A Mother Loves Her Son - Conclusion

Clean and dressed, I started downstairs, following the smell of cooking coming from kitchen. I heard Mom and Josephine talking and the clatter of plates and silverware. I stood in the doorway and watched as Mom finished up the bacon while Josephine finished setting the table in the breakfast nook, where scrambled eggs and rolls were already laid out. Mom glanced my way and smiled, "Good morning," she lifted the last pieces from the pan to the waiting plate. "I thought I was going to have to send Jo up to fetch you for breakfast."

Josephine walked to me and hugged me, "Good morning," then she kissed me gently. She slowly pulled away, "I was worried about you."

Mom took the bacon to the table, "You were really out of it," she smiled, "When you fell over Jo was so worried. Your father was like that, especially when we were really going at it." She closed her eyes for a moment and a little smile came to her lips, "He never held anything back when ..." She opened her eyes, her face beaming as she sat down. "It seems you take after him in that. Now come sit down and eat." I was still getting over Josephine as "Jo", but eating sounded good.

I was starving, the food was delicious, and I shared the table with two gorgeous women. After eating I made to get up to help but Mom put a gentle hand on my shoulder, "Trust me, you just sit there a bit longer," she smirked, "Besides, Jo is pretty handy in the kitchen and she doesn't break as many dishes." A laugh escaped Josephine, who immediately blushed and hurried to help. I sat and watched, and they quickly had things straight.

Mom sat back down and brought Josephine, who pulled her chair around to sit close to me. "I've called Jo's mother earlier this morning and said we'd have her back to the house soon." Josephine let out a disappointed "Aww!" but Mom continued, "Aww, nothing, sister," Her face grew serious, "I can't claim that I didn't enjoy last night, but ..." She looked at Josephine, "Honey, I am so conflicted about this bit of lying to your mother. Last night I was caught up in the middle of what you two," she paused, "What we had between us. In the light of day I've got some thinking to do."

"Meanwhile, both of you have to be very careful to keep this to yourself, especially my involvement in, well, everything." She looked at me, "I love you, baby, and I don't regret last night. We've had our conversation and you've convinced me, but there are people out there who do not accept what we're doing at all." The last two words were spaced far apart from each other as she reached out and squeezed my hand.

She let go and took up Josephine's hand and looked at her, "It's obvious that you care for Robert very much, and he is very into you." She put her other hand atop Josephines, "I want the best for both of you, and I want you to both have a chance at whatever life has in store for you both." Josephine started in with a "But I..." and Mom squeezed her hand, "I'm not saying we have to stop just yet, but I need some time to think about this, sweetie. I hope you can understand and be patient."

Josephine closed her mouth and nodded, solemnly. Not dejected, but with understanding. "You've helped me so much, Helen, and I'd never want to make you feel bad about anything. I love you so much!" As she spoke, she looked a little surprised, but pleasantly so, then she turned to me, " and I love you so much also!" She gently pulled her hand back from Mom and leaned toward me and kissed me very slow and gentle and long, then leaned back, "I wouldn't want to do anything that would keep either of you out of my life."

It's sappy, but I felt tears in my eyes as I leaned forward and pulled Josephine to me and hugged her with a gentle ferocity, and she returned the hug, and her face was wet against my neck. We were like that for a bit, and when we finally pulled apart I looked at Mom and she was dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "Let's get you back home, young lady," she stood up from her chair, and hugged me, then hugged Josephine, who held her a little bit longer and put her head on Mom's shoulder, then it was keys and cars and taking Josephine home.

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I finished reading from my journal, and shook my head at the flood of memories that followed that entry.

It took Mom a while to sort through the whole puzzle that was the relationship between the three of us. I got used to Josephine being Jo, and she was always welcome around the house, but there was an unspoken understanding that we would keep things simple for now. Jo and I occasionally broke off to my room, and there was always that air of hope that we would be joined.

It wasn't until after we were in college, and back for a holiday weekend, that I went to pick up Jo for an invitation to dinner and when we got back the house was dark, except for a lit candle on the dinette table with a note behind it that said, simply, "Welcome back." We could see light beyond the kitchen from other tea lights. Hand in hand, we followed the trail out to the stairs and up to my mother's bedroom. The door was open. Jo's hand tightened her grip and I swear a very tiny squeal almost escaped her.

When we got to the door the room beyond was lit by a dozen candles placed along the wall. Mom was sitting in bed dressed in a loose blue bathrobe that displayed her enticing cleavage. I motioned for Jo to go first, very courtly-like, and she giggled, curtsied, and entered. As she did, Mom got up from the bed and went to Jo and slowly pulled her close and kissed her. It was a long and slow kiss, and Jo responded, putting her arms around my mother and moaned with a longing so intense that I was ready to leap on both of these beautiful women and take them on the floor. When they finally broke from each other, Jo smiled radiantly at Mom, "I really like your decision!"

Mom laughed, and I was starting to unbuckle my belt. She shook her head, "Don't hurry." She took Jo's hand and they both walked toward me, "We have all night, and I don't want to rush anything!" They undressed me, slowly, in exquisite torture, then Mom and I worked on Josephine, each brushing our hands against her, and she was fairly vibrating by the time she stood there in all her naked glory. I was on the same frequency with her, and my dick was jerking in time to my pulse. Mom loosened the already loose belt of the bathrobe and shed the clothing, her body as perfect as always.

It was one of the best night's of sex we ever had, together, but it wasn't the last. There were rules, and we followed them. There were limitations, and we respected them. Within a week of our graduation Jo and I were married in a small ceremony. By this time I'd got to know Jo's Mom, and Maddy wasn't a bad sort, but very conservative. While she hadn't heartily approved of the marriage when she was told about the engagement, "You're both too young," over the months leading up to the wedding she had come to see the special bond between Jo and I. On the day of the wedding she was a-gush with emotion and very happy to see us together. She hugged my mother and said, "You raised such a good young man!" Mom smiled demurely and thanked her, while Jo and I took a sip of champagne to try to hide our mirth; if Maddy only knew!

Three weeks later, Jo was pregnant with our first, and a year later with our second. While the kids were little Mom would visit from time to time and we would share a night of pleasure between the three of us. Two years passed and Mom came in one evening and told us about a man she had been dating who seemed so wonderful. A short time later, we got to meet Greg, and he was everything Mom had talked about. With Greg in her life, she let us know that she didn't feel right continuing to join us for "night visits" as she called them, and asked forgiveness if she stopped joining us. Of course we both understood and made sure she knew that. They were together for three months when Mom called me up and said we needed to talk. Her voice sounded strained. We invited her over, concerned.

When Jo met her at the door she was subdued, and as she sat down we were both worried. She smiled, "Greg proposed to me!" she confessed, and smiled, but she seemed tired. I asked her what was wrong and she shook her head, "Before I said yes to him, I had a very long talk with him." She looked at both of us very carefully, "About us."

Thick, peanut butter silence for a long minute. I looked at Jo, who was watching Mom and looking worried. "What did he say?" She finally asked.

"He was a bit stunned, but after a minute or so, the only thing he asked was whether I'd still consider his offer." Tears welled in her eyes and her voice quavered, "I couldn't say 'Yes' fast enough. Literally!" She barked a laugh, "I stuttered 'Y-y-y-y-y-yes!' and we were both laughing and crying and hugging." The relief in the room from Jo and I lifted that whole peanut butter thing right through the roof. I whooped! Jo shushed me, "You'll wake the kids!" then flew to Mom's side and joined her in a good long hug.

Finally, as we came down from the relief, Mom looked over at me, her face becoming serious again, "The thing is, Robert, Greg wants to talk to you. Alone." I raised my eyebrows and Jo was obviously caught off guard. "I don't know what he wants to talk about, but I'm thinking it has to do about our past." I nodded. "He wondered if tomorrow evening would be good for you?"

Jo and I looked at each other. The maelstrom in my brain offered every possibility; violence, jealousy, anger, betrayal, a change in Greg's heart about my mother. I nodded again, and we tried to have small talk for a while, but the residual tension about the upcoming meeting was still with us and we finally broke the night early. Mom said her goodbyes and hugged us before going home.

Before going to bed, Jo took me in her arms and looked up at me, "I'm worried."

I pulled her close, "Greg has never seemed like the type of guy who resorts to violence, and he still offered to marry Mom even after she told him." I gently took her head in my hands and smiled at her, "I don't know what the conversation is about, but I've already agreed, and now we'll see what happens." Her smile held a shadow of worry, but she hugged me hard, then pulled me to bed. Our sex was very intense that night.

The next evening I went over to Greg's house. He let me in, offered me a drink, then we sat down in his living room. He took a sip from his drink, "I've tried to figure out how to start this conversation, and nothing good has come up, so I'll simply ask you. Are you and your mother still," he took another sip to stall for time while he tried to find the right word, " ... interested in each other?"

I shook my head. "Mom came by and told us about your conversation, but she didn't reveal exactly what was said." Greg seemed to relax a little at hearing that. "We shared a lot of things together, but after she came to understand that you two were coming together, she stopped being involved with us." He nodded.

"I like you, Greg." He chuckled, "You're a good man and you're good for my mother. I respect you, I respect her, and that particular part of our life is in the past." It was time for me to sip from my drink. I didn't know where else to go. Fortunately, Greg took up from there.

"A woman like Helen," he started, "That beautiful and smart and gracious." He shook his head, "A man would be a fool if he thought she hadn't seen other men." He looked at me, "But typically, the association with those other men. They are less in their lives." He frowned, "That's not the case here." He didn't have to state the obvious. She is my mother.

There was silence between us as I searched for the right words to explain things as I saw it. Across from me was a man in love with my mother, and she with him. In the end, it was simple. "As far as I know, Mom has not been unfaithful to you since the time you two got together. You two are good for each other, and I'm her son, and I love her very much, as her son," I put slight emphasis on that. He nodded.

"Jo and I are happy together, and we both want nothing more than for you and Mom to have that same type of happiness." I smiled, "You're having to work through a relationship that isn't quite normal." He barked a laugh, but seemed more relaxed and it didn't seem to be the alcohol, "But we're willing to help get past the past." We both laughed more than we should at the weak joke, mostly through the relief that there was some understanding between us.

He got up, and I got up, and we shook each other's hands, then he pulled me in and hugged me. I was a bit surprised, but quickly got over it and hugged him back. He pulled away and cocked his head, "That wasn't so hard, was it?" We both broke up in laughter again.

A month later, another small service, and Mom and Greg were married. We joked about the "son" and "dad" thing right after the ceremony, but by that time Greg had made his peace with the past, and was soon coming over to look at "his grand-kids". He is always welcome to claim them, and has the proper amount of grandfatherly gruffness and kindness.

It's funny how our memories are; the flashes of a lifetime zipping through our minds in a minute's reverie, each one crystal clear, then on to the next, and the next. I looked down at the journal in front of me and thought about the scandal within it's pages, and put it back into the small lock box to be placed back in the attic. Someday, maybe, when I'm dead, the kids will go through this stuff. They'll have the combination to the box, they'll decide what to do with the memories in these books, if they even bother to read them.

For now, little Maddy and Timothy are barely able to read, and they look forward to visits from my parents and Jo's mother. I sometimes catch myself watching my mother play with her grandchildren, and I find myself in wonder at a mother's love.