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It's barely been a minute since Maggie left when Claire comes scampering into the room with questions. "Where's Maggie going?" she asks immediately, flopping against the edge of the couch right beside where Isobel is sitting.
"To see someone," Isobel responds as simply as she can, flipping to the next page in a case file, but of course such little information would never satisfy Claire.
"Who?" she inevitably pushes, most likely suspecting it's someone they know from work — or maybe even the little extended family she now has, in from out of state. Unfortunately, it's neither. Those would be easier answers to give. Isobel sighs under her breath, closing her file and setting it gently on the arm of the couch.
"You know how we go and visit your abuelita sometimes?" she starts, leaning over to lift Claire up onto her lap. She nods silently, obediently sitting still. They make a trip to the cemetery at least once a month to lay flowers and talk to her. Even in winter, when Claire hates to leave the warmth of the house, she still happily goes.
Isobel hesitates slightly, but she tries to avoid keeping things from her daughter. She'll only ask again and again until she finds out, one way or another. Perhaps it's better to be honest when Maggie isn't there to be burdened by any of the conversation — she never has forbidden Isobel from telling her, after all. "Well, Maggie's husband passed away several years ago, and today would be his birthday," she explains gently. It's one of three annual visits, after his date of death and their wedding anniversary, but this is the first time Claire's been home to notice her leave. "So, she went to see him."
Isobel expects questions about him — more than she herself has the answers for — but Claire hones in on something different altogether. "By herself?" she says, confused, tilting her head.
Isobel smiles faintly. Of course she would be concerned about Maggie going alone, when the two of them always visit the cemetery together. "It's private for her," she reveals. More than that, although Maggie has never said it, Isobel suspects she feels it would be unfair to ask her to come along. Still, Isobel has watched from a distance once, worried. It's some of the quietest she's ever seen her, as motionless as the headstone she was in front of. "She likes to sit with him for a little while."
"Oh, okay," is all Claire says, with a thoughtful frown, rather than the further questions Isobel expects — but she does have one more. "Will she be back in time for dinner?"
"I assume so. She can't resist my cooking," Isobel muses, eliciting a giggle from Claire as she sets her feet back on the floor. In truth, she doesn't actually know. It isn't exactly scheduled.
Fortunately, Maggie does come back just after Isobel starts cooking a few hours later. She isn't quite her usual self, but she fakes it well enough for at least Claire to believe — her face immediately falling once she's out of sight. The behavior isn't unexpected. Isobel knows what grief is like. She watched her mother slowly deteriorate, and she mourned Claire before she ever really lived. The atmosphere around the table, then, is unsurprisingly more subdued when they eat. Claire does most of the talking, Maggie indulges her, and Isobel happily listens to them both.
They eventually get up in that same order — faster than usual, too. Claire goes upstairs to get ready for bed, Maggie disappears quietly into the lounge, and Isobel distracts herself with loading the dishwasher. Her insecurity tries to sink its claws in, but the truth wills out — she knows Maggie doesn't see her as a consolation prize. If she was going to settle, she wouldn't choose someone with Isobel's emotional baggage — or a young child.
She soon makes her own way into the other room and finds Maggie in the middle of the couch, staring at but not exactly watching the TV. Isobel quietly sits down beside her, occupying her hands with the case file from earlier. She rarely knows what to say in this situation, afraid it'll come across as rehearsed — sentiments she's had to repeat far too much through work. Isobel doesn't know if it would sound genuine, or if it's even what Maggie wants to hear. "Do you need an early night?" she asks instead, sensing her fatigue, but Maggie shakes her head.
"I just want to sit with you," she says, presumably comforted enough by the quiet company. Maggie tends to wear her heart on her sleeve, but she's remiss to do so when it comes to herself. Her own inner struggles are an oft kept secret. She puts up a front, she over works, and she tries to convince everyone that she's fine. Most people fall for it — Isobel doesn't, but she also doesn't push. If Maggie thinks she needs to talk, she will.
Claire rejoins them a few minutes later, bundled up in her purple pajamas as she bounds over to where they are on the couch. "Maggie!" she exclaims, throwing her upper body into Maggie's lap, but her next words punctuate the air like a gunshot. "Can I come meet your husband?"
Isobel's heart immediately catches in panic. Although her lack of tact is atypical for a five year old, she hadn't considered that Claire would ask Maggie that, let alone already. "Mija, you can't just-"
"It's fine," Maggie insists, blankly cutting her off. She lifts Claire up with a smile, but whether she can tell it's strained, Isobel doesn't know. "How'd you know about him?" She asks as if there isn't only one answer, but maybe she thinks Claire has managed to intuit it herself over the last year — she hasn't, of course.
"Mommy told me," she reveals truthfully, unaware that Isobel almost winces beside them. It's innocuous to her. "We visit my abuelita because she was important to her. That must mean he was important to you — I should meet important people." Claire's understanding of death is much less complicated than theirs. She's never had to experience a visceral loss — and hopefully won't for a while, when the two of them are all she has to lose. She doesn't see it as the end, told young that loved ones will always be with you in your memories, your heart, and everything they taught you. Isobel only hopes that belief will stick with her beyond childhood.
It takes Maggie a long, conflicted moment to respond, trying to decide if she wants to agree to Claire's request. "Okay, well, I'll… tell you when," she says slowly, but it isn't really an answer. It's non-committal. It gives her room to back out. When could never come. Yet, Claire trusts Maggie enough to believe she wouldn't do that. She immediately cheers with delight, hugging Maggie tightly, but she barely gets a chance to reciprocate before Claire is scrambling off of her lap.
She disappears without another word, and they listen as she hurries up the stairs, clearly with something suddenly in mind. Then, despite the TV still playing for no-one, the room falls uncomfortably silent. In her absence, Isobel feels the atmosphere turn numb — a tangible feeling of pins and needles until Maggie's voice eventually jolts right through her.
"Isobel."
"I'm sorry," Isobel murmurs, unable to look her in the eye. She isn't guilty of anything other than trying to be an honest mother, but she feels guilty nonetheless for the no doubt uncomfortable position Maggie was just shoved into. "I'll give you some-" She's cut off again — this time by Maggie resting a hand on hers, stopping her before she can make any attempt at escape.
"Are you sure?" Maggie asks quietly. It's vague, but she knows Isobel will hear the unsaid half of the question. She's never wanted to make her feel as if she's competing with a dead man. She loved Jason, and a small part of her still does, but that doesn't make Isobel any less than. She isn't second place, Maggie didn't settle for her just because of tragedy. Although she was happy with him, Jason may have always been fated to be a stepping stone on the way to Isobel — a chapter in the middle of a story that's still significant to it but not the end.
Isobel nods slowly. "Like she said, he was important to you," she explains, earnest despite her uncertainty. She doesn't know if Maggie truly intends to take Claire, but she isn't going to make her. Worst case, Isobel will push her to be truthful about not wanting to — she would rather Claire have an honest no than false hope. "It isn't something you need to hide." And she would never ask her to.
Maggie gives her a watery smile. "Thank you."
.✦
'When' is the following weekend. It feels odd going to the cemetery again so soon. Part of Maggie wants to put it off and another wants it over with. Perhaps it's because her grief has always been so private — isolating. Nobody in her current daily life knew Jason. Even Isobel's knowledge is limited, though not of her own volition. Maggie declines to share too much about him, but it isn't out of distrust or malice. Isobel has been unfairly compared to others for enough of her life — Maggie refuses to risk rekindling that harm.
She usually takes the subway, giving herself time and space with her thoughts, but with Claire accompanying her, she decides to brave the New York traffic this time. Still, it's some distance from the car to Jason's grave, though Maggie is the only one who walks, carrying Claire on her shoulders.
"I've never been to this cemetery before," she remarks as they pass under the iron arch at the entrance, looking around at the various headstones. It isn't wildly different to the one she's used to visiting, but there's more bushes here than trees. Maggie smiles faintly, gently holding onto her ankles as they pass by the rows of marble and granite.
She knows the way blind, taking them to a large oak tree deeper in. Jason is a few plots to the right of it, just close enough to still be in the shade where Maggie can keep out of the sun. Maggie carefully sets Claire down on the grass when they reach him, trying to figure out what to say, but Claire beats her to it, already reading the inscription carved into the decorative stone.
"Hi, Mr. Jason, I'm Claire!" she greets cheerfully, waving at the words as if they can answer her. "Maggie lives with me and my mommy, we take really good care of her." Maggie huffs a laugh at the way she says it — as if she's their pet dog. "Look!"
Claire shrugs off her backpack, letting it hang from one arm as she pulls back the zipper and rummages for something inside. "I made this for you so you can see." She produces a garden rock that's been colored with several layers of lilac and a painting of her, Maggie and Isobel on the flattest side — she's even placed it in a waterproof ziplock bag to keep it safe from the rain.
She crouches down, carefully leaning it against the headstone with the artwork facing upward, beside the fresh flowers Maggie laid only last week. Her vision distorts as she watches, her eyes brimming with tears to the point where she has no choice but to blink, letting them go. She subtly tries to dry the evidence away, but she sniffles louder than intended, and in the cemetery's stillness, it isn't hard to hear.
Claire instantly turns around at the sound, eyes widening. "Maggie? Don't cry," she says worriedly, stretching her arms up as she moves back towards her. "I didn't mean to make you sad." Maggie doesn't hesitate, crouching to lift Claire into her arms again.
"I'm not," she promises, cradling her tightly. She feels overwhelmed, but there isn't anything to be sad about. Rather, Maggie is grateful — touched that she even had the idea to bring something, let alone handmade. "They're happy tears."
"Do you wanna sit?" Claire asks after a brief silence of listening to the leaves rustle overhead, remembering what Isobel had said about Maggie's previous visit. "I can be quiet."
The suggestion gives Maggie pause, staring past her orange curls at Jason's name. As a reporter, he'd have been fascinated by Claire and her brain — Maggie thinks he would've pretended to interview her at least once. "Y'know… Why don't you tell him what you know about the courthouse?" she suggests gently instead. It's Claire's latest fixation after getting to visit again recently, and Maggie knows she has plenty to say about it. "I think he'll like that."
"Okay!" Claire agrees brightly as Maggie sets her back on the ground. She reaches out to take Maggie's hand in her own, and Maggie guides her to sit cross-legged in the grass where they were standing, just out of the sun's reach. She immediately begins to yap away about the courthouse, starting with its — especially to her — immense size. It's a strange but welcome change to Maggie's own usually wordless vigils, never knowing what to say, but Claire has no qualms about filling that void, bringing life to a patch of dirt that has been sorely lacking it as Maggie listens fondly.
Meeting her and Isobel always felt too good to be true as a second chance, but maybe — just maybe — she had a little help from the beyond.