Eden Burning (37 page)

The burning oak tree no longer disturbed the silence. Flames instead burnt into the earth and up into the heavens with a purifying fire, allowing silence to breathe, to expand and to grow. Even Sean’s question could no longer interrupt the peace which ebbed between Tom and the objects of the world.

Sean either shouted or whispered at him, “What are you saying? Are you saying that we should let him go because he is your nephew?”

The silence was not changed by the question, in the same way that water is not changed by its rippling. Tom shook his head, “No. I’m asking you to let justice be done.” Tom reached a hand towards Cedric. “Come home.”

The oak tree continued to blaze beside Tom, spitting and hissing and then abruptly bursting into deeper orange and blue flames. Sparks flew into the black sky like fallen stars returning
to the Universe. Under the oak tree the smoke swirled a hazy grey tinged with orange. Cedric threw his gun onto the gravel. Dropping onto his haunches, he took Tom’s hand and fell onto his knees onto the path beside him.

Tom dropped to the ground and threw his arms around Cedric and held him to his chest. He breathed out, resting his head on Cedric’s shoulder. Cedric’s leather jacket was wet and cold against Tom’s cheek. Cedric shuddered, quivered, trembled and sighed deeply. Tom heard Cedric’s breathing slow down. He felt Cedric’s head press into his heart. He lowered his head further and breathed into Cedric’s ear, “Welcome home, Jonas. It’s never too late to come home.”

Sean moved behind the burning oak tree. Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw the glint of the barrel of a gun through the leaping flames.

“Don’t!”

Tom gripped Cedric tighter. He swung him to his left as a bullet was fired, falling heavily on top of Cedric.

Matt ran towards Tom, pulling him onto the gravel path. Cedric lay unmoving on the ground beside them. Matt searched for Tom’s pulse. There was a faint throb in Tom’s neck. He rolled him on his side and searched for the bullet entry wound in his back. The green tweed jacket had been shredded by the bullet towards his lower back. There was no exit wound. He removed Tom’s jacket and shirt and then his own. Using his shirt, he pushed it against the small penny-sized hole. Sean, Danny and the others watched in silence, as Matt’s bruised torso curved over Tom and he breathed into his mouth and then pressed his chest with a strong rhythmical pressure. A sigh of relief rose from the crowd as Tom spluttered and coughed. An ambulance siren wailed close by. Matt waved to the crowd to move aside to allow the ambulance to approach. Wordlessly, they obeyed.
Matt rose to his feet, naked from the waist upwards as Tom was lifted onto the stretcher. Matt turned around as the front door of the monastery opened, light falling onto the path to his right. Rose ran towards him, arms reaching out. To his left Lily and Eileen opened a pathway through the crowd.

Matt softly repeated, “He’s alive. He’s going to be OK.”

Cedric trembled on the gravel as Eileen fell to her knees beside him. Perhaps a hundred or more people crushed together to watch Eileen embrace Cedric and to see his arms move and gently stroke her back. Cedric didn’t raise his head, kept his eyes closed, straining to hear a sound – any sound. A hundred voices were silent. He felt the silence around him – every bit as real as the warmth of Eileen in his arms. The oak tree continued to burn, showering golden and orange sparks, some of which fell on Cedric’s hands. He winced, pulling Eileen closer to him. There was a soft gasp from the crowd as the tree gave a final burst of flames, illuminating Cedric and Eileen in tongues of fire. Eileen raised her head.

“You see, it’s done. It’s over. The truth has been told. Don’t be afraid of the fire. The fire is love.”

DEIRDRE QUIERY

Based in Mallorca where she runs Seven Rocks Consulting, a leadership development consultancy she founded with her husband, Deirdre brings her vast experience of emotional intelligence and mindfulness to bear in her creative endeavours. Taking inspiration from experience, Deirdre has not only painted with Argentinian artist Carlos Gonzalez in Palma and Natalia Spitale in Sóller, she is also a winner of the Alexander Imich Prize in the US for writing about exceptional human experiences, and the Birmingham Trophy Prize in the UK.

Eden Burning
is Deirdre’s first novel and is shaped by her experiences growing up in Belfast during the Troubles. She is already working on her second novel,
Gurtha
.

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