From time to time, the ones that lived. Landreaux, of course. And that Romeo comes around. I hear about lots of others. Successful. Not.
The two bobbed in space, still holding hands, and her mother cried out, Even I want to give you all the love I never could! I hated to die and leave you. How good that we can be together now!
NOLA DRAGGED MAGGIE to Holy Mass. While kneeling, Maggie slumped, resting her buttocks impudently on the edge of the pew. Her mother elbowed her, and Maggie slid out of reach. The sly movement triggered Nola and she struck out. In one motion, she backhanded Maggie and clawed her back into place. She’d moved with such swift assurance that Maggie gaped and plunked down. Nobody else around them seemed to notice, though Father Travis’s eye flicked as he walked up to the pulpit.
Father Travis had long ago stopped giving sermons. He just told stories. Today he told how Saint Francis preached to the birds, the fish, the faithful rabbit, and then was called in to rescue an Italian village from a ravenous wolf.
Father Travis walked out into the middle of the aisle and acted out the meeting between Saint Francis and the wolf. He described the Wolf of Gubbio, monstrous large and enthusiastic about eating people. When Saint Francis arrived at the village, he followed the wolf’s tracks into the woods and then confronted the wolf. This wolf had never been challenged, and was surprised that Saint Francis was not afraid. The wolf listened to Saint Francis and agreed to stop marauding the village. The wolf sealed its promise by placing its paw in St. Francis’s hand.
When a person speaks calmly and exudes peace, even a wolf may listen, said Father Travis.
Maggie thought, Yeah, but sometimes you have to bite.
Saint Francis brought the wolf back to the people of Gubbio and extracted mutual promises. They would feed the wolf. Every day it could make the rounds of the houses and receive a handout. In return, it would stop attacking people. Again, the wolf put its paw in Saint Francis’s hand, this time in front of the villagers. The wolf swore an oath by rolling over on its back and then bounding up on its hind legs and howling. So there was peace. The wolf died of old age. The people of Gubbio buried it beneath a tombstone and mourned its passing.
Maggie held her fury back because she wanted to hear the story, but when Father Travis finished, she moved away again, this time safely out of her mother’s reach.
People only listened to the wolf because it ate them. Maggie was certain.
EVERYONE KNEW THE stray rez dog who’d lived in the woods was Peter’s dog now. But the dog slipped off his dog run and made a polite visit to Landreaux’s place one afternoon. So when Landreaux had to go take his shift at the housing complex, where Awan waited for attention, he coaxed the dog into the back of his car, intending to drop him off at the Ravich house.
Landreaux meant to leave the dog at the door, that’s all. But Peter answered, and after he took the dog back he abruptly spoke.
We should finish that conversation.
I’m late, said Landreaux.
Won’t take long, said Peter. Can you come in? Five minutes?
Landreaux hunched his shoulders, made to kick off his boots at the door.
Nah, don’t worry, said Peter.
Landreaux sat down at the table, touched the edge. He didn’t want to speak, to bring up the thing he dreaded. He could feel the tension bubbling up inside, the quickened pump of his heart.
The agreement, whatever we call it, Peter started.
Landreaux just nodded, staring at his fingers.
The question is, said Peter.
Landreaux’s heart just quit.
The question is, said Peter. What’s it doing to him?
Landreaux’s heart started beating again.
What’s it doing to him, he weakly said.
He’s sad, said Peter. Missing his family. Can’t understand. You’re right there down the road. I catch his face in the rearview when we pass. He’s so quiet, just looking at his old house.
This was all Peter could stand to tell. About the muffled crying, nothing. About LaRose beating his head with his hands, nothing. About his secret questions whispered only to Peter, Where is my real mom?, he couldn’t tell.
Landreaux took in what Peter did say, then spoke. Feel like I used him to take it off me. Traditional ways. Fuck. This isn’t the old days. But then again there was reason in it. I wanted to . . .
Landreaux trailed off. Help, thought Peter.
I think it does. I know it does. Help. As long as we’re with LaRose we’re thinking about him, and we love him. He’s a decent boy, Landreaux, you’ve raised him right. Him being with us helps Nola. Helps Maggie. It does help . . . but what’s it doing to him? I mean, he’s holding Nola together. Big job. Meanwhile this is probably tearing Emmaline apart.