Page 5 of God’s Country

“Yippee!” was his reply. “Can Luke come, too? He’s never met Mishomis.”

“I wouldn’t mind going as well,” Mal said. “Henry often gave me good advice when I was struggling as the priest here. And I haven’t seen him since Jenny and Daniel’s wedding.”

“All right, then,” I said, turning to the front door.

“Dad.” Stephen put a restraining hand on my arm. “I’ll drive.”

It’s a cold reality that as you age, your children feel a need to become protective, in the way you protected them as they grew up. I could have argued. The doc had said my heart was in good shape. But Stephen was clearly ready to battle me on this one, so I tossed him the keys to the Expedition and said, “I’ll ride shotgun.”

CHAPTER 4

By the time we’d parked at the double-trunk birch on the gravel county road north of Aurora and begun to walk the two-mile path to Crow Point, it was late afternoon, the deep shadows of the pine forest darkening our way. I figured we’d be returning well after sunset, so I brought along a couple of flashlights. The two boys ran ahead, but the men walked.

The way to Crow Point can have a strange effect on people. I’ve always felt it as a spiritual preparation for spending time with Henry Meloux, trying to open myself to the wisdom the old Mide offers. I don’t always understand what Henry tells me, in large part because he’s seldom straightforward. Sometimes I have to work at some riddle or puzzle he’s couched his advice in, and I admit that occasionally I leave frustrated. But that’s not Henry’s fault. That’s just my thick head.

“I’m thinking maybe we should reconsider the Boundary Waters trip,” Mal said after we’d walked some distance in silence.

“Why?” I asked.

“Dad.” Stephen looked at me as if I were an idiot.

“This heart thing? The doc said it’s nothing.”

“That’s not exactly what he said,” Stephen replied.

“Mild arrhythmia. Heart flutter. Hell, isn’t that what happens when every teenager falls in love?”

“You’re no teenager,” Mal pointed out.

“I’ll be fine. We’re not canceling the trip. Luke and Waaboo are looking forward to it so much and I’d hate to disappoint them.”

“I’d hate for you to have a heart attack miles from anywhere,” Mal said. “And how do you think that might affect Waaboo?”

“Not going to happen,” I said.

“And you know this how?” Stephen asked.

“You think you and Waaboo are the only ones who have visions? I’ve seen my death.”

Stephen stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait. What?”

“When I was fifteen years old.”

“And how did this happen exactly?” Mal asked.

“I was swimming in Iron Lake with Nels Jensen. You know him, Stephen.”

“Sure. I was in CYO with his daughters, Katie and Ellie.”

“His grandparents owned the Northern Air Resort, which was just south of where the casino is now. Ten cabins, canoe rentals, a nice swimming area with a rumpus raft about thirty yards out. Nels and I were on that raft when the son of one of the families staying at the resort swam out. We were just lying there, soaking up the sun, and this kid climbs on. It’s clear right away that he’s a privileged asshole. Rich. Bragging about how his daddy’s a hotshot Chicago lawyer. He’s going to get a Corvette on his sixteenth birthday. Blah-blah-blah. So, there’s an island another quarter mile out in the lake.”

“That would be Squatter’s Island, right?” Stephen said.

“Exactly. This kid challenges us to a swimming contest out to Squatter’s Island and back. We’re not interested, but the kid calls us chicken. So, we say all right, let’s do it. Nels was a way better swimmer than me and also better than the kid from Chicago. He’s out there ahead of us by a good fifty yards. Then the kid gets a cramp, panics, starts flailing. Nels is stroking away like crazy toward Squatter’s Island, has no idea what’s going on behind him. I was a Boy Scout, knew about the cross-chest carry. I’m trying to get a hold on the kid, but he’s big and strong and gloms on to me so that I can’t swim either. We both go under. I’m fighting to get loose. The kid’s pushing me down, trying to use me to keep his own head above water. Then he kicks me in my solar plexus, knocks all the air out of me, and suddenly I’m breathing in water.”

“Drowning?” Stephen says.

“Yeah, basically. They say that when you’re about to die, your life passes in front of you. That wasn’t my experience. I saw my death. And it wasn’t going to be then or in that lake. Next thing I know, Nels has grabbed me and is swimming me back to the raft. I’m puking up water.”