Whos there? Mary Fairfax, with her grandson Nicholas, stepped onto the front porch and peered at the stranger. Im here for Mary Fairfax, the youth called out. Im her greatgranddaughter, the granddaughter of Alexander, Marys eldest son.
Mary sat on a sunwarmed bench, savoring the first warm days of spring. At long last the season had turned; only God knew how she had survived the bitter winter.
Not another winter, she thought, exhaling with relief. She no longer feared the cold; she had been waiting for this moment. Her barley was already harvested, new clothes bought. Nothing could keep Mary in this world any longer.
—
Once she had a large familya husband, Thomas Bennett, a tall, sturdy man, and four children: three boys and a girl. They lived together peacefully, seldom quarrelling. One by one the children grew and scattered to various towns.
The two eldest sons went to university and then found work in different cities. The middle boy, a poor student, eventually built a successful business that carried him abroad, where he stayed. The daughter left the village for the capital, married, and set up her own home.
In the early years the children visited often, sent letters, and after the telephone arrived they called regularly. Grandchildren arrived in turn; Mary would haul her old, patched suitcase and travel to the homes of her sons and daughters-inlaw to help with the youngsters.
Gradually the grandchildren grew independent of their grandmothers care. Calls became rare, visits rarer. The idea of travelling back to the old cottage faded as work, families and the responsibilities of adult life took precedence.
The only occasion that drew the family back was the news of Thomas Bennetts death. He had seemed a man who would live to a hundred, yet fate proved otherwise. After the funeral the children dispersed again. At first they phoned Mary, but soon the calls ceased entirely.
Mary tried to call herself, but quickly realized the younger generation no longer needed her, and she retreated. Thus the next ten years passed in a quiet routine. Once a year a child would remember her, ring, and she would spend a week smiling at herself.
One afternoon, as Mary rested on the same bench, a young man called out from behind the fence.
Good day, Aunt Mary! he shouted, his smile bright. Dont you remember me?
Mary squinted. Nicholas? Is that you?
Yes, Aunt Mary! the boy replied, stepping into the yard.
Nicholas was the son of the farms neighbour, a boy who had never known a full meal. Mary, feeling a pang of pity, often fed him, gave him the handmegs that the children no longer needed, and let him spend the night when his parents were out celebrating elsewhere.
His parents died not long after; Nicholas was taken away to an orphanage, then to military service, then to study. He returned to the little countryside, vowing to rebuild his native village.
Whats there to rebuild? Mary waved a hand. Everyones gone.
It wont be forgotten, he insisted. I wont disappear.
Thus a new chapter began for Mary. Nicholas found work with Mr. Iverson, the largest farmer in the parish. In his spare time he repaired the dilapidated cottage he had inherited from his parents and, never forgetting Mary, helped her with the chores. Mary, delighted, began to call him my boy rather than son. Their companionship lasted three years.
Im leaving, Aunt Mary, Nicholas announced one day, apologetically. Mr. Iversons debts are mounting; he refuses to pay wages. Im headed for work elsewhere. Dont be angry with me.
Go with God, boy, Mary replied warmly.
She was left alone again, and at times the loneliness brought tears to her eyes. She passed her days waiting for the inevitable end, yet something still held her to this earth.
—
A familiar voice called out, Good day, Aunt Mary! Mary turned toward the fence and recognized the face.
Nicholas! Is it really you?
Indeed, Aunt Mary, the tall, welldressed young man said, entering the yard. Im back, truly back!
Bless my soul! Mary exclaimed, bustling about. Come in, come in, Nicholas! Ill put the kettle on at once!
The kettle is perfect, Nicholas laughed. Im just about to head home. I didnt expect to find you, so I brought no treats.
Half an hour later the two sat at a sturdy oak table, sipping tea from antique cups, words flowing freely.
I feel my time is near, Nicholas, Mary said, a tear slipping down her cheek.
Dont speak of that! he replied, waving a finger playfully. Ive come back, and well live together, Aunt Mary, the envy of everyone! Ive earned money and will expand my farm. Youll never be alone again!
A bright, girlish voice interrupted their reverie. Is anyone home? The voice belonged to a young woman in a short coat and highheeled shoes, peering through the garden window.
What business do you have? Mary asked, stepping onto the porch with Nicholas.
Im here for Mary Fairfax, the girl declared. Im her greatgranddaughter, the granddaughter of Alexander, Marys eldest son.
The woman and the boy exchanged a glance.
I tried calling, but the phone was dead, so I came on foot, hoping luck would guide me.
Come in! Mary said, a little flustered, while Nicholas hurried to take the womans suitcase.
The newcomer introduced herself as Vera. She explained that she despised the city and longed to live in the countryside, though her parents disagreed. Her grandfather Alexander had suggested she stay a few months on the farm, promising she would never want to leave. He, her father, and even Mary had called her, but the lines never connected. Im not a loafpusher, she announced, I have money, and your father and grandfather sent me hospitality! Ill stay until the term endsIm a parttime student, and then Ill go back.
Stay as long as you like, Mary finally said, smiling. It brings me joy.
A month passed. Mary watched Vera skillfully tend the garden, and it was clear she was no city girl.
With Nicholass help, Vera replowed the longneglected plot, divided it into beds, erected a modest greenhouse, bought seedlings from neighbours, and began planting with gusto.
Nicholas, for his part, used his earnings to start building a modern farm. He hired workers to repair Marys roof and installed central heating to replace the old stove.
Marys face never stopped smiling. She was no longer alone.
Occasionally a shadow of melancholy crossed her features when she thought of Veras impending departure. She had grown attached to the greatgranddaughter. One morning she packed a parcel of pies for Veras journey.
Dont forget to fill the water barrel, Vera reminded her. Nicholas will water the garden! Ill be back soon enough to check on it!
Will you really come back? Mary asked, hopeful.
Of course! I cant leave you forever. I love you, Grandma, with all my heart. Nicholas even proposedan autumn wedding! What would I do without a husband? Hes a true country lad!
A year later Mary basked in the sunshine, rocking a cradle with her sleeping greatgreatgrandson. Vera and Nicholas ran the thriving farm together, their joint effort bringing prosperity to the whole village.
Glancing at the peacefully sleeping child, Mary thought, Im not ready to go yet. I still have children to help.
She smiled, remembering all the seasons that had come and gone, and felt a quiet contentment settle over the old cottage.
