Heaven Eyes Read Free Page B

did talk of the other children that might come along—my brothers, my sisters. Would you like that? she used to ask me, and I used to answer, Yes. Oh, yes. And in my dreams I saw them, those brothers and sisters, so tender and so lovely and so filled with joy.
    “Mum. Mum.”
    I remembered her in the hospital. I was ten, only ten. They gave her higher and higher doses of morphine to blot out the pain. She moved in and out of reality and dreams. I remembered how she leaned from the bed toward me and cradled my face in her hands. She whispered that she couldn’t help herself. She felt as if she was being carried away on water. She told me not to cry. She said she’d be with me always. Always. I held her hand and it grew colder, colder, colder.
    “Mum. Mum!”
    And at last she came, and she whispered, “Erin. Erin.”
    I felt her hand on my shoulder, her breath on my cheek. I heard the smile in her voice. I felt her arm around me. She cradled me like she did when I was small. I lay against her.
    “I love you,” I whispered.
    “I know that. And I love you, Erin. I’ll always love you. Always.”
    “I’m going away on January’s raft.”
    She giggled.
    “I know.”
    “And you’ll be with me?”
    “I’ll be with you always, Erin.”
    We lay there for a time. I was no longer in White-gates. We were together in our little garden outside our little house at the edge of St. Gabriel’s. The garden was filled with bright flowers and fattening gooseberries. Seagulls were screaming above the river that flowed below.
    Mum pressed little mints into my hand. She gently sang into my ear:
    Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea
,
Silver buckles on his knee;

He’ll come back and marry me
,
Bonny Bobby Shaftoe.
    Then she touched my brow with her lips and we were back in Whitegates, in my little room. We lay there. I knew she’d leave me soon. I dreamed of the raft, the river, of floating away. Would I ever come back again?
    We smiled when the bird came in. It perched on the frame of the open window for a second, nodding its head as it looked in at us. Then it flew into the room. Itwas a small dark bird with quick wings, a curious sparrow on its way back to its nest. It flickered over our heads. It circled the room several times.
    “A bird!” I said. “Look! A bird!”
    We laughed.
    Then it went back to the window, perched, looked back for a second and launched itself into the air above the houses.
    I sat up straight and followed it with my eyes.
    We laughed again.
    “Funny thing,” I said.
    “The bird of life,” she said.
    “Bird of life?”
    “We come into the world out of the dark. We haven’t got a clue where we’ve come from. We’ve got no idea where we’re going. But while we’re here in the world, if we’re brave enough, we flap our wings and fly.”
    I thought about this.
    “You understand?” she said.
    “I think so.”
    She smiled, and just whispered my name time and again.
    “Will it come back again?” I asked.
    “Who knows? Maybe now it’s found this place it’ll come back time and again.”
    We heard the noise of children in the house.
    “Go on, Erin. Go on down. January’ll be waiting.”
    “You’ll be with me?”
    “I’ll be with you. Go on. Don’t stay here in the shadows with me. Flap your wings. Fly away.”
    Then she was gone, and there was just the sound of a television on the floor below, and somebody sobbing upstairs. I gently put my treasures back into their box. I tied the ribbon. I put the box into the backpack, took a deep breath and went down to find January.

I BURST OUT LAUGHING WHEN I SAW HIM . He was wearing his running-away clothes: black jeans and a black fleece jacket, black sneakers with a red flash on them, a black knitted skullcap. He was in the poolroom, playing with Hairy Smart. His backpack was leaning against the baseboard. He winked and sank a last ball and told Hairy he’d have to stop. Everybody could tell what was going on. Hairy grinned and winked. Fingers