Clara never knew how she and Victor managed to raise such a bright boy. Both had left school after Year9, thanks to generous teachers. Everyone has his own gifts, as they say; Clara could turn any seed into a blossom within a week, while Victor seemed to have the Midas touch with his hands.
They had four children eldest Mary, then second daughter Nora, followed by twin boys born on the same day Sam and Paul. Paul was the orange slice of the family, speaking before he was three and outshining even Nora. When he started school, teachers were astonished he could read, write and multiply, so they moved him straight to the second form.
It might have seemed unfair to the other children, but Paul was Claras special project he was exempt from chores and got whatever he asked for, be it books or a microscope. Even during the hard 1990s, when the country was in turmoil and Claras life fell apart losing her husband and her trusted helper Maggie in a single year she never stopped supporting her son, sending him to the city for further study.
The world will never repay you, Clara, the neighbours would say as they watched Sam hauling water from the pump, Nora pulling potatoes in the garden, and Paul sitting in the shade on a bench reading a book. Do you think hell bring you a glass of water when hes old? Hell leave and thatll be the end of it.
Just wait and see, Clara retorted. I do what I think is right.
The children also complained.
Why should I be chopping wood while he solves equations? Sam would ask.
Sit down and try it if you like, Clara would smile.
Sam would pick up a textbook, stare at it for a few minutes, then shut it with a sigh and say, Nonsense, Id rather be out chopping wood!
But the one who felt most resentful was Nora. She openly rebelled against Pauls privileged status, constantly trying to play tricks on him throwing his notebook into the fire, slipping a rotten egg into his boot.
You always get the best slice, shed shout. And when he goes away hell abandon you, shed repeat the neighbours words.
When Paul left for university, the house grew quieter. Clara clung a bit more to her youngest son. At first he wrote long letters describing his studies, which were foreign and puzzling to Clara. Over time the letters grew fewer and his visits rarer the neighbours predictions seemed true. It pained Clara, though she never showed it. Still, Paul graduated and became a respectable man.
Nora married a farmer from the neighbouring village. Her husband, Arthur, never impressed Clara he was a dreamer, always inventing new schemes to get rich, and always losing money. He had just dreamed up a bakery, but the bank wouldnt give him a loan.
Sam stayed at home and wasnt in a hurry to marry, though there were plenty of suitable girls.
Mother, I could use a bit of leisure! Im thinking of buying a car. Not a cheap clunker, but a proper foreign model. Can you picture me in a sleek sedan?
Clara sighed, What kind of car, Sam? Youre just like our old neighbour, Arthur. Stop daydreaming and get to work
That was her way of nudging him. Sam took a job as a farmhand, repaired the house so it looked like something out of a magazine, and worked as a tractor driver, often finding clever shortcuts. Clara never complained she had a good son.
As for Paul, Clara hadnt heard from him in a year. The last letter said he had gone off to earn money, but where? No one knew.
One day a brandnew shiny car pulled up at the gate. Clara imagined someone lost, asking for directions, but the engine roared so loudly that hope sparked in her heart. She opened the gate and walked to the road.
Standing by the car was Paul. She recognized him at once, even though she hadnt seen him in two years. He looked just like her late Victor tall, broadshouldered, with golden curls. He was handsome, and the neighbours peered from their windows, eager to see that Paul hadnt forgotten his mother.
Clara rushed to him, embraced him tightly. Youre my own flesh and blood, not in vain, she whispered.
Sam greeted his brother with a hint of envy. Nice car youve got, he said.
Thats not my car, Paul replied cheerfully.
Then whose is it? Sam asked, a little calmer.
Yours, Paul said, handing Sam the keys. Take it, Ive already sorted the paperwork with the solicitor.
Sam looked at their mother, who smiled. Thanks, brother, he said, a little embarrassed. But its rather expensive!
It isnt more valuable than family, Paul answered. Wheres Nora?
Noras married, Clara hurried to explain. She lives in the next village. Her husband is a hardworking man, theyll have a good future
Married, you say? Then lets visit her. Sam, take us in that new car.
Nora met them, a bit flustered, and her husband Arthur immediately started bragging about his upcoming bakery and how they would soon be prosperous.
Talk, Arthur, youve not even got a loan for a bakery, Nora snapped. Dont listen to him, Paul, hes just a dreamer.
Paul smiled. Well sort out the bakery, no problem. Tell me how much you need and Ill transfer the money.
Arthur stared at Paul, skeptical. Hed already heard from his wife that her brother was an ungrateful slacker.
Meanwhile Paul pulled a small red box from his pocket and handed it to Nora.
This is for you, Nora.
She opened the tiny case carefully. Inside lay exquisite gold earrings set with emeralds that matched her eyes. She gasped and tried them on, turning before a mirror.
Thank you, Paul. Ive been begging Arthur for earrings and all he ever gave me was a meat grinder!
Clara stood, quiet and happy. She imagined Paul might bring her a gift too perhaps a pair of earrings or a bracelet. Or maybe a washing machine.
But Paul gave nothing, until Nora mentioned that their mother would soon be released from the hospital after giving birth. Paul said, Just for a short while, Nora. Ill take Mom with me, if she wants to come.
Clara looked at him, stunned. Take me with you? Where? How?
I dont know What about the house?
What house? Sam will live there, bring in a new lady. I miss you, Mother, Im lonely without you. Come with me. If you dont like it, you can go back.
Clara didnt know what to think. Her whole life her marriage, her home, her memories lay behind her, but her beloved son was offering a completely new, unknown future. She wondered what Victor would say.
She imagined her late husband at the doorway, hat askew, calloused hands folded on his chest.
Whats the point of fretting, Clara? You raised him for a better life. Its time you see it for yourself, otherwise youll never know whether it was all worth it.
Clara smiled and replied, Why not take the journey?
And so she stepped forward, learning that loves true measure is not how much you cling to the past, but how courageously you embrace the unknown, for every ending holds the seed of a new beginning.
