William Krueger: Tamarack County

Cork called home and told Jenny what had occurred. He could hear the relief in her voice as she relayed the news to Anne. She asked, “Will you be home soon?”

“In a while,” he replied wearily. “And then I’m driving to Duluth to be with Stephen.”

Marsha Dross gave him a lift back to his Land Rover, which was still parked on the North Star Trail, hubcap deep in drifted snow. She said, “Come in any time tomorrow, and we’ll get your statement. There’s no hurry. You want to know when we’ve pulled the body from the lake?”

Cork shook his head, but then thought a moment and said, “Yeah. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep nights again.”

“Good luck with Stephen. I’ll wait here until I know you’ve got your Land Rover out of that drift.”

“Thanks.”

He climbed out and waded through the snow. He cleared the exhaust pipe on his vehicle, got in, and fired up the engine. He backed out onto Becker Road, grateful for the Land Rover’s big tires and all-wheel drive. He waited while Dross made a U-turn, and then he followed her into town. As he neared the shoreline of the lake, he could see the illumination from the big floodlights which the fire department had set around the open water. A hundred or so yards south was Sam’s Place. The old Quonset hut should have been dark, but Cork saw that the windows were squares of light. Someone was inside. When he came to the access road across the narrow, open meadow, he turned in.

The Land Rover climbed over the raised railbed of the BNSF tracks, and Cork pulled into the parking lot, where he kept a small area plowed for those days when he worked out of his office in the back of Sam’s Place. Jenny’s Forester sat there. He found Anne inside the Quonset hut, sitting at the table he used for both business and dining. Trixie lay on the floor at her feet. His daughter held a mug of coffee and was clearly startled when he came in the door. Trixie bounded up, barking, then saw who it was and trotted to him.

“Everything okay?” he asked from the doorway, reluctant to barge in.

“I just dropped Skye off at the Four Seasons,” she said. “And Trixie needed to be walked.”

“And you wanted to be alone for a little while?”

She shrugged, gave a little nod. “A lot on my mind.”

“I’ll leave.”

“No, that’s okay.” Her eyes swung to the north window, where the floodlights were glaring on the ice down the shoreline. “Ever since you called and told us what happened, I’ve been thinking about Walter Frogg.”

“Thinking what?”

“That the people who behave the worst are the ones we ought to pray for the most.”

“You’ve been praying for Frogg?”

“That he’s found peace now.”

“And Stephen and the other people he damaged or killed?”

“I pray for them, too. Prayers are something I seem never to run out of.” She sipped her coffee, holding the mug in both hands as if it were heavy.

“Mind if I steal a cup?” Cork asked.

“Your coffee. I just put it together.”

Cork pulled a mug from the cupboard, poured some brew from the pot Anne had made, and sat down at the table with her. She was staring out the window toward the floodlights, which were hazy through the falling snow. Although he could tell from the dim silhouettes crossing the lights that there were a lot of people around the open water, he was pretty sure the divers hadn’t gone in yet.

“We haven’t had much chance to talk,” he said.

She sipped her coffee. “You’ve been busy.”

“How’re you doing?”

“Confused,” she said.

“Saving any of those prayers for yourself?”

When she spoke next, she sounded old beyond her years. “I’ve never been in a spot before where no matter what I do it’s going to hurt.”

“I wish I could help, sweetheart. Whatever you decide, I’m right there with you. We all are.” She didn’t reply, and he offered, “Strange that it’s so hard to know your own heart sometimes.”

“I feel like it’s being torn in two.”

“That’s love for you.”

“Then I’m not sure I want it.”

He watched a tear crawl over the lower lid of her eye.

“That’s all there is,” he said. “For someone like you.”

She looked at him, and it was clear she didn’t understand.

“I believe we come into the world who we are, and all we do after that is struggle to accept it. You were always all about love, right from the beginning. I’ve seen you get passionate about a softball game or in defense of someone or something you care about. But I’ve never seen you act out of anger, Annie. It’s always amazed me, your capacity for calm, for forgiveness, for being able to open your arms to everything and everyone. It’s a gift.”

The tear went on crawling, leaving a wet, crooked line down her cheek.

Cork took a final swig of his coffee and stood up. “I’m going home and shower and see if I can wake myself up enough to drive to Duluth. You want to come with me?”

“I’ll be along in a bit,” she replied. “I’d like to be alone a little longer, if it’s okay.”

“Want me to take Trixie?”

“I haven’t really walked her yet.”

“All right. See you at home.”

He kissed the top of her head, put the mug in the sink, and left the Quonset hut.

At home, he found Ken Mercer in the living room, watching television. The deputy stood up when Cork walked in. Mercer explained that Dross had contacted him, told him that as soon as Cork showed up he was to join the others at the open water on Iron Lake. Town folk were gathering, and the sheriff needed some crowd control. Cork thanked him for his help, and the deputy left with still a long night of duty ahead.

Jenny came down from upstairs, Waaboo in his pajamas in her arms. Cork’s grandson looked tired, his head against his mother’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just blinked sleepily at his grandfather.

“Is it really over?” Jenny asked.

Cork nodded. “Everything except the healing, and there’s a lot of that to be done.”

“Are you going back to Duluth tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to stay here with Waaboo.”

“That’s okay.”

“Annie’ll go with you when she comes back. I thought she’d be here by now.”

“I ran into her at Sam’s Place. She wanted some time to herself.”

Waaboo yawned big and murmured, “Lie down.”

“I’m on it, kiddo,” Jenny told him. To her father, she said, “I’m going to put him back to bed. I may lie down, too. I’m pretty beat.”

“Go ahead. If there’s anything you need to know from the hospital, I’ll give you a call.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She leaned and kissed his cheek. “It’ll be all right, I know. Somehow, it’ll be all right.”

She headed back upstairs, and the telephone rang. Cork took it in the study down the hallway. He saw from the caller ID that it was Rainy. He closed the study door and answered.

“Cork,” Rainy said, sounding distressed. “I just heard about Stephen. I’m so sorry. How is he?”

“Alive. We don’t know yet if the damage is permanent.”

“What kind of damage?”

Cork explained.

“Oh, Cork, I wish I were there.”

“We’re doing all right, Rainy.”

“I’m sure, but . . . Ah, damn.”

“I know. Henry’s here, did you know that?”

“Yes. The one bright spot.”

“There’s another,” Cork said.

“What?”

“The man responsible for everything is dead.”

“So it’s over?”

“It’s over.”

She was quiet on her end. Then she said, “I’ve heard some other things via the rez telegraph.”

“What have you heard?”

“Stella Daychild.”

“Could we talk about this later, Rainy? I’m pretty beat right now.”