‘You’re a very kind girl,’ Maggie said, with a slight nod of the head. ‘Thank you dear. Are you having a nice birthday?’
Grace noticed that Maggie’s distinctive duck-egg blue eyes seemed lost in distant thoughts, small pools of water gathered at the corners. She pulled up a small, plastic yellow stool to sit closer to her. ‘Are you OK Maggie? Is it too noisy for you, or too cold maybe? I can close the window if you’d like. Or how about a nice cup of tea to go with that cake?’
The old lady simply smiled and brushed a crumb from her lap. ‘Did I ever tell you that it snowed the day you were born?’
Grace laughed. ‘You did Maggie. Snow in April hey! Who would believe it?’
Maggie often told the story of how it snowed the day Grace was born; a brilliant, pink snow of cherry blossom that fell in a blizzard from the trees outside the hospital, dancing and whirling in the brisk, spring breeze, drifting around the cars parked outside. She had a particular fascination with the annual spectacle of the blossom trees bursting into life with their colourful blooms; loved to watch the blossom fall. ‘Like the prettiest snowflakes,’ she would comment, ‘or a bride’s confetti.’ She said it reminded her. Nobody knew what it reminded her of.
‘Come here,’ the old lady whispered, patting the seat next to her on the sofa, her eyes twinkling now with a sense of mischief. ‘There’s something I want to tell you.’
Grace laughed. She found Maggie so charming; cheeky, unassuming and direct. She was almost childlike in these latter years of her life, particularly since her husband James, Grace’s great-grandfather, had died a few years ago. Grace sidled up to her conspiratorially. ‘What,’ she whispered back to her, ‘What is it? Do you want another slice of cake?’
Maggie slapped her playfully on the wrist. ‘No, I do not want another slice of cake. I want to tell you a secret.’ She had Grace’s full attention now. ‘Now you listen to me, because this is important. Are you still writing those stories of yours?’
Grace looked down at her feet, guilty almost for her response. ‘Well, not so much. Not since Dad died really. Everyone’s been too sad for me to write anything.’
‘And what about that college you were enjoying so much, and that boyfriend of yours? When are you going back to them?’
Grace was surprised. Maggie had never really spoken to her about this before. She didn’t think she would have even remembered Jimmy, it was so long since she had spoken about him, or since anyone from the family had seen him. Since her father’s accident, she had blocked Jimmy out, hadn’t returned his phone calls or letters. Even they had stopped after the first six months. She’d thought about him often, had wanted to get in touch so badly, but something stopped her. Something deep within her was too afraid to let him back into her life, to let herself love him as she had loved her father, unable to bear the thought of feeling that unbearable pain of loss ever again in her life. So she had done the only thing she could and had blocked him out completely and tried to forget him.
‘I don’t know Maggie. Maybe I’ll go back. One day, when mom is better.’
The old lady studied her intently. ‘You know, I left my home when I was around your age. I left people I loved and cared about, but I had no choice. I had to leave, had to come here to find a better life. Your mom doesn’t want you moping around here forever. Maybe you should pick up your notebook and your boyfriend’s phone number and go get on with your life.’ This was said as much as an order as a hypothetical question. Grace knew she was right. She’d been trying to find the right time to talk to her mother about the possibility of returning to college, but the right moment never seemed to come.
‘Anyway,’ Maggie continued, ‘I’ve a story to get you writing again, a story I’ve never told to anyone except your great-grandfather, God rest his soul.’ She paused then, to take a bite from her cake. Grace waited patiently, conscious of the fact that some of the guests were starting to leave. ‘Do you know what the date is today Grace?’
Grace chuckled, nudging her gently on the arm. ‘It’s my birthday. April fifteenth.’
‘Ah yes, but do you know what else happened on this day? A long time ago?’
Grace thought for a moment. Had she missed someone’s birthday, or a significant anniversary? She couldn’t think of anything. ‘I don’t know? What?’
Maggie paused again. She took a deep breath. Something about her expression had changed, her shaking hands stilled, her eyes searching deeply into those of her great granddaughter.