Northwest Angle

FORTY-FIVE

In the late morning, Rainy Bisonette took heated water from the stove reservoir and poured it into a big washtub, and she and Jenny washed little Waaboo. Earlier, Henry Meloux had left the cabin and gone with Stephen and Aaron to gather mushrooms and tubers and herbs. Aaron wasn’t particularly enthusiastic, but he’d gamely agreed. Walleye, who would normally have trailed along behind the old Mide, seemed interested in the baby, and he stayed, lying in the meadow grass nearby, and watched with interest as the women went about their work.

“Part of it,” Rainy said, continuing the discussion they’d begun earlier that day, “is that he’s clearly sick, and he can’t figure out what’s at the heart of his illness. I’ve never seen him so tense, so anxious.”

“Is it possible he’s afraid of dying?”

“Uncle Henry’s the last person I would suspect of being afraid to make the passage and walk the Path of Souls.” She handed Jenny a bar of soap. “But maybe.”

Waaboo squealed with delight at the feel of the warm water and Jenny’s gentle, slippery palms. His little arms flailed, and water splashed, and the air above the tub was filled with droplets that sparkled in the sun.

“You told me you have children,” Jenny said.

“Three, all grown. My oldest, Alex, died in Iraq two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kari is a first-grade teacher in Eau Claire. She has a wonderful voice and sings with a couple of bands. She’d love to make her living that way. My youngest, Peter, is struggling. Issues with substance abuse. He’s clean at the moment and working as a mechanic in Rice Lake.”

“You’re not married?”

“My husband died a few months after Peter was born. A brain aneurysm.”

“You never remarried?”

“Too busy raising my children and supporting us all. And, I suppose, I never met a man I really thought I could live with.” She laughed. “Or maybe the issue was a man who thought he could live with me.”

Jenny finished with the child, and Rainy handed her the towel she’d brought from the cabin. “You’re very good with Waaboo. You’ve clearly had experience with babies.”

Jenny told her about working in the day care and nursery in Iowa City. And then, because she felt a deep comfort in her connection with the other woman, she told Rainy about her pregnancy at eighteen and her miscarriage and the feeling of emptiness that had sometimes overwhelmed her since.

“Have you ever talked with Aaron about how you feel?”

“Not really. He’s a good man in a lot of ways, but this isn’t something he would understand.”

Walleye, who’d been lying quietly in the soft bed of the wild grass, raised his head suddenly and looked toward the woods that edged the meadow. He lifted his nose and sniffed the wind. He stood quickly, and a low growl crept from his throat. He held rigid, watching the shadows among the trees.

Rainy shielded her eyes against the sun and peered toward the trees that had captured the dog’s interest.

Jenny had wrapped little Waaboo in the towel, and she held him to her breast. “What is it?” she asked, trying to decide if she should be concerned.

“A bear, maybe, or a wolf. We get them sometimes. They never bother us, but why don’t we take the baby inside, just to be safe.”

They gathered their things and walked to the cabin. Walleye hesitated, still focused on the woods, then finally relaxed and followed. Inside, he turned back, and just before Rainy closed the door against the view of the bright meadow and the dark woods beyond, he gave a low woof that wasn’t friendly in the least.