We WALK in FOOTPRINTS Book Three

after.

• The Mellowing Years

• Expatriates

THE MELLOWING

YEARS

Austin and Jenny

Snow flakes, the first of the season, dance outside bay windows, light on window ledges; parched grounds drink the wine. As though it had always been there, inside the Burdette’s solid, white Craftsman a dozen warm bodies gathered in celebration of Thanksgiving.

Jenny beside her husband, Austin stands at the head of his table surveying the feast set before him. The year before, he’d learned of Daniel’s adoption. The ultimate act of defiance—he lost it. Straining at the leash, Jenny had outgrown limits he’d imposed; Dan had developed a mind of his own. For too long his authority challenged, betrayal, as he saw it, propelled him into a tailspin. He walked out on his wife and son – hurting them as they’d hurt him. Some months back, he’d turned a corner, let go of a wounded ego. A new world opened.

In the years he’d been with Jenny, he’d kept her family at arm’s length. Determined to make amends, from this day forward, he would accept their long-standing, holiday tradition: words of welcome, words of tribute.

An infectious grin crossing his face, he opened his arms. Welcome to our home, and, our bountiful table. Nods of approval, he moved on. Seems we’ve all made it through … for me … a pivotal year, a rueful pause, he continued, a bit humbled … still standing.

The table erupted. Fist bumps. Right on! ... Yeah! The family knew of their recent troubles. Only he and Jenny knew the tangled truth.

A wave of pure affection he hadn’t felt deep in his being until this moment swept into Austin. Remarks he’d prepared now seeming trivial, he determined to wing it. Through it all, a catch in his throat, he revised. Through it all, this family has been there for Jenny and Dan… and, for this petulant orphan. His chin wrinkled; moist eyes swept the gathering. "I am … truly grateful."

Caught off guard, the gathering fell silent, as Austin struggled for control. Placing his arm around Jenny, admiration in his eyes and his tone, he began. "My wife created this fine, loving home, as well as a flourishing business. A wry chuckle escaped his throat. She keeps an erratic wanderer on the straight and narrow. Laughter rippled around the table as Austin caught sight of Dan. All that, and she’s raised a boy any man would be proud to call Son."

Those at the table beamed on a boy-becoming-a-man. Austin paused, a poignant memory springing to life, he faced her. Jenny can name every star in the night sky. For me, she is the brightest, most beautiful of all.

As though they were alone in the universe, their eyes held a precious moment.

Oh! Ivy cooed, breaking the silence. That was … perfectly lovely, Austin.

Bravo! Rob led a burst of light-hearted applause.

Snapped out of his reverie, a pleasing mix of aromas inspired hunger pangs, Austin’s hand swept the table. Enjoy … everyone.

Acknowledging a higher power, each in their own way engaged in a common prayer.

Serving platters, bowls, gravy boats passed, one to another, plates filled. In turn, each man, woman, boy-becoming-a-man, followed the family tradition: words of thanks, praise for an excellent meal, good-humored ribbing. Rich commented that Austin’s tribute to Jenny put all the guys on defense. How do we top that?

When Jenny’s turn came, she posed a question. How could she hope to keep her husband on the straight and narrow? The erratic wanderer so much a part of his charm.

Later that day, thankful for smooth sailing, Austin stepped out on the porch for a moment alone and a breath of fresh air, temperature mid-forties.

Wrapped in a sweater, Lita soon followed. Drawing a breath, she exhaled. So … I hoped for a moment we could speak alone, she commented, beginning her thoughts.

Had her attitude towards him softened? Austin wondered. She’d sought him out for a reason. I’m glad all of you could be with us, he acknowledged. Gina recovering from a virus, Charlie and Gina remained back in Welborne.

Confirming gracious accommodations, and Austin’s role as a welcoming host, Lita came to the point. This has been a wonderful holiday. You and Jenny made it so.

A nod, he acknowledged warm comments, no hint of an edge.

Gazing across a fresh snow-covering, she came to the point. She couldn’t be more pleased that he and Jenny had worked through their differences and that he’d come home. High emotion raking her voice, she looked directly into his face.All I ever wanted for my daughter was to be cared for and content A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

Touched, his reply leaped from the heart. "She’s part of me. I love her."

"You need her."

That too, Austin affirmed, and Dan. We’re a family.

Another family Thanksgiving had slipped into the memory bank when Jenny walked into the parlor to find Austin resting in his chair. Warming to the sight of him, she settled in the corner of the couch, placed her book on the cushion. Since the holiday visit, she sensed a warming between her mother and Austin. After all the years of friction, she hoped for this trend to continue. Her Mom had been observing her interactions with Austin before she took Jenny aside. "He respects you, and your marriage, Mom asserted as though that were a new facet of their union. What lay ahead, she was sure they’d work through – together. Lita had put a name to changes in Austin—a mellowing."

Jenny took comfort in her mother’s assurances, and her own belief that Austin had mellowed through their painful separation. She was yet to fully trust as lasting a radical shift in priorities. Their reunion had been desperately sweet, avoiding deeper troubles, a respite from conflicts so far unresolved. Settling in, he told her how right it felt to be home; his family at dinner, climbing the stairs to their room, together in their bed—making love as natural as the next breath.

Sensing her presence, he opened his eyes, focused. A hand swept a tentative grin. Resting my eyes, he mumbled.

She smiled. You looked … content.

He came forward, lacing his fingers in hers. "I’m a happy man. Can’t figure now what the fuss was about."

Uneasy, she shifted. "Putting that fuss into words is difficult." If not Impossible.

He twirled an index finger. Give it a whirl.

A moment of reflection, she channeled Gramp’s words of wisdom. Expectations … disappointments?

Yeah. He filled in the blanks. "You had every right to be disappointed in me. I was off-the-wall, crazy."

Secure in the course their marriage was taking, Jenny made her own admission. "I was angry … hurting. I lashed out at you."

He scoffed. You handled this better than I did. Oh, you held my feet to the fire a few times. A wry smile crossed his face. Not that I didn’t deserve it. Powerful as his embrace, his eyes held hers. "When I was down, you were there. You’ve always been there."

"I need your strength." She pressed his hand.

And I need yours. We’re good together, ya‘ know. He raised her hand to his lips. "My wife is an amazing woman."

Seduced, she let emotions rule her words. "All the parts of me have come together, Austin. I feel it in my bones, my heart and soul. This is who I am."

His eyes drifted to the carpet, reflecting. Wow! Profound! I think that’s the word I want. He looked into her face. "I’d better get on board."

What does that mean … on board?

It means, choosing his words, he gave a quick nod, "it means, I accept you, who you are. Looking into her face, he kissed her fingers. You accept me … crazy bastard I am. Without you and our boy, I’m less of a man."

Touched beyond words by this unexpected declaration, her eyes filled with tears.

Hey! His hand gripped her thigh. I didn’t mean to make you cry.

Her heart full too overflowing, words could not express the depths of her emotions.

Again that nigh the dream came. Stripping bare her deepest yearnings, nocturnal stirrings mind and body spinning out the agonies of labor, ecstasy of birth; aching breasts to nurse a newborn. Abruptly, the dream ends, tears on her pillow. No newborn cradled in her arms.

Across the kitchen floor, Austin and Daniel laid out the results of a shopping trip: skis and poles, boots and jackets ready to step into. Come see, Mom.

Coming into the room from the foot of the staircase she’d just descended, Jenny’s eyes went wide. Astonished, she murmured, You said, ‘sports equipment.’ That had been the mission when he and Daniel left the house.

Pleased with his purchases, Austin rubbed hands together. Early Christmas presents. He donned a pair of goggles, one of three he’d purchased. "Cross Country is the newest seasonal sport. Everybody’s doing it!"

For some time, a plan had been developing: At Austin’s suggestion, Christmas holidays at the lake with Gramps. Hoping for the best, she went along, but Cross Country skiing? I don’t know how.

Simple as walking, Austin asserted. He and Daniel had taken lessons from the staff at the sporting goods store. Pulling a bright green jacket from a large shopping bag, he held it open for her. Here, try this for size."

Daniel navigating on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Austin piloted their loaded station wagon over a highway freshly plowed after the latest snowfall. Diverting to snow-covered, secondary roads, they followed signs to the administration building where Joe was waiting with Jenny’s cousin, Buck, each astride a Snow Cat fitted with a side car—the current mode of transportation on the reservation. A light snow was falling on a firm base.

Conditions just right. Confronting unknowns beyond the boundaries of the White world, Austin maintained an up-for-anything outlook.

Hope you’re all dressed warm, Joe remarked, after their usual greeting.

Oh, yeah, been looking forward to this. Austin’s eyes shifted to Jenny then Dan. We all have. His fears calmed, he was excited, though cautious on his first visit to Seneca lands.

Joe introduced Buck. Unsure at first—do I shake the hand of an Indian? Force of habit, he stuck out his right hand. They greeted as all men do. An agreeable sort, Buck helped load skis, poles, bags, containers of food Jenny had prepared for Christmas dinner into the side cars. At Buck’s direction Austin climbed into Buck’s side car; Jenny rode with Joe, Daniel the saddle behind. Well-tuned engines purred.

We’ll be takin’ it slow with all this gear, Joe quipped, as he scanned surplus cargo.

A lurch, Buck and Austin in the lead, the Cats took off churning along a trail that bordered the lake—in winter, cold-blue beneath pale skies; fragrant evergreen along the route heavy with shimmering white. Wide-open spaces, the heady scent of wood smoke, a welcome departure from traffic congestion and carbon exhaust, Austin’s usual day-to-day routine.

The Cats slowed passing within sight of a cluster of cabins. Tall Elk! Buck called out over the clatter. He pointed out his cabin, one belonging to his sister and the one the clan had built for Aunt Winona nestled in a cove—a miniature, alpine village, like the one his mother had arranged under their holiday tree, an early memory of Burdette Farms. Pleasing memories of the farm, his mother and dad, accepted now as the true story of his past.

Settled at the lodge, their skis and equipment stowed in the shed, Buck roared off before Austin could thank him for his help. He said as much, watching the Cat disappear into the twilight.

No need, Joe remarked. We’re all kinfolk here.

‘Kinfolk.’ The word replayed in Austin’s mind. To Daniel and Jenny and even Joe, the Indians were kinfolk. He was the outsider. Now he was taking the first cautious steps to be accepted. For Jenny’s sake and Dan’s, over Christmas he’d see how it went.

No central heating at the lodge, Joe added split logs to the embers in the fireplace and to the cook stove in the kitchen—a task repeated many times over. Pitching in, he and Dan filled the wood box from storage in the shed. Standing upright in the shed, a fresh-cut, six-foot spruce they carried into the lodge. Tree and stand upright in the window, Jenny stood back, admiring. Soooo pretty … without decorations … natural.

Needs lights, Joe declared. Opening a box, he hung the strings. Dan draped garlands of popcorn. Austin fixed a shinny star to the top. Under the tree, Jenny placed gifts wrapped in brown paper, tied with thick, red yarn. Simple, the way trees were done on the reservation.

That’s all it needs. Scanning the large, open living area, warming now enough to shed a jacket, and cap, Austin felt comfortable in homey surroundings.

In the farm-style kitchen, Jenny prepared a simple supper of applesauce, potato pancakes, green beans and venison sausage. They ate while Joe and Dan kept up a running banter about events among the clans. Austin listened absorbing unfamiliar flavors of reservation life.

Changing the subject, he rubbed his belly. Deeee licious! Joe and Dan agreed. The conversation took a turn to life in Pittsburgh, Dan’s school, Jenny’s shop, Austin’s travels. Austin cleared the table, Jenny washed, Daniel dried; Joe stacked clean dishes on open shelves lining log walls. Communal chores completed, they gathered around the tree.

Upright in a high-back chair, Joe lit his pipe. Jenny perched next to Joe. He and Dan stretched out on a rug in front of the fire. Unwinding in the warmth of a crackling fire, a pleasant Prince Albert aroma, a time of quiet digestion in firelight Austin let go a pent-up breath, so far so good. Wind whined in the pines, whistled down the stacked-stone chimney setting coals aglow. A Cary tradition, opening presents Christmas Eve. Growing impatient to go at it, Dan rolled over. Looks like Santa’s been here already.

Joe chuckled. Jenny, you do the honors, will ya’.

Gathering her shawl around her, she rose from her perch beside Joe. You’ll be first, Gramps. Into his arms she placed a bundle they’d brought along.

Blue eyes gleaming in the firelight, he acknowledged each one with a nod. Thank you all. Pulling the yarn free, he unfolded the wrap: cardigan—hunter green. A wide grin, he, directed his eyes all around, then back on Jenny. "Very nice … especially like the color. Wear ’em all winter, ya ‘know."

Burn holes in the one you have on, she observed. Returning a look of affection, she helped him out of the tattered, cardigan and into the new one, a smoothing hand across his shoulder. That’s better.

I’ll be more careful with this. One turn of the cuffs, he added, Good fit.

They were warmly dressed: Austin in corduroys, a cable-knit sweater; Jenny, doe-skin boots, jeans, a beaded shawl he was seeing for the first time. A swift transformation—urban to native – disturbing; her profile in the firelight, an image he found difficult to reconcile with the woman he knew as his wife.

Daniel in his favorite sweats with the Penn State logo sat cross-legged on a braided rug. Mom, he inquired, eyes dancing in firelight, Okay to give gramps his gift?

She gave an affirmative nod.

From under the tree Daniel lifted a parcel. You have to open this one, Gramps. It’s from me. He stood at Joe’s elbow as Joe examined the wrapping.

Well, well. Thank you, Daniel.In his lap, Joe uncovered the pencil sketch Daniel had drawn: the lodge, adjacent lake, set in lush landscape as true to life as a photograph. Into the concrete pad leading to the boat dock, he’d drawn Dan Cary’s footprints and the Deer clan totem. Oh, Daniel … This is … I don’t have words. He held the sketch upright, a tremor in his voice. Sure ‘un you’ve become a fine, fine artist … I don’t know what to say.

Mom and I went to the frame shop, picked out the wood and made the frame, Daniel reported, running his fingers over a rough poplar.

Made the frame? No end to the talent between you two. Smiling through tear-filled eyes, he stood, gazing around the room. This special gift needs a very special place.

Genuinely touched, Joe had all he could do to keep from breaking up. In the end Daniel, Joe and Jenny, an easy rapport between them, came to a mutual agreement. They placed the drawing to one side of the mantle, where it could be viewed from every angle.

A creeping sense he’d been left out, abandoned, Austin shifted gears. "That is the perfect spot. Avoiding the abandonment trap in the past he’d drop into felt good – freeing. Edging up behind the group, he placed a hand on Dan’s shoulder, an arm around his wife. You’re well on your way to becoming an architect, Dan. The detail in this drawing is incredible."

Thanks, Dad.

Jenny gazed into his eyes, her eyes reflecting admiration he’d longed to see. He wasn’t sure why, it was all he could do to keep from breaking up. Her eyes filled with tears.

Joe’s gift for Jenny: a book of Iroquois myths and legends that had belonged to Sarah. They took a break while Jenny read aloud a favorite Christmas legend. The Seneca, it seemed integrated myths and legends seamlessly with mainstream religious beliefs. He had no idea. For that brief moment in time he stepped into a world she knew.

Adjusting to the here and now, Austin removed the brown paper wrap covering a fine, wood carving Joe had placed in his hands. Holding the carving to the light, he examined an impressive rack on a standing stag. Wow! You did this Joe?

No, no. Joe scoffed. I do some whittlin’. Not that talented myself; Turtle clan men, expert carvers.

I can see this masterpiece on the console in my office. A last look, carefully, he wrapped brown paper around the stag. Thanks so much, Joe.

A nod of acknowledgement, Joe shifted his eyes to Daniel as he opened his gift. A Seneca brave in ceremonial garb. The same boots, leggings, vest and headdress he wore for traditional dances, Dan affirmed.

Dances? Austin mumbled, a turn in the pit of his stomach, for the first time coming face to face with his son’s participation in Seneca traditions. I didn’t know. Troubled eyes shifted to Jenny. "Won’t be seeing dances this visit, I guess."

No festivals at Christmas, Dad, Dan interjected. There will be dances at Corn Planting. Wide-eyed hopeful, he inquired, You’ll come with us?

Corn Planting? A festival, he assumed. Feeling pressured, he changed course. Sure Dan. You give me the date, I’ll be there.

Observing the exchange, Jenny made the slightest affirmative tilt of her head, collected wrappings, folding brown paper in a neat stack. We stock the Turtle clan’s carvings at the shop. They sell out quickly.

I can see why. Austin came to his feet, stretched to his full height.

Looking from one to another, Joe took the opportunity to speak his mind. Can’t tell ya’ how pleased I am to have all a’ ya’ here.

Jenny and Daniel embraced Joe. Between Joe and Austin a masculine hug and pat on the back. For too long, he’d resented the strong bond his wife and son had with Joe. What was he feeling now? They’d done all they could to welcome him into the fold. The rest was up to him.

After a set of checkers, Joe was the first to give into yawns and the late hour. The fire was banked, the tree lights doused. Daniel set up the cot; Jenny brought pillows and quilts; they said their goodnights and sleep wells.

Inside the small room where she was born and where she slept on visits, Austin closed the curtain hung over the door, shading a flickering firelight. His eyes fell on the narrow bed.

Picking up on his expression, she whispered. It’s a three-quarter. Gramps offered his room. I told him, we’d manage fine here.

Ooookay. In hushed tones, he questioned. How do we do that?

She dropped the shawl from her shoulders. "We … spoon."

A sideways glance, sex wasn’t in the cards—not here. What was she thinking? You and Dan are at home here.

"And you’re not.

Ha! Never was the backwoods type.

She came close, stroked his cheek. I like you just the way you are.

A boost to his confidence in the chill of the room, he wrapped his arms around her, a firm though brief embrace. Since their reunion, he couldn’t get enough. Do I have pajamas?

She turned away, slipped out of her boots. In your bag, and, keep your socks on. You’ll need them. Slipping a flannel cover-up he hated on sight over her head, she murmured, I miss a warm bath.

For her, a tub, the lap of luxury. Now he knew why. He undressed, pulling on pajamas as a chill hit. Taking a pinch of flannel between his fingers, he said. I don’t like this thing.

Keeps me warm. She spread a quilt on the bed.

I can do that.

You do. She smiled, climbed in; he followed, front to back spooning. Exchanging a goodnight kiss, they settled.

No room to toss and turn, he closed his eyes. Man! No traffic noise, wailing sirens, barking dogs. How does a man sleep with all this peace and quiet? His ears picked up the sound of wind singing in the pines; water lapping at the dock. Not the mechanical, night noise to which he was accustomed. Their son slept nearby; she was close, warm. Fitfully, he dozed.

Sometime in the night, Jenny climbed over—nature call. Bringing back a chill, she snuggled, fell back to sleep. He didn’t.

Cautiously, he slipped out of bed and into the main room. Daniel didn’t stir. Drawn to the hearth where the fire needed tending, he placed split logs on the embers. … Dry timber crackling, sparks flew up the chimney. Soaking up warmth, taking a quilt from the back, wrapping around, he dropped into Joe’s chair. He wondered how Joe had managed all these years, roughing it in the back woods, surrounded by water, trees and Indians. There was limited indoor plumbing, though an outhouse was useable. I am soft, he thought. Too used to big beds, modern plumbing, room service—the Good Life. Was it the good life? Different, yeah. For Joe, what he had here was a good life.

And for the Deer clan, the reservation, their homeland, was the good life. From Jenny he knew, her clan was schooled and hard-working, leaders of a people otherwise mired in poverty; drinking to oblivion the curse of too many Indian men and women. In every way he could, he’d tried to break her connection to that way of life, to her people. It didn’t take.

She knew their needs. In her own way, she’d taken opportunities to improve the lives of a people she thought of as her own. He’d come to see how strong a connection she felt to her heritage—a connection she’d fostered in their son. In no way could he match connection to a family he didn’t want his son to know.

Though troubled, in fireside warmth and a growing acceptance, he dozed.

Whispers, the smell of bacon woke him when the sun came up on a crisp, white, Christmas morning. Jenny made coffee and a full breakfast. Washed in a basin of well water heated on the cook stove, he pulled on ski pants, jacket, and boots. Stepping outside, he scooped a handful of powder from a drift against the shed. Winds were calm; temperature mid-thirties—Cross Country perfect. Standing in the doorway of the lodge, he bellowed, Hey, you two! Let’s hit the slopes.

Late morning into early afternoon, they followed tracks lacing the Deer clans enclave laid down by the snow cats, Austin in the lead, Daniel trailing. A few stumbles and prat falls, the technique they’d been shown kept him and Dan upright—Cross-County less about speed, more about balance and endurance.

Jenny had her own take. Cross-County like snow shoeing she’d done in winter as a girl on these lands. Side-stepping, she climbed hills, sailed down slopes like a pro; dropping to make snow angels.

Show off! Fall on you’re a … backside, I won’t pick you up, Austin commented, feigning annoyance, inwardly pleased to find a sport his family could enjoy together. He hadn’t lost his thirst for competition; she played along.

Hey, Newbie, You’re the one skiing on your backside. Jenny’s soft, rippling laughter echoed through mountain passes. In her element, she knew her way around. Daniel seemed quietly amused by mom and dad’s banter.

Mid-afternoon, they’d side-stepped to the top of a hill in sight the Hamlet of Tall Elk. For the first time out, Austin figured, they’d had enough. His legs ached, near exhaustion getting to him, his belly growled. He turned southeast towards the lodge. Let’s head back.

Turning towards the village of Tall Elk, Daniel took off to find Red Feather. He’d catch a ride on a snow cat back to the lodge in time for dinner.

Concerned for a moment, Austin concluded that Dan was one-of-them; the clan looked out for their own. Okay! We’ll hold you a place at the table.

Radiating a healthy glow, Jenny glided up beside him. He’ll be fine. They watched through powder caught in the breeze as Daniel pulled to a stop at Buck’s cabin.

Shifting his skis, Austin gave the green jacket a long, steady look. In better shape than he was, she thrived. Catching a second wind, he issued a challenge. Race ya’ to the lodge.

You’re on!

Give ya’ a head start! He slapped her backside, shoved, sending her down the slope and giving him a minute or two to regroup. All in all so far, not a bad Christmas. Previous gatherings of Hamlins he endured more than enjoyed—until he let them to know him. The one coming up, dinner with the clan, too many unknowns.

Fresh as when they started, he lost sight of her around a bend. Jenny could take care of herself. He’d better get after her or she’d best him. Sinking his poles into the snow, he shoved off down the slope his thoughts shifting to business, orders pending into the New Year: West Virginia, Jersey, Ohio and beyond. He’d be traveling, an integral part of his work he had no choice but to accept, though he planned to combine trips, be home more, make time for events here at the lake, on reservation. Treading along, deep in thought, he almost missed his name called from a distance. A desperate tone caught his attention; he slowed.

Auuuustin!!!

Planting his poles in the snow pack, he came to a full stop.

Austin! ... Over here!

That tone meant trouble, and in this cold, clean air each sound amplified. He scanned in the direction from where her cries had come. Off the trail down a ravine—drift the size of an ice berg—he spotted green blotches; butt buried … skis upright. What the Hell!! At first annoyed, sinking in, the gravity of the situation.

I’m stuck! she called out.

I can see that! Imprudent as it was, rescue, his first impulse. Off the trail and moving too fast for conditions, he lost his balance, a ski came off. Sinking knee-deep into what might as well be shifting sand, he muttered, Damn!!! A silence descended as heavy as storm clouds moving in above. Okay, what do we do now?

After a moment, she mumbled, Dig our way out.

Right! I’m as stuck as you are. Once you fall of the skis, you’re at the mercy of the elements—cross country 101. Think! ... Plan. The elements could work for them or against them. Are you okay? he shouted.

Cold. … Cold and ... contrite. I was taking a shortcut.

That’s how she ended up ass over ski poles. Ahhh ha! He chuckled deep in his throat. Cheating were ya’, serves you right! his taunt more hash than he intended. He laid his head back. Sort this out. What now. He hated being helpless. Could be hours before anyone found them. Help!! He shouted. Echoes bounced from craggy mountain passes. Shifting snow like quicksand, the more he struggled the less headway he made. There had to be a way. The sporting-goods’ store hadn’t covered snow emergencies.

Sounds traveled crisp, clear at this elevation – scratching, scrapping, animal-like groaning. Rising on his elbows, he called out, What are ya’ doin’ over there?

Ahhhh … Owwww … ohhhh! I’m turning over."

Wait! You’ll hurt yourself. Or get buried deeper, he thought, fearing the worst—Avalanche.

We use our skis like shovels. Scoops of white stuff sailed out of the pit where she was trapped.

That could work, he decided. Using all the strength he could summon, he twisted like a pretzel. After several attempts, he was able to grab hold of his ski, releasing the strap. Using poles as props under his arms, he dug into the drift. I’ll come to you! he called out.

Digging a similar escape, Jenny called back. I’m coming to you.

Go slow! he shouted his breath in gasps. We don’t want a cave in.

Torturously slow, poles supporting, skis scooping, throwing snow they dug their way to each other’s positions. At last close enough to touch, he grasped her jacket hauling her into the narrow trench he’d dug. She tumbled into his arms. The weight of two collapsed the snow pack beneath them.

Oh, Austin, I’m sorry. Streams of vapor trailed from her mouth and nose.

Relieved, his heart pounding, he held her close. Hey! It’s okay. You’re safe, he gasped.

She clung. Safe … with you. Soooo cold and lonely out there.

Cold lips, wet noses brushed. Man! Adrenalin—too stressed out to be horny. The vision flashing before his eyes—tangled bodies, frozen-stiff, pushed him forward. We’re not out of this yet. Keep digging! About twenty yards back to the trail, he figured.

They took turns in close quarters scooping, maintaining the walls with their poles, torturously slow progress, until they were able to walk—ankle deep—back to the trail.

Standing their skis and poles in the snow, Austin dropped to his knees, slumped against the sturdy, frosty trunk of a leafless maple, Jenny followed, their breath coming in heaves, escaping in vapor. While they rested, collecting their thoughts, minutes went by, not a word spoken, until, Jenny caught her breath, This is my fault.

Probably true, he decided, though he’d issued the challenge, so he’d shoulder the blame. Didn’t think about the hazards. Seemed like a good idea … at the time.

"It was a good idea."

Second thoughts, he responded. A gloved hand went to his chest; heart rate adjusting, his head cleared. How ya’ doin’?

I’m fine. She came up on all fours before standing erect.

Austin’s stomach growled. I could eat a horse!

She laughed. The menu is roasted potatoes, wild turkey and …

Stop! He got to his feet. You’re killin’ me. Let’s go before it’s all gone.

The crush of business from New Year’s celebrations now behind them, Creations closed for a few days of cleaning and restocking. Jenny packed the last of the holiday decorations into a carton, wiping the shelves. Snow still falling, the main roads were clear; the side streets caked with slush topped with a generous helping of cinder.

Peg drew a length of tape from the roll, securing a carton. Another year another dollar, she remarked, pleased with the monthly accounting, as was Jenny. They’d made a healthy profit. Soooo, Christmas at the lake went well? she inquired, pacing the carton on the cart.

Jenny hesitated. Some things went well.

Peg frowned. Some things didn’t.

Austin was a good sport. He isn’t keen on family gatherings, you know. My family gathers. Since coming home he’d made a real effort to get to know them, and let them in.

"Since his mom is gone, what family does he have, Peg observed, adding, except you and Daniel." She began wiping shelves beside Jenny.

Peg didn’t know about Austin’s family ties to the Putnams of New York. What and when to tell Daniel a sore subject in their house. She’d left the timing up to him.

"Not your doing," Peg commented. She wrung out the sponge, took away the pail to change the water. After several years as partners, teamwork went smoothly, in personal matters, Peg spoke her mind. Jenny took Peg’s comments in the spirit of caring they were intended.

Wheeling the cart into the work room, she climbed the ladder, lifted the carton onto a shelf, at the same time, taking down Valentine’s and Saint Patrick’s Day supplies before returning to the shop floor. One season follows another, she thought. Austin had agreed to go with them to Corn Planting. Daniel would be more than disappointed if that plan fell through. Within the month of Austin’s homecoming, Daniel had stopped sleep walking.

Thought I saw Daniel ski past our house New Year’s morning, Peg began, returning with a pail of clean water and suds.

"He spent the night