A/N: Thanks for your reviews!
XXX
The call from Jinx didn't come until Sunday night. Mary had been starting to wonder if George had given in to his pre-proposal jitters and called it off, but her Blackberry sang its sweet tune in just over twenty-four hours from their visit, and then it was all official. Jinx was breathless and tearful on the other end, not giving Mary time to get a word in edgewise. She made a spontaneous decision to come out to her and Marshall's to celebrate, inviting Brandi, Peter, and Jesse along for the ride. Refusing would've done no good; her mother was filled to the proverbial brim with giddy, girlish glee.
And so, Mary had her house far fuller than it usually was on a Sunday evening while glasses of sparkling cider were passed around along with some box of fancy crackers Marshall dug up. He'd practically forced his wife to give up her wedge of expensive cheese she'd purchased for Stan's retirement so they'd have something to put on them.
Oddly, the oldest daughter found herself watching the frivolity from afar – Marshall, Peter, and George making light conversation, Jinx and Brandi fawning over bridal magazines, Sam and Jesse teaching Mark to play that stupid card game – Spit or Sputter or Spat or whatever it was. Fortunately, when her phone rang it gave her an excuse to remove herself, since she wasn't engaging much anyway.
"Hello?" she answered once she made her way into the kitchen, her absence not even noticed.
There were dirty plates of crumby crackers on the counter, Sam's and Jesse's empty cider glasses nearby.
"Hi honey; how are you?" asked the voice on the other end.
Mary felt a grin escape without even thinking about it as she took the plates and cups to the sink. She hadn't been sad exactly, more subdued. She still felt all right with everything starting to shift, but sometimes it was a lot all at once, even when she made the effort. Carolyn continually put her at ease, and it was then she realized she'd felt the same way the other day, and with this thought came another.
"I'm sorry; I forgot to call you back," she didn't even say hello, resolving not to wash the dishes until she was off the phone. "When we talked…" she leaned with her back to the counter, trying to remember. "…Whatever…day that was…" she finished like the self-absorbed daughter-in-law she was at the moment.
"…Sorry," she offered again.
"Oh, please; as if I don't know the routine," Carolyn continued breezily. "And you didn't actually say you would call me back, you just told me to hold my thought, which I did, thank-you very much," she boasted, sounding just like Marshall. "Not as easy as it sounds when you get to be my age."
If Mary were the type, she'd tell Carolyn she wasn't of a certain age – mostly because she didn't like to think of her that way – but she wasn't, and the woman knew it was implied.
"I knew you'd be able to store it in there somewhere," Mary said, completely tuning out the gathering in the living room. "What thought are we talking about?"
She couldn't even remember what they'd been discussing, and Carolyn chuckled at her being the one with the impaired recall.
"Well, let's start with this," her voice went on through the speaker. "How is Mr. Jesse?" she inquired. "Still struggling to get up the mountain?"
"Uh…kind of…" Mary relayed, the prior conversation coming back a little bit better now. "Brandi and Peter are back; they're here right now, actually."
"On a Sunday night?" Carolyn knew the workings of their schedule way too well.
"Well…" Mary shrugged, and then realized Carolyn couldn't see her. "Long story," she didn't feel like breaking the news just yet, although she would before banter's-end. "We were talking about Jesse," she interjected quickly to get back on track. "Didn't you say…?"
"That I had the perfect person to talk to him, yes," her mother-in-law finished, and Mary could just picture her nodding in approval.
"It was…" Mary's eyes strayed to the action beyond very briefly, seeing how pleased Jesse was to be spending time with Sam. "It was really nice of you to think about him," she clued back in, trying to focus. "You didn't have to."
They weren't even blood relatives – not even close. He wasn't even Marshall's nephew by blood, so Carolyn's branch on the family tree extended even further out, but she had forever insisted Mary's family was her own. She'd never given up that trait; her loyalty, her convictions always amazed Mary. She'd searched her whole life for someone like that.
"Oh, it's not like it was a strenuous effort…" Carolyn gusted on easily. "He's a very sweet boy; he reminds me a lot of…"
She paused in thought while Mary waited.
"…Well, of who I thought he could chat with actually," she advised with a kind, light laugh. "Which is Claire."
It was perfect. And so perfectly obvious, Mary couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it herself. Maybe because she wasn't like Carolyn in that she didn't consider Brandi and the brood part of Marshall's extended family, but she really should.
Claire, who had to be upwards of fifteen these days, had always had that understated sparkle and appeal that got her by but didn't get her noticed. She, like her grandmother, always took care to express interest in Mary and her relations. She knew she'd be more than happy to play mentor to Jesse, even if it just came in the form of a few phone calls now and again.
"That's brilliant," Mary breathed without preamble. "You surpass Marshall with that kind of thinking."
Carolyn laughed again and spouted at once, "As it ever, the God is bringing like and like together."
Mary smirked, not knowing the reference but knowing it referred to those who meshed between Mann's, Shannon's, and Alpert's – Carolyn and Marshall, Claire and Jesse. Sometimes comparisons could be used to unite rather than divide.
"It's Homer, the Odyssey," Carolyn reported when Mary didn't respond. "One of Marshall's favorites from high school."
"I don't doubt it," Mary said, still smirking.
"Anyway," Carolyn cut in swiftly, reverting back to her idea. "I thought Claire and Jesse would make great little tag-team buddies over the phone. She's always been a little bit of a late bloomer…"
Perfect.
"And she's very good with the boys; so warm and lively," the grandmother praised in her best maternal fashion. "I know…"
Carolyn's voice turned soft, just a little bit sad as it dipped in octave, but it didn't change how genuine she still was.
"I know it helps just to have another person to talk to," she whispered. "Another heartbeat chiming with yours."
Mary could've sworn her own heart teetered dangerously on the edge of cracking with this statement. She often didn't let herself think about Carolyn too much – out in Kansas, by herself, widowed with three grown sons and now four near-adult grandchildren. She hated to think someone with so much love to give had lost all outlets to pour it into. She knew she'd taken Claire under her wing as she had Mary, and her daughter-in-law was dually impressed with how sincere the young girl was turning out.
"Thank-you…" Mary murmured, not sure any other phrase would do it. "Jesse will love having something to look forward to. And I know Brandi will really appreciate it."
"Well, I like to think one good soul can do for another," Carolyn cheered up, through being overly sentimental. "I'll talk to Julian and have Claire give him a ring tomorrow. She's very punctual; I'm sure she'll want to set up future calls on a schedule," the woman laughed fondly, and Mary did too.
"How are the other kids?" Mary found herself asking, wanting to keep Carolyn on the phone after her previous statement. "Have you seen them recently?"
"Oh lord…" she breathed tenderly. "Quinn's graduating next weekend."
"From high school?" Mary was floored.
How could such a thing be possible? She remembered so well his bright, dynamic eyes, the quirky way he trailed along after Daniel, marching to the beat of his own drum. He'd only been six years old on that first fateful trip to the homeland, and suddenly Mary saw his face, his feet thudding in the dust, striving toward home plate.
"Yes-yes…" Carolyn reinforced. "I don't know where the time is going…"
"I wish we could be there," Mary found herself admitting out of nowhere.
"Not to worry; you're sending a gift," Carolyn informed her coyly, which meant Marshall had already taken care of it without Mary's knowledge.
Mary grinned and waited for the rest of the report.
"I think Sophie and Sarah get home next weekend too…"
"They're at separate schools aren't they?" Mary wanted clarified.
"Yes," she agreed. "Sarah's at K-State which is about three hours, but Sophie's at KU which is only forty-five minutes. Daniel's there too."
"He's a freshman?" Mary was trying to remember, but found she couldn't.
"A sophomore, actually," Carolyn corrected.
What? Where did the time go?
"And they're all doing just fine from what they're fathers tell me…" she plowed on without giving Mary a chance to say anything. "Hard to say though…"
The same low, reflective tone played inside her voice again and Mary sensed why this time. Suddenly, the sounds from the living room rushed back in – she'd blocked them out to listen and she heard Marshall and Peter laughing, Jinx and Brandi gushing uncontrollably at the dresses in the magazines.
"I don't see much of them these days," Carolyn admitted. "They're busy boys and girls; it's just me and the Claire Bear in our neck of the woods."
Mary felt badly for her once more, wishing she could ship Sam on a plane – Jesse too – and send them out at this very moment. Carolyn adored her grandchildren, and she proved it with her next words, not choosing to dwell on the state of affairs.
"How's my Sammy boy?"
Mary could hear her smile as she went to the fridge to see if she could unearth something else to drink besides the cider; she was getting sick of it and needed something to do with her hands.
"Disgustingly fantastic," she teased, and Carolyn laughed appropriately.
A silence fell between them while Mary came up with a Diet Coke to sip on, and Carolyn seemed to take the lack of words for uneasiness. Nothing got by her and nothing escaped her memory.
"Things are all right there?" she prompted delicately. "Guests on a Sunday night and all…"
Mary had told herself she'd spill, and she was being given the opportunity for a second time, so she might as well do it. There was nothing to be nervous about, so she wasn't sure why she'd been feeling the need to keep it to herself.
"An unexpectedly big night here at Chez Shannon," she tried to joke. "George proposed to my mother."
Carolyn reacted instantly – understated but pleased, just as Mary liked it.
"Isn't that lovely," she shared benevolently. "She must be so happy."
"Delirious would be a better word," Mary worked in another uneasy laugh as she said it. "But yes."
She took a gulp of her drink while she thought of something else to say, while she told herself over and over that she had done the right thing by letting George go through with his plan. Her happiness wasn't the only one that mattered; Jinx had held off long enough and she didn't need to be corralled by Mary's run-amok-daddy-issues any longer.
But in a phrase reminiscent of Marshall, her mother-in-law showed she understood.
"You okay, honey."
It wasn't a question. Mary kind of liked it that way. She didn't have to pretend.
"It comes and goes," she responded quietly. "But I'm getting there."
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But she was. She was getting there.
And if she was going to be truthful, she might as well have done with it. Watching the living room full with just one too many people, even if that person was harmless and genial, it still nagged at her. It was the way they looked so much alike; it was those similar features that unnerved her.
"It was also Mark's weekend with Sam, so he's hanging out too."
There was a pause, and Mary imagined Carolyn was working out just the right statement that would cover all the bases so they wouldn't have to discuss it any further than two quick sentences and be done.
"You know he loves him honey; that's all that matters."
Carolyn often used this comment or some version of it when it came to Mark, to help Mary block out all the external pieces she let invade whenever her ex came to the city. If she could just boil it down to one thing, it made those select Saturdays and Sundays a little easier.
"Yeah…" she whispered, chewing her thumbnail. "Right."
"Okay…" Carolyn segued into her conclusive tone easy as pie, having heard what was going on at the house. "I ought to let you go; you have guests to entertain…"
"Yeah, right," Mary scoffed.
Carolyn chuckled too, "Tell your mother I say congratulations."
"I will."
"And I'll make sure Claire calls Jesse tomorrow."
"Thanks," Mary said again.
"All right honey; you be good now," she advised like the mother she was. "We'll talk soon."
"Goodnight Carolyn," she murmured.
"Goodnight."
With that, she removed the phone from her ear, placing it back in her palm. She stared at the lifeless screen a moment or two, picturing Carolyn thousands of miles away maybe doing the same thing. And when she heard the sounds of her son and nephew, mother and sister, her soon-to-be-step-father, husband and brother-in-law, even a cordial ex-husband in the next room, she knew she shouldn't be disdainful. Carolyn would give her right arm for a sudden house full of people and Mary knew she should be grateful.
She was so busy being insightful; the footsteps that approached her were startling, though she managed not to jump.
Looking up, she found Jesse standing there, hands behind his back and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Absurdly, he reminded her of Stan. She remembered there was more change to come.
"Hey man," she greeted him, slipping the cell into her pocket. "What's up?"
She snuck a look at his eye; a pukey shade of yellow now, but much less impressive.
"Nothing," he shrugged. "You've been in here awhile."
"I had a call to take," she informed him. "Want a cookie?" she peered into the jar on the counter to see if there were any left.
"Sure," he agreed, and Mary handed one to him. "Who was it?" he asked, taking a bite, mumbling around the chocolate chips.
"Marshall's mom," Mary replied. "She was just checking in."
"You tell her about Jinx?" he inquired, sticking his tongue out to snag a few stray crumbs around his lips.
"I did," she nodded.
Jesse got quiet for a minute, crunching on his cookie and looking pensive about something. Mary was just glad to see him up-and-running; he was by no means out of the woods on anything but solid walls on all four sides of his life were helping to cement his world once more. Not to mention, summer vacation was on its way.
"You think I'm gonna get married?" he rose completely out of nowhere.
Mary tried not to laugh too hard, "We talking about today?" she didn't manage to hide her smile, though.
"No," he even chuckled himself. "I just meant…someday. Or you think I'll be as old as Jinx before I do?"
The scene was just too hard for Mary to picture – some faceless, grown-up Jesse with that brilliant head of blonde hair under some arch of flowers with cheesy organ music. It didn't compute – not now.
"I surely don't know, Jess," she answered truthfully. "But I hope so."
That was something she was definitely sure of. She wanted her boys to be happy.
Jesse nodded at her response, maybe not have been expecting anything better as he polished off his cookie, not taking his eyes off his aunt. But his gaze was changing, and he glanced over his shoulder at the group in the living room before he decided to speak again.
"I wanted to tell you something," he whispered furtively. "But…I didn't want the others to hear because…" he shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "Well…because I wasn't sure they'd get it."
Mary was perplexed, but knew she needed to hear him out.
"Well, spill it outlaw," she advised. "What's on your mind?"
He swallowed and glanced over his shoulder one more time, and Mary distinctly saw his eyes land on Sam once before he did indeed 'spill it.'
"I just wanted to tell you…" he began again. "That…" his cheeks went a little bit pink with embarrassment, but he didn't give in and kept on. "That I think its okay you still miss your dad."
Mary just gaped at him. He really did glean more than anybody – even she – gave him credit for. He didn't have to hear the words or be in the room to know what went on around him. He was smart. He really-really was.
"Well Jess I…" she shook her head, but wasn't sure why. "I'm really…I really don't know how I feel anymore," she was forced to admit. "It's still confusing sometimes."
Jesse shook his head too, "I know Sam said it wasn't complicated, but I think it is," he declared boldly. "I mean, I wish he'd been nicer to you and my mom but…Marshall said it's just 'stuff' you have to deal with, so…" he shrugged blandly, not finishing.
"Marshall said that?" she asked, though she didn't really need to.
"Uh-huh," he nodded again. "About how I have stuff and he has stuff and you have stuff and even Sam has stuff…"
Now 'stuff' was starting to sound silly and Jesse giggled before he gave Mary his trademark, sweet little smile. She'd missed seeing it.
"Well, I appreciate the support man," she decided to conclude. "It helps."
It did, strangely enough. Eleven years old or not, this kid had made her heart lift on more occasions than just tonight.
And the other kid who, more often than not did the exact same thing, was strolling into their circle in the abandoned kitchen, but Sam was looking much-less confident. It was odd seeing the role-reversal on the two of them – Sam evasive, Jesse casual, but it was a nice change. Who knew change could be so nice?
"Jess, I think Mark's got the hang of that game now," Mary spoke up. "Why don't you go show him up like the card shark you are?"
"Mom says we have to get home soon," he reported while Sam continued to shuffle in the background. "Since I have to go to school tomorrow after all."
"You do?" Mary hadn't heard this.
"Yeah; mom talked to the principal I guess and they don't want me to stay home now…" he shrugged. "But it's probably since I have a test and they're going to make me write a note to Tyler…"
Notes just got you in trouble, Mary thought.
But what she said was, "Well, then you'll have time for one more game. Better hurry."
"Okay," he agreed once more and jogged off, leaving Mary alone with Sam.
She was pretty sure she knew what this was about. He'd spent so much time with Mark over the weekend they hadn't been together very much, and certainly not alone. Not since their quarrel on Friday evening. She recognized the droopy, sad puppy quality of his blue eyes; the way he shifted and looked from the ground to her and back again.
"What can I do for you Smush?" she finally prompted.
He sighed, swaying a little bit, eyes straying but when he made his choice, he locked right in. It was a good thing they were by themselves.
"Mom, I never said I was sorry about…" he swallowed. "About what I said."
She gave the hallmark mom-response, "It's okay Sam. I knew what you were trying to tell me."
"Yeah, but…" he opened a little more now that Mary had given him some leeway. "Dad was really angry that I upset you so much and I know if he's gonna get that mad then…"
Granted, it sounded like he was only apologizing due to fearing Marshall's wrath, but Mary knew it was something else. Marshall being truly pissed off was a rare occurrence because he was so good at keeping his emotions in check, so when he succumbed Sam always knew he meant business.
"I mean…I know I shouldn't have said it," he prattled on without giving Mary much time to answer.
"Don't lose sleep over it," she advised. "I'm fine. You know me; I'm a tough broad. I can dish it out and take it."
He grinned appreciatively seeing her joke and she knew it was because she was playing the role she was expected to in front of her son. It was important for him to see that she had a strong exterior, even if the interior was a little bit muddled.
"I guess I just said that because I was…" Sam shrugged, attempting to explain himself in more detail. "…Well, I just thought that he was making you so miserable and…"
What other sixth grader used 'miserable' in sentence context? And yet at the same time, she knew his careless words had come from worry and she could certainly relate to that.
"I don't understand it myself sometimes, Sam," she admitted.
She reached out and patted his hair, knowing this was as affectionate as he'd want to get.
"But thanks for trying to help me figure it out."
There was nothing dishonest about that statement. It was largely for him that she was trying to press on, trying to adapt to the change, letting Marshall hold some of her most treasured artifacts.
"It's like dad said," her son continued. "I wouldn't like hearing somebody didn't want me."
Mary felt her throat go dry at these words, remembering all of her anxiety about the similarities between her and James in terms of giving your children away like they were hand-me-downs. Sam could never know such an option had been considered for him. Mary wasn't sure how that would go off, but she didn't imagine very good.
And she felt a pang of understanding for Brandi and the drug debacle. They weren't so different really, and she knew Sam wasn't the only one who should be apologizing.
"Mom…" he gazed up at her, letting her hand rest in his hair; he considered briefly but decided to go on. "You can't tell me what it is?"
Mary was thrown, letting her fingers slip away on her own. Sam rushed to explain.
"That…makes you miss him? Please?" Sam never begged. "I'd really like to know."
She could tell. And this was less of wanting to know so he could prove he was right. He wanted to know just to know – to understand, to relate. He was growing up so much.
"Sam…"
She kneeled in front of him as she had when he was a very little boy. But he was taller than she was if bent her legs this way now. He could look down at her – just slightly, but enough to make her see what a young man he was becoming.
"Let's play devil's advocate here…" she suggested, sounding like Marshall.
She kept her poker face up to the letter.
"Say…you came home one day…" she had to change it up a little. "And I was gone," she had to make it herself, not Marshall, but Sam interrupted quickly.
"Yeah, but you wouldn't do that," he claimed.
Sure she wouldn't.
"We're role-playing here, Sam," she rolled her eyes. "Work with me."
He grinned and nodded, allowing her to continue.
"You didn't have a clue where I'd gone or why I'd left," she persisted. "And here's the real kicker…"
She tried to smile too, to make this all seem very run-of-the-mill, without adoption papers flying through her head.
"Dad doesn't know either," she decided. "And I left you a note telling you how much I loved you, but I didn't leave anything for dad – or for Brandi or Jesse or Jinx."
Sam shook his head, not entirely sucked in.
"But mom…you just wouldn't do that…" he insisted. "I can't pretend…"
Mary took hold of his arm, catching his eyes in hers, making certain they were in-sync.
She whispered to him, so he'd have to lean in to hear.
"Try."
Seeing her so serious, so steadfast, Sam decided to do as told. He sighed fist, and then screwed up his face in concentration, furrowing his brows and moving his mouth from-side-to-side in thought.
"Well…" he finally said. "I guess I might wonder if something happened to you…" he offered with a shrug. "Like at work or something…"
Logical, reasonable, not uncommon in their world.
"All right," Mary nodded. "But I left you that note, which means I knew what I was doing. I couldn't predict getting hurt. I obviously went on my own."
A second sigh from her son. He'd asked, and now he was paying the price.
"I guess I'd try to think of where you might've gone," he told her. "And why you didn't tell dad about it. Or why you picked…" he paused with a bewildered look. "Me to write a letter to."
This was an interesting take, one Mary had not expected but they were getting there. It was slow and it was tedious, but they'd almost made it. Mary squeezed his forearm to guide him the rest of the way.
"What would you understand the least about me going?" she murmured softly.
She could see the comprehension dawning – see the light going on, the alarms sounding, the compassion that seeped into his clear blue eyes. He took a leaf out of her book with the single word – breathing it into her as the conception came.
"Why?"
And once he got it, the rest fell into place.
"Why didn't you stay for me? Why didn't you tell me? What did I do?" he was so intelligent. "Why didn't you come back?"
They were so close it was very easy to lean in and kiss his forehead, and she was almost amused by the perplexed look on his face at finally seeing what she did, at least in part.
"Smush, would you ever stop wondering why?" she asked. "Even if it didn't matter anymore? Even if you could never get me back?"
He was speechless as he shook his head, and the weight fluttered up and clear out of Mary's chest. It was hurt as well as love that kept Mary clinging to James, but mostly it was that fated why – she'd never know.
"Sam, of course I wouldn't do that," she reinforced, her guilt over nearly giving him away almost evaporated. "I would never want you to feel as alone as I did when my dad abandoned us."
The shaking switched to nodding, and Sam molded ever-so-slowly back into his ultra-confident self.
"He should've come back and told you," was his response.
Mary didn't know what to say but settled on, "I guess. It probably wouldn't have changed things as much as I think."
"I guess not…" Sam opted to agree.
There was still a tiny part of her son that didn't quite grasp it, just the part that saw Mary as forever miserable at the hands of his supposed-grandfather, and as he'd told Marshall, he didn't want that for her. He wanted to help now that he'd been clued in.
"Maybe you should just try to remember the things you did like about him…" he suggested. "That way he won't make you so unhappy."
It clanked Mary over the head for the second time in two days. It seemed so obvious. If she wanted to hold on, why didn't she hold on to the parts that mattered? Hell, she'd said it herself. She'd said it to Marshall.
If you can only remember the crap, what's the point of having any memories at all?
She ought to take her own advice.
Car trips in the dark, ice cream just the two of them, stale Oreo cookies, pet rocks, the picture of her with her head on his chest.
"I shouldn't idealize him, bud," she found herself saying even as the recollections flooded. "Just because he was good to me for awhile doesn't outweigh him breaking the law and dumping us."
She was trying to convince herself, not him although she knew deep down his idea would hold. All she had to do was pull in those better moments, and she could let the rest fade away.
"But at least he wasn't all bad," Sam placated her. "I shouldn't have said he didn't want you…"
He looked right at her, and even though he'd already said his piece, he obviously felt the need to get it out with a little more sincerity now that he'd heard the rest of the story.
"I'm sorry mom…" he shook his head. "I'm really sorry."
Mary stood and tousled his beautiful, downy-soft hair, and smiled at him.
"Thanks."
When he looked up at her, he was grinning slightly too. There was even a small bit of pity in his gaze, but it was so faint Mary could handle it.
"Mom…" he sighed, remembering her fear of isolation. "You know you're not alone anymore. Don't you?"
That was what he wanted her to know. She didn't have to take care of herself, or shut herself away or rely on the dead man who'd abandoned her to make her feel special.
Mary patted his hair one more time, her heart swelling with more joy than sadness.
"Yes, Sam," she assured him. "I sure do."
A/N: I hope the Sam explanation is sufficient! I actually changed it several times, so hopefully it calms the waters between him and Mary in a believable way!