forced him to turn away to hide his jolt of longing.
The others gradually came downstairs, begging to go
outside after breakfast.
When John suggested the boys take turns wielding
a snow shovel, they all shrugged and nodded.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, I never have, but…”
“Yeah, whatever,” Troy agreed.
“I have snowshoes,” John said. Then, seeing that
they were less than thrilled, he held up a hand. “To get
a couple of us up to your van. The snowplow always
turns in and clears the road to the lodge. But they won’t
be able to get past your van. With the snow so deep, it’d
be a heck of a trek back up there.”
Everyone nodded, remembering that the lodge road
descended steeply from the highway.
“I keep my own snowshoes on the back porch, but
the ones I own for guests are in the shed. We won’t
be able to get to them if we don’t dig out in front of
the doors.”
That made sense to them, he could see.
“A path around the lodge to where the wood is
stacked would be a big help, too. Oh, and the steps, so
no one falls.”
“We could take turns, too,” Erin suggested.
Small as the girls all were, he couldn’t imagine they’d
get far lifting heavy shovelsful of snow, but why not?
“What a good idea.” Fiona beamed at her. “I think
all of us should help.”
What could he do but say, “Fine.”
As they all bundled up after breakfast, John was
reminded that some of them wouldn’t be able to stay
outside long, not in athletic shoes instead of decent
winter boots. He’d come up with pairs for all three
boys, two from his own closet. Hopper had to double
up on socks to keep his feet from sliding around, and
Dieter was clearly scrunching to get his feet in his
borrowed pair. Only Troy’s seemed to be about right.
There were “oohs” and “aahs” all around when they
stepped outside to a now-bright morning, the unblemished blanket of snow sparkling. It had become heavy enough at some point to slide off the peaked shed roof
and likely the lodge’s as well. He’d have to check the
cabins later.
Every tree limb bowed under a cloak of snow. At a
thump, Willow jumped.
“What was that?”
“Snow falling off a tree branch,” he said. “You’ll
keep hearing that. Gets worse once it warms up and the
snow starts to melt.”
“Oh.” Hugging herself, she still looked spooked.
“Wow! Can we just, like, dive?” Troy asked, staring
at the white expanse.
“I doubt you’d get hurt,” John said.
Over the top of his words, Fiona started to say, “But
I don’t think it’s a good…”
Too late. With a whoop, Troy let himself fall backward from the porch.
The girls let out squeaks and gasps and peered over
the railing. He rose as if from lake water, looking like
the Abominable Snowman, shaking snow from his hair
and face as he grinned and called, “Dare you!”
Pretty soon they were all thrashing around in the
snow as if they’d never seen any before. Even those who
skied were probably used to groomed slopes, not five
feet of newly fallen snow. Their shrieks and bellows and
squeals shattered the mountain stillness.
Only Fiona remained with him on the porch,
watching her charges.
“Dare you,” John murmured.
“Ugh. It would go down my neck.”
“Come on. Aren’t you a little bit tempted?”
“Maybe a little.” Her nose was already red, her
cheeks glowing. “I will if you will.”
He was going to be sorry. Real, real sorry. His hip
gave a warning twinge, but he ignored it. He couldn’t
resist the laughter in Fiona’s clear gray eyes or the
mittened hand held out to him.
He took her hand and nodded toward the north
corner of the lodge. “We’d better find ourselves some
fresh snow.”
“Yeah, nose first on frozen ground wouldn’t feel so
good, would it?”
Twenty feet from the front steps, he said, “You first.”
“Together?” she challenged.
They stood on the edge with their backs to the
snowy landscape.
“One,” he said.