I wrote this story a few years ago when my Mother-In-Law passed away. This is dedicated to all the marriages that are held together by vows witnessed by clergy, family and friends. Warning – you may need a hanky or two. Enjoy…
"Till Death Do Us Part"
Roy leaned forward in his chair to move the sugar bowl closer to Margaret. Her unsteady hand clasped the spoon at the side of her plate. Roy diverted his attention to the plate of vegetables, beef and gravy in front of him. He knew it annoyed her when he stared at her, assessing her dwindling motion every day. He risked a peek and saw her dump a few granules of sugar into her tea. The rest of the spoonful lay like a stream of white sand across the black table.
He opened his mouth, but his wife of sixty-two years knew what he was about to say.
“I’ve enough. Thanks.”
“Of course.” Roy grinned.
“Don’t you get cheeky with me,” Margaret warned.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Dear.” Roy winked. He patted Maggie on her bony shoulder as he picked up her still-full plate. Maggie didn’t eat much these days.
“Do you need anything right now?” Roy asked, setting the dish into the sink. He’d clean up the rest of the dinner dishes later, after she dosed off.
“I’m fine.”
Roy chuckled, “I didn’t ask how you were. I asked if you needed anything.”
Her tinkling reply of laughter reminded him of a memory from their wedding day. She had joked a few days before the ceremony about the ‘for better or for worse’ vow that the priest would say.
“What if I really am a bad wife?” she had asked, so young and naive. Her pretty sky blue eyes sparkled at him when she teased. “You’d be stuck with me for a lifetime.”
“So be it,” had been Roy’s reply over six decades ago. During the ceremony when the priest stated the phrase, she had laughed, a dainty, captivating serenade to his ears that had filled the small church in their hometown.
“All right then,” Maggie’s soft voice nudged his reverie. Her eyes held their familiar sparkle amidst an array of wrinkles, “I’ve got everything I need right here, right now. Thank you.”
“Of course you do.” Roy took her offered hand and squeezed, careful not to press too hard. Her arthritis had flared up again, which slowed her progress on the quilt she was knitting for their latest grandchild. He almost felt her relief at having only one more left to do, especially since they had been blessed with twelve grandchildren. Thank goodness there were no great-grandchildren coming.
Roy picked Maggie up and carried her to the living room, where he placed her in an easy chair and lifted up the footrest. He tucked a fleece blanket around her hips. Satisfied she was comfortable, he flicked on the lamp next to her and handed her the television remote.
“Are you in the mood to work on your quilt?” he asked Maggie, sitting on the couch next to her chair.
“Maybe later. It’s right here anyway if I feel the urge,” she replied, her voice faint with tiredness. Roy glanced at the clock. It was still early. She’d be asleep in less than an hour. He’d have a long night ahead of him watching television. He reached for her hand. The warmth of her fingers in his palm eased his loneliness. Lately he lived in the moment, cherishing the time they had together. Roy stared at the television, but couldn’t say what was on, his attention drawn once again to his wedding day and the next vow the priest had said, “in sickness and in health”.
The car accident had taken them all by surprise. Roy didn’t often give himself permission to remember but tonight, sitting with his ailing wife, he couldn’t seem to stop the memories that flooded his mind.
He had wanted ice cream for dessert. Maggie said they really didn’t need it, but he had insisted. Theodore, their youngest son, wanted to go with his Dad. Roy sucked in his breath, willing the memory to go away but it wouldn’t.
Theo would have been an adult now, perhaps with children of his own. The damn truck came out of nowhere and sideswiped them. The family had buried Theo while Roy lay in a coma. When he woke up several weeks later, it took him months of rehabilitation to become mobile again.
To this day he couldn’t understand why Maggie had sat with him all those months at the hospital. He had taken her son from her and yet she had stayed. Roy looked at her now with fondness. Surprised, Maggie returned his look with a wide smile.
Roy’s memories flitted over other times that their vows had been tested to the limits. Theo’s death was the worst of the memories. He remembered at the hospital they had talked for hours and hours about their grief and the guilt Roy felt. Maggie forgave him, but it would take years before he would allow himself to have another bowl of ice cream.
Maggie’s soft snores filled the living room. Roy gently eased her chair into a reclining position. He missed snuggling with her in bed at night, but knew she would get a better sleep in her recliner.
Roy clicked off the television and went to the kitchen to put the dishes in the dishwasher and tidy the counter tops. He spied his ‘Kitchen-Helper’ scribbler and chuckled. Maggie had been teaching him some simple things like how to make French toast and the amount of spaghetti to put into the pot to feed two people. He flipped through his notes and saw that she had written an entry on the last page:
Just in case you forget after all those years on the farm – Brown chickens make brown eggs, white chicken make white eggs and this little chicken makes scrambled, over easy, poached, fried and you ‘name it’ eggs.
Love you, Magsy
Roy grinned. Silly girl. He’d have to give her a hard time about this tomorrow. He flicked on the stove’s nightlight. With one last look at Maggie’s relaxed face and her easy breathing, Roy decided it was time for bed. Morning would come soon enough.
The quilt lay upon Maggie’s lap, the knitting needles separated from the wool. He knew she had finished it, just as he knew by the colour of the skin on her face that she was gone. He walked toward the easy chair, his steps slow and measured. The void of her passing filled the room. Her eyes were closed, their sparkle no longer available to those who loved her. A pleased, proud smile held her lips in place. She had accomplished all she set out to do in this life – raising her babies, tending a marriage and loving her husband.
Maggie’s left hand lay draped over the armrest. Roy clasped her fingers into his own. Her wedding band twisted around her thin knuckle and fell into his palm. Catching it, he curled his fingers around the cold metal. He opened his hand to look at the gold band, paper thin in spots, worn from years of marriage.
When Roy slipped the ring into his front shirt pocket, his hand stopped for a minute. He remembered the priest’s words as he had pulled the same ring out of his pocket so many years ago. He had slipped it on his young bride’s finger while the priest’s voice intoned the last of their vows. They had each nodded and said, “Till death do us part.”
Roy folded Maggie’s arms on her lap. He took the quilt and put it on the pile with the rest. With one last look at his wife of sixty-two years, Roy opened the front door to their house and stepped down the porch stairs. As his adult life had started so fresh and new with his young bride walking down the church steps so many years ago, now it would continue without her.
His legs crumpled then. He reached for the banister and slid down onto the step. He stared at this new day and asked, “How? How will I go on?”
Their vows stated between them with such emphasis on their wedding day now released him. Roy twirled his own wedding band around his finger. He pulled on it. For years it refused to budge past his knuckle. Today, it slid across his finger freely. He clasped it to his heart. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he put it in his pocket. It clinked against his wife’s ring and lay silent.
Roy remained on the step as the sun rose throughout the early morning. When its warm rays reached his face, the tears he’d been shedding dried upon his cheeks. He clenched the banister and pulled himself up. He gulped in air. He steadied himself and went down the stairs.
Roy walked across the lawn, thinking that he should cut it soon. He knocked on his neighbour’s door. When it opened, Samantha’s friendly smile greeted him.
“Can I please use your phone?” Roy asked.
© Their Vows, a short story, 2006 by Patricia L. Atchison. All rights reserved.
