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trying to figure out which way was home. They didn’t speak of what Emil had done in the cabin that day, but Eveline was certain he’d saved her life.
    Eveline’s body was recovering slowly but steadily. Before she left Yellow Falls her mother packed her with small tins of arnica, Hypericum , and calendula—herbs meant to heal her from the inside out. Eveline and Emil were planning a visit next month, so her parents could meet their grandson and the local photographer could take a portrait of Hux for Emil to send back to his family in Germany. Maybe they could ask Lulu to take them in her truck. Eveline was already thinking about the bottle of whiskey they could buy her to show their gratitude. While they were in Yellow Falls, they’d stop at the general store so Eveline could covet licorice ropes while Emil purchased what he needed for the taxidermy business.
    “Are you sure you don’t want to preserve butterflies instead?” Eveline had said again this morning when Emil came back with a squirrel. “We could manage. I could plant a garden and sell the seeds at the general store. I’ve seen people do well with that.”
    “I’ll skin deer for the rest of my life to keep licorice ropes in your belly,” Emil said.
    “Even if you have to do it for the worst kind of people?”
    Eveline was thinking about the businessmen that came up in large hunting parties from the southern part of the state and shot at anything that moved until they got a buck. They never wanted the meat, only the heads. Even Jeremiah Burr, who’dlived in Yellow Falls his whole life, had offered Emil a dollar for every antler point.
    “What you do isn’t who you are,” Emil said.
    Eveline kissed Hux’s warm cheeks and put him down in his crib. She watched him sleep for a while, wondering if the things you did didn’t define you, then what did? What else could? Eveline wondered what Lulu would say. That’s when she remembered the letter, which she brought out back to Emil, who was trying to figure out a way to make water move up in the copper pipe when it only wanted to move down.
    “Für mich?” Emil said, wiping his hands on a handkerchief.
    “Lulu brought it this morning,” Eveline said.
    “I thought it was from you,” Emil said, pretending disappointment.
    “My cursive’s not nearly as nice.”
    Emil opened this letter and read its contents, at first with casual interest and then more and more seriously until whatever happiness his face had held in recent months gave way to panic. The way Eveline would remember it, there was a moment of absolute stillness when the future was still theirs before the wind blew up from the river and the first of spring’s leaves shook as if they were afraid.

5
    According to the letter, Emil’s father had the kind of aggressive cancer a person couldn’t recover from. He’d lost control of his legs already and was confined to his bed, mired by the indignity of a bedpan. The cancer had spread to his brain and was making him confused and hysterical. Dr. Hayner was waiting for Emil to arrive before he administered morphine. Emil’s sister, Gitte, had written the letter, which explained its fine penmanship and its (perhaps) overly descriptive nature. Gitte wrote for the local newspaper.
    Emil folded the letter. When he tried to put it in his pocket, the letter slipped from his hands to the floor. The news stiffened his body; his knee cracked when he bent to retrieve the letter and again when he stood upright.
    “I have to go to him,” Emil said.
    “Of course you do,” Eveline said. “We’ll go with you.”
    Emil looked at the crib, their son. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The boat could make Hux sick. That happened with a boy on the way over. One day he was on the deck playing, the next day he was dead.”
    “Are you certain?” Eveline said, though she knew Emil wouldn’t lie to her.
    “Would your parents mind looking after you and Hux until I come back?” Emil said. “I can