“Bad timing. Looks pretty suspicious.” The crow stopped cawing. The still of the evening wrapped around them, and Cork felt the goodness of the place. “Come here to think?”
Solemn didn’t answer.
“You can feel him out here, can’t you? I sure can.”
Cork looked for a crack in the front the kid put up, but Solemn remained hard.
“He saved my life once. Did you know that?”
No sign whether Solemn knew or not, whether he even cared.
“It was in the fall, a year after my father died. Sam asked me to help him build a bear trap, something he’d never tried before. We set it a mile or so down Widow’s Creek, near that meadow full of blueberries. You know the one?” Solemn gave no reply, but his face altered a bit, a splinter of acknowledgment. “The bear sprung the trap, but it was such a goddamned huge animal it got away. Sam went after it and took me with him. I’d never hunted a bear before. We tracked it for a day and a half. Finally we got into a rocky area where even Sam couldn’t track and we turned back. I remember that Sam was happy he wasn’t going to have to kill a creature as magnificent as we knew that bear was.
“Toward evening, coming back, we hit a thick patch of sumac, bloodred stuff. We’d passed it earlier. This time Sam sensed something. He told me to wait, and he headed into the sumac. I waited, like he said. Then I heard a rustling in all those red leaves. I thought Sam was coming back. But it wasn’t him. The biggest black bear I’ve ever seen charged out, coming right at me. It had circled. Bears sometimes do that. I was paralyzed. Couldn’t move. That huge bear reared up on its hind legs, claws longer than my fingers. I was sure it was going to rip me apart.
“Then Sam shot it. At first, nothing happened. Finally the bear wavered, stumbled back, fell. It tried to get up, defend itself, but it couldn’t. Sam came out of the sumac, spoke to the bear, something in Ojibwe I didn’t understand. And he finished the kill. I could tell it made him sad to do it.”
Solemn cradled the shotgun in a hunter’s safe stance, barrel toward the earth. He looked at the place where the barrel pointed.
“I loved him, too, Solemn. Almost like he was my father. And he’d tell you what I’m telling you. Talk to the sheriff. Jo says she’ll go with you if you’d like. The choice is yours.”
Cork turned and started away.
“You going to tell anyone?” Solemn called after him.
“No.”
“Not even my mother?”
“Not if you don’t want me to. Okay if I tell her you’re fine?”
Solemn thought about it. “Yeah.”
Cork paused before he got into his Bronco. “In everything we remember, Sam’s still alive. In every decision we make, he’s still with us. But you know that. It’s why you come here.”
The light was fading as Cork pulled away. Solemn was still standing in front of the cabin, his figure darkening along with the day, his shotgun pointed at nothing. The truth was Cork hated leaving him alone that way. But there was nothing more he could do. Solemn Winter Moon was no longer a boy.
9
Cork came home to disaster. Rose was leaving. She had a suitcase packed and sitting beside the front door. The children were gathered around her, looking at her with sad eyes.
“You’re going somewhere?” Cork said.
Rose opened her purse to double-check the contents. “Ellie Gruber called. Her sister broke a hip. Ellie’s going to stay with her for a while to help out. She asked me if I’d be willing to take care of things at the rectory until she’s back.”
“A broken hip,” Cork said. “That could be quite a while.”
“It could be.”
Rose didn’t seem concerned, but to Cork-and to the children, judging by their faces-it felt as if the O’Connors were being orphaned.
“Where’s Jo?”
Rose snapped her purse shut. “Working late. Don’t worry. Meat loaf and potatoes are in the oven. Green beans are on the stove. A list of meals for the week is posted on the fridge. You girls know your way around the kitchen, and I expect you to help take care of things while I’m gone. And, Stephen, there’s plenty you can do, too.”
Rose wore a green print dress, a plain thing that gave little definition to her plump body. Her dust-colored hair was brushed but, as always, still looking a little ruffled. She wore no makeup. She wasn’t a woman particularly beautiful to the eye, but to anyone who knew her, her beauty was obvious in many ways.
She looked at the children, at the funereal expressions they wore, and she laughed. “For goodness’ sake, I’m not dead. I’m just going over to the rectory at St. Agnes. You’ll do fine.”
In the gloom of the gathering dark outside, Father Mal Thorne pulled up to the curb in his yellow Nova, parked, and walked to the house. Rose opened the door to him.
“Evening, Cork. Kids,” Mal said. “Thanks for doing this, Rose.”
“No problem, Father.”
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s necessary, but Mrs. Gruber, you know how she is.”
“Ellie’s absolutely right. You can’t take care of everything, especially with Father Kelsey to consider.”
Mal was only one of the priests who lived at the rectory. Father Kelsey was the other, a man long past the age when he should have retired. In serving the parish in Aurora and the mission on the Iron Lake Reservation, most responsibilities fell to Mal.
“I appreciate this.” He glanced at the faces of the children. “And I appreciate what you’re all giving up, too.”
Jo’s Toyota swung into the driveway and stopped quickly. Jo got out and hurried to the house.
“Oh, good. I didn’t miss you.” She hugged her sister. “You take good care of the Fathers.”
“And you take care of things here.”
“We’ll be fine,” Jo said.
Rose hugged and kissed each of the children and Cork, then said to the priest, “We’d best be off. Have you eaten?”
He picked up her suitcase. “I figured we could scrounge something from the refrigerator.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure Ellie has the shelves well stocked. I’ll put together a decent meal.” She turned back at the opened door. “Bye, dears.”
The children lifted limp hands in farewell.
Jo closed the door and laughed when she saw the look on their faces. “My God, you’d think she was going to the other side of the world. Come on, let’s get dinner on the table.”
As the children headed toward the kitchen, Jo turned to Cork. “Did you talk with Dot?”
“Yes. And Solemn.”
“Solemn? You found him? Where?”
“He asked me not to say and I gave my word.”
“Is he willing to talk to the sheriff?”
“I don’t know. I told him I thought it was the best thing, but Solemn makes up his own mind. I also told him you’d go with him if he decides to see Soderberg.”
“Good. What about Dot?”
“I called from Alouette, told her Solemn was fine.”
“Thanks.” She put a hand on his cheek. “You’re terrific, you know that?”
“Never hurts to hear.”
When the table was set, they gathered and said grace. It was quiet during the meal.
“How was school?” Jo asked of everyone in general.
