Chapter One
"Mina died Ma." Her son came running out of the cabin, disrupting her train of thought.
"What?" She mentally shook herself from the reverie.
"My bird, Mama, the one I nursed back from the sickness. It's dead." Her son looked into her eyes and held back the tears that threatened to fall.
Her eight-year-old son lifted the small cage he had made to put the bird in and she saw the dead bird lying there.
She looked into her son's tear stained eyes. He'd tried to be brave, but he loved that bird so. "I'm sorry son. Nevertheless, you must understand, he was very young and birds don't survive well in captivity. In a cage, they are trapped and cannot fly. It is their nature to fly."
"Then I shouldn't have kept him, Ma?" he asked.
"Well, every decision we make has consequences. Only dogs and cats live well with people, and I suppose horses, only they don't live in the house."
"Can we bury him?" Matthew asked as he put the bird in her hand.
"Of course we can. Go get your sister and we'll have a funeral for it."
Matthew's face lightened considerably with that and he ran in the house.
She stared at the bird sadly. Her son had few things to call his own, this bird was his pet, and he loved it. Therefore, in her mind it deserved a proper funeral.
She found a place near her parents and she dug a hole for it.
The children came running out of the house.
"Lord, Matthew nursed this bird back to health. He fed it, took care of it, and loved it. We all did. Now, the bird is dead and we want to send it on to heaven where it belongs. Thank you Lord." She said the words, and then looked down at her children who were both crying. "Amen."
"Amen." the both said.
She gathered them to her, hugging them. "I think your bird went to heaven, son, to be with other birds that are happy and flying free. Don't grieve, the love you felt for him, is still there, in your heart." She smiled and kissed their heads. "No one can take that away."
"Do birds go to heaven, Mama?" Matthew asked drying his eyes like the little man he was.
"I believe they do. They are God's creatures. And heaven must be full of birds and animals of all kinds. I cannot image God leaving them behind."
Matthew nodded. "Didn't I take care of him good, Mama?" Matthew asked sadly.
"Of course you did. However, there is a time for everything Matthew, including death. We must learn to accept what we cannot change and move on."
"Yes Mama…but I sure will miss him."
"Yes, you will. We all will. But now he is free to fly in the heavens, and that's a happy place, Matthew."
Her son nodded.
She glanced at the four graves and shivered. Easy to tell a child not to grieve, not so easy to tell herself. It was the smaller two of the graves that made her shiver. If only she could accept losing her children as easy as the bird. She knew they were in heaven too. Nevertheless, losing a child was like losing part of herself.
She moved toward her husband's grave, she could not bury him beside her parents because he simply didn't belong there. As she looked at him, off in a place alone, sadness came over her. She hadn't loved him, not after that first year. This sadness swept through her, but it wasn't for her husband. She had tried hard to love him, and at first, it was exciting to be married, but that excitement died when Harold took to the bottle the first time.
"How come Pa's not buried beside grandma and grandpa?" Matthew asked out of the blue, as he covered his bird with dirt now.
Eve gathered her children about her. "He's buried where he belongs. He barely knew my parents. And they…well, they never accepted him."
The children accepted what she told them and she was thankful. She didn't want to tell them about how cruel he had been. Matthew had been old enough to witness some of his cruelties, but in respect, she did not wish her children to think ill of their father, at least not because of what she said or did. They would form their own opinions soon enough.
Her gaze then went to the two buried children that rested close to her parents. Her unborn children. Tears welled in her eyes. She had to forget what Harold had done. She had to forgive and go on with her life, for harboring ill will would only hurt her and her children.
She sighed heavily and said a small prayer in a whisper for her unborn. She'd been seven months pregnant with the first one, when her husband slammed her up beside the opposite wall. She lost it that night, buried it the next morning. He didn't even come out to acknowledge there was a child. He told her anything unborn, wasn't really alive yet. There was no reason to mourn.
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The second child, she was six months pregnant and he slapped her so hard she fell against a chair and lost that one too. She buried it too. All without his help or caring.
It wasn't cruelty that made him ignore their deaths, it was guilt. For when he was sober, he did seem moody for days afterward.
She moved about the small cemetery now, pulling weeds, and dusting off the small headstones.
Then she slowly turned around. Almost guiltily, she glanced up on the hill. He was there. She saw he stood high above her on the cliff, she could feel his eyes on her. The feeling she tried to deny was one that stayed with her always. He was staring. Not the eyes of danger, but one of kindred spirit. How could she connect with a man she did not know? Yet she had now for some time. His mere presence filled her, warmed her, and made her feel secure in a world that was neither warm nor secure. Standing here as she did every morning, she sensed his strength leaking out to her. She absorbed it. Closing her eyes, she let the moment fill her, just as she had for the last two years. It was comforting knowing he was there. She couldn't speak of it to anyone, but she felt it.
Still, she scolded herself daily for thinking such a thing. He was an Indian, and she'd been taught that Indians were bad people.
Yet, if he were bad, why did he protect her and her children so?