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missmadisings

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            Molly was gone. I paced back and forth on the porch. The sun was rising. I gazed at the gate, as if I was willing it to open and bring my Molly back. The ivy was growing and growing and growing all over the white picket stakes.

“Daddy?” I turned to face her, my beautiful butterball babe, in her light pink summer nightgown. She was rubbing her eyes; her hair was rumpled from sleep.

            “Daddy where is Momma?” I heard running footsteps as the tears began pooling in my eyes.

            “I’m sorry, Dad.” Marie gasped, trying to catch her breath, her hair in a smooth ponytail and her pajamas in perfect matching harmony as usual. “Isobel just slipped away. It won’t happen again.”

            “It’s okay sweetie.” I sniffed, holding the tears away.

            “It’ll get easier.” She comforted, picking up Isy and grabbing my hand. I smiled at her, meeting her big blue doe eyes that were Molly’s gift.

            Marie handed Isobel to me and she immediately began chattering away in French. I smiled and tried my best to respond in her first language. Marie chimed in every now and then and I sighed at Molly inside of my head. It was her crazy plan to teach the girls French as they grew up. I remembered how her eyes had sparkled with excitement at the prospect of our family all tittering away at each other in French. Of course the girls had soaked it up right away and Molly was already fluent. I still had trouble although I tried. Molly was always so gentle with her corrections and neither Marie nor Isobel had cared that my French was horrible. In my reminiscence I had spaced out but I was brought back by the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Marie had been up early.

            I started mixing batter for pancakes while the girls continued their conversation in French. Marie retrieved a comb from the counter and began brushing the knots out of Isy’s golden hair.

            “Papa?! Je veux du chocolat dans la mienne. Momma est à venir bientôt?”* Isobel questioned, forgetting to switch back to English.

I added chocolate into her pancakes just like she asked and looked down without answering. How would I tell her about Molly? I heard Marie clear her throat and I looked up, containing my tears.

            “Isy, Momma n'est pas aujourd'hui à la baisse.”**

            “Pourquoi pas?”*** Isy asked, her voice quivering.

            Marie started talking but I stopped her. “Isobel,” I said, lifting my youngest daughter out of her chair and looking straight into her eyes, “Momma isn’t coming back.”

            “Why not, Daddy?” Isobel’s tears started overflowing and her baby voice broke.

            “Oh, Isy. Think of it like this.” I explained grabbing a handful of chocolate chips out of the bag, “Four of these chocolate chips are someone in this family. One is Marie. One is Momma. One is Daddy. And one is you.” I placed them all in a line on the counter and set Isy down next to them. “And the rest of them are our friends.”

            “Like Benny?” She asked.

“Yes.” I smiled. “Exactly like Benny. While the chocolate chips are on the counter they get to be with their family and their friends. Do you understand?”

Isobel nodded.

“Now if one of these chocolate chips leaves the counter what happens?”

            “They don’t get to be with the family or their friends.”

            “That’s right sweetheart. Now what if I were to tell you that Momma had to leave the counter?”

            Isy picked up Molly’s piece and popped it in her mouth.

            “No more Momma.” She whispered, swallowing the chocolate.

            Marie and I nodded. Isobel grabbed onto my neck and started crying. Marie began cleaning up the beginning of breakfast, trying to hide her tears.

            After breakfast I sent Marie and Isobel upstairs to get dressed. Their sweet French distracted me from my hands, which were busy twining honeysuckle and jasmine around a small wooden cross. I didn’t think that Isobel understood completely, but at least she wasn’t expecting Molly to come home at all. I was free to let my tears fall as the girls got ready for their day. When they came down, my eyes were red and swollen, but dry. I took Marie’s hand with its long fingers from her Aunt Sophie in my right hand and Isy’s baby hand with her stubby fingers in my left hand and led them outside into the morning sunshine.

            We walked to the white picket fence with the every-growing vine that Molly had loved so much. I remembered the way she had smiled and declared “We’ll take it!” as soon as she saw those growing vines. I let go of the girls’ hands and stepped forward. Marie held Isy back as I pulled the cross from my coat pocket. I shed the last of my tears as I placed the cross into a tiny niche in the vine that I had cleared away earlier.

            “Goodbye Molls. I’ll never forget you.” I whispered, stroking the cross with one of my fingers. Then I walked back to the girls and we went into our little yellow cottage. In the sky I thought I could feel Molly send me a kiss on the wind that brushed my cheek and caressed the girls’ hair. I smiled up at the sky and then gently closed the door.

*Translation: “Daddy?! I want chocolate in mine. When is Momma coming down?”

**Translation: “Isy, Momma isn’t coming down.”

***Translation: “Why not?”