The Snow Child Part 19

Weeks later, he was more confident in his choice. The puppy was thriving under her care, its black coat thick and s.h.i.+ny. It watched Faina closely with its one blue eye and one brown. When it thought she had disappeared, it would sit and wait somberly like a much older dog. When she reappeared, the pup leapt and yipped. She still hadnat named it, but called it easily to her side with a whistle like a chickadee.

And Fainaa"she was transformed. Where she had been quiet and serious around Garrett, she now laughed and danced. She and the puppy would chase each other in tighter and tighter circles until the girl fell giggling to the snow and the puppy bounded on top of her. When she was on her feet again and had shaken the snow from her long hair, she sometimes took Garrett by an arm and pulled him through the trees as she ran after the puppy, and it was as if he were swimming through a snowy dream. In that dream, he sometimes even kissed her cool, dry lips.

Now, as they headed up the Wolverine River, sunlight flashed off the snow and every branch and dead leaf glittered with frost. The air stung Garrettas lungs, and the exposed skin of his face burned in the cold. Until they began walking in earnest, his feet felt half frozen. Faina and the dog ran ahead and then waited for Garrett to catch up. When they stopped for lunch at a pile of driftwood logs, Garrett thought of starting a campfire to warm themselves but then remembered Mabelas plea. They ate cold sandwiches from wax-paper wrapping and fed the puppy the bit of frozen moose roast.

We could head back now, Garrett suggested when they were finished eating.

No, just a little farther. Please?

So they continued north, sometimes crossing the frozen channels, other times weaving through the trees along the sh.o.r.e. The riverbed was blown clear of snow, and Garrett could see where the white-blue ice had buckled and froze into great swells and dips. In places he hesitated to walk the ice, but Faina beckoned him across. He believed in her, trusted she knew where it was rotten and sheared and where it was strong and clear as gla.s.s, and he always made it safely to her side.

As they came to a bend, Garrett realized this was the farthest he had ever traveled upriver. Around the curve the valley opened up, and in the distance spires of blue ice glowed. It was the riveras sourcea"a glacier cradled between white mountains. From so many miles away, the craggy peaks of ice seemed to waver in the sunlight like a mirage, close and distant, real and unreal.

Come on! Faina called, and she and the dog darted across hard-packed snowdrifts and into a stand of willow along the riverbank. Garrett tried to follow but he could not weave so easily between the frost-encrusted willows. Stumbling through the brush, he did not see the girl until suddenly she was in front of him. She had hooked her arm around the trunk of a willow, and it bent gently under her weight. She leaned out from the sparkling branches and gazed at Garrett with a look he did not understand. Then she leaned closer, and he felt her breath cool on his skin. Like a startled snowshoe hare, Garrett didnat move, not until her lips touched his.

Her cheeks were so smooth, so cold against his, and she tasted of the fragrance that all winter had haunted hima"mountain herbs and wet stone and new snow. He slowly circled his arms around her and pulled her closer still. He shook off a glove and put his bare palm to her hair, something he now knew he had longed to do since he had first laid eyes on her, that day when she killed the swan. Pressed against his, the entire length of her body was delicate but steady, alive and cool, like nothing he had ever felt before.

You are warm, she whispered against his lips.

Garrett let his mouth follow her jawline down to her neck and back to her ear and he knew he could lose himself in the place where her blond hair met her soft skin. He could lose himself in her pale smoothness, in her gentle fingers, in her wide blue eyes.

He wanted to let his knees give way and pull them both down, to lie together in the snow, but he didnat. He stayed on his feet, one arm around her waist, the other at the back of her head, his face against her neck.

It was hera"she reached up and began unfastening the silver filigree b.u.t.tons of her coat.

No, no, Garrett mumbled.

Why?

Youall be too cold.

She didnat speak again but continued unb.u.t.toning her coat. Garrett shook his other glove to the ground and slid his hands beneath the wool, his rough skin catching on the silk lining. A wave of guilt shuddered through him, that somehow what they were doing was wrong, but it was too late. There, along her delicate rib cagea there, against her beating hearta there, he was lost.

CHAPTER 45.

Iam troubled, Jack.a Head seen it coming. The way Mabel had been staring out the window all day, biting her lower lip, sighing as she swept and washed. Why she always waited until mealtime to make her worries known, that he had never been able to figure.

aHmmm?a He ladled some beans onto his plate.

aIam concerned about the childrena well, thatas it, isnat it? They arenat children anymore. A young man and a young woman, I should say.a aHmm.a aAre you listening, Jack?a He was b.u.t.tering a slice of bread, but nodded.

aWell, itas justa they seem awfully close, donat you agree? They spend so much time together, just the two of them, and Iam not sure itas appropriate. Considering their age.a aHmm.a aJack, for goodnessa sake. Do you even know who Iam talking about? Are you listening to a word I say?a He set his knife and fork down and looked across his plate at Mabel.

aIam not eating my dinner, am I?a aIam sorry. Itas justa itas Garrett and Faina. I think they may be, wellaa aWhat?a aHavenat you noticed? All the time they spend together? The way they walk arm in arm?a aTheyare just kids. Itas good for her to have a friend.a aBut Jack, they arenat children. Not anymore. Donat you see that? Faina must be sixteen or seventeen now, Garrett nearly nineteen.a It did surprise him, how time had pa.s.sed. Faina had been a small child when she first came to their door, and only yesterday Garrett was a thirteen-year-old boy keenly interested in trapping weasels and not much else.

aI suppose youare right, Mabel. The years have slipped by me. But I wouldnat trouble yourself. Garrett isnat one for chasing after girls. And courting is still a long ways off for those two.a aNo, Jack. Youare wrong.a aWe were nearly twice their age when we courted.a aBut we were unusual. My youngest sister was married by the time she was as old as Faina.a Jack stared down at his cold beans and hardening bread. Mabelas knack for conjuring troubles, present or future, wore on him. Sometimes he wished he could just eat his beans warm and his bread fresh, and leave worries be.

aIam sorry, Jack. Maybe itas nothing. It just seems dangerous for them to be spending so much time alone together without chaperoning. And Iave seen a change come over Faina, something I canat quite explain. But what can we do? Itas not as if we can forbid her. She isnat our daughter, is she?a This last shot struck its target. How many times had he spoken those precise words? Faina wasnat their daughter. They couldnat determine her life. All they could do was be grateful for any time they had with her. And this other bit, about Faina running off into the woods with the boy, this rubbed like a small pebble in a boot. At first it seems like nothing but a nuisance, but eventually it hobbles you.

For days, Jack thought of little else. When he had been a young man, he had been oblivious to girls. While his friends spiffed themselves up each weekend for dances, he was more interested in spending the evenings whittling on a wood project or caring for a foaling horse. Sure, he had kissed a few girls behind the barn, but only when pressed to, and he often wondered what had been different about Mabel that his attention was caught and firmly held. She was quiet and gentle and preoccupied, and at first showed no interest in him. Over time, though, they had formed an affection that was also quiet and gentle, and at times reserved.

So he had thought it would be for Garrett. Esther had joked that there was no one on G.o.das green earth who would be willing to put up with that headstrong boy. While his older brothers rushed into marriages with pretty, giggly girls, Garrett tended to keep to himself. Jack suspected that eventually, maybe years down the line, a woman with an unlikely temperament would come along and be the perfect match for Garrett.

But Faina? It was impossible. No matter her age, she was childlike, pure and fragile. Garrett had more decency than to defile that.

Then he watched the two of them, the way they stood so their arms touched as they talked, the way they squeezed hands when saying goodbye to one another. One night in bed, Mabel broke the news, and in her voice he could hear vindication and alarm.

aFaina isnat leaving. She says she will stay for the summer.a aWhat?a aYou heard me. Sheas not leaving when the snow melts.a aWhy?a aDo you have to ask?a aWhat did she tell you?a aShe says Garrett wants to take her salmon fis.h.i.+ng and to the tundra to hunt caribou. She says sheall stay all summer.a Jack couldnat put his finger on why it unnerved him. Wasnat this their wish? The girl would be with them all year, and for those long summer months they wouldnat have to wonder about her safety. But it wasnat what he wanted. He missed her when she was gone, but he liked even more to think of her in the mountain snow, far from the hot sun and the mosquito-infested river valley.

aDonat you know what this means, Jack?a He said nothing.

The sun came and the snow began to drip, first from the eaves and tree branches, then down the mountainsides. Spring came fast and warm, and the river broke up in a great cras.h.i.+ng rush. Jack told Mabel he was going to watch the ice flow past, but in truth he was following them. Garrett was already staying in the barn, though planting season was far off, and this morning the boy rose early and met Faina and the dog in the yard. They hadnat even come to the cabin to wish Jack and Mabel a good morning or a goodbye or a how-do-you-do before they walked down the trail toward the river.

aIall be back in a bit,a Jack said. He avoided Mabelas eyes. All morning she had been subdued, speaking little and moving quietly around the cabin. As he put on his work jacket, she reached out and took one of his hands. She looked up at him as if to say something, but just kissed his cheek.

While the yard and main road were muddy, the trail to the river was more pleasant as it meandered among spruce trees. The ground was dry and mossy and webbed with roots. A squirrel chirped overhead, but Jack couldnat see it in the slanting light. Here and there patches of snow still clung to the earth. Dwarf dogwood leaves and fern heads sprouted from the damp ground. Soon he heard the roar of the river, and when he neared the water, he saw soft, silvery p.u.s.s.y willows budding. He went to pick some from the limbs to bring back for Mabel, then remembered his grim task and kept walking.

He hoped to find them at the sh.o.r.e, throwing rocks at rotten river ice or tugging a stick from the dogas mouth. They werenat there, so he followed the trail along the river and through the willow shrubs until it eventually led him back onto higher ground and into another spruce forest. Here the trees were taller and thicker, and the land had a hushed, shaded quality. He kept his eyes down to avoid tripping over roots, and his glance caught on a cl.u.s.ter of small pink flowers blooming up through moss and fallen spruce needles. Fairy slippersa"thatas what Mabel had called them. Once he had picked a tiny bouquet of the wild spring orchids for her and she had scolded him, telling him they were rare and every flower he had picked had meant the death of the entire plant.

He stepped around the blooms. The trail dwindled to nothing, but occasionally he heard voices. He could call out, alert them to his presence, but it would be senseless. He was here to spy on them, and he was sick with it.

He found them tucked under one of the largest evergreens, their coats spread beneath them like blankets. It was a beautiful place; the sun shone through the needled branches and dappled the ground, and the air was scented with sharp, clean spruce. He watched through the trees only long enough to understand what he was seeing, and then he looked away and was so overtaken by shame and rage that he could barely see to find his way home again.

It seemed such a terribly long time that Jack was gone, and Mabel pa.s.sed back and forth in front of the window more times than she could count. She had made a mistake, telling him. She should have set aside her own uneasiness and talked frankly to the girl herself. Now it was too late.

When Jack walked back into the yard she was at first relieved. He was alone. Then she noticed how upright he strode toward the barn, how he kicked at the door to enter and then slammed it shut again, turning in place as if he didnat know where to go or what to do with himself. He went to the woodpile and picked up the splitting maul. My G.o.d, she thought, he is going to kill him. But he began splitting logs, one after the other, and she was nearly as distressed. Garrett had split and stacked enough wood this past winter to last them years. Jack wasnat doing a ch.o.r.ea"he was unleas.h.i.+ng his fury. She wanted to go to him, to tell him about the genuine affection she had seen in Garrettas face, or how she had watched the girl pull him by an arm. She now realized that despite everything Jack had said about Faina not being their daughter, he was viewing this all through a fatheras eyes.

Mabel didnat notice when Garrett came out of the trees, but when she no longer heard the rhythmic crack of wood, she looked out the window and saw the two men standing beside the woodpile. She couldnat hear their words, but they were speakinga"first Jack, then Garrett. Jack waved his hands, and she saw the young manas shoulders slump. Then he stood straight again and spoke more animatedly. Mabel was at the window, one hand against the gla.s.s pane. And then, seemingly without warning, Jack punched Garrett in the jaw and sent him sprawling to the ground.

Maybe it was some mistake. She had never seen Jack strike anyone, and she prayed she had misjudged the scene. But when Garrett sat up, he rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand. Jack reached down, perhaps as an offer to help him stand, but the young man refused and stumbled to his feet.

When Jack came into the cabin, neither he nor Mabel spoke. She led him to the washbasin, where she soaked his swelling knuckles and wrapped them in a cold wet cloth. Outside she heard Garrettas horse gallop from the yard.

CHAPTER 46.

This summer weall go down the river, toward the ocean.

Will we?

Thatas where weall catch salmon fresh from the salt water, when they still s.h.i.+ne all silver. Weall make a bonfire of driftwood and sleep in the sand. Maybe weall go all the way to the ocean.

Iave never been there.

Itas big.

I know. Iave seen it from the mountains.

You know what else weall do?

Faina turned her head against his chest. No, she said. What will we do?

Weall swim in the river. Weall take off all our clothes and swim naked in the river.

Wonat you be cold?

Nah. Thereas these little ponds on the riverbed, where the water just sits and gets warm from the sun. Theyare clear and blue. Youall see. Weall swim and float on our backs and when we put our heads under the water, Iall kiss you. Just like this.

It was like a terrible thirst. He could drink and drink her in and it was never enough.

When they were together, wandering the riverbed or hiking up a creek, they shared everything they knew. The color of a black wolfas eyes. The way to catch a muskrat through the ice. Where snow geese nest and marmots den. The sound of a herd of caribou running across the tundra. The taste of mountain blueberries and tender spruce tips.

They studied the mud in the trails, pointed to tracks and named them. Garrett tried to teach her how to call like a lovesick bull moose. Faina tried to teach him the songs of wild birds. Then they would laugh and chase each other through the trees until they found one with wide boughs and a bed of spruce needles beneath it. There they would huddle together and taste each otheras lips and eyes and hearts.

And when they were apart, he felt as if he were dying of thirst.

CHAPTER 47.

So I guess thatas that,a Jack said. He smacked the soot from his hands. At his feet was a pail of ashes he had cleaned out of the stove. aI guess weare through with him. We wonat be seeing that boy around here again.a aYou donat know,a Mabel said.

aI know. He wonat be back. Planting time, and Iall be out there breaking my back, trying to get the fields done. And where is he?a aI think you underestimate him.a aWeall see.a He knocked on the stovepipe and listened to the creosote fall. Then he shoveled it from the stove into the pail.

aHeas the same young man weave always known. Heas just in love.a aWeall see.a The horse was gone. Jack closed and opened the barn door again, thinking he had lost his mind, but no, the horse still wasnat there. He walked through the barn and out into the pasture and saw, on the far side, that the gate was open.

He was late coming out to feed and water the horse. Head meant to be working the fields just after daybreak. The end of May and the ground was finally starting to dry. Several of the largest fields still needed plowing. But his back had been stiffer than normal this morning, so he had eased his way slowly around the cabin for several hours.

As Jack crossed the pasture, he noticed boot prints in the mud. He shut the gate and followed the trail toward the nearest field, wondering if he should have gone back for his shotgun.

Blinded by the sun, at first Jack couldnat see. He stood at the edge of the field and s.h.i.+elded his eyes with his hand.

Garrett was at the plow, tilling along the outside edge of the field.

He thought the boy nodded at him, but from this distance it was impossible to be sure. Jack started to wave at him, then stuffed his hand in his pocket. He turned on his heels and walked home.

aYouare back already?a aThe horse was gone. I went looking for it.a Mabel raised her eyebrows.

aAnd? Did you find it?a aYep. I did.a aWell?a aGarrett has it. Heas plowing a field.a aOh, is he?a Mabel pressed her lips together. Maybe she was trying not to smile. Maybe she was keeping herself from saying I told you so.

aI know, I know. You said so.a aI just had faith in him. Heas a young man who honors his obligations.a aWell, when he comes in for lunch, tell him I think the north field will have to be redone. It was too much muck when I went after it.a aYou could always tell him yourself,a she said gently.

aNo, thatas where youare wrong.a Mabel sighed.

aI wonat be your messenger forever, you know. You two will have to talk to each other someday.a aWeall see,a he said.

CHAPTER 48.

A misty chill hung over the spring morning, but they left the cabin because the girl was like a caged animal, tense and fidgety. Mabel knew something was wrong and that Faina might tell her if they went for a brisk walk, just the two of them. They followed the wagon trails around the fields, striding side by side, until the words poured out of her.

Am I dying? the girl asked without looking at Mabel.

Why would you say such thing?

I was bleeding. For months it came and went, and I doubled over in pain.

Why didnat you tell me? No, itas my fault. I should have talked with you. Have you bled again?

I thought I was better, because the bleeding stopped and didnat come back. But now I wake and eat and can keep nothing in my belly. And all day I just want to lie down and sleep.

Mabel understood at last; she led the girl to the picnic table and sat on the bench.

You will have a baby, you and Garrett. You are carrying his child.

The fog lay low along the riverbed, and their breath was visible in white clouds from their lips. Rigid and straight-backed, Faina stood and stared toward the distant mountains.

I know you are frightened, child, but you can do this. I believe in you.

How can I? What do I know of babies, or mothers?

The girl turned to Mabel and her eyes strained in a desperate grief.

But you, she said suddenly. You must know something about babies. Please. You must. Take it and be its mother.

Mabel folded her hands in her lap.

For years, her arms had ached with longing. It was a self-indulgence she didnat often permit herself, but sometimes she would sit in a chair, her eyes closed, her arms crossed against her breast, and she would imagine holding a small baby therea"its trusting warmth against her body, its tiny head smelling of milk and talc.u.m powder, its skin softer than flower petals. She had watched other women with infants and eventually understood what she craved: the boundless permissiona"no, the absolute necessitya"to hold and kiss and stroke this tiny person. Cradling a swaddled infant in their arms, mothers would distractedly touch their lips to their babiesa foreheads. Pa.s.sing their toddlers in a hall, mothers would tousle their hair or even sweep them up in their arms and kiss them hard along their chins and necks until the children squealed with glee. Where else in life, Mabel wondered, could a woman love so openly and with such abandon?