“I guess I mean why are you so afraid of me dying?” He opened his arms toward the hollow. “Don’t you feel it here? The source? We come from a great heart, Cork. The heart of Kitchimanidoo, the heart of God. And we just go back into that heart. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“When you’re looking down the barrel of a shotgun, Solemn, it’s hard to hold to that philosophy. Believe me, I know.”
“Maybe you should stay here awhile.”
“I’ve done what I came for. I just hope it’s done some good.”
“I hadn’t thought about leaving.”
“Good.”
“Thank you, Cork. Thanks for everything.”
Cork stood to leave. He looked down at Solemn. “I wish Sam could see you now.”
“Who says he can’t?” Solemn pointed toward a thick stand of poplar at the base of the western ridge. “A couple of hundred yards south of the creek. See that break in the trees? There’s a path over the ridge. Unless you have a hankering for another go at the blackberry thicket.”
“Once is enough,” Cork said.
Cork found the trail through the trees. As he topped the ridge, he looked back. Solemn hadn’t moved. Nor would he. The place he’d come to was as good as any man could hope for, and far better than most would ever know.
41
Cork knew he’d left a remarkable young man in the hollow where the Blood ran. Solemn had taken hold of something-or something had taken hold of him-that had changed him pro-foundly. Cork, who struggled at every step trying to understand himself and the world, envied Solemn. Yet, as he left the woods and drove toward Aurora, there was a dark voice deep inside him that whispered, It won’t last. Back among men, in a little while, he’ll be like us again.
His children were happy to see him home, but no happier than he was to be there and to be with them again. He held them each in his arms. Lithe Jenny. Annie solid as a stone. Stevie, who could not keep his little body still. Cork closed his eyes and knew that to lose a child would be the cruelest blow. Although his head told him prayer was pointless, his heart couldn’t help whispering, “Please, God, keep them safe, my children.”
The house smelled of Rose’s cooking. Pork roast with a citrus marinade, new potatoes, butter squash, and homemade apple-sauce. A welcome-home meal, she told him when he stepped into the kitchen. She kissed his cheek and smiled, but she was unable to hide from him that she stood in the shadow of some private sadness.
“It’s good to be home again,” he said.
“Wash up,” she replied, turning away and wiping her hands on her apron. “Dinner’s almost ready. Oh, and you got a call. A man named Boomer. He said to call him back.”
Boomer Grabowski had promised to call as soon as he returned to Chicago, in case Cork still wanted Mal Thorne investigated. Cork considered whether that was necessary now. He’d identified Charlotte’s lover, and it wasn’t the priest. Not that he’d ever really believed it was, but he’d wanted to be thorough. And still did. So he figured he’d call Boomer after dinner.
As it turned out, he never got the chance. But it would have been far better if he had.
In the stillness just before sunset, he sat with Jo, rocking in the porch swing. Jenny had gone on a date with her boyfriend, Sean. Annie was at the park with Ilsa Hardesty, practicing their pitches. She promised to be home before dark. Stevie rode his bike up and down Gooseberry Lane making a sound like a race car. Rose was taking a walk by herself, something she did regularly now.
“She’s quiet,” Cork said.
“She’s in love. She believes she’s hiding it, but even the girls can see.”
“Has she talked to you?”
“No.”
“What will she do?”
“What can she do? He’s a priest. He’s already taken.”
“Sometimes priests leave the church. Sometimes because of a woman. Do you think Mal feels the same way about her?”
“I don’t know.” She watched Stevie zip past on the street, his little legs pedaling as if he were being chased by a devil. “I keep thinking back to Memorial Day. I knew then and didn’t do anything.”
“What could you have done?” He squeezed her hand. “It’s not your fault, Jo. When two hearts connect, there’s not a lot anybody can do about it. We both know that.”
“She’s always wanted to be in love, to find someone to care about and who would care about her. Why did it have to be like this? Why is love always so painful?”
“It’s not. Not always, anyway.”
“Oh, Cork, my heart’s breaking for her.”
As the sun set, the street dropped into the shadow of approaching night. Cork stood up to call Stevie in, but before he did, he glanced down at Jo and said, “Aren’t you supposed to put all this in God’s hands?”
Jo shook her head. “I don’t know. Sometimes He seems clueless.”
Cork guided Stevie through bedtime preparations and read to him awhile. He heard the doorbell ring. A few minutes later, Jo came upstairs and parked herself in the doorway to Stevie’s room. She looked concerned.
“What’s up?” Cork asked quietly. Stevie’s eyes had just drifted closed.
Jo motioned him into the hallway.
“Dot Winter Moon is downstairs. She’s worried about Solemn.”
Dorothy Winter Moon sat on the couch in the living room. Her face was shiny with perspiration. Errant strands of her hair were pasted to her forehead like black cracks.
“What’s going on?” Cork said.
“Solemn’s gone,” Dot said.
“I know. He’s up in the woods near Meloux’s place.”
“He came back,” Dot said.
Cork sat down in the easy chair. “Tell me what happened.”
“He came home late this afternoon, showered, changed his clothes. Then he talked to me, like we used to talk.”
“What about?” Cork asked.
“About Sam, about a lot of things in the past. I told him I was fixing pork chops for dinner. He said he had an errand to run, then he’d be back to eat. He kissed me on the cheek. I can’t remember the last time he kissed me.” She was a tough woman, but she was near tears. “He never came back.”
“Did he say where he was going?” Cork asked.
“To the place where two hard roads come together. I don’t know where that is.”
Cork said, “Did you check Sam’s cabin?”
“Yes. He wasn’t there. And I called everyone on the rez. Nobody’s seen him. I checked the bars he used to go to. Then I came into town hoping he might have come by here.”
“I’ll bet he went back to Henry Meloux’s place,” Cork said. “I’m sure he’s fine, Dot.”
“You think so?”
“I’d call Henry, but he’s got no phone.”
Jo said, “Cork, would you be willing to drive out and check?”
Dot looked at Cork, and her almond eyes were full of hope.
“All right.”
“Thanks,” Dot said. “Thanks a million, Cork.”
Rose walked in the front door. She took in the scene, and she said, “Are you all right, Dot?”
Dot shrugged. “My boy’s missing.”
“Cork thinks he’s with Henry Meloux,” Jo said. “He’s going out to check.”
Rose put her hand gently on Dot’s shoulder. “It could be a long wait. Why don’t I fix some coffee?”
“Damn, that would be nice,” Dot said.
Rose glanced at Jo, saw the look of concern on her face, and suggested, “Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me, Dot. I could use the company.”
After the two women had left the room, Jo turned to Cork.
“Do you really think he’s at Meloux’s?”
“I hope so, but there’s one place I’m going to check first.”
“You think he’s gone to see Kane?”
“I do.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“Of course.”
Along the two blocks of the central business district everything except the Pinewood Broiler and the Perkins had closed for the night. There were still vehicles on the streets, kids on summer break with nothing better to do, tourists looking for a nightlife that didn’t exist in Aurora.
He turned onto North Point Road and drove past the Soderberg house, which appeared deserted. The moon was just rising, a yellow blister festering on the dark horizon.