And yet when she thought about Tommy, she still felt that belly-deep pull, the sense of recognition. A faraway thought occurred to her: that this terrible fact created another possibility, that Cree Black should know about this, and soon. Or maybe that was just her clinging to her craziness.
Whoever the parents were, they had loved this child: The grave was heaped with colorful trinkets that included sun-faded Power Rangers action figures, plastic statues of Jesus, cat's-eye marbles, cheap jewelry, seashells. Not all were dulled by dust and the bleaching sun; some had been placed recently. They still missed him. He had a such a happy face, despite his illness. He'd been raised in a good home.
I have absolutely no right to grieve, Julieta thought. It is theirs entirely. How dare I.
There were the other graves, faded rainbow mounds with stripes of evening shadow along their sides. There was Joseph, standing some distance away. There was that big empty sky. There was his truck, pulled over near the pavement. There was the highway, a station wagon passing slowly, the family inside turning their faces away from the two strangers in the cemetery.
After a while it was time to go.
She went to Joseph, stood in front of him, looking at him, letting him see her face naked with all the feelings. She slapped him once, so hard it smacked like a gunshot, and yet he barely flinched, not even enough to lose eye contact. She panted until she'd caught her breath, glad that part was over. Then she took his face between her hands, stood on tiptoe, and kissed the red blotch on his cheek. She held her lips there tenderly and long, as if it would draw all the hurt out of him. He put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.
Afterward, she just leaned her forehead against his chest. It didn't feel right, exactly, but really there was no one else. There never had been.
47
There was a glow in the distance: dangerous like a forest fire in the dark, something malevolent that could rush toward you and surround you and consume you. And there was an irritating insect that buzzed a harsh little song as it drilled into Cree's thigh.
Startled, she brushed and slapped at the bug and half sat up before realizing where she was and what was happening. She was lying in one of the sleeping bags under the roof of the sheep shed. The fire was a tumble of embers. The sunlight was gone but for a dull, colorless brightness in the west, washing the dark landscape in a faint light that turned every feature a monochromatic blue-gray. The silence in all directions was the sound of pure loneliness.
Right. Sheep camp. She had taken a nap. Ellen had lain down, too, but now was gone. With Tommy sleeping and Raymond and Dan taking their shift, Cree had opted to try to rest. She'd drifted off wondering how to tell Julieta about Tommy, her thoughts spinning in slow circles, going nowhere.
The glowing dangerous thing was the battle between Tommy and his invader, always there, an emanation of psychic discord looming just out of view, sixty feet away. And the insect on her thigh was Edgar's cell phone in her pants pocket, ringing and vibrating. Ellen had told her that here on the higher ground, reception wasn't too bad.
She opened it quickly and tugged out the antenna, her heart thudding in her chest.
It was Julieta.
'I was going to call you,' Cree told her. 'Where are you?'
'I'm at Joseph's house. In Window Rock. I called Dr. Mayfield to get your number.' Julieta's voice sounded subdued, deliberate. 'How are things up there?'
'I'm… I was just taking a rest. Tommy's aunt and uncle and cousin are in with him.'
'How is he?'
'Not good, Julieta. I'm sorry.' Cree's mind was scurrying, wondering how to break the news.
Julieta went on as if she'd planned out what to say. 'I called to tell you something I think you should know. Joseph brought me to my child's grave today. He died about three years ago.'
Cree's breath went out of her. She couldn't reply immediately.
'Joseph is being very kind. I'm screwed up about it. But I'm coping. I don't deserve to grieve, Cree. Somebody else knew him and loved him every day. I didn't.' Julieta's voice was so gentle it seemed disembodied. It faded and swelled as if the breezes over all those miles of desert between them were blowing the signal astray, or lofting out and away some part of her feeling. There was no bitterness or anger in her tone.
'So my first thought was, I was wrong about Tommy. Knowing him that way,' Julieta said. 'But…'
She let the word hang there. Cree understood her reluctance to say the rest: But maybe I wasn't. Maybe I recognized him because the ghost in him is my son's ghost.
She couldn't say it because on one hand it could sound like a real neurosis, a delusion that she couldn't let go of no matter what evidence contradicted it.
On the other hand, Cree thought. The theory posed innumerable questions, but it would explain so much. Blood to blood, like to like. If true, it would give them the key to releasing the ghost.
'Julieta, I'm so sorry. I know this is very hard for you. Thank you for letting me know. You're right, it's a very important fact. I understand exactly.'
'I knew you would.' Very faint.
'Wait, don't hang up! What was his name? How did he die? I don't mean to be so direct, but I… I need every bit of information I can get.'
'Robert. Robert Linn Dodge. He died of a congenital heart defect. He was sick for most of his life. Apparently he fought back hard. I don't know where he died, or the exact circumstances. I'll try to find out, if you want me to.' Julieta stopped, then went on desperately, 'Cree, he would have died anyway. Even if I hadn't… even if-'
'Julieta, you have to come here. The ghost's response to you could be crucial. I need to see you interact. And if you're why it's here, you're the one who has to let it go. Can you come?'
'Of course. When?'
Cree looked around. The rising land to the east was a sweep of deep gray-blue, full of the humped black forms of junipers and boulders. Stars had begun springing out of the night sky. Far too late for anyone to come or go through this wilderness tonight.
'The sooner the better. Tomorrow. Early as possible.'
She folded the phone away just as a circle of light edged around the back wall of the shed, bringing Ellen and Ray with it: They'd lit one of the Coleman lanterns. Ellen hung it from a nail and then sat down to stoke the fire. Ray tossed himself down near the fire pit and tipped the coffeepot to see what was left.
'Still sleeping,' Ellen said. 'Dan's over there, but he's afraid to be inside with him.' She looked very worried, and Cree knew why. Tommy hadn't eaten anything for two days. Physical exhaustion would only weaken him, give the ghost the advantage. Even while he slept, it fitted itself more closely to him, a hand working determinedly into a poorly fitting glove.
'I'll go take over now,' Cree told them. 'I feel a lot better. You folks get some rest, okay? I'll call you if I need you.'
'I'm sorry,' Ellen said. 'My husband and his sister were supposed to come up to help out, but I guess they couldn't get here before it got dark. We're on our own for tonight.'
Ray dumped the coffee grounds on the edge of the fire pit and began preparing a new potful. 'So I guess we're what you might call a skeleton crew,' he joked darkly.
A small scrabbling noise jolted Cree out of her drowse.
She'd been sitting with her back to the far wall of the hogan, keeping vigil on Tommy and the shifting auras and moods that emanated from his sleeping form. Some hours must have passed, but she didn't dare lift her hand to check her watch. The only light was the faint reflected glow from the lantern over at the shed, coming through the window.
It was just enough to see what made the noise: Tommy's right hand.
Tommy lay on his left side, facing her with eyes shut, mouth agape, his breath coming in ragged snores. But the hand was awake. It flexed and stealthily slid along the floor to the leg of the little table beneath the window. When it encountered the leg, it recoiled, then returned to probe the shape of it. That was the scrabbling noise:
