Give Me Wings

by Joy Redmond

  Aunt Lou took Carnikko’s hand, looked her straight in the eyes, and said softly, but firmly, “You can’t go see Mama and Evan, honey.” She paused as she swallowed hard, then added, “I’m sorry—” Then her voice trailed off as if words had suddenly failed her.

  “Yes, I can. An aide’s gettinꞌ a wheelchair right now,” Carnikko countered. “The nurse said I could get out of my room and go see ꞌem!”

  Aunt Lou’s voice quivered as she said, “Your mama’s in heaven, honey.”

  Carnikko frowned, then said, “No, she ain’t. She’s just down the hall in another room.”

  “No, Carnikko,” Aunt Lou said, shaking her head sadly. “I know you were told she was in the hospital, but she’s not. She’s in heaven, sweetheart.”

  Carnikko was sure her heart was trying to jump out of her chest as she stammered, “I—I don’t understand. Are ya tryin' to tell me that Mama is—Mama is dead?”

  “Yes, honey. That’s what we’re trying to tell you,” Aunt Lou replied softly.

  Carnikko looked at Aunt Bell, who was wiping a tear from her cheek, and pleaded. “Aunt Bell, tell me it ain’t true. Mama’s just down the hall, right?”

  Aunt Bell said nothing. She just shook her head silently, more tears running down her face.

  “No! No!” Carnikko screamed, her head rolling back and forth on the pillow with each word.

  “Carnikko, please stop screaming,” Aunt Lou said.

  Her eyes flashing, Carnikko looked at her aunts and said, “Yer lyin' to me. Mama can’t be dead.” Then she paused, as if afraid to ask the next question. “Where’s Evan?”

  Her hand over her mouth, as if she wished she could stop the words from escaping her lips, Aunt Bell whispered, “Evan’s in heaven too.”

  In shock and disbelief, Carnikko buried her head in her pillow. How long she remained in that position she didn’t know, but when she finally looked up again, Aunt Bell was gone.

  Aunt Lou reached out and took Carnikko’s trembling hand. “Your mama and Evan both died the night of the accident,” she said, her voice steady and firm, as if she was determined that Carnikko understand and accept the situation.

  “But—but they told me they were down the hall,” Carnikko sobbed.

  “Yes, they did,” Aunt Lou conceded, “but I never told you that. I would never lie to you.”

  “But I asked all the nurses if Mama and Evan were okay, and they all said they was,” Carnikko said, gasping as if her lungs had deflated. Her brain was spinning like the red top Don and Lee had gotten for Christmas.

  Aunt Lou stroked Carnikko’s hair gently as she said, “I know they did, honey, and I told them from the beginning that I thought it wasn’t a good idea. I wanted to tell you the truth, but nobody would let me. They were afraid that you might not be strong enough to live through the shock if they told you.”

  “I ain’t never gonna forgive any of ꞌem,” Carnikko said fiercely. “Dr. Coleman said he was going fix ꞌem up as good as new. How could he do that if they was dead? Lyin' is a sin, and they’re gonna be sorry! God don’t like liars. He sends them to hell. And that’s where they belong. I hate ꞌem!”

  Carnikko held Aunt Lou’s hand as she continued, “I asked Nurse Betty to take the doll the church people brought me and show it to Mama. She took it, and when she brought it back, she told me that Mama liked it! That means she’s a big fat liar too!”

  The pain in Carnikko’s heart felt as if it might crush her. She closed her eyes. She had to escape—fly to her special place and find Mama and Evan swinging on a tree limb with Daddy.

  She silently chanted, Give me wings. Give me wings!

  But Purple Angel didn’t appear and no wings popped through her shoulder blades. Carnikko then began to weep uncontrollably, her anguished sobs echoing through the corridor.

  She screamed until she lost her voice. She held her burning throat as thoughts raced through her mind. Purple Angel left me too? I’ve got no Mama. No Daddy. No home. I hope I die so I can go to heaven and be with Mama and Evan. Maybe Purple Angel will meet me in heaven, since she won’t come to me here.

  Nurse Marty came running into the room with a hypodermic, looked at Aunt Lou, and said, “I’ve got orders to give her a strong sedative.” She swabbed Carnikko’s arm and injected the liquid. “She’ll calm down in just few minutes.” Then she gently patted Aunt Lou’s shoulder before turning to leave. “Days like this it sure isn’t easy being a nurse. It’s so heartbreaking.”

  Soon, Carnikko felt as if she was floating. With heavy eyelids and a weak voice, she said, “Aunt Lou, I didn’t even get to tell ꞌem bye before they was put in their graves—and now it’s too late.”

  Aunt Lou pulled a chair close to the bed. Holding Carnikko’s hand, she said softly, “You can still tell them goodbye, sweetheart. Tell them now.”

  “How can I do that?” Carnikko said groggily, her voicing breaking.

  “God can hear you. You tell God what you want to say to your mama and Evan.”

  “Ya think God will tell ꞌem bye for me?” Carnikko asked.

  “I know He will. You just say what’s in your heart and God will give them the message. I promise,” Aunt Lou said with a reassuring smile.

  Carnikko closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then whispered, “Dear God, please tell Mama and Evan goodbye for me. Tell ꞌem I love ꞌem and that I’ll always miss ꞌem—and God, please tell Mama that I’ll try to be a good girl so she’ll always be proud of me. And tell Evan that when I die, I’ll come to heaven and play with him. Thank ya. Amen.”

  Carnikko kept her eyes closed, never wanting to open them again. The regular hospital bed was almost as comfortable as Mama and Daddy’s bed and the pillow felt softer.

  For a while, she just drifted, until suddenly she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her and lift her up as a surge of love, peace, and joy flowed through her body and soul. Then the arms gently lowered her, and when she opened her eyes, the moon was shining overhead.

  She looked around and saw that she was standing on the bank of a river. She was wearing a long white dress. She took several steps in the moonlight, then turned in circles and kicked her legs high into the air. She was as good as new! She sat on the riverbank, watching the bright moonlight sparkle and dance on the dark water. A gentle breeze blew across her face, sending a few wisps of hair over her eyes. She could smell the fragrance of honeysuckle as she brushed the hair back.

  She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and swayed gently to the rhythm of the rippling water. Peace flowed through her soul. Her special place had never filled her with such jubilation.

  Suddenly she heard Mama singing, “God is holding my hand, leading me through the Promised Land.”

  Large ripples began to form a circle in the middle of the river. As the circle grew larger, Carnikko tried to speak, but no words would come. To her amazement, Mama and Evan came rising up out of the water. They weren’t wearing white robes and they didn’t have wings or halos. They were wearing the clothes they’d worn on the night of the accident, and they were barefoot.

  Mama held Evan’s tiny hand as they walked across the surface of the water. At the edge of the river, they stepped up onto the bank and approached Carnikko, their arms open wide. Carnikko stood and threw her arms around Mama’s waist, but Mama didn’t feel the way she used to. It was like hugging a puff of smoke or a cloud.

  Evan clapped his hands and smiled, showing his dimples. Carnikko picked him up and swung him around. He was as light as the air itself.

  When she lowered Evan to the ground, Mama took Carnikko’s left hand and Evan held Mama’s right hand, exactly the way they were the night they walked around the Greyhound bus. As they began walking along the riverbank, Mama looked down at Carnikko and smiled—and all was right with the world again.

  When they stopped walking, Mama dug her big toe into the loose dirt. Evan and Carnikko quickly did the same, and soon the three of them were making wiggly shapes w
ith their toes. Carnikko thought about scooping up some dirt and carrying it down the water to make mud pies, but she refused to let go of Mama’s hand.

  Mama stooped down until her eyes were at Carnikko’s level. Although Carnikko didn’t hear any actual words, she understood what Mama was telling her, as if she was reading Mama’s thoughts. Please don’t worry about us, honey. I’m happy and so is Evan. I’m watching over my children. My love is like a ring, with no beginning and no end. We have to go now. It has to be this way.

  Mama’s eyes were sad, but serious, the same as they were the day she told Carnikko that Daddy was out of her life—and that it had to be that way.

  Carnikko nodded imperceptibly as Mama stood, took Evan’s hand, and then walked back down the bank and out onto the surface of the water. Carnikko watched in awe as Mama and Evan walked to the middle of the river, then they slowly sank beneath the surface.

  “It has to be this way,” Carnikko whispered, as if trying to convince herself that what Mama had told her was true.

  She sat on the riverbank and again stared at the moonlight on the water. Mama and Evan were happy, and she needed to be happy for them. They’d never again be hungry or cold. And Mama wouldn’t cry anymore.

  Carnikko waved. “Bye, Mama. Bye, Evan.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Carnikko, honey, it’s Mammaw. Mammaw’s here.”

  Carnikko’s opened her eyes, raised the top half of her body, and looked around the room. She was still in the hospital, but she was happy to see her Mammaw standing beside the bed.

  “Mammaw, are ya real?” she mumbled.

  Mammaw placed a wrinkled, age-spotted hand on Carnikko’s shoulder and said, “I’m real, honey.”

  Carnikko’s eyes widened as she reached out and took her hand, squeezed hard, and said, “Mammaw, I flew away and went to heaven—and I saw Mama and Evan. Mama talked to me and I played with Evan.” Seeing the surprise in her eyes, Carnikko said, “Really, Mammaw. I ain’t makinꞌ it up, I swear!”

  Mammaw smiled and said, “Ya say ya flew away and went to heaven?”

  “Yeah, Mammaw. I swear it’s true.” She went on to describe every detail of what she had seen, felt, and heard, from beginning to end.

  Mammaw listened intently, saying nothing until Carnikko finally talked herself out. Then she smiled warmly, nodded her head, and said, “I believe ya, child. It sure sounds like heaven to me. God let them pay ya a visit so ya could all say yer final farewells.”

  “What about the river, Mammaw? Is there a river in heaven?” Carnikko asked.

  “Well, there’s a lot of hymns that say a river flows by the throne of God, and my grandma used to say a soul has to cross over River Jordan on its way to heaven. Maybe you were sittin' on the bank of River Jordan,” Mammaw replied thoughtfully.

  As Carnikko smiled, Mammaw continued, “And my grandma used to tell me that sometimes people do what she called astral travel. While a person’s asleep, their soul leaves their body and travels to a place between heaven and earth, where they can meet loved ones who’ve passed on. I ain’t never done it myself that I can recall, but Grandma swore it was true.”

  “Well, Mammaw, where ever it was, I remember all of it—plain as day,” Carnikko said. “I think it was heaven, but I didn’t see no angels or God or Jesus—I just saw Mama and Evan. I’m glad you understand. If I tell anybody, they’ll think I’m out of my mind.”

  Mammaw patted Carnikko’s hand, and said, “It doesn’t matter what anybody else believes. What’s important is that you believe. And if ya want, it’ll be our little secret.”

  “Okay,” Carnikko said, closing her eyes.

  “Well, honey, ya look tired. I’ll come back and see ya as soon as I can,” Mammaw said, kissing Carnikko’s forehead.

  “Mammaw,” Carnikko said softly, “could ya bring me Mama’s pillow? I wanna be able to smell her hair. That’ll make it seem like she’s still with me.”

  “Honey, the house was all cleaned out.” She paused, then smiled and said, “I’ll see if I can find it. I promise.” Mammaw blew a kiss as she walked away.

  Carnikko returned the kiss, then sank back onto the pillow, closed her eyes, folded her arms across her chest, and whispered, “Come and get me, Purple Angel, and take me to heaven again, or to that astral place.”

  A few minutes later, the door opened again and Grandma and Grandpa Winston walked into the room. Carnikko managed a smile as her grandparents approached the bedside and it occurred to her that Grandma and Grandpa had never actually told her that Mama and Evan were down the hall. She had told them, and they had merely nodded.

  Carnikko started talking before they could speak. “You don’t have to worry anymore about me thinkin' that Mama and Evan are down the hall. I know they’re dead, but that’s okay, ꞌcause I know they’re in heaven.”

  “Yes, they are,” Grandma said, looking relieved, “and someday we’ll all be together again.”

  Grandpa nodded in agreement.

  Carnikko was bursting to tell her grandparents about seeing Mama and Evan, but she decided not to for the time being. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t say anything else, so she showed them some of her get well cards, and they said it was nice of people to be so thoughtful. They also told her that Don and Lee had said hello. Then Grandma patted Carnikko’s hand and said they’d come back to see her soon.

  Within moments of their departure, Carnikko closed her eyes and fell asleep, and though she didn’t see Mama or Evan, she also didn’t have any nightmares, and she was grateful for that.

  The next day, Aunt Lou brought Carnikko a pillow with a pillowcase that smelled like Mama’s hair because Aunt Lou also used Halo shampoo, and that was good enough.

  As the days passed, Carnikko visited with Mama and Evan several times in her sleep, and Mama always said the same thing when the visit was over. I have to go. It has to be this way.

  The heavenly reunions helped pull Carnikko out of the darkness of her despair, and gave her the will to go on, live, and be happy. Sometimes she pushed herself up and down the hallway. Nurses, orderlies, aides, and visitors talked with her, teased her playfully, and gave her candy. Her bedside table held piles of coloring books, crayons, paper dolls, and get well cards. The people of Canoe Cove, members of the church, and classmates sent cards and letters, which Nurse Marty read to her whenever they arrived.

  Some days Carnikko chose to remain in her room, away from everybody, so she could think and remember things that had happened before the accident. Many of those memories raised questions, but they also intrigued her.

  One afternoon as Carnikko was lying in bed, her eyes closed in deep thought, she remembered the horrible nightmare of Mama being in a deep hole and a man was shoveling dirt on top of her. Had Purple Angel been trying to show her what was going to happen? Mama had said that someday she and Don would be apart and sorry they had fought. Had the angels somehow told Mama that she and her children would be separated?

  She also remembered Mama saying that she’d never see Daddy’s face again on that hot August day when Daddy brought Ellie and Emily to their house. Had Mama known it would be the last time, because she was gonna die?

  Carnikko shivered as she remembered standing on the culvert, looking down into the deep ditch filled with mud, and how afraid she’d been. Then she realized that she had been found lying in that very ditch. Was Purple Angel telling her the soft mud of the ditch would cushion her fall?

  Carnikko remembered Mama telling Mammaw that she’d never come back to the house on Delaware Street. Did Mama really know it would be the last time and that she would be going to heaven that night?

  The memory that stood out in Carnikko’s mind the strongest was of Mama telling Mrs. Mayes that she always took her baby with her. Mama had taken the baby with her—to heaven—but Carnikko couldn’t help but wonder why Mama hadn’t taken her too.

  She looked out the window and saw the sun shining brightly. She longed to be outdoors. She’d been in that stuffy g
ray room for three years, it seemed, and if she didn’t get outside soon, she was sure she would go crazy.

  The next morning, an aide came into the room to give her a sponge bath. Just as the aide was leaving, Aunt Lou walked through the door.

  “Hey, Aunt Lou, what are you doin' here so early?” Carnikko asked, but before Aunt Lou could answer, she added, “Will ya read Uncle Wiggly to me again?”

  “I’ll do better than that,” Aunt Lou said, her eyes dancing. “How would you like to get out of here—and never have to see this hospital room again?”

  “Really?” Carnikko asked happily. “Oh, yeah! That would be great!”

  “Good! You’re going home with me!” Aunt Lou said with a broad smile. “The hospital said I could borrow a wheelchair, and I’ve got you a nice bed fixed up at my house.”

  Joy washed over Carnikko like a tidal wave. She was about to leave the dreary hospital—and she’d get to see Don and Lee again! Nobody under the age of twelve was allowed on the ward, and it seemed like forever since she’d seen them.

  Don and Lee were living with Grandma and Grandpa Winston, and Carnikko figured she’d probably live with them too, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She loved her grandparents, but Grandma was stern and not much fun to be around. Grandpa had a terrible temper and when he got mad, he took an axe and chopped things up. A terrifying thought ran through her mind, If Grandpa got mad at me, he might chop my head off!

  She also wondered if she’d be able to see Daddy too. Maybe he’d come for a visit when she got to Aunt Lou and Uncle Carl’s house. He hadn’t visted her in the hospital. Maybe he hated hospitals, or maybe he just plain didn’t want to come. She wasn’t sure what to think. Daddy wasn’t the same person since he had taken with that ol’ harlot.

  Aunt Lou put all of Carnikko’s gifts into a shopping bag and said, “You’ve got a load here, girl, but I’ll get you and your things out of here as soon as somebody brings us a wheelchair.”