Proof of Heaven by Mary Curran Hackett Read Free Book Online

firemen—and began to recite them. The first card in her mother’s deck had an illustration of St. Florian, the patron saint of firefighters. On the back of the card was the Firefighter’s Prayer and imprinted on the bottom was her father’s name and a date: Michael Patrick Magee, June 15, 1985.
    Sean and Cathleen’s father had died when a backdraft caused a warehouse floor to collapse, crushing him and another firefighter instantly. Their mother, an Irish immigrant, thousands of miles from her own family, was left all alone. Dressed in a black maternity dress and carrying her nearly three-year-old daughter on her hip, she marched behind an engine carrying her young husband’s coffin to St. Patrick’s while bagpipes echoed down Fifth Avenue. Cathleen always thought it was a blessing that her mother had died before Sean became a firefighter. She knew her mother could have never survived the possibility of losing another loved one. Cathleen could barely handle it herself.
    After Mass, as they headed out of church, Sean and Cathleen grabbed Colm’s arms and swung him. Some people, the regulars, Sean called them, glared at them. But some of the older people who still had memories of their own children smiled at the three of them, thinking quietly to themselves: What a happy, young family.
    People often mistook Sean and Cathleen for husband and wife. Sean looked nothing like Cathleen. He had auburn hair like Colm’s and blue eyes. He was lantern jawed, like his own father. And unlike Cathleen and his mother who were tall and slight, Sean’s body was a massive bulwark—wide and seemingly unbreakable. When Cathleen was a child, she found a picture of their father standing next to their young mother. She couldn’t imagine how a building could have ever crushed the man. Like Sean, he seemed like Atlas to her; he could carry the whole world on his shoulders and never succumb to its weight. Cathleen had been looking for that same strength in a man her entire life.
    â€œHow did the visit with the new doc go, Cate?” Sean asked as soon as they were out on the sidewalk.
    â€œIt wasn’t like all the other visits. He didn’t order any tests.”
    â€œI thought you hated all the tests.”
    â€œI do. But it all seems to be moving really fast. He says he wants to put a pacemaker in him.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with that? I thought you said you wanted someone who would help Colm.”
    â€œYou agree with this guy?”
    â€œFrom what you’re saying, he’s the first one so far who seems more worried about fixing than diagnosing. Let’s face it, Cate, most people go through their entire life not knowing what it is that is killing them.”
    â€œSo you think we should do it? I’m just so torn . . . I . . .” Cathleen stopped when Colm began pulling on her arm.
    â€œNow what, Colm?” Cathleen was annoyed, and she didn’t know why. Church with Colm always tried her patience though. As a child she would never have behaved the way he did in Mass, with all of his fidgeting, climbing, and sighing. She was tired of being constantly tugged and called. Motherhood was an endless stream of unsolicited nudging and urging on, when all she really wanted to do was stay put.
    Sean saw what Colm was trying to do, and he reached in before Colm hit the ground.
    â€œOh, crap, here we go,” Sean said audibly, although mostly to himself. It came on so fast, Sean could barely make sense of it. Although he knew Colm had done this four times before—he had never seen it firsthand.
    He rested Colm’s body on the ground as a small crowd began to gather on the sidewalk in front of the cathedral. Using his paramedic training, he felt for Colm’s pulse and checked to see if he was breathing, but the boy had already stopped. As he started chest compressions, Cathleen yelled out for help as she dug through her purse, trying to find