Rose didn’t go with the rest of the O’Connor clan to see the floatplane off that morning at first light. She stayed behind to take care of Waaboo and to have breakfast ready when they returned. This was such a familiar feeling for her, moving about the kitchen, seeing to the needs of others. It was what she’d done before she met Mal. She loved her husband and loved her life with him, but she missed this being part of an energy that was fluid, changing, always in motion. That’s what children brought to a life. She and Mal wanted a family of their own, but they were still childless. She recalled Stephen’s epiphany in the desert. Everybody hurts. That was her pain, wanting children so very much and being denied. She was almost fifty years old, on the threshold of that age when her body would naturally end any hope. So these days she didn’t pray for pregnancy. She prayed instead for acceptance if it wasn’t to be.
Waaboo had finished his pancakes and was on his knees on the kitchen floor rolling a Tonka truck across the linoleum, making engine sounds. Trixie stood back, alert, because Waaboo often sent his wheeled toys suddenly careening in the dog’s direction. Through the kitchen windows, Rose saw Jenny’s Forester pull into the drive.
“Your mommy’s home,” Rose said.
Waaboo abandoned his truck and leaped to his feet.
Stephen came through the door first, with Jenny right behind him. Waaboo wove around his uncle and hit his mother, when she entered, at a dead run. She was used to this wholehearted form of welcome and had braced herself. Waaboo threw his arms around her waist and said, “Nimaama,” which was Ojibwe for mother. Jenny wanted her son to speak the language of his Anishinaabe heritage, and she was learning it with him.
“Ingozis,” she said in exuberant reply. My son.
She and Stephen shed their coats, leaving the cold of the morning on the wall pegs.
“Coffee?” Rose offered.
“I’d kill for some, Aunt Rose,” Stephen said.
“Let me get an arm free, then count me in.” Jenny disentangled herself from Waaboo’s embrace, knelt, and looked seriously into his face. “Time to get ready for preschool.”
“I want to stay home today,” he said, with a little pout.
“You know who’s going to be there? Bennie Degerstrom.”
“Bennie!” Waaboo said, brightening in an instant.
Jenny said, “Keep the coffee hot,” and went with her son to help him get ready.
“What’s that delicious aroma?” Stephen drifted to the stove and peeked into the oven. “Egg bake! I love you, Aunt Rose.”
“A love so easily bought isn’t worth much,” Rose said.
Stephen filled coffee mugs and carried them to the table. He sat down with his aunt.
“The floatplane got off okay?” Rose asked.
“Took off at sunrise. Four CIRT members.”
“CIRT?”
“Critical incident response team. You know, like SWAT.”
That was an acronym Rose understood. “The sheriff was with them?”
“She stayed here in Aurora to pick up Ben Trudeau when the time comes.” Stephen sipped from his mug. “Should be a good day for an air search. Bud Bowers said visibility is excellent. Marsha promised to let us know as soon as they’ve located Dad and Lindsay Harris and have them safely on their way home.”
Henry, Leah, Rainy, and Daniel had all stayed the night on Crow Point with Trevor Harris, who adamantly refused to leave what he thought of as sanctuary. Jenny had called Daniel on her cell before they left for the marina and had promised to keep them updated as word came in from Dross.
Rose heard the television come on in the living room, and a few moments later, Jenny joined them.
“I promised him a little SpongeBob before I take him to school.” She sat down in front of the mug Stephen had set for her on the table and took a sip. “Ah, nectar.”
“I feel bad,” Rose said. “We should be focused on you and Daniel and your wedding.”
“Like we could do that with Dad lost out there,” Jenny said.
“Still, this should be your time,” Rose said and reached out and gently touched Jenny’s cheek. “A special time.”
“If something wasn’t threatening us, we wouldn’t be O’Connors,” Jenny said.
The telephone on the kitchen counter rang. Jenny left the table to answer it. Rose watched the light dim in her niece’s eyes as she listened.
“Thanks, Kathy,” Jenny said. She put the receiver back in its cradle.
“What is it?” Rose asked.
Jenny stood near the sink, her hand to her lips as if to keep herself from saying something terrible.
“What is it, Sis?” Stephen said.
“That was Kathy Engesser, from the sheriff’s office. About Dad.” Jenny looked at them, and when she spoke again her words came in a lifeless whisper. “There’s a problem.”