William Krueger - Heaven's keep

Cork stepped outside. The morning was sunny and the temperature had climbed to forty degrees. Even in the shade of the porch, Parmer squinted, and Cork realized it was the natural state of the man’s face. The face of a cowboy masking the mind of a real estate tyrant.

“Look, O’Connor, I know about your trouble, and I’m here to tell you that I’m putting the Iron Lake development on hold indefinitely. I’m not going to kick a man while he’s down.”

“You’re dropping your plans for the lakeshore?”

“Let’s take it one step at a time. Right now, I’m pulling back. I don’t want you to have to worry about anything except your family. Later on, you and me can sit down, and I’m willing to bet we can hammer out something that works for both of us. But don’t you even think about that right now. This is no bullshit.”

He put out his hand, and after a moment’s consideration, Cork accepted it. Parmer’s palm was callused. Cork realized this wasn’t a man who spent his time sitting in a plush office.

“There’s nothing more important than family, O’Connor. You see to yours.”

“The name’s Cork.”

“Call me Hugh. And listen, you need anything in all this, just let me know. Here.” He pulled a card from an inside pocket of the jacket he wore and handed it to Cork. “That’s my cell phone number. My Lear’s parked down at the Duluth airport and I’m flying back to Texas tomorrow morning, but I can be reached anytime.”

Cork said, “I misjudged you, Hugh.”

“Not the first time that’s happened. I’m a good businessman, Cork, but I’m a whole hell of a lot more.”

“Look, we’re about to have some lunch inside. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t come here to intrude.”

“You came with a good heart, Hugh. That’s never an intrusion.”

“I appreciate the offer, but all the same I’ll be leaving now.” He nodded toward the card. “I mean it. Call me anytime.”

He walked down the steps and went to his car, a rented Navigator that was parked at the curb. He gave a wave as he drove off.

Cork’s situation was so confusing that he understood he couldn’t necessarily trust his judgment of Parmer. The man could have been setting him up in order to call in the note later, when they dealt with Sam’s Place. That didn’t matter. At the moment, Cork would have sold his soul to have Jo home safely. He eyed the card in his hand. A small white rectangle. He rotated it so that the long sides were vertical. It looked like a door.

“Dad,” Annie called from inside. “Lunch is ready.”

The phone call came a few minutes past noon, while Stephen was sharing with the others what he’d found on the Internet. Cork leaped up to answer.

“O’Connor,” he said.

“It’s Deputy Quinn.”

“What’s the word, Dewey?”

“Still uncertain. We got a report from Jon Rude.” Quinn pronounced the name in a way that rhymed with today. “He’s piloting the helicopter. A very good guy. The wind’s a problem up there. It’s kicking his chopper all over the place. But he thinks he’s found a site where he might be able to attempt a landing. It’s about a quarter mile from the ledge where the plane door was spotted, and after he lands there’ll be some climbing involved. Even if he can set down, it will be a while before we know anything. Sorry I don’t have something more solid for you.”

“You’re a big help, Dewey. Thanks.”

Cork passed the news along to the others, then called Sarah LeDuc and did the same.

The next call came at one thirty.

“Cork, it’s Dewey. Look, I have some bad news. Or maybe it’s not bad, I don’t know. They’ve reached the wreckage. It’s not the plane your wife was on. It’s a small Cessna that went missing five years ago, flown by a real estate broker from Rawlins. We spent a good long time looking for it then, but the search was centered much farther south. The team’s found human remains, which they’ll be bringing down. We’ve notified the pilots who’ve been helping with the current search, and they’re going back into the air just as soon as they can. I’m sorry, Cork.”

“Thanks, Dewey. I appreciate the call.”

They all watched him expectantly. Cork braced himself and forced a smile. “Good news,” he said. “It wasn’t Jo’s plane.” He explained, trying to give the news the best possible spin. But after they’d heard, they seemed to sit a little lower, more heavily weighted than before. Hope was like that, Cork knew. It could be crueler than despair.

“I’m going to get a little fresh air,” he said.

He went out onto the porch. The branches of the elm in the front yard had long ago been stripped bare, and the shadow they cast on the lawn made the ground look fractured. The air was cool and full of the scent of woodsmoke from the blaze in someone’s fireplace. It would have been a beautiful day if not for the worry that dragged on all Cork’s thinking.

Mal came out. “I haven’t wanted a cigarette in years,” he said. “Right now I’d kill for one.” He leaned against the porch railing. “You’re leaving for the airport in a couple of hours and you still haven’t said a thing to the kids about going to Wyoming.”

“You think I don’t know that?” When Cork heard the venom in his own voice, he apologized to Mal. Then he confessed, “I can’t bring myself to tell Stephen.”

“Take him with you.”

“That’s not a good idea, Mal.”

“Why? Look, Cork, you can leave Rose and the girls. They have each other. For Stephen, you’re it. And he’s dying to be out there helping. You go and leave him behind, well, that’d be one big mistake, in my opinion.”

The sun had dropped low enough to shoot fire at their feet, and they stood in a puddle that burned bright yellow on the porch boards.

Cork said, “It would be easier to operate if I were on my own.”

“Maybe. But listen. One of the things you’ve told me about your father’s death is that you’ve always felt there was something more you could have done. If Jo is lost to us for good, if ultimately that’s what we all have to face, wouldn’t you rather that Stephen faces it believing he did everything he could? Wouldn’t you want to believe it of yourself?”

For a few long moments, Cork stared at the fire around his feet, then he decided. “Thanks, Mal. Let’s go in and give them the word.”

They didn’t respond immediately when Cork told them he was going. He didn’t know exactly what that meant.

“I think it’s important to be there,” he said.

“Are you going alone?” Jenny asked.

“No. I’d like to take Stephen with me. Is that okay with you, buddy?”

Stephen looked surprised, then he looked brighter than he had in days. “Heck, yes.”

Cork said to his daughters, “Are you two okay with that?”

The girls looked at each other.

Jenny said, “I’m totally cool with it.”

“It’s a terrific idea,” Annie said.

“It’s settled then.”

Stephen jumped up and headed for the stairs. “I’ve gotta pack.”

It wasn’t as simple as Cork had hoped. Nothing was simple anymore. There were no seats left on the flight he was taking. He got off the phone ready to put his fist through the kitchen wall.

Rose, who’d been sitting at the table with her rosary, said, “What about Mr. Parmer?”

“What about him?”

“He offered to help, didn’t he? And you told me, didn’t you, that he’s got his own plane?”

It was a slim hope, but Cork was desperate. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and plucked out the business card Hugh Parmer had given him. He noted the cell phone number, then turned the card lengthwise so that it again resembled a door. He made the call.