Mild Fortitude

Katherine Donovan’s only comfort was darkness. There, in the shadows, she could be quiet. She didn’t have to smile or laugh or pretend to be alive. She put a blanket over the bedroom window to keep the life out. 

      Somewhere, in the fluid space between sleep and awake, she found a modicum of peace. If only she could stay in that place. If only reality could be swallowed whole, by dreams and darkness. 

       Real life tipped the scales when the bedroom door burst open and her mother in-law, Mara invaded her sanctuary. Her flat, white feet pounded their way to the window and she ripped the blanket down. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?  “When Clay died I had five mouths to feed and a farm to run and I didn’t have the luxury of laying in bed all day.” Kate sat up, her eyes still closed. 

      “I’m just so tired since David died.”  She said, running her long, ivory fingers through her hair. 

      “You’re weak. Why my David ever took up with you is beyond me. Where is Coley?” Mara’s profile was similar to that of a cartoon witch. Her long, knotted nose and bird’s eyes were jarring. 

      “She’s at school.” Kate said, shifting to the edge of the bed. She fixed her gaze on the floor and prayed Mara would leave. 

      “How did she get to the bus if you’re still in bed?” Kate was used to Mara’s blatant insinuation that she was a bad mother. 

      “I woke her up, made her breakfast, helped her get ready, and walked her to the bus like I do every morning.” Her reply was barely above a whisper. Mara snorted with derision and headed for the door. 

      “Bring her to the house for dinner tonight. I don’t know how the child grows on that poor excuse for cooking you give her. David used to come up to the house sniffin’ around for somethin’ homemade. Boy always did love his mama’s cooking.” She paused in the doorway with her back to Kate. 

      In the stillness, the two women shared a common grief. Their love for David was the only thread that bound them together but now they were bonded in the pain of his loss, if only in a moment like this. 

       Mara sniffled and Kate looked up at her, still standing in the doorway. “Mara, I…” 

     “Don’t.” The old woman’s silver head dropped forward. “You’re nobody to me and you’ve got nothing to say worth listening to.” She wiped a tear away with the back of her hand and left. 

      Hate takes all of the energy out of a room. Kate felt it every time she was with Mara. Grieving had taken everything out of her already. All that was left was blood and muscle and bone. 

      She was so young when she met David. She never really knew herself. Everything about her was buried beneath a life she built around him. Who was she? She was David’s wife. She was Coley’s mom. She cooked the meals and cleaned the house he built her on his family’s property. She was loved and cared for and she was happy. 

      Her whole life was wrapped tightly around that man and now that he was gone, so was she. She feigned living for Coley. She did the dishes and made pancakes and read bedtime stories but there was no light left in her. 

      She sat in the kitchen, staring at the wall, all afternoon. At three she walked to the end of the lane and waited for Coley. The same biting wind that tickled her neck fluttered through the leaves and tall grass surrounding her. 

      David grew up there, on Darkwood Farm. He built Kate a cottage on the edge of the property, nestled into a bit of forest. Mara lived in the big house past the apple orchard. The land was verdant, fresh, and almost mythical. Kate always said that she half expected to encounter a pixie riding the wind over the fields or a well read badger on his way to tea. Despite its beauty, the land was jaded. A place of hidden violence and secrets beyond telling.

      Coley hopped down the school bus stairs with both feet. She was wearing construction paper bunny ears and an honest smile. “Mommy, I’m a bunny! Watch me hop!” Kate smiled for the first time since she’d put Coley on the bus that morning. 

      “Cutest bunny ever.” She reached her hand out and with a touch, enough light flickered on in her to keep her going a while longer. “How was your day?” 

     “It was so good! I got a book from the library and..and... it was Lucy’s birthday so her mom brought cupcakes.”

“I see that.” Kate said, noticing the chocolate smears across her freckled cheeks. The walk home was lively. What energy had been drained by hate earlier was replenished by love now. Coley danced up the lane, bubbling over with life’s simple joys. 

     The sky was a mixed pallet of blues and blushes, as afternoon gave way to dusk. Winter was nearly over but the days were still short. A feral rain chased them indoors where the soothing glow of lamp light welcomed them home.

       “Mom, do you miss daddy?” The girl’s question pulled Kate from a vivid memory of the Pacific Ocean and a meaningful kiss. 

“Yes. I miss him a lot.” Kate looked into Coley’s olive green eyes. She found such innocence there. Life hadn’t gotten to her yet. She was still soft, still hopeful. 

     “Do you think he misses us?” Kate looked to the ceiling for answers. How is it that a child always asks the most profound questions? The kinds of questions philosophers muse over with great pain. Maybe it is because the simplest parts of life are infinitely beyond us and we forget that fact the older we get. 

     “I believe daddy is so happy where he is right now...so happy! But, I bet he’s waiting to see us again the same way we’re waiting to see him.” 

     Coley knitted her brows together in deep thought. “I hope he’s not lonely.” She looked up at her mom from beneath her eyelashes, on the verge of tears. 

     “No, baby, like I said, daddy is happy, and do you know what?” She asked with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “Daddy wants you to be happy.” She scooped Coley up in a tight hug. “My goodness but your legs are getting long! They are everywhere!!” She screeched, tickling her little ribs. 

     For a moment life was right. There was laughter and heart and love. But, soon the time came for them to make their way to the big house for dinner. The weather was working on a storm which was fitting. The tension in the atmosphere matched that of the dining room. 

      The food was transcendent, as always, rustic and comforting. Kate helped Coley with her napkin and buttered her biscuit. Mara let out a theatrical huff and rolled her eyes.

      “She’s going to choke! The way you’ve cut the chicken would choke a camel!” Without a word, Kate cut the chicken into smaller pieces. They ate their supper in silence and when Coley was finished, Mara ordered her to the living room, leaving her alone with Kate. David used to run interference but he had been in the ground two long weeks now and she was on her own. 

“I think Coley should move into the big house with me.” Mara said without grace. Kate dropped her fork onto her plate and choked down the bite of food she was chewing. 

“I’m her mother. I want her with me.” Her tone was gentle. She picked up her fork and stared at it, twirling it in her fingers. 

“You’re not a natural mother. You weren’t a good wife to my boy.” Her words sliced Kate into small pieces. She collected the fragments of herself so that she could utter a weak response.

“I... I’m a good mother. And I tried to be a good wife. She dropped her fork and stared at her lap. Her breath shook her shoulders and she could not hide her discomfort.

 “Coley is smart, she’s like my David, she’s strong. She’ll see you for what you are before long. You can’t give her what she needs. If you love her at all, you’ll give her to me.” 

      “Coley, it’s time to go home, get your shoes on.” Kate placed her napkin on the table and made contact with Mara’s eyes for the first time all evening. “I love David and I love our daughter. I agree with you... I never deserved him and I don’t deserve her, but I will not let her go.” She was barely audible. Her tone was weak and her words shook as she spoke them. She took Coley by the hand and walked out of that caustic place knowing it would be the last time. 

      She put Coley into the tub and zipped her into clean pajamas. A kiss on the forehead meant goodnight and she slept the sleep of the unburdened. 

      Kate did not know herself, but she did know that she was not a fighter. She was not strong. She could not hold her own against Mara. That woman had fought her entire life. 

      She looked around the home David had built for her. These walls held her most precious memories. She knew what she had to do. She had to say goodbye to every scrap of comfort she had left in life. 

      She packed a few things of significance to her, books she had read with David, the quilt he bought her for her birthday, the stuffed bear Coley slept with her first night on the earth. Then, she wrapped her in her favorite blanket and carried her to the truck. 

      She didn’t wake. She slept as if she was under a spell. Kate accepted this as an omen. The heater blew as hard as it could and just barely kept out the cold of that night. 

      Like a riddle too difficult to answer, Kate left such beauty in her rear view mirror. She left the comfortable sanctuary of home and headed to a question mark, but she knew it was somehow right. 

      Some lives aren’t purposed to shine. They are the platform for another. Kate knew her daughter was destined for a life she could not fathom. So she drove into the darkness to give her child every hope. 

      She could hear the steady breath of free life beside her and resolved to put on every chain life handed her so that her daughter could own every moment of her life. She would be a fighter. She would be strong. She would bend the days to her will and her life would be her own to design. 

      The road rolled out before her endlessly, but the possibilities she hoped for were not for her, they were for the sleeping child beside her. The headlights showed her just a few feet ahead of her tires, but she knew she was headed in the right direction because selfless, good things were on the horizon.