The Mystery at Sag Bridge

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Back at Mam's place, I tried to make everything to her liking, and listened to more crabbing while I was at it. Didn't the store charge too much for the tea-regardless of the fact I paid the difference myself-and was that the only kind of cocoa powder the store had? And the cookies, didn't they have those ones with the white in the middle, the ones the boys liked best, and whatever possessed me to buy the ones I did?

After I left Mam at the hotel, I took my sweet time walking home to our farm with my duck-like gait. I'd spent enough time hurrying today, so I welcomed the opportunity.

Strolling down the dirt road, I thought about what sort of mother I would make. Máime was a fine example of the kind of mother I would not be, a burden on her own family, who could barely tolerate her. Her sister now, Aunt Catherine, she and Mam had not talked for years.

Truth be told, I had to admit children doted on Mam. Adults had no patience for her irritating ways and incessant jibber-jabbering, so she spent more time with children. The little ones loved being minded by Mam, because their families were too busy getting on in the world to spend time on things that interest children. Mam did what children liked. She took them on long walks where they wanted to go, and let them pick what to talk about, and paid attention to their every word. She played as many games as they wanted, and made their favorite foods when they visited.

Mam prattled to them about the Auld Country, as they had not heard tell of the Auld Country before. She would take down her thin gray hair and show how she braided it, wound it at the base of her neck, and pinned it in place with thick tortoiseshell hairpins. I'll never know why but even young boys watched this with interest.

She told stories about things like the cat-o-nine-tails her Pa used when she was a bad little girl. I never believed that story about the cat-o-nine-tails, but I did wonder how Mam came by it. She would go to her closet, take down a box and there the awful thing was, rolled up in newspaper. The children would listen, eyes wide and mouths open, as she showed it to them and told them that if the boys were really bad Pa would put a pin in the end of each tail. Oh, the little ones loved Mam and her tall tales, they did.

But I will be the best máthair. My Darlin' will feel real love-not like Mam, only because no one else will have her-and she will grow up loving life like her Pa, and have lots of friends. We will enjoy being together, and when I'm Mam's age, my Darlin' will want to be with me, not like a chore to be done with.

I smiled and rested my hands on my belly over my Darlin' and talked to her quietly. "I know you already, my little girl, I just feel it, an' I have an uncanny way of knowin' such things. I will pick the perfect name, one you will thank me for callin' you. I can barely wait to meet you, my Darlin'."

I dragged along even slower when I reached the lane to our farmhouse, the same house I grew up in, savoring the last few quiet minutes alone-but not alone, with my little girl. In truth, I may have been stalling too because I was dreading more work that would surely greet me when I got home.

It was near to suppertime when I entered our kitchen. Sally was bustling about, like she always does. You'd think she'd be thin as a stick, and I'll never know where that broad butt comes from-no one else in our family has that. She doesn't need a bustle to stay in fashion. But her clear lovely face makes up for it. "How's Máime?" she asked without looking up.