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“Mama! Mother!” A happy four-year-old John tried to escape from Janet’s embrace when he saw Francesca and Michaela coming from the distance.
“How can you still have this much energy?” Janet laughed as she left John on the ground.
Since he was little, John had been more than happy being raised by his two mothers. Francesca was his mama, and Michaela was his mother, so they could know who was calling whenever he was talking to or calling them. Janet and Helen were both always caring and loving to John as well, offering to take care of him whenever Francesca or Michaela couldn’t.
“My little boy!” Francesca lifted the boy in her arms, placing a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead, giggling when Michaela fondly messed his hair. “We were not outside for long, why all of this excitement?”
“I’m always happy to see you.” The boy’s hands squished his mama’s cheeks. “I was practicing the piano with grandma Janet and she taught me the start of another song, I want to show you! Mother, you too!”
“I would not dream of missing that.” Michaela smile, her eyes following an eager John as he ran towards the drawing room.
Following behind Francesca and Janet, Helen walked arm-in-arm with her daughter. “How your day in Edinburgh?”
“Quite good, it gave is the respite we needed.” Michaela’s eyes set on her wife’s back then. “Francesca needed it more than I, look at her now. She’s glowing.”
“She’s always glowing in your eyes.” Helen chuckled. “Did you buy enough of what we need?”
“We did.” Michaela’s face turned a little les happy. “The servants are getting the bouquets ready.”
Apart from needed a little time for themselves, Francesca and Michaela’s short trip to Edinburgh – which wasn’t very far from Kilmartin House, was mainly to buy flowers. They needed them for the anniversary of John Stirling’s passing, to leave on the previous Earl’s grave, a reminder that all of them remember and had loved him so very deeply.
John Stirling II never knew his father. He had heard from him multiple times, the four women he had always been living with never spared the details of his late father, whenever he asked. He was born eight months after his father’s passing, so he hadn’t even seen his face. Francesca often remembered her own sister, Hyacinth, who never got to see her father either.
“Has John been moody today?” Michaela asked Helen.
“A bit this morning, just after you left.” Said Helen. “I think he’s trying to make things better for you and Francesca, he has spent all morning busy playing the piano with Janet so he could show his dear moms. He can tell today’s important.”
John had grown up admiring Francesca’s love for the piano. He often sat next to her, doing nothing but stare until he got interested in trying to play it, his small fingers following the same keys his mama touched. He had been slowly learning since then, showing talent and passion for music and spending a lot of his time in front of the piano, just like his mama.
“He has always been so sweet.” Michaela sighed, a smile on her face as she looked at John sitting in front of the piano.
“That is because you and Francesca have done an excellent job at raising him.” Helen kissed her daughter’s cheek.
“Mother!” John turned around, gesturing for Michaela to come closer. “What are you still doing there, sit with us too.”
“I doubt the little chair on the piano is big enough for the three of us, little one.” She sat next to Janet on the settee near the piano, her hand lovingly brushing Francesca’s shoulder. “Have you spent all morning learning that piece? That is dedication.”
“I want to be as good as mama when I grow up.” John’s eyes looked up as Francesca, who pulled him closer and kissed his hair. “Can you keep teach me the rest of the song when we’re back from visiting father?”
“Of course my love.” Francesca tightly hugged her son, finding so much comfort in such a simple gesture.
Once the bouquets were ready, the Stirling family headed to the graveyard. None of them said a word until they were in front of John’s grave, carefully leaving the bouquets one by one, picking the dried flowers Francesca and Michaela had left there the last time they went to see John. Drying her silent tears, Francesca’s hand moved around John’s shoulder.
Michaela reached for her other hand, her watery eyes looking at John’s name written in stone. Janet and Helen were a few steps behind them, grieving silently. There wasn’t anything to say, all of the women understood what it felt like. Even John, who had never met the man they were mourning, shed a few tears. It hurt to see his moms and grandmas that way.
“You can go.” Francesca said to the others. “I will be there in a minute.”
Michaela nodded, beginning to walk after Helen and Janet. “John.” She called, slowly walking away from Francesca when the boy took her hand.
There was a moment of silence before Francesca started talking, the wind and the stony grave being the only witnesses to her words. “We are doing okay.” She paused. “John is happy and healthy, he will proudly carry the title of Earl of Kilmartin one day. Janet and Helen live with us, they cannot stay away from him.” Her laugh was sad and nostalgic. “Michaela and I are married now. It took me a while to come to terms with… everything, but I am alright now. I know you would have wanted us to find happiness, and we did, with each other. Goodbye, John.”
And with that, Francesca went back to Michaela’s side.
“Are you alright?” Michaela asked, gently placing a strand of hair behind her wife’s ear.
“I will be.” Francesca smiled, leaning in to kiss her wife. “I love you.”
“Thank goodness, it would be awkward if my wife did not love me.” Michaela tried to lighten the mood, her playful tone never failing to make Francesca laugh. “I love you too, dearest.”
Francesca had been married for years, and Michaela’s loving words always made her feel butterflies, in the best of ways. “Your mother’s birthday is soon, we should be thinking of what to get her.”
“That means another trip to Edinburgh.” Michaela chuckled. “We should bring John this time, I’m sure he will have fun looking for presents for his grandma. And my mother will probably cry if her beloved grandson chooses a gift for her.”
“Sounds good.” Francesca gazed at John, who was a few steps ahead, holding both of his grandma’s hands. “I love our family.”
“I know you do.” Michaela kissed her wife. “We have many years to spend together. Let us enjoy every single one.”