Second Chance - Jane Green [86]
But that is not quite true. Tom always had a special place in her heart as her firstborn, a bond that could never be replicated; but something in her heart shifted the moment Will was born – she felt a love that was so overwhelming, so overpowering in its purity that she didn’t actually know before that moment that love that strong could exist.
When he was a toddler she would follow Will around with her eyes, watch his face crease up with laughter. And he was always laughing, was the happiest, funniest, cheekiest toddler she had ever seen.
And he loved his mother. Oh how he loved his mother. Maggie would say, for years, that he would crawl back into her stomach if he could. And it was true. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, Will was next to her or on top of her, flinging his arms around her and covering her with kisses.
‘I lub you, Mummy,’ he would say at age two, almost the only thing he could say.
‘I lub you too,’ she’d say; and he’d parrot it back, over and over. The two of them could go on for hours.
And when she got cross with him or found herself raising her voice at him, he would look at her, his eyes wide, stricken, and say, ‘Mummy, why are you being mean to me?’ And all would be instantly forgiven.
Perhaps, she has often thought, this is why she has a special spot in her heart for him; perhaps because he loved her so much, he gave her little choice. Tom had always been stoic, independent. Tom had loved her, of course, but he hadn’t needed her; and Will has always needed her. Still does.
Even now, at thirty-five, independent (allegedly), when he should be getting on with his life, Maggie knows she would do anything for Will.
And the worst thing – the thing she tries very hard not to think about, has never even whispered out loud to another living soul – is that in the dead of night, when she is lying awake, hurting with the pain of losing Tom, the thought that so often comes to her is: At least it wasn’t Will. At least Will is still here.
Will, who leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes, who she prays will find happiness eventually, who is so clearly involved with dear, lovely Holly. Will, who is so clearly, and oh so frustratingly, the force behind whatever crisis Holly imagines herself to be going through in her marriage.
Oh lord, she thinks. What am I supposed to say? But the words come out without her even thinking about them for she has sat here too many times with women who are not Holly but who are heartsick over Will, heartsick over his lack of commitment and his inability to love them in the way they love him, heartsick that he isn’t able to be the man they want him to be. And now she finds herself sitting opposite Holly.
Dear, lovely Holly, who is married and has children, must not pin her hopes or anything else on lovely, incorrigible Will.
‘Be careful,’ Maggie says softly. Suddenly.
And Holly’s faint flush deepens to a rich burgundy.
‘What do you mean?’ Holly says quietly.
‘I mean Will, my darling.’
Holly attempts a laugh. ‘Maggie, there’s nothing going on with Will. We’re just friends. He’s certainly not the reason for this… mid-life crisis.’
‘Darling girl, it is not mine to judge, and if I am mistaken, then I so hope you will forgive me.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘If Will has anything to do with whatever you are going through, and it is quite possible that he has not, but if he has, please, my darling, don’t make any changes, don’t do anything with the belief that Will is the man for you.’
Holly is mortified. Humiliated. Wishing a hole could open beneath them and swallow her up.
‘I haven’t…’ she starts. ‘I wouldn’t… I mean…’ And she can’t say anything else because the lie is written all over her face.
Maggie leans forward, holds Holly’s chin in her hand, and forces Holly to meet her eyes. ‘My darling girl, I love you, and I want you to be happy. And I love my one remaining son more than anything else