Snowbound
morning was bitingly cold, the stillness absolute. He
walked to the side of the porch, where he could see to
the east. Above the treetops, Thunder Mountain reared
as a dark bulk, but around it the sky glowed orange and
pink and yellow.
It would be a while before the sun was far enough
up for him to be able to assess how much snow lay on
the ground, but he knew digging out was going to be a
job. Maybe he could put the boys to work today. Or
would that constitute child abuse to these private-school
kids?
He mixed up bread dough, kneaded it, gave it time
to rise and had the loaves in the oven before he heard
any stirrings at all upstairs. Willow and Erin were the
first to come down.
“It quit snowing,” Erin said in her serene way,
making it an observation rather than an exclamation.
“Yep.”
“How long do you think before the road gets
plowed?” Willow asked timidly.
“Probably a couple of days, anyway.”
“Oh.” Her voice was small. “That smells really good.”
“Nothing like bread baking. Want to start with some
cereal or eggs, or would you rather wait until the bread
comes out of the oven?”
“Wait,” they agreed.
“Anybody else up yet?” What he really wanted to know
was whether their teacher was up. He’d been thinking
about her when he fell asleep, and he hadn’t even opened
his eyes before he pictured her face this morning.
With faint shock, he realized he was in trouble. He’d
be foolish to imagine that any sensible woman would
want to traverse his bad moods and flashbacks long
enough to build any kind of relationship with him.
“I don’t think so,” Willow said, in answer to his
question.
He got some blackberry jam out of the freezer and
set it on the table to thaw.
The two girls continued to hover. After a minute,
John felt obligated to make conversation.
“You looking forward to getting home?”
“It’s been fun here,” Erin said, not really answering
his question.
“And we might miss some school,” Willow added.
“Don’t you have to make up snow days in the spring?”
“Only if the whole school… Oh!” The younger girl’s
mouth formed an O. “Do you think it snowed enough
in Hawes Ferry that school will be canceled Monday?”
“From what your principal said, it’s a real possibility.” He put hot water on for tea. “You think your parents are worrying?”
“My dad will be,” Willow said softly, her head tilted
forward enough that her hair veiled her expression.
Erin shrugged. “As long as they know we’re safe,
mine’ll be okay.”
John checked the oven. A couple more minutes.
“Do you get snowed in a lot here?”
“A couple of times a winter, I’m told. Not usually so
early. I’m guessing this is a record.”
“We were so lucky.” Willow shivered.
“Good thing you had Dieter with you.” He kept an
eye on her, aware from what Fiona had told him that the
skinny boy with the goofy smile had been Willow’s
knight-errant yesterday.
She obligingly blushed.
More drama in the making.
John hadn’t expected to feel as comfortable as he did
with these kids. He supposed it was because they had
become individuals to him, taking on personality. The
only two he still mixed up were Kelli-with-an-i and
Tabitha, both blond and perky, neither yet the center of
a drama that would bring their personalities into focus.
Give ’em time, he figured, resigned.
Fiona appeared next, wearing the jeans and turtleneck she’d arrived in, borrowed wool socks that he thought were his and a bright smile. “Did you see what
a beautiful morning it is?”
“Ms. Mac! It quit snowing!”
“I know, I saw.” She hugged both girls.
Her cheek was creased from a wrinkle in her pillow.
John thought it was cute. She, too, exclaimed over the
bread coming out of the oven and waited expectantly.
John sliced the first loaf hot and watched with
amusement as they slathered on butter and jam and ate
with murmurs of delight. Fiona actually went so far as
to close her eyes and moan, a sight and sound that