Elliott Mc Gowan lay in bed beside her son as he napped; her arms wrapped around him, cradling him, keeping him safe and warm...it was her second 'mother's day. Illya hadn't quite handled the first one too well; not being accustomed to it but she suspected he would try to improve over last year...whenever he managed to get home. He had not warned her that he had volunteered to cover the early shift at headquarters...allowing those who wished, to celebrate the day...
Last year he told her..."In Russia mothers who supply the country with many new Soviet citizens are given a medal...but one baby would not qualify you for that." He said it so seriously to her that she couldn't help but laugh at him. That for some reason annoyed him...
But then she realized he was serious and seemed rather disturbed by the concept of mother's day. It was then she understood why...it was the day itself that actually bothered him...as it made him think about his own mother.
Elliott had her own sad thoughts to deal with when it came to this day...
She remembered the last time she spent the last mother's day with her own mam...she sat in the open ward in hospital...full of women of every possible age...young and old alike. There were moans of pain, fits of coughing, prayers being uttered.
She was just a child of ten... there alone with her mother. Her da was off again as usual...working as detective for the garda...something about investigating a drug ring in Dublin.
"Anya...moy preasnyi doch'. Poshaluista, ne grusti...I will be at peace. The pain will be gone soon my sweet," her mother said to her, struggling to speak.
"But I can't help being sad...mam, I don't want ye to go?" Elliott said as the tears began to fall down her fair, freckled cheeks.
"Bog prizyuaet menya rebenok. Ya dolshna yehat' k nemu_God calls me child...I must go. He granted me life and it is His to take away. I should have died in the camps but He sent your father to save me...so you could be born. You have a remarkable life ahead of you...I feel it. That was why God saved me...because of you Elliott. Don't you think otherwise...you must be strong don't let anyone push you around because you are a girl. You come from good stock...we're fighters we Russians and Irish," she smiled.
"Then ye fight it Mam...live!"
"One cannot fight the will of God, sweetheart."
"Then why should we fight to do anything... if it's always God's will?"
"NO...you fight! YOU be strong! God gave us free will...so you be a fighter and never give up. You know what is right and what is wrong...I taught...you...
There was a long pause as her mother's breathing became labored..."I love you," she whispered as her voice faltered.
Elliott noticed the tips of her fingers had begun to turn blue...and she took hold of her mother's hand. Her eyes were open, but un-blinking now...then her breathing became shallower and shallower, until it stopped.
"I love you mama. I promise I won't give up...I'll be strong." she leaned over, kissing her mother on the cheek.
Illya Kuryakin abandoned his lunch in the commissary at head quarters...the constant bombardment of this happy mother's day wishes being said around him was finally too much for him to take. He had volunteered to work the day in communications to give those who had children or who wished to visit their mother's the day off...and he thinking he could escape it.
The preponderance of holidays that were celebrated in this country generally left him bemused...but more often simply neutral. Napoleon had tried many times to include him in the different celebrations over the years...Christmas, Thanksgiving...but he always felt out of place...he felt like an outsider looking in...these were not his ways. But with Elliott and Demya in his life... he was beginning to feel more like he belonged now...
But this one, this...'mother's day' always left him upset and unsettled. Though he had wonderful memories of his mother from his childhood...his witnessing her horrible death at the hands of the Nazis always returned to haunt him...it was a trauma from which he would probably never recover.
It upset him greatly when he realized that he was having trouble remembering his mother's face...her image was a memory belonging to that of an eight year old child... and she died ten days after his eighth birthday. He had no photographs, no grave to visit...only his fading memory of her face, and it hurt him that there was now only this vague, shadowy image her in his mind.
Illya retreated to his office; locking the door behind him as he sat on the leather sofa, leaning his head in his hands, rubbing the tears from his eyes. He tried desperately so envision her in his mind...but it was just a blur now. "Ya tebya lyublyu mama_ I love you mama," he sobbed." Ya skuchayu po tebe_I miss you..."
He wiped away his tears...chiding himself for his self pity; reminding himself that this day was for Elliott now...she gave him such a beautiful son and he needed to let her know how much that meant to him.
He resolved not to repeat his thoughtlessness of prior year... even though he had abandoned her at home to work the shift; he would do something special for her...bringing her some of her favorite flowers, white roses and lilies... and take her out to where ever it pleased her to go. This day should be about her now...and not about his brooding Russian thoughts...
Yes...he would do better this year...
Napoleon Solo sat at the helm of his 30 ft. sailboat christened the "Independence;' relishing the freedom it gave him as it glided across the waters of the sound; the sun warming him as the wind blew in his face.
But what he cherished more was the fact that his mother sat beside him...it was just the two of them. A rare peaceful moment of indulgence for both of them to bask in together...away from the family.
He wanted to give his mother a break from them, even for a brief time. She was always caught in the middle of it all...the arguments the pettiness...the distant coldness of his father...
Napoleon had not spent much time with her or much less the family in a long while and had resolved to keep her all to himself, just being a little greedy.
It was still chilly for May as he glanced over at her; wrapping her bulky sweater around herself.
"Are you warm enough mom...you can have my windbreaker if you need it?"
"No dear...I'm fine..."
Napoleon took his jacket off anyway, placing it on his mother's shoulders, knowing that she would be freezing and not utter a word of complaint.
"Thank you son...that is better," she smiled at him
"Come on mom," he smiled," you take the helm...steer her for a bit?"
"Oh Napoleon, I'm not that strong!" she laughed.
He loved his mother's laughter...so gentle and soft.
"Come on mom...I'll help you?"
She stood up putting her hands on the wheel as her son stood behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her, his body warming her as he leaned in helping to steer.
"Happy Mother's Day," he whispered into her ear, then gave her a kiss on the cheek."I love you mom."
On the veranda of a large house in Connecticut...
Estelle Waverly sat sipping a cup of tea with her husband Alexander.
He presented her with large bouquet of two dozen long-stem red roses...and a box of her favorite sweets, Turkish delight.
She blushed like a young school girl. "All this fuss...motherhood is just part of life. Just doing my part as we used to say!"
"Now now, my dear...you deserve more than just a day...flowers, trifles and such. You managed to raise our wonderful children no thanks you me...always being away working my un-godly hours. How did you ever put up with me all these years?" he smiled at her.
"You do what has to be done Alex...just as I had to do what had to be done...is there a 'happy continental chief day? Do you get special attention for doing your job? All this bother...is really quite unnecessary."
Alexander Waverly laughed at his wife's logic as he lit his pipe; taking a long drag on it...he let out a long puff, making a little ring of smoke in the air.
"Oh I do love that scent Alex...reminds me of when we were young... you'd be puffing on that pipe of yours while we took those long walks through Hyde park..."
"Yes Estelle those were wonderful times...never the less my darling...happy mother's day. I love you my dearest."
He leaned over, taking his wife in his arms, giving her a long kiss on the lips...
"Oh Alexander...you still haven't lost your charm!" she laughed, returning his embrace.
He offered her his arm..."Would you care to take a stroll Mrs. Waverly?"
FINIS
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY MOM!
MISS YOU... I LOVE YOU