When Sarah tells Jack about the wolf, she credits motherly intuition. She has no other way to explain it. A powerful force drove her to the river with the rifle, knowing she had to protect Connor. After she killed the wolf and returned to the yard, she found Connor in the workshop, perched on the riding lawnmower, turning the wheel. He had heard her calling, but thought it a game to make her look, so he sat very still in the dim shop when Sarah came dashing through. In her panic, she didn’t see him. She was relieved and angry at the same time after she found him, but all she could do was hug him.
Later, after Jason picks up Connor, Sarah walks back to the river. There is a bloody trail on the opposite bank where Jack dragged the wolf into the trees.
On her way back to the house, she pauses at the stone pile to select a few stones to prop among her recently transplanted lilies. A grey rock with a raised, rough marking that looks like a cross catches her eye. Jack must have picked it this spring and she hadn’t noticed it on top of the pile before now. The rain has washed it clean and the sun glimmers off the silver-flecked granite. She climbs on the pile and, using her legs, dislodges the stone and pushes it off. It tumbles into the grass and lands on its flat bottom. Sitting there, with its purple-coloured cross facing east, it reminds Sarah of a tombstone. It’s too heavy to move so she leaves it for Jack to pick up later with the front-end loader.
The next morning, Sarah pours three cups of coffee and pops two slices of bread into the toaster. Toni is making a sandwich for her lunch. She has just two more days of work and then, before the Labour Day weekend, she is heading back to university.
“What’s new at Sunny Haven? How’s Grandpa? I guess I’d better stop in and have one last visit with him before I head back,” Toni says.
“He’s the same as always,” Sarah says. She takes a sip of coffee. “It’s Caroline that seems to be failing. She can’t sleep and it’s taking a toll on her.”
Jack is flipping through the Country Guide and doesn’t appear to be listening.
“Why? What’s wrong with her?” Toni asks.
“She’s having nightmares and something’s weighing on her mind. I wish there was a way I could help her.”
Toni spreads peanut butter on her toast and sits down at the table. “Isn’t there a story about Dad when he was a little kid? Something about your baba curing him of nightmares?”
“You’re right. She performed her wax ritual,” Sarah says, nodding.
“That’s almost hard to believe.” Toni looks at Jack. “Do you ever have nightmares, now?”
Jack glances up from the magazine. “Worked like a charm. Never had another one.”
After Jack and Toni are gone, Sarah wanders into the living room to find the tin box and its contents on the coffee table where she left them. She picks up the red book and, as she leafs through it, it occurs to her she might use the wax ritual to help Caroline. She’s had no luck finding Becca, but what if she can help rid Caroline of her terrible dreams? Maybe she can chase away the tormenting nightmares in much the same way Baba did for Jack when he was a boy all those years ago.
Of course I can’t. I’m nothing like Baba.
She returns to the china cabinet, retrieves Baba’s things, and places them into the small basket. The wax is firm and smooth in her hand and she feels a comforting warmth from it, as though Baba’s spirit is contained in that fragrant lump.
It’s intention that matters. And being a good person.
God. Spirit. Call it what you will, Sarah does believe there’s something bigger than herself, and she taught her daughters to live with the notion of such a higher power. To be grateful and gracious and kind. She’s tried to live that way herself.
She loves Caroline. She always has. Why wouldn’t she try whatever she could to help bring her the peace she deserves? Taking the red book, she heads out the door.
The next morning, Sarah stands next to Caroline in the dining room, holding the basket with Baba’s things.
“What on earth do you have there?” Caroline sits up tall in her chair, trying to peer inside it.
“I think I might have a way to get rid of your nightmares.”
“How do you intend to do that?” Caroline asks, wide-eyed.
“I’ll tell you all about it back in your room. I’ll just say hello to my dad.”
Addie is urging him to finish his juice but he’s shaking his head, his lips pressed tight.
“What’s up with the basket?” Addie asks, wiping Joe’s chin.
“It was my grandmother’s. It sat on a small table in her house for as long as I can remember.”
“I didn’t ask whose. What are you doing with it?”
Most people, including Addie, knew about Halya Petrenko and her faith healing, but Sarah has to admit she used to be ashamed of Baba’s old-world ways. Once, when she and Addie and Becca were sitting in a booth at the King’s Café with a couple of boys, Baba came through the door, bent over her cane. She was dressed no differently than any other day of the week, in her babushka and bright flowered dress. Sarah’s face burned with shame and she stared into her milkshake, not daring to look up in case Baba would see her. When she finally looked, Baba still stood at the counter, peeling the foil from a stick of Juicy Fruit gum. She caught Sarah’s eye then looked quickly away and followed her cane out the door.
“I’m going to light a few candles in Caroline’s room. Try some old-time meditation like my grandmother used to do. I thought maybe it would help her sleep.”
“Strange time of day to try to help somebody sleep, isn’t it?” Addie pulls Simon’s wheelchair away from the table and unfastens his bib. “But it won’t hurt to try. She’s too stubborn to take a pill and we’ve tried everything else we can think of.”
Addie and Sarah take her father and Simon back to their rooms. Once her dad’s settled in his chair, Sarah tells him about the wolf, holding out the full length of her arm with her finger pointed then jerking it back to show him how she killed it. He nods, with a knowing look on his face, and Sarah is thrilled when he says, “I got a jumper, too.” She hopes he’s remembering the hunting trips he used to take for white-tailed deer with Patrick and Paul.
When Sarah comes into her room and closes the door, Caroline skims across the floor in her chair, eyes bright. “What is it? Have you brought me something to eat?” She looks at the things in the basket. “What is all this for?”
“When Jack was a little boy his mother brought him to my grandmother. He had bad dreams — night terrors are what they call them now — and my grandmother was able to help him.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Caroline lifts her eyebrows suspiciously.
“She believed many ills were rooted in some sort of trauma or fear. I’ve seen her cure everything from bed-wetting to post-partum depression.” Sarah explains the whole mysterious ritual and shows Caroline the paper with the words Anton translated from Ukrainian to English.
She took the red book to his house yesterday and had him decipher the ritual word by word while she recorded him on her phone. It took a few hours — Anton stopped often to add his own wisdom — but eventually they got through it. Sarah spent the rest of the day painstakingly transcribing the words onto paper.
“And this will stop the dreams? Help me sleep?”
“I figure it’s worth a shot. There’s just one thing I need … and that’s for you to believe.”
“Sounds hokey to me.” Caroline wheels away to look out the window. “I’m not even Ukrainian.”
“I don’t think you have to be. All you need is faith.” Sarah places the enamel bowl on Caroline’s desk, fills it with a jarful of water she drew from the well, and adds a few drops of blessed water. She steadies a candle in the glass holder she brought, then lights it. “And I need to believe I can do this. We need to have faith in each other. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
Caroline nods. “I suppose so. You’ve always been a sensible girl and I trust you.”
The familiar self-doubt creeps back in but Sarah presses on, for Caroline’s sake. “Why don’t we just get started? See how it goes.” She pushes Caroline’s wheelchair to the centre of the room and stands behind it, facing the east window. The wax is warm in her hand. She drops it in the cup and holds it to the flame.