by Greg Fowler
Unfolding the piece of paper, she read the single sentence in a heartbeat. And a heart beat was about right too, because that’s right where it touched.
‘I’ll be there to hold your other hand Grandma.’
At about the same time Grandma Daisy was coming to terms with a certain note she’d found downstairs, Reagan woke up to a brand new day. There was something different, so very different and at first she couldn’t identify it.
She actually wondered if she’d died and if her bedroom had been transported to Heaven. The idea that they’d receive her in a familiar place made sense. It would certainly ease the shock. She even wondered how Eddy would take her passing on. Would she be able to look down on him and watch his life unfold. She hoped so.
But everything seemed so real, so ‘as it should be’. The only thing that was missing was…..the pain. Yes, the pain was gone. Completely gone.
Something wonderful had happened overnight. Double checking reality by feeling the sheets beneath her fingers, she breathed in a deep, long lungful of fresh air. It was then that she realised her other arm was cold.
What the….? How did the bed get over here?
Pulling her hand back in from where it had been resting on one of the tree branches, she was just about to call out, to let the world know she was back, when she heard something crinkle at her side. She came close to ignoring it completely. After all, what was a small package wrapped in paper compared to what was starting to dawn in her mind as a genuine miracle of healing. Somewhere, somehow last night, as she was on the very precipice of death, someone had touched her. Someone mighty. Maybe all those things Eddy had been telling her were true. Maybe there was more to this existence than met the eye and within those layers within layers, within those butterfly wings, there was a place for her still.
Life surged through her now, of that there was no doubt. She felt it keen through her body and she sensed it strong in her mind. It was beautiful, it was stunning and it was immeasurable. She would not waste this, she could not waste this. In that very moment, lying in a steel gurney bed but no longer needing it, Reagan Crowe made up her mind…somehow, some way, she was going to make a difference…just like a certain incredible boy that she knew.
Needing to move the package before she literally leapt out of bed with untamed joy, she paused for a second. Picking it up, she suddenly realised what it was. It was a wrapped lunch. Yes, it was. Pulling back one of the folded flaps, she found two huge sandwiches in there, both of them dripping full with strawberry jam… her favourite.
It was only then that she noticed the familiar, scrawling handwriting on the top of the paper. Three simple words.
‘I owed you.’
Eddy’s funeral was a sad affair. No one had expected this, least of all the close knit community of Willow Avenue. And they all understood the reason for that closeness…a special little boy. A boy who was too good for this world. A boy who had changed them all in such a way they could never be the same again.
Grandma Daisy insisted on having the wake back at the house. Everyone offered to take on the workload of setting up the food and drink, but, while she accepted the kind offerings of a plate here and there, she was determined this was her duty. It was just something she had to do, no rhyme nor reason, just a need.
But there was another purpose for it. One she wouldn’t tell them until they all found out for themselves. Another miracle in Willow Avenue.
When the service was over and done, when the tears were put on hold for Eddy’s sake, and when the memories unfolded in a room full of gentle smiles and jam sandwiches, Grandma Daisy tapped a spoon against her glass.
‘Excuse me everybody,’ she said as people turned to face her. ‘There’s something I need to show you all. I could try and explain it to you but I just couldn’t do it justice.’ Holding back the tears with a swallow of her throat, Grandma Daisy continued. ‘We all know just how special our Eddy was.’ Grandma Daisy noticed how almost everybody in the room glanced across at Reagan, the person for whom, all money suggested, would be the person having a funeral today. Their miracle girl. ‘Well, he’s left us something to remember him by, something wonderful. Follow me.’
With that, Grandma Daisy turned and walked up the stairs. The entire lounge full of people filed up behind her, silent and curious, not knowing what to expect. They followed her along the hallway, down to the end, where a closed door marked the place where Eddy Sullivan had lived most of his life. A room where, for over half of his life, he was only allowed to leave to go to the bathroom. A room from where he watched the world pass him by. But that was wrong, most of them in that hallway knew that now. Eddy Sullivan hadn’t been trying to catch up with the world, no, it was the other way around, the world was trying to catch up with him.
With one easy swoop, Grandma Daisy turned the handle and pushed the door wide open. And behind that door was the most amazing sight you could ever hope to see. Mr Tree was decorated in such a glorious coat of blossoms that the whole bedroom seemed to shine. The full circle they went, across every wall and the length of the ceiling so that walking into the room was like walking into nature’s cathedral.
The people filed in until they filled the room. Not a word was said. Grandma Daisy had been right, this was too great for words. But in the end it was Reagan who managed to sum it up best. In the midst of their wonder, she spoke softly but truthfully.
‘God has touched this place.’
Reagan was the first one to notice the stone. A big, green one resting against the base of Mr Tree. It definitely hadn’t been there before.
What she didn’t know was that Mrs Elsdon had lugged that thing all the way from her backyard to this very spot. It had taken a mighty effort, especially for an old lady with a failing hip but she’d been resolute throughout. This was where it belonged now. Somehow here it would be closer to the angels.
She continued her daily stroll through the neighbourhood and, more often than not, still stopped in front of a certain house and a certain front window. It was hard to look up there and not see him anymore. As hard as not having Ben.
So she started something that continues to this day. She began placing notes under that Green Stone. Notes of prayer, of love, of well wishes and hopes. Before too long, others caught on too. It was the strangest thing. No matter how many notes were stuck under that rock they never seemed to overflow. It was like the tree took them in. It took them to a place where the light was white and the answers were clear.
It became known as ‘Eddy’s Tree’ or sometimes even the ‘Wishing Tree’, and there was hardly a day went by without somebody standing in front of it. A lot of the time it was Reagan. It was the place where she spoke to him, where she never forgot him.
She didn’t know it yet, but she was going to have the most remarkable of lives. Some would say she already had, but she was only just getting on for the ride.
And, dotted within that wonderful existence, would come three precious children to a wonderful, caring husband. The sort of man Eddy would have approved of. The first child would be a boy…and his name would be Eddy.
One fine day, six months after Eddy had offered up his life, there came a knock at Grandma Daisy’s door. She hadn’t been expecting anyone so she answered it without expectation.
There, standing proudly on her front doorstep, was a lady and two children. The lady, obviously the mother, had a gentle hand resting on each child’s shoulder as though showing them off for Grandma’s benefit.
Behind this collection of souls, stood another person, a man. He looked nervous, not for himself but for his dear wife.
‘Hi Mum,’ said the lady in a soft tone, a longing, a yearning in her eyes.
Grandma Daisy had to hold on to the door. If not she would have fallen in a heap to the floor.
‘Hailey! Oh Dear Lord! Is this your beautiful family?’ Grandma Daisy did not hate her daughter for disappearing all these years. She did not hate her for abandoning a boy seventeen long years ago.
She had forgiven her and she had learned how to forgive from the best. ‘Why? How?’
Hailey Sullivan held a note out to her mother, a lady she hadn’t seen in almost two decades. ‘I’m sorry it took so long,’ she said. ‘I got this a few months back in the post and I guess I needed this long to make things right.’
Grandma Daisy took the note and her heart fluttered. She knew the handwriting immediately. It belonged to a boy she knew. A boy they both knew. And it was a note, short but exquisitely sweet.
I’m not a stupid boy anymore.
I’m a beautiful boy now Mum.
