laura just sent me a photo of Liam wearing the football kit I bought for him,’ he says, passing us over his phone to show off a picture of a very happy-looking little boy with dark hair and smouldering brown eyes just like his daddy.
‘He looks just like you,’ I say to him. ‘Wow, that must be the best Christmas present ever to be able to see him smiling like that. He’s gorgeous, Michael. A real stunner.’
Michael takes the phone back and stares at it for a few seconds.
‘I want to be a part of his life so badly,’ he says to us both. ‘I’ve wasted two years now feeling sorry for myself and telling myself I wasn’t good enough for him, but when I see that little face and feel the way he touches my heart just by seeing his picture, what a fool I would be not to fight my way back to him. I’ve been such a fool. Such a self-centred idiot.’
My mother glances at me and then looks away.
‘Laura is only doing her thing by being protective,’ I say to Michael. ‘She can’t afford to let you come swanning back in without some sort of guarantee that you aren’t going to walk away if your guilt and self-worth takes a dip again. She met with you, and now she’s sending you photos. That’s a great start. Take it all as a good sign.’
‘Yes, but she might be doing it just to remind me of how much of a loser I’ve been.’
My mother chips in.
‘There’s no point thinking that way, darling,’ she says to him. ‘It’s never too early or too late to tell someone you love them, so go and fight for that little boy and show him all the love in the world that he deserves and that you deserve too.’
We sit staring into the dancing flames, me with my glass of red wine, Michael with his tea and Mum with her hot chocolate, and each of us contemplate our next move. I need to decide if I’m going to really move away from here and start over again in a very different life that will let me do the things I’ve been longing to do since forever, and close the door on a world of memories that come within these four walls at 41 Beech Row.
But if my mother decides to come back to this city to live again, I don’t know how I would get up and leave her. What if she wants to live in this house again? What if her health suffers again in the near future? We have so much time to make up for, so I couldn’t just walk away on her, I couldn’t.
And what about my job at the newspaper? I could perhaps take it with me if I did go away. I can write from anywhere, that’s the best thing about doing what I do and even though I took a backward turn at dealing with the problems and scenarios I’ve been faced with lately, I don’t know that I could walk away on all that I’ve built up quite so easily.
And then there’s Michael . . . my dear friend Michael who I feel like I’m falling for more and more every day. I watch him now as he looks lost in a faraway world of being reunited with his son at last, and how could I even have the heart to deny him that? He has to follow his dreams too, and if our dreams take us in different directions then we just simply weren’t meant to be after all. I hope that whatever is meant to be, turns out for the best for all of us.
Mum slips off to bed, exhausted, but with her head full of sweet dreams, love and positivity, and when I walk her upstairs she stops for a moment just outside the room where she’ll be sleeping tonight.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me staying over?’ she asks. ‘I really couldn’t face making that journey twice in one day.’
‘Mum, don’t be silly!’ I say to her. ‘You’re welcome here anytime. We have another nice day to look forward to tomorrow when you meet Ally’s husband and your two gorgeous grandsons. I have to warn you, though, you are going to fall madly in love with them at first sight. They’d brighten up any day, those two rascals, and David is a real hoot too. Get some sleep and look forward to all the great things we are going to do from now on, no matter where we choose to make our home.’
She knows exactly what I mean.
‘Please don’t let me hold you back from following your dreams,’ she says to me. ‘I won’t be landing back here with my suitcases, expecting you to suddenly adjust your life around mine, so don’t ever think I would. I’d never even contemplate it, so please go ahead with whatever plans you were making before I came back into your life, Ruth. I mean it.’
I put my arms around her and give her a light squeeze. She still seems so doll-like, so precious and delicate, and I don’t want to burden her with any worries about what the future might bring.
‘Get a good night’s sleep,’ I say to her. ‘Tomorrow is another day.’
