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Finally Ned says, “My
brother?”
    Then Mary croaks, “Your
brother.”
    Then Ned looks astounded again and says, “My
brother?”
    Then Mary says, “Your
brother
!”
    They go around a few times this way with long pauses between question and answer as Mary gathers her strength to speak again. I am worried she will use up all her energy on this one answer and we’ll never find out anything else. My mother must be worried about this too because she suddenly leaps in and asks,
“Which
brother, Mary?”
    “Yeah!” says Ned. “Which brother?”
    “Says his name is John,” says Mary. She is paling with the effort of the interview and my mother, Ned and I all have our hands clasped, hoping we will get the end of the story before she expires into sleep … or
worse
.
    “John?”
asks Ned.
    “John,” says Mary, but it is unclear if she is confirming or just repeating.
    “John?”
says Ned.
    “Can we go out and play with our trucks?” asks Hershel.
    This draws Mary’s attention to him for the first time and she turns her head and looks straight at him as she says, “The
Amazing
John!”
    This freaks out the usually unflappable Hershel, who takes two steps back.
    “What’s amazing about him?” asks Ned.
    “No, no, his name …,” says Mary. Her voice becomes thinner and reedier. She is definitely losing lung power now.
    “Yes,” says Ned, encouragingly, “John is his name.”
    “No …,” says Mary, her hands clenching with the effort, “Amazing …”
    “John is amazing?” asks Ned.
    “No, Ned,” says my mother. “I think she is saying ‘Amazing’ is part of his name.”
    Mary nods emphatically or clearly means to although actually it’s just a limp neck bend.
    “The Amazing John?” asks Ned.
    Mary nods again but this time the movement is barely discernible. “John the Amazing,” she croaks.
    “What kind of a crackpot name is that?” asks Ned in normal tones and not the hushed reverential ones we use for the sick and dying.
    “Well, a stage name, maybe, Ned,” says my mother helpfully.
    Mary nods again. She opens her eyes. You can tell she is gathering strength for the home stretch. “Vegas,” she whispers.
    “John has an
act in Vegas?”
asks Ned.
    “Magician,” says Mary.
    “John is a
magician?”
says Ned. “But he was never any good with his hands!”
    Mary just stares at Ned. And really, I think, weak or not, there is no other appropriate reaction. After all, what is she supposed to do—John is Ned’s silly family, it’s got nothing to do with her.
    “Well!” says Ned when it is apparent he is gettingno help with this. He sits down in a chair next to her bed.
    My mother takes the boys outside. How can she stand to leave at this most interesting moment? But I guess that is what it is to be a mother. Max has had to have a dreamcatcher taken from him and Hershel, it turns out, has been busy shredding a corner of the blanket where a thread is loose. Duty calls.
    “Did he say what he was doing here?” asks Ned.
    “Looking for you. Under bed.” Mary’s eyes are closed again.
    “He was looking for me under the bed?” asks Ned. Talk about amazing!
    But Mary just jabs downward with one birdclaw hand. I look down. There’s a small duffel bag poking out from underneath. I pick it up. Mary nods at me.
    “Left for you,” she says, and closes her eyes again as if mission accomplished.
    “John came? He left this
bag
for me?” Ned looks astounded but Mary doesn’t bother answering. Ned takes the bag, stupefied.
    “Open it,” I urge.
    “Yeah,” he says, shaking himself like a dog. “Right.”
    He opens the duffel bag. It is full of money.

    We are back in the car driving south.
    “And another thing,” says Ned, “Jim says John was heading north briefly before returning to Vegas.
NORTH!
What the heck is north of B.C.? Tundra? Ice floes? He was heading toward an ice floe, taking time off to drop a bag of money in the woods? Does that sound on the up-and-up to you? Does