“Making cornbread,” Jenny said.
“He makes the best cornbread,” Waaboo said eagerly.
“Prophet is many things, including a good baker. What is it you need from me?” Henry asked, his eyes on Annie.
Annie looked at Jenny. “Would you and Waaboo go with Maria to pick some wildflowers for us? They would look lovely on the table back home.”
Jenny rose and reached out her hand to her son. “Come on, Waaboo. Let’s educate Maria.”
When she was alone with Meloux, Annie said, “I’m dying, Henry.”
“I know, and I cannot change that.”
“I’m dying and I’m full of rage because of it.”
“Sometimes it is not an easy thing to die.”
“Sometimes?”
“To die is to yield completely to what is unknown. Some approach death with fear, some with anger.”
“Does anyone ever approach with an open heart?” she said bitterly.
“Yes.”
“How?”
He reached out and took her young hand in his ancient one. She felt the warmth of his palm, the calming effect of its press. “There is a single thread that runs through us all and connects us to the Creator. In birth, that thread draws our life spirit from the heart of the Creator. In death, the thread draws our spirit back into the Creator’s heart. It is the same for every living thing.”
“The heart of the Creator.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I believe in God anymore.”
“Maria,” he said simply.
She looked at him without understanding.
“Is she not proof of the love of the Creator?”
It was true. Annie had lost everything, including her belief in God. But she had not lost Maria. Her love was still there.
“I don’t want to leave her, Henry. That’s the hardest thing.”
“When you begin your journey on the Path of Souls, she will be there. And you will be there waiting when it is time for her to take the same journey.”
“How do you know, Henry? What makes you so sure?”
“Belief, like love, is a choice. It makes all the difference between approaching death with fear and anger or approaching death with the peaceful heart.” Henry still held her hand. With his other, he made a wide, sweeping gesture that included the glistening blue of Iron Lake and the wildflowers of the meadow on Crow Point and the vast, deep woods beyond. “All that Kitchimanidoo has created is connected. In life and in death. And for the heart that believes, there is only beauty, here and in what comes after.”
“How do I believe, Henry?”
“You choose.”
“It’s that easy?”
“I did not say it was easy. But I promise that it will make all the difference.”
A shadow darkened the doorway. Annie looked up and saw Prophet standing there, huge and implacable. The air that came in around him carried the good aroma of baked cornbread.
“Boozhoo, Annie,” he said.
He entered, bent to Meloux, and whispered something in the old man’s ear. Meloux nodded, and Prophet stepped to the gun rack on the wall. He took down Meloux’s old firearm, then opened a tin can on a shelf and took out several bullets.
“What’s going on?” Annie asked.
Meloux said, “You and Maria are not my only visitors.”
CHAPTER 31
Dross rang the bell on the front door of the landlady from hell. When the woman answered, she was wearing the same pink housedress and pink slippers she’d worn when they last came calling. The beer in her hand was probably a fresh one.
“If you cops don’t leave me alone, I’m going to start screaming harassment.”
“Cops?”
“You and them state cops and the FBI. I got nothing more to tell you.”
“So you haven’t seen Mathias lately?”
“No, I haven’t seen Mathias lately,” she mimicked as if she were a parrot.
