My boy!

She walked down the flight of stairs with an elan. Every eye in the room scanned her thoroughly. There were some furtive glances, and then there were some awestruck stares. It was not everyday that Natalie made an appearance at an evening of dance and merriment. The satin white complimented the radiant peach of her skin, the pearls added to the aura around her. She was the object of envy for all women in the ballroom, and the object of lust for the gentlemen.

Natalie was in her late twenties, a widow. Her husband was a liquor baron, and had left her enough to last a lifetime, twice over. She was a philanthropist- An orphanage named after her husband, an old age home and a hospital, Natalie made it a point to be a good Jew. She would pray twice a day, and give alms to the poor on Shabbat. Her family was her priority and having no children of her own, she loved her nephew Jeremy, a six year old menace, immensely. Jeremy was the centre of Natalie's existence. His every demand was met at once. If Jeremy bruised himself, she would feel the pain. Every li'l pout of his tugged at her heart. She saw her world in those button-eyes, the plump cheeks and those pudgy hands.

'Natalie, I want a horse.' Jeremy.
'But you are much too small, love. How can you ride such a large beast?!' Her.
'I am strong. I am big boy.' Him.
' (laughing) Of course you are, my big boy...' Natalie.

And so they played with each other. She read out bedtime stories to him, took him to the zoo and taught him the basic 'R's. He learned how to swim with her, he rode Esteem - his stallion- with her. The two were inseparable. Before she knew it, Jeremy bloomed into a fine young lad ready to go to military school. It was a painful moment of separation for the two. She couldn't leave those hands, the same pudgy digits she'd caressed for 16 long years. He embraced her petite frame.

'I will be back. You have been more than a mother to me, Natalie. I won't leave you.' Those were the parting words from Jeremy to her.

...

She looks out of the window to the vast expanse of her estate. That tender voice, distant yet warm echoes in her ears. She hasn't heard Jeremy in 11 years now. He's supposed to spend the summer with her this year. Tomorrow he'll be home, to his home. She has asked Hilda to roast the Turkey for him, supple and juicy. And beetroot juice, his favourite. She asks Keller to tidy his room- his sword just above his bed. Esteem is long gone, only to be replaced by Thunder- his son.

'Tomorrow, your rightful owner will take charge of you Thunder. You will see what a rider my boy is.' She beamed.

'Poor Ms. Blightner. She's never been the same.' Hilda.
'She loved Jeremy more than anything in the world, Hilda. What a lad! And to die in Afghanistan?! Tragic, indeed.' Keller.

They both shook there heads in pity as Natalie attended to her business cheerfully.