З життя
«Женщина сыграла болезнь, чтобы узнать искренность детей — результат поразил»
**Дневник**
Когда утром зазвонил телефон, Надежда ещё не понимала, спит она или уже проснулась. На экране светилось: «мама». Вмиг сон как рукой сняло. Голос Марии Ивановны звучал бодро, даже игриво:
— Спишь, халатница? А я тут пирожки испекла. Завтра жду тебя и Мишку. Приезжайте вместе, без отговорок! Дело важное — насчёт наследства. Не хочу, чтоб после моей смерти вы как кошки с собаками из-за дома дрались!
Надежда онемела. Наследство? Смерть? Но мать говорила так твёрдо, что спорить не вышло.
Тем временем Мария Ивановна, мать Надежды и Михаила, сидела на кухне, поправляя пуховый платок. Рядом — соседка Галина, с беспокойством в глазах:
— Машенька, да ты что? Заболела? Чего про смерть заговорила?
— Не пугайся, Галочка. Просто хочу детей повидать. Год уже не виделись. Живут своей жизнью, будто им не до меня. А если завтра что случится — кто за них ответит? Да и проверить хочу, кто как по-настоящему ко мне относится.
Закрыв дверь за соседкой, Мария Ивановна прилегла отдохнуть. Завтрашний день должен был многое решить.
Утро выдалось хмурым, словно сама судьба одобряла её план. Прибралась, надела поношенный халат, села в кресло и затаила дыхание. Через час в дверь постучали.
Первой ворвалась Надежда — взволнованная, с красными от мороза щеками.
— Мама! Что случилось? Ты больна? О каком наследстве речь? — запричитала она, бросаясь к матери.
— Миша, что за театр не к месту? — ворчливо вошёл Михаил.
— Садитесь, дети, — тихо сказала Мария Ивановна. — И супругов зовите. Лена, Витя, проходите, не стойте на пороге.
Когда все расселись, она начала серьёзно:
— Слушайте и не перебивайте. Старость — не радость, да и живу я одна. Болезни не предупреждают. Решила: скажу всё, пока могу. Но сперва — помощь по дому. Кто, если не родные, старухе поможет? Дрова поколоть, обед приготовить…
Надя с Леной кивнули и засуетились. Мария Ивановна наблюдала: тесто липло к рукам, картошку резали грубо, кастрюли гремели. «Городские вы мои, неумехи», — подумала она с грустью, но вслух не упрекнула. Не в этом суть.
После обеда она попросила Виктора и Лену выйти — осталась с детьми.
— Теперь слушайте. Дом отдаю Галине, соседке. Она рядом, поможет, если что. Миша, тебе — сарай с инструментами. Хочешь — продашь, хочешь — оставишь. А тебе, Наденька, — сбережения. Копейка к копейке, не тратила почти.
Тишина стала тяжёлой, как свинец.
— Дом — посторонней? — наконец выдавил Михаил.
— А почему бы и нет? Вы — раз в год, а Галя — каждый день. Ты, Мишенька, меня даже на свадьбу не позвал — стыдно, что мать простая? А ты не была у меня с тех пор, как за Петю замуж вышла. Помнишь, что я про него говорила? Правду.
— Мам, хватит… — прошептала Надежда.
— Устала. Пойду отдохну, — вздохнула мать и закрыла дверь спальни.
На улице разгорелся спор.
— Это из-за тебя! — шипел Михаил. — Могла бы навещать!
— Да, конечно! Я одна пашу, а ты с Леной дома сидите!
Крики доносились до окна. Мария Ивановна сидела, глядя в стекло. Слёзы катились по щекам. Где те дети, что смеялись летом под дождём?
Когда дети вернулись, она уже сидела, собранная, лишь глаза выдавали волнение.
— Мам, тебе плохо? — начал Миша.
— Теперь лучше, — тихо ответила она. — Всё понятно. Никто из вас мне не нужен. Наследство? Составлю. Позже. Когда сами решите — зачем вам этот дом: чтобы любить или делить?
За завтраком царила тишина. Лишь стук ложек. Первой не выдержала Надя:
— Прости нас… Мы были слепы. Я буду приезжать. Мы же семья…
Мария кивнула. В воздухе повисло что-то тёплое.
С тех пор мало что изменилось. Михаил редко появлялся, но деньги присылал исправно. Надежда заезжала чаще. Суп, варенье, прополка грядок. Но о наследстве — ни слова.
А оно давно лежало в комоде, подписанное и заверенное. Всё — поровну. Потому что Мария Ивановна любила своих детей. Даже когда они забывали об этом.
Вывод: любовь нельзя проверить — её можно только принять. Или потерять.
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