Page 165 of The Island

The TV was on as a candle against the dark. The Home Shopping Network, which was always upbeat even at three in the morning. Especially at three in the morning.

She had work to do at this hour. Forms to sign. The Victoria police and the Australian government could not have been more kind. After she’d been discharged from the hospital, they had let her go. They believed her when she said she would come back for any possible trial.

She didn’t really know if she would come back. The kids shouldn’t have to go through all of that. Now, safe in their house in far-off America, they were sleeping. And the therapists and Dr. Havercamp said they were doing well, considering. They were both off their meds, and that was something, anyway.

Heather sat back on the couch and flipped through the channels.

Five hundred channels but in the wee hours, nothing as cheery as HSN.

She was thinking about phoning them to buy a duster on a long piece of plastic when there was a noise at the top of the stairs.

“Are you down there?” Owen asked.

“I’m here, honey.”

“I heard something.”

“It was me, I’m awake down here, watching TV. Stay there. I’ll come up.”

She checked in on Olivia, who was sleeping soundly. She tucked Owen back into bed and kissed him on the forehead.

“Can we go see Grandma and Grandpa on Goose Island this weekend?” Owen asked.

“Of course we can, but Grandma might want to paint you. And I know you hate that.”

“It’ll be OK,” Owen said.

“Sure, honey. Try to go back to sleep.”

“I will. I was thinking about something. Olivia’s right about something.”

“What?”

“She says your singing is OK.”

“She said that?”

“Yes. You should sing somewhere. Like at a coffee shop or something. We’d come to see you.”

“Maybe I will. Good night, Owen.”

“Good night…”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“I’m gonna say it.”

“You don’t have to,” Heather insisted.

“I want to.”

“Kid, I don’t even need it.”

“Good night, M…o…m,” he said, giggling and whispering the letters like they were a spell.

She slipped back downstairs.

She thought about the O’Neills. She’d read only yesterday that there was a proposal to remove the entire family from Dutch Island while Victorian government officials investigated their title deeds; it was said that they were considering giving the land back to its native owners, the Boon Wurrung people.

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