“Get your coat on,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”
“The hell I am,” I said.
“There’s a ceremony at Garden River,” he said. “She wants you to be there.”
“Who does?”
“Dorothy,” he said. “Who do you think?”
“I thought she was locked away somewhere.”
“She was never locked anywhere,” he said. “She was just getting herself together. Now she’s ready to move on.”
“Where’s she moving on to?” I said. “Last I heard, those DEA agents still wanted to talk to her.”
“They’re not going to,” he said. “She’s not coming back to the United States.”
“She’s in Canada?”
“No, Alex, she’s in Ecuador. Are you coming or not?”
“Take it easy,” I said. I went to get my coat.
“Why’s it so hot in here?” he said.
“I’ve been cold lately,” I said. “Ever since I almost died of hypothermia.”
“All right, all right,” he said. “I hear you.”
“Ecuador, did you say? Where did you come up with that one?”
“Come on, let’s go,” he said. “I’ll drive.”
I followed him to his car. When we got in, I turned the heat up.
“The car’s warm enough,” he said. “You’re gonna suffocate me.”
“That would be a shame.”
He let out a long breath and backed out onto the access road. “She asked me to bring you,” he said. “So I’m bringing you.”
“So drive,” I said.
“I am,” he said.
He drove through Paradise, between piles of snow that were a good seven feet high. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I didn’t say anything back.
When we were on M-28 heading east, he finally cleared his throat. “I know what you did,” he said.
“Do tell.”
“With those drugs,” he said. “The day I go to trial on the assault charge, there’s Maven on the front page of the paper, bunch of bags on a table, those two agents on either side of him. What did you do, give the stuff to Maven directly?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Soon as I get to the courthouse, the public defender tells me the charge has been dropped down to a misdemeanor. I get a fine and a lecture from the judge. That’s it.”
“Lucky you,” I said.
“Just stop it, Alex. I know what you did.”
“Look,” I said. “I still feel like shit, okay? But when I get my strength back, I’m coming over and knocking you on your ass. How am I gonna do that if you’re sitting in jail?”
He laughed. “You’ve been plowing out my driveway, too,” he said.
“When I come over to knock you on your ass,” I said, “I don’t want to get all tired out having to climb over three feet of snow. When I come through your door, I want to be fresh and ready to go.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“Just a little warning,” I said. “I think I’m almost back to one hundred percent.”
“You know where to find me,” he said.
He kept driving, through the Soo to the International Bridge. It was the first time I had been across since I was arrested. The customs agent asked Vinnie the usual questions, took a look at me, then let us through.
“Where are we going, anyway?” I said.
“Garden River Healing Center,” he said. “It’ll be a quick ceremony. It’s kind of a secret.”
“How come I get to be here?”
“I told you,” he said. “She asked for you.”
“But I’m the enemy.”
“Don’t even start, Alex. You helped her. She wants to thank you.”
“What about all your cousins, the ones who told you not to trust me? Are they going to be there?”
“Some of them.”
“Great,” I said. “This will be a lot of fun.”
“They feel bad about what happened,” he said. “For what that’s worth.”
“It’s worth nothing,” I said. “Exactly nothing.”
“Reminds me,” he said. “I think you probably ended up spending some money. Didn’t you?”
I didn’t say anything.
“You were in the hospital twice,” he said. “That must have cost a lot of money.”
“I’m covered,” I said.
“Not all of it,” he said. “You had to end up paying for some of it
…”
“Vinnie,” I said. “If you’re talking about somebody paying me because of what happened…”
“I’m just saying, Alex. You shouldn’t have to-”
“So help me God,” I said, “if you say one more word about money…”
“All right,” he said. “All right. I’m just saying.”
“Vinnie…”
“No more,” he said. “I’m done.”
He drove all the way through Soo Canada, then east into the forest. A few miles outside the city, we came to the Garden River Reservation. It was another of the Ojibwa tribes, along with the Bay Mills and Sault tribes in Michigan, a few others in Wisconsin and Minnesota. Garden River didn’t have casinos, and they weren’t going to get them. The government of Ontario would soon be opening their own casino in Soo Canada, cutting the Canadian tribes right out of the game.
“All these buildings are white pine,” he said as we drove in. “That’s to honor Chief Shingwaukonce. His name means ‘pine.’ ”
“You don’t say.”
“The healing center we’re going to has thirteen sides, one for each month in the old Ojibwa calendar. The white man stole one of our months, did you know that?”
“I apologize on their behalf,” I said.
“I’ll shut up now,” he said.
“Thank you.”
We parked next to the healing center. There were maybe a dozen cars there. I looked at my watch. It was almost midnight.
When we got out of his car, the snow crunched under out feet as though we were stepping on fine crystal. It was impossibly, inhumanly cold, all the clouds gone from the sky. We could see every star above us, and in the east a full moon burned brightly, casting a blue light on everything below.
“Look at that moon,” Vinnie said.
“It’s a moon, all right.”
He shook his head and led me into the place.
In the center of the healing center there was a round meeting room, with a high tin exhaust pipe rising through the ceiling. Below the pipe there was a large circle where the floor opened up all the way to the ground. There was a great mass of sand there, and after my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see that the sand had been formed into the shape of a turtle. On the turtle’s back was a hearth, also made from sand. The sweet smoke rose and hung in the air before leaving the room through the exhaust pipe. A man stood next to the sand turtle, his shirt decorated with ribbons, red, yellow, black and white.
There were chairs placed in a circle all around the turtle, at least thirty tribal members already sitting. They all looked up at us as we came in. I recognized Dorothy’s parents on the far side of the room.
“I take it they don’t see many white men in here,” I whispered.
“I hope you realize what an honor this is,” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
“This is a sacred place,” he said as he sat down. “You know, like church? Think you could put a lid on it for a little while?”
I shut up and sat down next to him.
When Dorothy came into the room, I could barely recognize her. Her face was scrubbed clean, her hair pulled back straight as if it were still wet. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, or any of the earrings she had on the night I met her. As she came through the circle and stood next to the man, she caught my eye and gave me a quick smile.
The man unwrapped a clay bowl from a red blanket that was lying at his feet. From the edge of the fire he took an ember and lit whatever was inside the bowl. Dorothy whispered something into his ear, and then he looked up at me. Slowly he walked over to me, carrying the smoking bowl in front of him.
“What’s happening?” I whispered to Vinnie. But it was the medicine man who answered me.
“We call this smudging,” he said. As he held the bowl next to my heart, the smoke rose all around my head and then filled my lungs as I breathed it. “This is Shkodawabuk, or sage,” he said. “It was one of our four medicines. Tobacco is from the east, cedar from the south, sweetgrass from the north and sage from the west.”