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Kaye climbed into the truck beside Mitch. Wendell drove.

“Good-bye, bachelor days,” Kaye said.

Mitch smiled.

“There’s a tree farm near the house,” Wendell said. “We can pick up a Christmas tree on the way in. Should be terrifically cozy.”

Their new home stood in a patch of low brush and woods near Ebey Slough and the town of Snohomish. Rustic green and white, with a single front-facing gable window and a large screened-in porch, the two-bedroom house lay at the end of a long country road surrounded by pines. They were renting from Wendell’s parents, who had owned the house for thirty-four years.

They were keeping their change of address a secret.

As the men unloaded the truck, Kaye made sandwiches and slipped a six-pack of beer and a few fruit drinks into the freshly scrubbed refrigerator. Inside the bare and clean living room, standing in her socks on the oak floor, Kaye felt at peace.

Wendell carried a lamp into the living room and set it on the kitchen table. Kaye handed him a beer. He took a deep swallow gratefully, his throat bobbing. “Did they tell you?” he asked.

“Who?Tell us what?”

“My folks. I was born here. This was their first house.” He waved his hands around the living room. “I used to carry a microscope outside in the garden.”

“That’s wonderful,” Kaye said.

“This is where I became a scientist,” Wendell said. “A sacred place. May it bless you both!”

Mitch lugged in a chair and a magazine rack. He accepted a Full Sail ale and toasted them, clinking his glass against Kaye’s Snapple.

“Here’s to becoming moles,” he said. “To going underground.”

Maria Konig and half a dozen other friends came four hours later and helped arrange furniture. They were almost done when Eileen Ripper knocked on the door. She carried a lumpy canvas bag. Mitch introduced her, then saw two others waiting on the outside porch.

“I brought some friends,” Eileen said. “Thought we’d celebrate with news of our own.”

Sue Champion and a tall older man with long black hair and a well-disciplined barrel of a belly stepped forward, more than a little ill at ease. The tall man’s eyes glinted white like a wolf’s.

Eileen shook hands with Maria and Wendell. “Mitch, you’ve met Sue. This is her husband, Jack. And this is for the wood stove,” she said to Kaye, dropping the bag by the fireplace. “Scrap maple and cherry. Smells wonderful. What a beautiful house!”

Sue nodded to Mitch and smiled at Kaye. “We’ve never met,” Sue said. Kaye opened and closed her mouth like a fish, at a loss for words, until they both laughed nervously.

They had brought baked ham and steelhead for dinner.

Jack and Mitch circled like wary boys sizing up each other. Sue seemed unconcerned, but Mitch did not know what to say. A little tipsy, he apologized for not having any candles and decided the occasion called for Coleman lanterns.

Wendell switched off all the lights. The living room became a camp tent with long shadows and they ate in the bright center amid the stacked boxes. Sue and Jack conferred for a moment in a corner.

“Sue tells me she likes you both,” Jack said when they returned. “But I’m the suspicious type, and I say you’re all crazy.”

“I won’t disagree,” Mitch said, lifting his beer.

“Sue told me about what you did on the Columbia.”

“That was a long time ago,” Mitch said.

“Be good, now,” Sue warned her husband.

“I just want to know why you did it,” Jack said. “He might have been one of my ancestors.”

“I wanted to know whether he was one of your ancestors,” Mitch said.

“Was he?”

“I think so, yes.”

Jack squinted at the Coleman’s bright hissing light. “The ones you found in the cave in the mountains. They were ancestors to all of us?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Jack shook his head quizzically. “Sue tells me the ancestors can be brought back to their people, whoever their people might be, if we learn their real names. Ghosts can be dangerous. I’m not so sure this is the way to keep them happy.”

“Sue and I have drummed up another agreement,” Eileen said. “We’ll get it right eventually. I’m going to be a special consultant to the tribes. Whenever anyone finds old bones, I’ll be called in to take a look at them. We’ll do quick measurements and take a small sample, and then return them to the tribes. Jack and his friends have put together what they call a Wisdom Rite.”

“Their names lie in their bones,” Jack said. “We tell them we’ll name our children after them.”

“That’s grand,” Mitch said. “I’m pleased. Flabbergasted, but pleased.”

“Everybody thinks Indians are ignorant,” Jack said. “We just care about some different things.”

Mitch leaned across the lantern and held out his hand to Jack. Jack looked up at the ceiling, his teeth working audibly. “This is too new,” he said. But he took Mitch’s extended hand and shook it so firmly they almost knocked the lantern over. For a moment, Kaye thought it might turn into an arm-wrestling contest.

“But I’m telling you,” Jack said when they were done. “You should behave yourself, Mitch Rafelson.”

“I’m out of the bone business for good,” Mitch said.

“Mitch dreams about the people he finds,” Eileen said.

“Really?” Jack was impressed by this. “Do they talk to you?”

“I become them,” Mitch said.

“Oh,” Jack said.

Kaye was fascinated by them all, but in particular by Sue. The woman’s features were more than strong — they were almost masculine — but Kaye thought she had never met anyone more beautiful. Eileen’s relationship with Mitch was so easy and intuitive that Kaye wondered if they might have been lovers once.

“Everybody’s scared,” Sue said. “We have so many SHEVA pregnancies in Kumash. That’s one of the reasons why we’re working with Eileen. The council decided that our ancestors can tell us how to survive these times. You’re carrying Mitch’s baby?” she asked Kaye.

“I am,” Kaye said.

“Has the little helper come and gone?”

Kaye nodded.

“Me, too,” Sue said. “We buried her with a special name and our gratitude and love.”

“She was Tiny Swift,” Jack said quietly.

“Congratulations,” Mitch said, just as softly.

“Yes, that is right,” Jack said, pleased. “No sadness. Her work is done.”

“The government can’t come and take names on the council lands,” Sue said. “We won’t let them. If the government becomes too scary, you come stay with us. We’ve fought them off before.”

“This is so wonderful,” Eileen said, beaming.

But Jack looked over his shoulder into the shadows. His eyes narrowed, he swallowed hard, and his face became deeply lined. “It’s so hard to know what to do or what to believe,” he said. “I wish the ghosts would speak more clearly.”

“Will you help us with your knowledge, Kaye?” Sue asked.

“I’ll try,” Kaye said.

Then, to Mitch, hesitantly, Sue said, “I have dreams, too. I dream about the new children.”

“Tell us about your dreams,” Kaye said.

“Maybe they’re personal, honey,” Mitch warned her.

Sue put her hand on Mitch’s arm. “I’m glad you understand. They are personal, and sometimes they’re frightening, too.”

Wendell came down from the attic on a ladder with a cardboard box in one arm. “My folks said they were still here, and they are. Ornaments — God, what memories! Who wants to put the tree up and decorate it?”