We gave Trevor one of the extra clown cars parked at the marina and broke down his bicycle and gear and put it into the Escalade. We made our way to Henry’s house going over the maps we marked up of the area. Jillian had a huge binder that was messy; but organized. Our tracks from our previous visit barely visible in a few areas and would go unnoticed if you were not looking for them. We drove up the long driveway and exited the vehicles. Helen knocked on his screen door. After repeated attempts, Helen opened the screen door and tried the old wooden door with a brass cross mounted in the center.

  “It’s open.” Helen said to us as she entered the house. “Henry? Jackie? Hello! Your door was open.” Helen yelled inside the house.

  “Henry and Jackie are not here.” I said to Jillian and Trevor as I reached for the screen door with an uncomfortable feeling.

  “Tea kettle is still warm. An hour and a half maybe.” Helen said touching the tea kettle carefully as we looked around at the inside of Henry’s house. It was frozen in time from the 1980’s. Pictures of his wife everywhere. Her obituary cut from the newspaper held in place by a novelty ‘Sun’ magnet on the refrigerator, it looked like aged parchment.

  “He’s running natural gas, and well water.” Scotty said sampling the water from the kitchen faucet. “Damn good.” Scotty commented.

  “Today is Sunday. He’s probably at church judging by the number of religious items here.” Trevor said plainly, looking around.

  “Oh my god!” We are getting as bad as you two!” Helen said upset at herself and looking at Scotty and I. We all exited Henry’s house and Scotty whistled; cowboy style, for the Wolf pack. (I could never whistle like that) All the dogs rallied to the vehicles as if it was dinner time.

  The church was built in the 1940’s or 1950’s based on the architecture and stonework. As we opened the front door, we could hear music, quiet and still. We saw Henry kneeling in prayer in the second pew from the front on the end. Jackie laying quietly next to him in the center aisle.

  As soon as we stepped into the large open space, the music started slowing down. We all exchanged curious glances. As we approached Henry, the music slowed in a macabre fashion. By the time we reached Henry, the music crawled to a stop. A portable cassette player with a collection plate filled with batteries and a stack of papers next to Henry. Jackie did not move.

  “Henry. We are here to sing with you.” Helen said softly.

  “Henry? Henry?” Helen said as Scotty stood in front of Henry and then looked at us. Scotty’s expression did not change as Helen gasped and she started to cry.

  Ginger and Pete sniffed Jackie and gave us the exact same expression as Scotty. Jillian checked Henry’s neck for a pulse as she began to cry. The dogs and the wolf pack all laid down next to Jackie on the carpet.

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  I picked up the papers next to Henry. Beautiful handwritten cursive. I was astonished how perfect and legible it was; like the alphabet in grade school posted above the chalkboard. The Hymn was “Tantum Ergo Sacramentum” the same as the first song on the cassette. Five copies, each one perfect, no mistakes or corrections in ink. I picked up the cassette player and removed the batteries. I replaced them with the extras from the collection plate; seven years old. I hit the rewind button; it worked. I handed everyone a copy of the hymn and hit the play button. The cassette player was old and cheap but when we all started singing, it sounded like an angelic symphony. The acoustics of the church seem to come alive as we sang.

  When the song was over, I hit the stop button. The reverberation from us singing continued longer than expected as Scotty went over to pick up Henry. Trevor stopped him and picked up Henry. Scotty picked up Jackie and we all walked to the cemetery next door.

  Jillian and Helen found Henry’s wife as Scotty, Trevor and I searched for and found tools in a utility shed. We placed a blanket over Henry and Jackie as Helen eventually spoke. “We don’t have a coffin for them.” Helen said quietly as Trevor insisted on doing all the digging as we watched his tireless efforts.

  Scotty and I looked all through the church and decided to make a crude coffin out of the pew he was sitting in. It was made of oak, but the old hand saw we found made it feel like pine or poplar. Trevor’s hands were blistered and bloody as sweat poured from him. He said nothing. No food or water for two hours; he was in a trance.

  When we removed the blanket from Henry and Jackie, Henry looked as if he was smiling; a Mona Lisa smile. We placed him in the coffin and Jackie right next to him with his arm around her. We nailed the lid closed and placed it in the ground. All of us replaced the earth as Trevor carefully tapped out today’s date on the shared headstone with his wife. All of us said our goodbyes to Henry and Jackie.

  We all sat at a picnic table behind the church and ate some food as Jillian tended to Trevor’s hands.

  “Five copies.” I said thinking out loud.

  “What’s that?” Scotty asked me after a long moment of silence.

  “Henry made five copies. He did not know about Trevor, only us four.” I said contemplating.

  “Maybe one was his.” Trevor said.

  “Henry knew all the words to that hymn.” Helen said.

  “What about Henry’s chickens?” Jillian asked out loud.

  “Trevor? What do you know about chickens?” Scotty asked.

  “Why?” Trevor responded reluctantly.

  “Henry’s place is self-contained and sustainable.” Scotty said with a gentle smile.

  “Scotty and I can teach you everything you need to know about chickens.” Helen said with a similar smile.

  “I’m a pilot! Not Colonel Sanders!” Trevor said apprehensive at the prospect.

  “You fly! Chicken’s fly! It’s a match made in heaven!” I said.

  “Chickens don’t fly Greg. Well not very well anyway.” Jillian said.

  “Shh!” I said to Jillian then smiling at Trevor.

  “What if I told you, I’m a vegan?” Trevor said looking for a debate.

  “We sure don’t need a pilot right now.” Scotty said.

  “I’m promoting you to the rank of Colonel.” Jillian said unwrapping a fresh bandage and placing it on his shirt pocket and saluting him.

  “Once you taste my chicken pot pie, Helen’s chicken soup or Reese’s barbecue chicken, you will convert to a carnivore.” Jillian said. Trevor looked at each of us for a moment. “Chicken pot pie huh?” He said.

  “Omelets!” I said utilizing my eyebrow powers and smiling.

  “We can have that for dinner tonight.” Jillian said.

  “… with fresh peppers and onions?” Trevor asked, stepping over to the dark side.