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Chapter 118: Maternal Instincts
"Children are the sum of what mothers contribute to their lives." – Unknown
"A woman has two smiles that an angel might envy, the smile that accepts a lover before words are uttered, and the smile that lights on the first born babe, and assures it of a mother's love." – Thomas C. Haliburton
"A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path." – Agatha Christie
"A mother understands what a child does not say." – Jewish Proverb
"Advice is like snow; the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and deeper it sinks into the mind." – Samuel Taylor Coleridge
"There are three things in speech that ought to be considered before some things are spoken--the manner, the place and the time." – Southey
"Amélie!" Sydney said, embracing the woman in a hug, "We didn't think you were coming until later today – in the afternoon sometime..." Sydney silently thanked herself for finishing their playful escapade before his mother decided to drop in early.
"Well, I got an early start, so I thought, why wait?" Amélie said cheerfully. Then her tone lowered, "Plus, I've been worried about Michael, so...I wanted to see him..."
"Yeah, he's been having a tough time...I need to talk to you about that too...remind me later, ok?"
"Of course, is...is there something wrong?"
"Well...no...it's just not going to get any easier the next few days..."
"You have me worried even more now Sydney..."
"Let's just go in there, you can see him and we'll talk while making lunch or something – OH! Crap – Tom's coming over too...he'll be here any minute."
"Oh, yes, I remember you mentioning that...a check-up...or..."
"Yeah, check-up...but Vaughn has that infected wound...and Tom's coming over to look at that too...decide what we should do about it..."
"Of course...is it a bad infection?"
"Yeah...well...I mean it's not good...but we don't think it's systemic..."
"That's a relief..."
"Yeah, but I think Tom's still going to give him an antibiotic...just because it's not healing fast enough..."
"Well perhaps that's best."
"Yeah, I think so...come on," Sydney said motioning for Amélie to follow her, "Let me take your coat," Sydney said, taking it from her and hanging it in the closet.
Vaughn was rather surprised, but pleasantly to see his mother instead of Tom, "MOM!" he said happily, "You're early..." he looked over at Sydney and shared a "whew" glance before his mother came over and gave him a generous hug and a kiss on the head. Sydney went out for a few moments, letting mother and son talk.
"Bonjour Michel..." she said, her hand lingering on his cheek, "Je me suis inquiétée pour toi." (I've been worried about you).
He smiled at her as she backed up and sat in the chair next to bed.
"How have you been?" she asked, slipping back into English.
He knew that had to be a bad sign, "Uh...ok...well...since the last time you were here, I guess not so 'ok,' but it's been getting better..."
"Yeah...and how is the therapy?" Amélie asked carefully.
Vaughn's eyes narrowed for a moment, but then they changed back to normal, "Uh...it's fine..."
"Fine?" she prodded.
"It's not a picnic, but..."
"Is it helping?"
"I don't know..." Vaughn replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"Michael," she said, "What's wrong?"
He sighed, he wasn't sure who was worse – his mother or Sydney, they both knew him too well, "Nothing mom..."
"Don't lie to me Michael..."
"There's a lot mom..."
She looked at him for a moment, "Do you remember when I would spout random lines of poetry and prose to you as a child?"
He smiled, "Yes of course."
"Ok...well here is another one. Since you won't tell me, I'll have to guess, but you tell me if I'm on target. William Osler once said, Something like that 'Banish the future; live only for the hour and its allotted work. Think not of the amount to be accomplished, the difficulties to be overcome, but set earnestly at the little task at your elbow, letting that be sufficient for the day; for surely our plain duty is not to see what lies dimly at a distance, but to do what lies clearly at hand.' Michael?" she asked looking at him.
He smiled, "Something like that, yeah mom. Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," she said, looking at him like only a mother could.
"You have a rather...observant point of view of this house, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like you can look at things objectively..."
"Yes, I believe so..."
"Does Sydney seem angry to you? Or frustrated?"
"No, not at all...why do you ask?"
"Just wondering..."
"Why would you wonder that? Does she say something?"
"No...I just...I just think too much, ok? Just too much on my mind..."
"One at a time Michael," she said smiling softly.
He returned the smile.
"It's just so confusing..." he said after a long pause..."
"What is Michael?"
"The therapy – I mean...Sydney tells me one thing and Barnett says another...and I don't know which one to believe...and some of the stuff that Barnett says – it's true I think...despite what Sydney tells me...because she loves me..."
"And she's not as objective as Dr. Barnett?"
"Right..."
"Well...then I'd probably be biased too Michael..."
"But you're not here like 24/7 like she is..."
"No, but I have a vested interest in your well-being..."
"Well yeah, but..."
"I'm honest Michael...and I don't ever notice any frustration or anger – maybe worry, but not anger or frustration."
"What about Will and Francie?"
"No Michael, they've never exhibited any signs of it either..."
Vaughn shook his head, suddenly realizing that he was going to try to stop the thoughts for at least the duration of his mother's stay. He smiled suddenly, changing the subject completely, "How's the garden? And why don't I have a painting of it here since I can't see it at the moment?"
"Michael..." Amélie warned, knowing full well that his thoughts on the matter and the questions he'd just asked were far from gone.
"No, mom, really...I don't want to talk about it anymore...I can't...not now..."
Amélie gave him a stern mother look, but like Sydney, she couldn't force him to talk either.
There was a short silence; son and mother's eyes dueling in the same kind of fire before Vaughn finally asked again, "How is your garden?"
Amélie waited a moment, but then answered, "It's good Michael...the wisteria is beyond belief – it's pretty much out of control..."
Vaughn smiled, nodding for her to continue.
"I added a new small plot to the north corner and planted some daylilies – it adds some nice contrast to the California poppies I had over there last year – it was a little much all that orange at the end of the plot – so I extended it."
"Good plan..." Vaughn remarked, seeming genuinely interested, "Did you landscape that part by the tree yet?"
"Yes I did," Amélie said smiling.
"I'm sorry..."
"Why?" she asked.
"I was supposed to help you with that..."
"Michael, I'm perfectly capable of landscaping myself – and you're injured...besides, there's always the plot next to the shed..."
He smiled, "When are you going to do that one?"
"Whenever you're better..."
"So you're going to wait for that one?"
"Yes I am..." Amélie said with a smile.
Vaughn smiled back, "How are the rest of the wildflowers? You had problems with weeds last year, right?"
"Oh the weeds were terrible. Every time I pulled one, another sprouted, I swear, in the same place I had just pulled it from...they haven't been as bad this year...and the wildflowers are just beautiful..."
"Tell me..." he said smiling like a little boy.
"Michael, you'd love it in the morning – it's just a breathtaking scene...all the different colors and smells...truly a natural art form.
"Have you painted any of them?"
She smiled, "Of course..."
"Well then, tell me now, and the next time you come, you can bring the paintings and I can see them..."
"I should have brought them with me today, but I didn't know we'd be talking flowers today Michael."
"No, it's ok...I just...I'd like to see it..."
She smiled again, "Should I continue?"
"Yes," he said enthusiastically.
Amélie smiled at him yet again; sometimes the things he said or the looks he gave her were just like it had been when he was a child. She mused momentarily when thinking how much his maturity level had changed over the years. Now, he was asking about the flowers, about her gardens, her paintings. It wasn't all that long ago when she had to chase him out of the garden after he'd trampled some of the flowers or the one time he took every sunflower in the garden to try to get the seeds out.
She pulled herself out of her thoughts to continue to tell him, "I think I have everything this year – it's quite amazing...it's like a veritable carpet of color, a rainbow of soft buds and plants...with the occasional oddity that makes it a centerpiece. Goldfields, coreopsis, lupines, bluebells and baby blue-eyes, evening primroses, lilies, suncups, blanketflower, catchflys, cactus flower, chollas, Spanish needles, Orcutt's aster, phacelia, thistle sage, popcorn flower, and I have got some desert candles this year. It's quite a site...really..."
"It sounds beautiful mom, and I'm sure you've captured it beautifully," he said with a proud smile.
"Oh, you have to say that...but you haven't seen the painting yet..."
"I'm sure it's great mom..."
Sydney entered the room then, cutting Vaughn and Amélie's talk, but only had her foot in the room for a few seconds before the doorbell rang again. She smiled apologetically at Amélie and Vaughn, "Probably Tom," she said as she turned around and walked back to the front door.
