Alice HoffmanpiUAt ŸrCr5\

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The Wedding and Snow and Icei n 1957, on the very rim o f the Cape, a small tow n often d id n ’t feel small until the first snowfall o f the season. In those m uffled first m om ents, in the hush and stillness before the flakes began and the antic ipation o f the mess th e re ’d be to dig ou t afterw ard, people congregated in the general store, there to stock up on candles and flashlights, franks and beans and loaves o f bread. People regularly knew each o th e r’s business, now they also could recite w hat was in their ne igh bors’ refrigerators and cupboards. T h en and there, the w orld shrank and becam e sm aller th ing, simple as a driveway, a red w icker basket filled w ith bread and m ilk, a cleared road, a light in a ne ig h b o r’s w indow , a snow globe on a ch ild ’s shelf.

At the Farrells’, they w ere taking dow n the barn , and w hen the first big flakes began to fall all w ork had to stop. T here was no po in t in risking a slip on the ro o f and the possibility o f a broken arm or leg. T he Farrells, after all, w ere a cautious breed. T he father, Jim , and the tw o boys, Flank and Jam ie, trooped in to the k itchen, their faces ruddy, hands frozen in spite o f w oolen gloves. Grace Farrell had been listening to the w ea ther reports on the radio and had m ade soup from the canned tom atoes left from last A ugust’s garden. T he bowls o f rich broth w ere so h o t and delicious it m ade tears form in J im ’s eyes, although , frankly, the boys preferred C am pbell’s.

Still, at fourteen and seventeen, the Farrell brothers knew enough to com plim en t th e ir m o th e r’s soup. W hen they’d foolishly m ade their preference know n in the past, th e ir m o ther m ost easygoing bu t w ith occasional frig h ten in g spikes of passion that si

things hom em ade and was know n for her grape jam and Christm as pudd ing , ann ou nced she d id n ’t know w hy she bo thered w ith any o f it. She m ight ju s t get herself a jo b and then w here w ould they be? Eating bread and b u tte r and soup righ t o u t o f the can. She’d been a nurse w h en Jim Farrell m et her and she’d given it up to take care o f them and did they even appreciate w hat she’d sacrificed? W hy, nex t sum m er she

spilled the entire con ten ts o f the p o t dow n

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&m ight even le t the garden go w ild i f that was how little they th ou gh t o f the w o rk she p u t in. T he garden was a ti^Jl anyway, a constant war against the naturalized sweet peas, vines so invasive Grace Farrell yanked th em o u t by the handful. In the early fall, she’d had the o lder boy, H ank , hack dow n the vines w ith an axe, then bu ild a bonfire. T he sm oke that arose was so sweet Grace Farrell w ound up crying. She said there was sm oke in her eyes, b u t sh6 got like that som etim es, as if there was an o th e r life som ew here q / t there she m ight be living, one she m ight prefer despite h e r lover for her4iusband and sons.

T he sweet peas in the field w ere/m ought to have been set dow n the first inhabitan t o f the house, CorahHadley, w ho lost her husband and son at sea. C onl/w as said to never look at the ocean again after that, even though it was little m ore that a mile from her door. She dug in tightly to the earth, and there were people w ho vowed that her fingers tu rned green. W h en she walked dow n M ain Street acorns fell ou t o f her pockets so that anyone follow ing too closely beh ind was sure to stumble. Cols- certainly did her best to cultivate this acreage. All these years later her presence was still felt; odd, unexpected specimens popped up on property, seem ing to grow overnight. Peach trees w here none belonged. Hedges o f lilac o f a variety extinct even in England. Roses am ong the nettle. T he two acre field ram pant w ith those dam ned sweet peas, purp le and pink and w hite, strong as weeds, impossible to get rid of.

Grace Farrell had stated publicly that she w ould swear that C ori Hadley cam e back from the d ead ju s t to replant any th ing that had been r ip p ed up. Surely a jo ke , considering that Grace was one o f the m ost > sensible individuals around, the last w om an yo u’d ever expect m ight / believe in ghosts, the first a body could depend on in times o f tiiul .tody strife. S he’d had her hands full w ith the boys o f hers: H an k was the dream er w ho d id n ’t pay a tten tio n to his schoolw ork. Jam ie was the w ilder one w h o sim ply co u ld n ’t sit still. In gram m ar school the fou rth grade teacher, H elen M orse, had tied Jam ie’s left arm to the desk in an a ttem p t to force h im to im prove his penm anship by using his righ t hand, b u t Jam ie had sim ply w alked around the room dragging the desk along w ith him . He rem ained victorious, stubborn ly left-handed .

He certain ly had energy, that boy. H e had to be kept busy, for his ow n go od as well as for the peace o f m ind o f those around him . Thankfully, they d id n ’t have to th ink up projects. T here were endless tasks aroun d the house. T he shaky old barn pulled dow n for safety’s

at

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sake, for instance, th o u g h the boys had loved to play there w h en they w ere younger, sw inging from the rope in the hayloft, nearly breaking th e ir necks every tim e. N ew kitchen cabinets had just been pu t in, and [amie had helped Jim w ith that jo b as well. H e ’d been ju s t as helpful w h en the dreadful stained carpeting was at last taken up, exposing the yellow pine floors that were said to be soaked w ith Crtnj^fladley’s tears.

T here was always som eth ing gone w rong w ith a house as old as this one. M aybe G race should have said no w hen J im first to o k her to see the place. It was the w eek before their w edding, and Grace was still liv ing w ith her parents up in P lym outh . She recently given up her jo b at the h o sp iu jj/Isn ’t it go rg eo ip r h e ’d said of the farm . It looked like one o f those tum bledow n places you saw in the news m agazines, w ith h o u n d dogs lazing around the front door. T he fields w ere so th ick w ith m ilkw eed back then that a thousand goldfinch cam e to feed every spring. A nyone w ishing to reach the po nd had to use a scythe to cutpath. All the same, the lo ok on J im ’s face had m ade Grace say''(.\i>Pvcs.' It had m ade h e r th row all good sense away. For an instant the House did lo ok beautifu l to her, all w hite clapboards and righ t angles; the m ilkw eed was shining, illum ina ted /fty th in bands o f sunlight, an am azing sight if you looked at litAme righ t way, if you narrow ed your eyes un til everything b lurred in to one b rig h t and gleam m g horizon .

J im Farrell had grow n up in tow n. His fatherjarfa been a carpenter, and Jim , w an ting steadier w ork, was the ch ief o f the public works departm en t, the ch ie f o f three o ther imoij at any rate. H e was a good m an, qu iet, n o t one to shirk responsibility. People said he could smell snow, that he could divine\a ncnpelister simply from the scent in the air. T h e biggest storm s sm ellecPnke vanilla, h e ’d confined to Jam ie, the small ones like w et laundry. Tonight, J im seem ed antsy. H e got like that w h en he sim ply co u ld n ’t tell w hat the snow was up to, w h en the w hole dam n th in g seem ed like a mystery. His jo b , after all, was a cat and m ouse gam e against nature and fate. D id he get the tow n plows o u t early? D id he conserve sand and salt for the next snowfall? W ould the storm carve away at the dunes, w h ich were already disappearing all along the shore?

W h en J im finished his soup and had taken this bow l to the sink, he stood at the w ind ow facing west. T he field o f sweet peas was already dusted w hite . Snow m ade him feel like crying som etim es—ju st the first flakes, the purest stuff.

B eh ind the hedge o f hollySyTfie Brooks house nex t do o r was dark.

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“D o you th in k I should go over there w ith som e soup?” Grace had com e up beh in d h er husband. She liked the way he looked at snow, the in tensity on his face, there w hen they m ade love, there w henever he was con cen tra ting and try ing to figure things out. “H al m ight be away. I th in k he m ight still be w ork ing on that house in B ourne. She m ight be alone there w ith Josephine.”

T h e B rooks w ere th e ir closest neighbors, righ t there on the o ther side o f the field, bu t there was no cam araderie betw een the families. Hal B rooks was a shit, there was no o th e r way to say it, and even Grace, w h o was offended by bad language, w ould nod w hen som eone in tow n referred to her ne igh bor that way. Lord, h e ’d been a m ean snake all his life, the way G race had heart it. Even as a boy, h e ’d shoot seagulls for sport, and once o r tw ice a stray dog had disappeared on his property, only to be found strung up from one o f the oak trees. H al had n ’t changed w ith age, and people in tow n all knew w h at was going on over there. You could see it w h en the Brooks nam e cam e up. A nod. A stepping back. Som e people had seen w hat w en t one w ith his wife, som e had heard about it. T he rest w ould simply cross the street w hen the B rooks were in tow n.

“I f she needs som eth ing she’ll com e and get it, w o n ’t she?” Jim said, a lthough they b o th th o u g h t this probably w asn’t true.

T he boys w ere in the living room w atching the new TV; they w ould w atch any th ing that flickered up in fron t o f them , and for a w hile at least Jam ie, always so restless, w ould settle dow n. T hey boys d id n ’t need to know w hat w en t on the B rooks’. W h en Grace and Jim had first m oved in, L ionel Brooks was the only occupant, a w idow er, a hard -w o rk ing fisherm an w ho kept his boat ou t in Provincetow n. Hal had in h e rited the house from his father and had com e to claim it after the old m an died. H e ’d arrived hom e from the N avy w ith this wife o f his, ready to make enem ies left and righ t no m atter how m any w elcom e baskets w ere b rou gh t over and how m any w om en in tow n sent over pies, J im F arre ll/u idn’t w ant his w ife nex t door for any reason, no t ever to take over a M t o f soup.

“ Stay aw aypjim to ld Grace. “We all decide ou r ow n fates, and w hat they do is th e ir business.”

“W ell, o f course I w o n ’t go over. B u t I m ight send the boys to shovel snow.”

Jim co u ld n ’t say no to that. Just last year, M attie H am m ond, eighty-

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four years old and all on her ow n, had been snowed in to her cottage d u rin g a b lizzard .T he drifts had been so high, M attie co u ld n ’t open her fron t d o o r and had nearly starved to death before J im cam e to plow ou t the street. Thankfully, despite the blanket o f w hite that cou ld cause sem i-blindness in som e m en w hile they w ere at the plow, Jim had no ticed the square han dk erch ief M attie had taped up in a w indow to signal her distress. T here w ere som e things Jim F arre ll/cou ldn’t deny a neighbor, particularly on a snowy night, and o t h e / situations Grace co u ld n ’t tu rn away from either, and because th e y /h d n ’t like to argue w ith each o ther, no m atter their differences, they 'W t it at that.

Jim w en t o u t to his truck at four in the afternoon , headed for the dep artm en t o f public works. It was the h o u r w hen everything tu rn ed blue— the snow, the w h ite fences, the w hite clapboards o f the house— that lum inous tim e w h en the line betw een earth and sky disappeared.

“ I w ant you boys to so shovel over at R osalyn B rooks’,” Grace called in to the living room . She had ladled ou t a separate p o t o f tom ato soup despite w hat J im had advised. “Take the shovels and b rin g this soup w ith you.”

W h en there was no response Grace w en t in to the living room and stood in fron t o f th eT V .T h e boys w ould w atch ju s t abou t anything, bu t th e ir favorite show was You Asked For It, on to n igh t at seven. T here w ere the m ost am azing things ou t there in the w orld, and all you had to do was ask and y o u ’d see it righ t in fron t o f you, on your very ow n screen.

“ I ’m tu rn in g this off,” G race announced , then did so. “ I w ant you to shovel.”

“At the B rooks’,” Jam ie said. “We heard.”“C a n ’t. I’ve go t a h isto ry paper,” H ank said. “Sorry, M om , bu t i t ’s

due tom orrow .”H an k was having his troubles in school, so Grace let him stay and

sent Jam ie on his ow n, m aking sure he bundled up, handing him his hat, w h ich he often m anaged to forget, w atching to m ake certain he pulled on his scarf and his lea ther gloves. T he po t o f soup was un der one arm , the shovel carried over his shoulder. H e was a qu iet boy, n o t m uch o f a student, bu t loveable to his m o ther in som e deep way, so that she w o rried abou t h im as she d id n ’t anyone else in this w orld. Perhaps it was true that m others had favorites, at least now and then. Grace w atched Jam ie disappear in to the blue o f the field and felt a catch in

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h er throat. Love, she presum ed. A m om en t o f realizing exacflyHiow lucky she was, o f be ing grateful that she was no t C o r i HajJteyfithat her son was n o t o u t on the ocean, bu t was instead tram ^kig th rough the snow y reaches o f their ow n fam iliar acreage.

W h en he was alone, Jam ie tended to hum . His m o th er was a fan o f musicals, particularly The King and /, and Jam ie found him self hum m ing Getting To Know You. H is m o th er loved Yul Brenner, for reasons Jam ie co u ld n ’t understand. T he king he played was bald, for one thing; he was bossy as all get o u t for another. All the same, the song stuck. Som etim es w h en Jam ie walked th ou gh this field, in w inter, at exactly this hour, he w ould see deer. T here w ere w ild turkeys too, crazy birds that have very little fear o f hum ans and w ould ru n straight at you if you invaded their te rrito ry .T h ere was a sho rt cu t to the B rooks’, th rough the w in terberry vines. T h e berries w ere shiny and red; som etim es yo u ’d happen upon a skunk as you m ade your way th ou gh t the bram bles, and that skunk w ould ju s t go on feeding, calm as could be, rightfully assured that no creature on earth w ould be stupid enough to in te rru p t o r attack.

Jam ie was in the w in terberry , th ink ing about deer, singing softly to him self, w h en he heard it. A clap o f thunder. A snow plow on the road. A firecracker. H e stopped for a m inute and breathed in snowflakes. W h en he brea thed o u t it was a like a steam engine. It m elted the snow o ff the w in terb erries . H e listened. H e was good at that, bu t heard no th ing , so he w en t on. He was that sort o f boy, in ten t on his task at hand. H e knew w h at his m o th e r w anted him to do: shovel the B rooks’ front do o r to th e ir driveway. H e and H ank had done it before, last year. M r. Brooks h ad n ’t been at hom e, bu t Mrs. Brooks had m ade them hot chocolate, w hich they drank ou t on the front step. Now, alongside the C hevy there was M r. B rooks’ truck, a w reck o f a th ing, battered as all get ou t, leaking oil in to the snow.

Jam ie tried to balance the soup on the fron t step, bu t the step was m ade from o f an uneven piece o f stone. H e w en t up to the door then, to deliver the soup before he started to work. His breath did the same th ing to the glass w ind ow set in to the do o r as it did to the w in terb erries , m elted o ff the snow, then fogged it up. But even th rough the fog he could see R osalyn Brooks, r igh t there on the floor w ith no clothes on and som eth ing red all over her face. H e should have backed away; he should ru n hom e, done som eth ing, anything, but he had never seen a naked w om an before, and it was as though he was hypnotized,

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frozen in place w hile his breath kept m elting the snow. O n e m inute he had been fou rteen year-old boy w ith n o th ing m uch on his m ind. Now, he was som eone else entirely.

H e was still ho ld ing on to the po t o f tom ato soup w hen he opened the door. People d id n ’t lock up m uch in their tow n; there was no th ing to steal and no one to steal it. Jam ie walked in as thou gh h e ’d been draw n inside by a m agnetic force. T he B rooks’ house was an old farm house, like the Farrells’, bu t it had n ’t been updated. It was cold and em pty and the on ly light tu rn ed on was in the k itchen, all the way dow n the hall. E very th ing looked blue inside the house, except for the th in g th a t was red. It was b lood that was all over R osalyn Brooks, bu t w h en she looked up and saw Jam ie she seem m ost panicked Iw^+TcTact that she was naked. She let o u t a strange sound and graj>b€d a rag rug, try ing to cover herself. It was a sob, th a t’s w hat Jam i€realized . T ha t was the sound.

“ I b rou gh t you soup,” he said. “It’sHk5m my m other.”M rs. Brooks looked at h im as th&ugh he w ere crazy.“She m akes it herself.” Jam ie felt like runn ing , bu t he d id n ’t seem

capable o f tu rn in g away. H e had the feeling he m ight be paralyzed. “Are you all righ t?”

R osalyn Brooks laughed, or at least Jam ie th o u g h t th a t’s w hat Jam ie th o u g h t it was.

“Just stay there,” he said. “ I ’ll get you som ething.”H e p u t the soup on a tabletop and w en t to the hall closet, grabbing

for the first th ing he felt, b rin g in g back a heavy black w oolen coat.“ It’s okay,” he said, because o f the way she was look ing at him . As

th ou gh she w ere scared. “ I t’s a coat.”Rosayln Brooks stared at him , then took the coat and pu t it on. Jam ie

Farrell looked away, all the same he glimpsed her breasts, blue in the light o f the house, and her belly, w hich was oddly beautiful. She had bruises all over, that m uch he noticed as well, on her legs and shoulders especially. H e now saw that her lip was split open and she could barely see th rough the slits o f her eyes.

“D o you w ant m e to heat you som e soup?” It was so cold in the house that Jam ie’s breath cam e out in billows, and he was embarrassed by his ow n heat. W h en Mrs. Brooks d idn’t answer, he figured she wanted him to take the po t in the kitchen, bu t as he tu rned to head dow n the hall, R osalyn lu rched from her prone position and grabbed his pantsleg.

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She did it so hard and so fast he alm ost fell over. She looked at him in a way that convinced him that som ething really bad had happened. Som ebody else m ight have taken off running, back through the w interberries, snagging his clothes as he raced th rough the bushes, but Jam ie crouched dow n beside Mrs. Brooks.

“W h e re ’s Josephine?’ he asked.T hat was the B rooks’ five-year old daughter. Josephine liked to pick

the sweet peas in the field. She liked the pears that dropped to the ground from the big tree in the Farrells’ yard, Rosalyn looked up the stairs.

“ Is she in bed?”“Asleep.”At least M rs. B rooks could talk. T ha t was a relief.“M y husband had an accident.”“ Okay,” Jam ie said. “Should we call my Dad? H e could help.”“ N o. You can’t call him .”H e cou ld tell th a t w hatever happened was bad from her tone. Still,

he stayed. M aybe Jam ie felt he ow ed R osalyn Brooks his allegiance because h e ’d seen h e r naked, or maybe it was all that blood, or the way his breath was so h o t and the house so very cold.

“ In the k itchen?”Mrs. B rooks nodded. She was n o t yet thirty, a young w om an, pretty

un der o th e r circum stances.“ I ’ll ju s t go in there and get a dish towel to stop the bleeding,”

Jam ie said, for her lip and her scalp were oozing.But w h en he rose, she grabbed his leg again.“ It’s okay,” he assured her. “I ’ll be righ t back.”T he hallway was even colder. T he old houses had no insulation and

the k itch en was especially chilly. T here was even m ore b lood on the floor, especially around Hal B rooks’ body, w hich was righ t in front o f the stove. Jam ie tried n o t to look too closely. H e grabbed a dishtowel, ran cold w ater over it, then brough t it back to R osalyn. H e w ondered i f he had stepped in b lood and if it was on the soles o f his boots, if h e ’d left tracks dow n the hall. T hen he stopped w ondering , l ie pu t those thoughts aside. R osalyn was sitting on the floor now, the coat bu ttoned ; w h en he handed her the dish towel, she held it up to her lip.

“W h at do you w ant to do w ith him ?” Jamie said.O utside, the blue was tu rn in g in to darkness. A black night. So quiet

you could hear the cardinals nesting in the hedges outside the B rooks’

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w indow . T he snow fell harder. Jam ie figured his father was up on the m ain road w ith his plow by now.

T hey sat there in silence in the cold house.“I ’ll shovel your path, and then I’ll com e back,” Jam ie said. “You

th in k abou t w hat you w ant to do.”“Okay,” R osalyn said. “ I w ill.”Jam ie w en t o u t and shoveled hard and fast. It was heavy snow, thick

and dense, the kind he w ould have th o u g h t was good for snowball fights on any o th e r occasion. H e w asn’t th ink ing that way now. H e was th in k in g o f the p o n d beyond the field. In the old days food could be stored in the sum m er k itchen righ t up un til July i f enough ice was stacked against the walls. H e ’d heard the old w om an w h o ’d lived in th e ir house a w hile back had hauled blocks o f ice from the pond until h e r horse, the one w h o ’d lived in the barn they’d begun to tear dow n, slipped th ro ug h the ice and drow ned.

T he k itch en floor at the B rooks’ was already clean w hen Jam ie cam e back inside. R osalyn Brooks had m opped up, then washed her face and pu lled back her ho ney -co lo red hair. T here w ere still streaks o f b loo d in her scalp, bu t Jam ie Farrell d id n ’t have the heart to tell her. R osalyn w en t to check on her daughter, then came back downstairs and p u t on her husband’s w orkboots. She looked even m ore delicate w earing them . She d id n ’t b o th er w ith gloves. A t least there was a b lanket around M r. B rooks, and Jam ie was grateful for that. T hey tried to pull h im along the floor, and w h en that d id n ’t w ork, Jam ie w en t and go t the w heelbarrow from the garage. H e was so ho t he felt like taking o ff his hat and scarf, bu t i f he m isplaced them , his m o th er w ould have his head.

It to o k all th e ir com bined strength to push the w heelbarrow th rough the snow .T he th ick , heavy snow that they quietly cursed. T hey stopped for a break halfway across the field; they bo th looked up at the falling snow. R osalyn p u t her arms ou t, and tilted her head back. Jam ie had never th o u g h t abou t the future, w ho he was, w hat he w ould do. It had all been a haze. N o w he saw that blood was still seeping th rough R o sa lyn ’s hair and he th o u g h t she probably needed stitches. H e saw that his fu tu re was alm ost here.

T here w ere p ine trees and holly around the far side o f the pond , and th a t’s w here they w ent. T hey had to drag him along over the frozen weeds. T hey had pu t stones in his pockets, heavy black stones, the kind

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Jam ie and H an k h k e jrb est for their slingshots. R osalyn to o k o ff the w orkboots she’d been w earing and filled them w ith stones as well, then p u t the boots on her husband, laced them and carefully tied a knot, th en a do ub le-kno t.

“Your feet will freeze on the way back,” Jam ie w hispered.She did n o t seem to care. She closed her eyes and w hen she opened

th em they w ere still slits. T he snow was m aking things qu ie ter all the tim e. T h ey pu lled h im in to the po nd and w atched him sink. T here was a gu lp ing noise at first, then there was no th ing . O nly the quiet.

“You go hom e,” R osalyn said to Jam ie. “ Go on. Your m o ther will be w o rried .”

H e hated to leave her like that, barefoot, bleeding.She leaned over and kissed him , on the lips, in gratitude.Jam ie Farrell ran the rest o f the way, his ho t breath rattling against

his ribs. His boots and pantsleg w ere w et and mucky. T here was pond w ater in his boots, fetid, cold stuff. H e was shivering and co u ld n ’t stop. W orst o f all, his m o th e r was w aiting for him.

“W h at to o k you so long?” Grace dem anded. “ I t’s after eight. You missed yo u r TV. show.” T h en , lo ok ing at him carefully. “W h ere ’s the shovel?”

“ I fo rgo t it.” Jam ie tu rn ed back to the door. “ I ’m sorry. I ’ll go get it if you w an t.”

His m o th e r stopped him . She looked at h im harder still. “ I ’ll go.You do your hom ew ork and get ready for bed.”

“ I can get the shovel in the m orn ing ,” Jam ie offered, an edge o f panic inside him , b u t Grace was already getting her coat. She had stepped in to her w arm black boots. A fter she left, Jam ie w ent up to the bedroom he shared w ith his brother. It was as though h e ’d ju s t walked o u t o f a dream and here he was, m elting in the over-heated second floor o f his fam ily’s house. H e th ou gh t o f all the w ounded people there w ere in this w orld, people h e ’d never know, and he felt helpless.

“W h at i f I was an accessory to m urder?” he asked H ank, w ho was already in bed , m ore that half-asleep as he gazed at his history book.

“W h at i f you w ere the biggest m oron that ever lived?” H an k shot back, a question for w hich there was no answer, at least no t on this night.

It was nearly m id n ig h t by the tim e Grace cam e hom e. T he snow was tap ering o ff and she b rushed the flakes from her coat and stom ped

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on the w elcom e m at to dislodge the ice from her boots. Usually, Jim d id n ’t get back un til daw n, bu t to n igh t h e ’d com e hom e earlier. T he sto rm w asn’t as bad as the m eteorologists has predicted . H is m en could take care o f the rest and clean up.

“W h ere w ere you? T he boys are in bed, and you w eren ’t here, I d id n ’t know w h at to th ink .”

B ut that w asn’t true. For a m om ent, w h at h e ’d th o u g h t was that she’d left him . Just disappeared in to that o th e r life she seem ed to be th in k in g abo u t som etim es. T hey stared at each o ther now, th e ir breath hot. O utside the drifts leaned against the house; w in ter here stayed a lo ng time.

“ I w en t over and heated up the tom ato soup for R osalyn.”

“ D id you?”G race sat dow n at the table. E veryone had know n w hat was going

on, and no one had done a dam n th ing about it.“H al up and left. N o m oney, no w arning , no th ing . She thinks he

m ight have re-en listed .”J im was lo ok ing o u t the w indow ; tw o deer had ju s t now w andered

in to th e ir field. H opefully, the snow w asn’t so deep that it w ould preven t them from u n earth ing the last w ithered sweet peas, th o u g h t to be delicious by anyth ing w ild. “ I guess it’s none o f ou r business,” he said. From this distance, the w in terberries alm ost looked tropical, the fru it o f ano th er place entirely.

“So you say.”G race Farrell still had snow in her hair, bu t it w ould m elt w hen

they go t in to bed and she’d never even know it had been there. W hen she th o u g h t back to this n igh t she w o u ld n ’t even rem em ber it had been snow ing, she’d only rem em ber the look on her husband’s face, the con cen tra tion she loved, the m an she could tu rn to, even on a n igh t as cold as this.

Five Points / 11