Innocent by Eric Walters

weeks, but it was reassuring and it seemed to bring me closer to my mother.

    I carried the tray across the lawn. Richie hadn’t eaten, and Mrs. Meyers had been getting his lunch ready when I entered the kitchen and told her I’d been asked to take it to him.
    I poked my head into the coop. The birds were cooing; they sounded very content. And then I heard Richie talking. I took a few steps inside and saw him in the corner. He was sitting on a stool, a couple of birds on his shoulders, his silver shovel leaning against the wall.
    While I could hear him, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. There was a soothing quality to his voice, quiet and calm. Strangely, whenever he talked to or about his birds, his voice seemed more natural, less mechanical. I cleared my throat, and he turned around.
    “Hello, Lizzy.”
    His voice was back to sounding mechanical.
    “I brought you lunch.” I put it down on the table and almost instantly two pigeons fluttered over and perched on the edge of the tray. They knew there was food under the covers.
    His clothing, as always, was stained with pigeon droppings. I knew that because doing laundry was my responsibility. I’d started to think that he should only wear white shirts, so that it didn’t show so much.
    He stood over his food, lowered his head and closed his eyes. He always said a prayer before eating. I put my head down too. A few extra prayers wouldn’t hurt.
    I asked for protection for Toni and all of the other girls. I asked for healing for Mrs. Hazelton. I asked for guidance as more of my past was revealed to me. I asked for speed for Richie’s pigeons in the coming race, and then I heard him say, “Amen”and I did the same.
    “Were you praying for your mother?” he asked.
    His question shocked me. I didn’t know what to say or how to react.
    “Today is the day,” he said.
    What did he mean? Oh my goodness…he didn’t mean the day that—
    “This is your mother’s birthday.”
    “My mother’s birthday!”
    He nodded his head. “Today. She was born in 1925.”
    “I didn’t know that.” I hadn’t thought to even wonder when she was born. Over the past weeks I had been flooded with information, and I was swimming in a sea of other people’s stories and recollections. Really, though, it wasn’t much. There was so much I still didn’t know. So much more that everybody had to offer—maybe Richie more so than anyone.
    “Are you going to visit?” Richie asked.
    “Visit who?”
    “Your mother.”
    My heart skipped a beat.
    “Are you going to the cemetery?”
    I shook my head. “I wasn’t planning to.”
    “You should. We always go on my father’s birthday.”
    “I don’t even know where she’s buried.”
    “I do. I could take you.”
    I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go right now. Not this second.
    “Maybe we could go on Sunday after the pigeon race,” I suggested.
    He shook his head. “It isn’t your mother’s birthday on Sunday. It’s her birthday today.”
    “But James isn’t here. He told me he had to take the car in for service.” I was looking for an excuse.
    “It isn’t far. We can walk.”
    “But I’m working. I have the rest of the silverware to polish.”
    “My mother would let you go.”
    The last of my excuses had been stripped away. What else could I say? “Do you want to go later today?”
    “I’ll eat, and then we should go. I’ll tell my mother we’re going.”

Eleven
    I STOOD AT the front door, waiting for Richie. No one had objected to my taking the time off. In fact, Mrs. Remington had not only agreed but had asked Ralph to pick two big, beautiful bunches of flowers. One for my mother and one for Mrs. Remington’s husband, Richie’s father. I hadn’t realized they were buried in the same place, but really, how many cemeteries could there be in Kingston, especially close to here?
    “Are you going to be all right, dearie?” Mrs. Meyers asked.
    “I’m fine.”
    “Richie will take care of you.” She