"Hello.............Is This Maeve?" Part 3

Maeve sat in silence, in her pretty kitchen, comfortably listening to the steady ticking of Da's old clock. She'd gotten a pretty good night's sleep, considering the topsy turvy developments of the last week or so. Just when she'd gotten used to a brand new half sister, it looked like a brand new half brother was about to be delivered. So to speak. Since he was living in Scotland, it was easy to pick a time and place. Maeve reached down and sipped a little more tea from her pretty china cup and slathered some of her home made Grape Jelly on a chewy slice of toasted sourdough bread, a light breakfast.

But how could this be? Why had her mother never mentioned a son? That was a pretty big piece of family history left to wither on the vine. If it wasn't for Morag and her talent and nosiness, probably none of these events would ever have gotten off the ground. But Ruby was over the moon, so there was some good in it. And it's hard to fight blood, since Wallace, the new long lost son of Siobhan, had no knowledge of Maeve either.

It seemed she came from a family of secrets, both her mother's and her father's.

In a small way, Maeve was starting to kind of enjoy it all a little bit. She wasn't getting any younger, and surely there'd be no more surprises to shock her into action. But this last shock was a dandy. She realized, as most children do at some point in their lives, that their parents had been young once, and had had a life before this one.

Morag had acted as a go-between to set up a meeting between Wallace and Maeve the following week. This time, Ruby would accompany her Mom to an Inn North of their own village. It had been a long time since Maeve had taken any time to herself. She had finished up all the final affairs (an apt word, considering the circumstances.....) for her father, and as main caregiver for her mother, she was anxious to have a change of scenery. The day arrived.

Maeve and Ruby sat nervously in an intimate cafe, awaiting the arrival of Wallace. They would know his face, as they'd spoken to him on Face Time. And it didn't take long.

A distinguished older gentleman stood at the door, his eyes adjusting to the dim light inside. Maeve was surprised at how old he seemed, because it was unmistakably Wallace. But of course, Siobhan had given birth to him while still a child herself, so again, Maeve was looking at an older sibling.

But Ruby's smile was radiant.

Wallace removed his fedora and sort of waved it in their direction, and they acknowledged him. He came over to sit at their table.

At first he said nothing, he was visibly choked up. And then they all started talking at the same time.

Ruby thanked him for coming. Wallace spoke of how beautiful she was, his one and only, and brand new niece.

And Maeve had to admit, she had a warm reaction to his voice. His voice held that musical brogue common to the Scottish Highlands. It brought back such clear memories of her father. And her Mother too, that lilting voice. It was endearing, how could she not like him?

Indeed.

They spoke of ordinary things. Wallace was a retired history professor who taught at the University of Edinburgh. He had been married to a local girl who had passed away recently and had two sons, so right off the bat, cousins for Ruby. She was thrilled! He brought out his phone to show a few pictures of a handsome family. There would be time to get to know them later.

For now, he had questions about his mother, how could he not.

How old was she now?

Was she well?

Could he meet her, not to upset her, but perhaps she might have given him a thought once or twice.................

And of course, time was of the essence now, as Siobhan was in her final years, and in poor health. And it went unsaid that she had never mentioned a son. Never. Until that out of the blue comment. Innocent enough, but loaded at the same time.

Maeve wouldn't want the shock of meeting a long ago given up child to be the end of her Ma. But for some reason, she had mentioned that name, as if she was talking to Randall, so how could that be ignored?

Not on Morag's watch.

Two days later, Wallace would make the trip south to meet his birth mother. To say they were nervous would be an understatement.

Nervous.

Excited.

And hoping for the best, since no one knew when Siobhan might be having a good day or a bad. Or if indeed, this was even possible.

The staff were alerted that a special meeting was coming, and they did their best to make sure she had a nice lunch, a rest, and was looking her best.

Maeve and Ruby came in first, followed by Wallace, and Morag was in tow, too nosy to stay away. She couldn't imagine missing out on a good story.

Siobhan looked so pretty, sitting in her favorite chair that faced the garden outside her window, and she had a big smile for her daughter and granddaughter.

Then she looked up at this strange man, a little confused. So Ruby stepped in to make an introduction.

"Granny, this is our new friend Wallace, all the way from Edinburgh. He wanted to meet you."

And clear as a bell, Siobhan responded, "Wallace. Wallace, is that you?"

There were no dry eyes.

She reached out to take his shaking hand in hers. "If you're the Wallace I think you are, I have waited my whole life for this. To say I'm sorry. So sorry, I was only a child. I was in love with your father, he was such a wonderful chap, but we were so young. We couldn't look after you, and my mother won in the end and arranged to have you adopted out. Did you have a good life?"

And with a shaky voice Wallace was able to tell her a few nuggets of his happy childhood. He wanted for nothing. He had a wonderful education and career, and was able to show her pictures of her two grandsons.

"I had wonderful parents who loved me. But they never tried to keep my birth a secret, they told me everything I needed to know, if I asked. That I had two lovely parents who loved me enough to give me a better start than they could provide."

After a few short minutes, Siobhan again professed how sorry she was. How much she loved him, enough to never interfere with his family, although she never forgot him.

She was having a good day, enough to actually look forward to having a family picture taken with this new son and Maeve and Ruby. And what a striking picture it was.

There was no guessing whose son he was. Siobhan had the most shocking cornflower blue eyes, so blue that when she was in a temper or the weather was in a darkening mood outside, her eyes would become almost purple. Stormy.

And here, with the same cornflower blue eyes, was her long lost son. There was no mistaking it. The things we inherit, and the things we pass along.

As they were preparing to leave, Wallace got up some courage and slipped his hand into his coat pocket and brought out a small folded piece of paper. It was old and softened by time and he pressed it into Siobhan's hands.

"I've waited a long time to return this. Mom." The word sounded foreign on his tongue, but he knew she would be happy, and he could see she was failing.

So the staff stepped in to help Siobhan back to her bed, she was quite tired. And her company filed out, in silence. The air was pregnant was unspoken thoughts.

No one asked Wallace what the paper was, it seemed something private. A birth certificate perhaps.

The next morning, Maeve received an early phone call from the home. Her mother had passed away peacefully in her sleep. It was not a surprise, but shocking at the same time.

Maeve was now an orphan, after all these years. And whether Siobhan was doing the Highland Fling up in Heaven with Randall, was anybody's guess. She was at peace.

She hurried to the home to see her mother one last time before there was another funeral to plan. She lay in her bed, completely relaxed and if she didn't know any better, Maeve would have said she was sleeping. Meeting Wallace must have finished the puzzle of her life, that treasured piece that was missing. And for Wallace, what an immeasurable gift, to have made her acquaintance, even briefly.

But she was not sleeping, and the funeral director had already arrived to start the final services, he was so kind and patient.

The nurses had packed up a few of Siobhan's last belongings and brought to Maeve's attention a small folded piece of paper that she held in her hand as she died. She recognized it as the paper that Wallace had passed to their mother. She unfolded it slowly and tears came to her eyes as she read the private letter, written decades earlier by a scared teenaged Siobhan, to her newborn son.

"Dear Wallace, I am so sorry for giving you up. But no one would help me, and I couldn't keep you. I hope your new home will be wonderful and I hope they will let you use the name I am giving you. If we never meet, please know how much I love you and that my heart is breaking.

Love, your mother, Bonnie"

And it came full circle. All these years Wallace had rightfully assumed his mother's name was Bonnie. He had never looked for anyone named Siobhan.

He couldn't have known that his birth father used the short form of "Siobhan" as his special name for the girl he loved so much.

"Bonnie"