Page 8 of God’s Country

“Am I the monster, Ernie?” I asked.

I do this sometimes, talk to Ernie. The look I get in response always depends on my own state of mind, I suppose.

Like Henry, he was silent for a long time.

“I don’t think so” came the reply.

But it didn’t come from Ernie. Rose stepped into the kitchen. She wore a red chenille robe and red slippers, and her hair was a little wild on one side, probably from where her head had lain on her pillow.

“Okay if I join you?” she asked.

“Be my guest.”

She took a cookie as well, replaced the lid, which was Ernie’s head, gave that head a friendly, familiar pat, then joined me at the table.

“Last cookie,” she said. “I’ll make some chocolate chip tomorrow.” She took a bite and studied Ernie. “I used to talk to him, too,” she confessed. “Do you remember when you got him?”

“Of course. A Christmas present from you to the family when the kids were little.”

“Stephen was five and loved Sesame Street,” she said. “What I didn’t know when I bought Ernie was that I was bringing a friend into the house, maybe the best kind of friend, one who only listened and didn’t offer advice.” She took another bite of her cookie and eyed our little ceramic companion. “Tonight, he seems sympathetic.”

Which, I understood, was a reflection of Rose’s state of mind. In my experience, she was always sympathetic, maybe had the best heart of anyone I knew.

“It must be troubling,” she said. “This wolf thing.”

“Henry was no help.”

“Maybe he was, but you just don’t understand yet in what way. You told me once that sometimes Henry’s wisdom is like a boomerang. He throws it out there, and it seems to be gone, then suddenly it comes back and hits you.”

“I said that?”

“More than once.”

I sipped my milk and knew she was right. But that didn’t make things any easier at the moment. I was still totally confused. Rose pointed out that I had a mustache of milk on my lip. I wiped it away with the back of my hand.

“I don’t know what we’d have done without you all those years,” I said.

“You and Jo would have muddled through. I always felt like I was the one who was blessed. I didn’t think I’d ever have children of my own, and helping to raise Jenny and Annie and Stephen was a joy.” She took another bite of her cookie and looked again at Ernie. “But I was lonely, too. As a woman, I mean. Don’t we all want to be loved? Then Mal came into my life, and little Luke. And I feel as if God has graced me in more ways than I can say.” She reached out and put her hand softly over mine. “This family has suffered terrible loss. Jo and Annie. I know you’re dead set on this trip into the Boundary Waters, Cork. I’m praying that we don’t lose you, too.”

Obviously, they didn’t lose me. I’m here, telling you this story. But that didn’t mean what was to follow would be free from tragedy. In the end, the wolf was destined to feed.

CHAPTER 6

Memorial Day was a time of preparation.

We were planning three days in the Boundary Waters, a loop on a route not well traveled but familiar to me. Because it was still early in the season, I hoped we might have our choice of campsites along the way.

I have three Duluth packs. Although I’ve had them for more than twenty years, I’ve kept them in good shape. They’re canvas and can get heavy when wet. There are lighter materials these days, sure, but the Duluth packs are like old friends, and I trust them. In the past decade or so, I’ve also acquired several BearVaults, which are bear-proof food canisters.

In Minnesota, the mosquito is our state bird. They can get so big and so bloodthirsty you have to strap your babies into their strollers or they’ll get carried away and sucked dry. Usually, mosquito season begins in summer. But we’d had a mild, wet spring that year, and by late May I figured they might already be swarming in the Boundary Waters, along with blackflies, which can be even more annoying. In the old days, my Ojibwe ancestors might have covered themselves in mud or rancid animal fat to keep from being eaten alive. These days we just use deet. Long sleeves and mosquito head nets can also do the trick.

I had plenty of PFDs—personal flotation devices—for all the men and for Waaboo. Before coming to Minnesota, Mal had bought a life vest for Luke.

I own two canoes, both tandem Wenonahs, which I keep stored in a shed next to Sam’s Place, along with a trailer I use for transporting them and for hauling things in general. We would be needing three canoes for our outing, and I’d already arranged to pick up a rental from Borealis Outfitters in town. I put Daniel and Stephen in charge of packing our food and camping supplies and showing Mal and the boys the best practices for doing this while I headed to Borealis to pick up the additional canoe.

Before I took off, Rainy pulled me aside. “Rent a satphone.”

“A satellite phone? What for?”