The Snow Child (46 page)

Mabel went to the window, still patting the newborn and swaying from side to side. The baby quieted and stared wide-eyed over her shoulder. She turned her face into him, into his smell and warmth, and she was filled with the wonder she had seen all around her. She had just begun to hum into his small ear when out of the corner of her eye she saw the blue coat against the white snow.

Faina was walking across the meadow and toward the trees, but she struggled in the snow and stopped frequently to rest. It was some time before she reached the edge of the forest, and all the while Mabel watched and was troubled by what she saw. It was too soon. She shouldn’t have let her go out. The labor and delivery had taken a terrible toll on her body, and she needed more rest. She considered going to the door and calling out for her to come back home, to come inside and lie down, but then Faina was no longer walking. She didn’t sprint into the spruce trees like she had so many times before. She simply stood, a single, forlorn figure in the snow, the wilderness stretched out before her, her arms at her sides, her long blond hair shining in the winter sun. And then she turned back toward the cabin, toward her son and home, and followed her own deep trail back through the snow.

Have you named him yet?

Faina did not answer. She rocked the baby in a wooden cradle beside the woodstove.

Night was coming on, and Mabel knew she should begin the walk home soon.

You must give him a name, child. It can’t be like with the dog. He can’t just come to a birdsong. We all have to be able to call him something.

Still Faina did not answer, but only rocked the sleeping baby side to side.

It was dark when Mabel left. Garrett offered to walk with her or to send her with a lantern, but she refused both. It was a moonless night and well below zero, but she would find her way. As the glow of the cabin windows turned to flickers through the trees and then to black, her eyes adjusted and the starlight alone on the pure white snow was enough to light her way. The cold scorched her cheeks and her lungs, but she was warm in her fox hat and wool. An owl swooped through the spruce boughs, a slow-flying shadow, but she was not frightened. She felt old and strong, like the mountains and the river. She would find her way home.

Mabel woke with her pulse racing, sat bolt upright in bed, and waited to understand what had startled her.

“Mabel? Are you awake? It’s me, Garrett.” A hoarse whisper from the bedroom door.

Mabel scrambled over Jack and pulled a sweater over her nightgown as she walked into the main room of the cabin. She would have been startled by anyone waking her from her bed in the middle of the night, but Garrett’s presence was enough to make her trembling old heart sink into the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry to wake you…”

Mabel held up a hand to Garrett. She was weak and nauseous.

“Let me sit.”

Garrett pulled a chair out from the table and put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“There. Let me catch my breath.” She sat and did not speak, and she was tempted to go on like that for some time, keeping the truth at arm’s length. But finally she inhaled deeply and said, “Yes? Faina?”

“She’s not well,” Garrett said, and just then Jack came from the bedroom.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“Shh. He’s telling us. Go on, Garrett.”

“All day she was restless and not herself. She kept going outside, as cold as it is, and I tried to stop her. But I couldn’t. I should have…”

“And now?” Mabel asked, trying to help the young man focus.

“She got worse. She said she hurt, and when I asked where, she said all over, and her cheeks were red. She didn’t want to get out of bed, and she wouldn’t eat a thing. But she nursed the baby, and they both went to sleep, so I thought I’d wait until morning and see how she was. But then, just now, I rolled over and my arm touched hers, and she’s burning up hot.”

“She should have had the baby at the hospital. We should have taken her to Anchorage,” Jack said.

“She didn’t want to go,” Mabel reminded him. She went to the bedroom and got dressed by candlelight. When she returned, Garrett was sitting in a kitchen chair with his head in his hands. The clock said it was just after midnight.

“Where’s the baby?”

“I left him at home, sleeping in his cradle. I didn’t know what to do. It seemed too cold to bring him.”

“You did fine.”

“In the morning, we’re taking her straight to Anchorage,” Jack said as he laced his boots.

“If the train’s running. If the tracks are clear,” Mabel said, but then she saw Garrett’s frightened face. “We’ll do everything we can. If we can’t get her to Anchorage tomorrow, at least we can send a telegram to the hospital and get some advice from a doctor. It’s going to be all right, Garrett. Now, let’s go take care of her and that baby of yours.”

On the way, Mabel tried to prepare herself for what she would find, and the same kind of calm determination settled over her as when Jack had injured his back. When they arrived, the baby was still asleep in his cradle, and Faina was in bed. Garrett was right to be concerned. She was curled up on her side, arms wrapped around her middle as she moaned softly, and then she rolled over onto her back and Mabel could see her face. Droplets of perspiration ran down her temples and dampened her hair, and her skin was flushed and blotchy. Mabel went to her bedside and put a hand to her forehead. It was hot to the touch. She closed her eyes, her hand still on Faina’s forehead, when she felt burning fingers around her wrist and heard a dry-throated whisper.

Mabel? You are here?

She opened her eyes and Faina was holding on to her. At first she thought rivulets of sweat were gliding down her cheeks, but then she saw that they were tears. Faina was crying.

What is happening to me?

Shhh. Don’t be frightened, child. We will get you well again.

What sickness is this?

An infection in your blood. That is what causes the fever. But there is a medicine you can take that will make you better.

I won’t go to the hospital. I won’t leave my baby.

Mabel was relieved to see that defiant jut of the chin, the flash in the blue eyes.

Let’s not fret about that now. Here, I brought you water. You must drink it. It will cool you, and it will help you make milk for the baby.

Mabel held the glass to Faina’s chapped lips, and she drank and drank until it was empty. Then Mabel dabbed a washcloth at her forehead, wiping away the sweat. When Garrett came to the bedroom door, she asked for a basin of snow. She dipped the wet cloth into the cold snow and wrapped a clump inside it. When she pressed this to Faina’s skin, the girl gasped and then sighed in relief. Again and again, until her cheeks began to cool and lose their ruddy coloring. With her bare hands, Mabel picked up a handful of snow and slid it across Faina’s brow, then put another clump to her lips. Faina opened her mouth, and Mabel broke off a small piece for her to eat. It melted as it touched her tongue.

There. There. Is that better?

Faina nodded and took Mabel’s cold, damp hand and held it to her cheek.

Thank you.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against Mabel’s arm. Only after Mabel was certain she was asleep did she slide her hand out from under her cheek. She smoothed back Faina’s hair, gently pulled it away from her sweat-dampened neck, and brought the bedsheet up over her shoulders.

It was three in the morning when she heard Jack putting more wood into the stove. The two men had alternated sleeping in chairs and busying themselves with contrived chores. The baby woke for his feeding then, and Mabel carried him in to Faina.

Your little one is hungry, dear.

Faina rolled to her side but never seemed completely awake, even as she slid her breast from her nightgown and held the baby against her. Once again her skin was hot and blotchy, and she brought her knees up in pain as the baby nursed.

Not until the baby was back in his cradle, fed and changed and fast asleep, did Faina awake and begin to plead with Mabel.

Please, she whispered. Take me outside.

No, child. You must stay in bed and rest.

Mabel spoke without conviction. Perhaps there was hope there, in the winter night. But what would Garrett and Jack say?

I am so hot, and I feel as if I can’t catch my breath. Please?

“She wants to go outside.”

“What? Now? In the middle of the night?” Jack said.

“She’s so warm, and it’s so stuffy in here. I think she feels as if she’s suffocating. She just wants to take in some of the cold night air.”

“We could prop the door open,” Garrett suggested.

“She wants to be outside, under the night sky,” Mabel said, and Garrett nodded, understanding.

“OK,” he said finally. “We’ll take her outside.”

“Are you two mad?” Jack said. “It’s twenty below zero out there. She’ll freeze to death.”

“No she won’t,” Garrett said. Then he turned to Mabel. “Will you help her dress?”

Mabel eased Faina into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. She laced the girl’s moccasin boots and pulled her blue wool coat on over her nightgown. Then she took the red scarf and mittens Garrett had handed her, and as she wrapped the scarf around Faina’s neck she recognized her sister’s dewdrop-lace stitch.