William Krueger - Tamarack County

He wasn’t certain at all that he wanted to see Marlee now.

“If you’d rather not,” his father said, “that’s all right.”

“No, it’s okay,” Stephen replied. “For a little while.”

Cork signaled Anne, who’d been at Stephen’s bedside constantly, to come with him, and a couple of moments later, Stephen found himself alone with Marlee Daychild.

She looked awful. And she looked beautiful. Her face was bruised, and she walked as if it was terribly painful for her, and she wore a worried expression. But that didn’t matter, because the moment he saw her, he felt an ember deep inside him begin to glow.

“I know,” she said and almost turned away. “I look awful.”

“You look wonderful,” he said.

“You look-” She began to cry. “Oh, Stephen, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to be this way. It hurts me.”

“I watched you walk in. I think you hurt enough already.” He smiled and reached out and took her hand. “How’re you doing?”

“I was afraid you were going to die. And I wanted to die, too.”

“But here we are. Both alive.”

Her eyes shot to his legs under the sheet and blanket, and he could guess her thinking.

He squeezed her hand. “The doctors say there’s hope. And Henry tells me there’s purpose in this.”

“What purpose?” she fired back angrily.

Stephen pretty much repeated what Meloux had told him. “In time, we’ll understand.”

She hit his shoulder lightly with her free hand, a gentle but irritated tap. “You’re so damn calm.”

“I can’t do anything about what’s happened except prepare myself to accept the way things are.” Which were words, only words. The truth was he was terribly afraid, and every quiet moment he had to himself, he prayed desperately not to have to live his life crippled. Because he didn’t want her to see his fear, he looked down at her hand and asked, “Would it make a difference if I couldn’t walk?”

She didn’t answer, and her silence became an unbearable weight. He finally looked up, right into the dark, wet satin of her eyes.

“I would carry you everywhere,” she told him. “And I would be happy.” She leaned down and kissed him a very long time.

* * *

Cork stood with Stella in the hallway outside Stephen’s room.

“You know, I’ve always thought I was kind of screwed up,” Stella said, “but then a guy like this Frogg comes along and makes me realize what crazy really is.”

She wore jeans, a white sweater of some soft knit, a necklace of amber-colored stones, and matching earrings. Cork thought it was odd, maybe inexcusable, that under the circumstances he noted such inconsequential things. But he and Stella had shared a night that felt to him as if it had significant consequence, and even the small things about her had become important. She held a paperback book in one hand.

“What’re you reading?” Cork asked.

“To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s been on my bookshelf forever. I thought it might be a good way to pass the time in the waiting room.”

“How are you and Marlee doing?”

She looked at him, as if perplexed. “You’ve got all this crap to deal with and you’re asking about Marlee and me? Are you for real?”

“If you’re doing okay, then it’s one less thing I need to worry about.”

She reached up with her free hand and cupped his cheek. On her wrist he smelled that alluring fragrance he could not name. “Cork, I don’t know what this is between you and me. I didn’t mean for it to get serious, but I think it is.” She waited a moment. “Isn’t it?”

“When everything settles down, that’s an area we need to explore,” he answered. “It’s an area I’d like to explore.”

She lifted her face to his, and he closed his eyes and let himself, amid all the chaos that had descended, enjoy for just a moment the pleasure of her lips.

“I’d like that, too,” she whispered as she drew away.

Stephen asked if Marlee could stay with him awhile longer, and that was fine with Cork. In the waiting area, Tom Bullhead and the other Shinnobs from the rez had set up a guard rotation. Each would take a turn standing post outside Stephen’s room for an hour and then be relieved. The others would bide their time playing pinochle for pennies with a deck that Bob Rainingbird had brought along. Cork pulled Jenny and Anne aside for a family discussion. At some point, they had to head back to Aurora. Jenny needed to take Waaboo off Skye’s hands, and they were all due for a shower and a change of clothing. If possible, they all needed some rest as well. The O’Connors returned to Stephen’s room to discuss the situation with him. Meloux accompanied them.

“Are you going, too?” Stephen asked the old Mide after Cork had explained things.

Henry said, “There is nothing waiting for me. If you want me here, here is where I will be.”

“Thanks, Henry,” Stephen said.

Cork said, “I’ll be back tonight. But if anything changes, the doctors will let us know, and I’ll come right away.”

“Me, too,” Anne said.

“I’ll be fine,” Stephen told them.

Cork knew it was mostly bravado, but he also knew that Stephen was surrounded by good people and good energies. Cork had things to attend to, and one in particular that was eating at him like acid.

He kissed the top of his son’s head. “I love you, guy.”

Jenny and Anne said their good-byes, and they all returned to the waiting area, where Cork explained things to Bullhead and the others. To Hank Wellington, he said, “Henry’s determined to stay here as long as Stephen wants him. What are you going to do?”

Wellington eyed the Ojibwe men, who’d cleared a plant off a table in preparation for dealing a hand of pinochle. “If these guys’ll let me, I’ll do my best to take their pennies.”

“Sit down, rich man,” Bullhead said. “You may know high finance, but when it comes to pennies, Indians always have the inside track.”

It was nearing four o’clock in the afternoon when Cork and his daughters climbed into the Land Rover and pulled away from the hospital. The sun hung low in the west. Rising below it was a bank of dark clouds. He turned on the radio, and just before they headed north out of Duluth, they heard the weather report: More snow was moving in, with significant totals possible before morning.

It had been a long day. They were quiet, drained. There’d been no sleep for any of them the night before, and Cork figured that for him, at least, there’d be no sleep in the night ahead. It seemed to him that he was trudging up an incline, with a great distance still to go before he reached the top.

And what was at the top? Walter Frogg. Frogg in handcuffs or Frogg dead.

“You’re not going home to rest, are you, Dad?” Jenny said.

She knew him too well.

“Miles to go before I sleep,” he replied, one of his favorite retorts.

“Frogg?” Anne asked.

Cork didn’t reply. He simply looked toward the west and thought that if he had any luck at all, a hard snow would add only a small measure of difficulty to what he was planning for that night.

Skye had Waaboo bathed and in his pajamas when the O’Connors walked in the door.

“Mommy,” he cried and ran to Jenny’s waiting arms.

She lifted him and nuzzled his neck and said, “Did you and Skye have fun today?”

“We pwayed,” he said.

“You prayed?”

“No, pwayed. We pwayed wif Bart.”

Skye held up the stuffed orangutan. “All day.”

“Make him talk, Aunt Skye,” Waaboo said.

And she did. A wonderful monkey voice that had Waaboo laughing with delight.