Tim padded into the sitting room, tea and biscuits in hand. Shelagh had buried her face in Angela's hair and was sobbing quietly. She didn't look up when Tim sat down next to her. It was only when he put his arms around her and squeezed tight that she looked up. She moved Angela to her hip and patted his hand.
"It's not your job to take care of me Tim," She said softly. He only hugged her tighter.
"Yes it is," he was adamant, "Dad said to, and anyway, I think I owe you after all the times you've been there for me." She tutted and put her free arm around him, stroking his hair as he rested his head on her shoulder. Just as she had done when he had polio. In the hospital. Afterwards, if he fell over, and she had propped him up, and he had cried angry, frustrated tears. She had done the same then.
"You don't owe me a thing," She scolded lightly. "I'm your mother."
"You were looking after me long before you were my mother." He liked being right. Always the smart answer, and she loved him for that. She sighed, she wanted so badly to give him an equally smart response, but it was hard to feel up to it.
"Maybe I was only doing it to snare your father." Her voice was weak still, but there was a feeble hint of humour running through it. At least it made Tim laugh.
They sat in silence for a while longer, and every time Tim heard her sob he tightened his grip around her, buried his face deeper into her shoulder. Reminded her he was there. But she couldn't help feeling guilty for it. Some part of her called out. You should be mourning with your sisters, it said. But you cant. You abandoned them. You abandoned her, and now she's gone.
"Of all my sisters," she finally said, "She took the longest to accept me. She was so worried, that I was too young, my attachment to God might be fleeting." She felt herself chocking up again. "And in the end it was." Timothy shifted his position, letting her rest on his shoulder now, and with him stroking her hair. He was so brave, she thought, just the same sort of kindness as his father, the decisive, determined sort. She got the impression he wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, but that wouldn't stop him trying.
"She brought me into the world. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but every time you make me tea, help me with my homework, tell me off for not wearing a scarf," He smiled when he felt her chuckle at that. "Every time you do that, you're taking care of something she started. I might not be the towering bastion of common sense and hard work she was, and I know I don't really understand your relationship with her. But, if it helps, I would like to be a link. A connection to her, now she's gone." And with that speech, Shelagh found enough strength to sit up, and took his hand firmly in hers.
"I cant tell if you just instinctively say the right thing, or if you know full well how smart you are."
"Must be the former," He chuckled, "If it was the latter, I'd be using it to get more pocket money." She smiled at that, a real smile, not the bittersweet attempts and half smiles she had made earlier.
"I don't know about that. You know how seriously Sister Evangelina took poverty and charity." She sat up and took her tea, it wasn't quite lukewarm yet, they'd got to it just in time. "I've half a mind to dock it in her honour, or make you donate half of it to the parish fund." Tim rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.
"If that's what I get for being sensitive." She laughed and leaned against him a little. He was so tall now, she'd stated having to put her arms under, rather than over his when she hugged him.
"Come on," She decided, "Lets drink this tea, and then I'll head into the surgery." You could see on her face that inside her head, her mental planner was open. Check the mail, send away the order for a new prescription book, check in on the mothers in the maternity home.
"Tim," she asked, "Could you take Angela for a walk? I'll give you some money to pick up a pastie for each of us from the bakers, and maybe even a cake each, I think I'll deserve one if I can keep going all day without an ill timed outburst of tears."
"of course, I assume you want an eclair," He said with mock disgust.
"I'm sure they'll put it in a separate bag for you, and get your father a jam tart, I know he shares your irrational fear of eclairs." I am so happy, she thought. Do I really deserve to be this happy? She's gone. But then, it was as Tim had said, this new life she had found was inextricably linked to her sister, and the best way to honour her was to live it, and enjoy it to its fullest.