雪孩子

She woke to the breaking of twigs and the flash of fire in the darkness， and for a moment she thought she was home and had nodded off in front of the woodstove. That wasn’t right， though. It was too dark， too cold. Her body ached， and she couldn’t move. Something bound her. It was heavy and smelled familiar. Like home. Out of the corner of her eye， she saw movement in front of the fire. A figure bending over， putting something to the flames. Then breaking something over a knee， then more flames. The figure turned toward her， blocking the light.

“Mabel？ Are you awake？”

She couldn’t speak. Her jaw seemed sealed， the muscles stiff. She tried to nod， but it hurt.

Everything hurt.

“Mabel？ It’s me—Jack. Can you hear me？” And he was beside her， kneeling， brushing her hair back from her face.

“Are you warmer？ I’ve got the fire going good now. You feel it？”

Jack. She could smell him， the scent of cut wood and wool. He reached around her， pressing at her sides like he was tucking a child into bed， and she knew why she felt bound. She was wrapped in blankets. She was confused again. Was she home， in her own bed？ But the air was so cold and stirring slightly， and overhead there were branches and beyond them a sky so black and full of stars.

Stars？ Where had they all come from， like bits of ice？

“Jack？” It was only a whisper， but he heard. He had turned his back， to go to the fire， but he returned to her side.

“Jack？ Where are we？”

She heard him clear his throat， maybe the beginning of a cough， and then， “It’s all right. This is going to be all right. Let me get that fire bigger， and you’ll warm.”

When he stood， hunched beneath the branches， and moved away from her， his body blocked the light and heat of the fire. Mabel closed her eyes. She’d done something wrong. He was angry with her. It came back to her the way grief does， slowly. She remembered the child， the snow， the night.

“How did you find me？”

He was feeding the fire， building it higher and higher until she could see his face and feel its heat.

“I don’t know.”

“Where are we？ Are we far from home？”

“I don’t precisely know that either.” He must have expected this to frighten her， because then he said， “It’s going to be fine， Mabel. We’re just going to have to rough it here for a few more hours. Then light’ll come， and we’ll find our way.”

His voice faded. Mabel drifted， sank into the warmth， and it was like a childhood fever， dreamlike and nearly comforting.

“Can you sit up？” Jack held a 1）canteen. She wondered how long she had slept. Beyond the fire it was still dark.

“I think so.” He grasped her around the shoulders and helped her to sit. When she reached for the canteen， the blanket fell open to reveal her bare arm. She was naked.

“Careful. Don’t let that loose，” he said.

“My clothing？ Why on earth…”

He pointed toward the fire where her dress hung from a branch， along with her undergarments.

Closer to the fire， her boots were propped open near the flames.

“There was no other way，” he said， almost as if apologizing.

She tried not to 2）gulp the water， but to take small sips.“Thank you.”

“Sometimes I could hear you calling my name，” he said. “I thought I heard you in the brush， but it was just a cow moose and her calf. Then I tripped over the lantern， and I knew you had to be nearby.”

Jack went to the fire. He took down her dress and shook it out.

“It stopped snowing，” he said as he crawled under the tree with her. He groaned softly as he leaned against the trunk and put his arm around her. She thought of his barely mended back.

Mabel leaned her head against his chest. “How does she do it？”

He didn’t answer at first， and Mabel wondered if he understood her question.

“She’s got something different about her，” he said finally. “She might not be a snow fairy， but she knows this land. Knows it better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

She 3）cringed at the words “snow fairy，” but knew there was no 4）malice in it.

“I can’t imagine， spending every night out here. How could you let her…I’m not angry anymore. It’s not that. But why didn’t you worry about her？ She’s just a little child.”

He kept his eyes to the campfire. “When she didn’t come back in the spring， I went up to the mountains looking for her. I was sick with worry. I thought I’d made a terrible mistake， and that we’d lost her.”

“I can’t bear the thought of something happening to her，” Mabel said. “She may be lovely and brave and strong， but she’s just a little girl. And with her father dead…she’s out here all alone. If something were to happen to her， we would be to blame， wouldn’t we？”

Jack nodded. He put his arms around her again. “It’s true，” he said.

“I just don’t think I could stand it. Not again. Not after…” She expected Jack to 5）shush her， to pull away， to go back to the fire， but he didn’t.

“I’ve always regretted that I didn’t do more，” she said. “Not that we could have saved that one. But that I didn’t do more. That I didn’t have courage enough to hold our baby and see it for what it was.”

She turned to look up into his face.

“Jack. I know it’s been so long. My God， ten years now. But tell me that you said a proper goodbye. Tell me you said a prayer over its grave. Please tell me that.”

“His.”

“What？”

“His grave. It was a little boy. And before I laid him in the ground， I named him Joseph Maurice.”

Mabel laughed out loud.

“Joseph Maurice，” she whispered. It was a name of contention， the two names that would have shocked both their families—two great-grandfathers， one on each side， each a black sheep 6）in his own right. “Joseph Maurice.”

“Is that all right？”

She nodded.

“Did you say a prayer？”

“Of course，” and he sounded hurt that she had asked.

“What did you say？ Do you remember？”

“I prayed for God to take our tiny babe into his arms and cradle him as we would have， to rock him and love him and keep him safe.”

Mabel let out a sob and hugged Jack with her bare arms. He tucked the blanket around her and they held each other.

“A boy？ Are you certain？”

“I’m pretty sure， Mabel.”

“Curious， isn’t it？ All that time the baby was inside me， tossing and turning， sharing my blood， and I thought it was a girl. But it wasn’t. It was a little boy. Where did you bury him？”

“In the orchard， down by the creek.”

She knew exactly where. It was the place they had first kissed， had first held each other as lovers.

“I should have known. I looked for it because I realized I hadn’t said goodbye.”

“I would have told you.”

“I know. We are fools sometimes， aren’t we？”

Jack got up to feed the fire， and when it was burning well he sat again with Mabel under the tree.

“Are you warm enough？”

“Yes，” she said. “But won’t you come in with me？”

“I’ll only make you cold.”

She insisted， helping him strip out of his damp clothes and opening her blankets to him. He did bring in cold air， at first， and the coarse wool of his long underwear rubbed against her bare skin， but she burrowed more tightly against him. Up and down her body， she felt his leanness， how age had pared back his muscles and left loosening skin and smooth bone， but his hold was still firm. She rested her head on his chest and watched the fire flare and send sparks up into the cold night sky.

聽到樹枝被折斷的聲音，看到黑暗中的火光，她醒了過來。有一瞬間，她以為自己在家里的柴火灶前打盹。但不是。周圍太黑太冷了。她身上很痛，無法動彈。有什么東西束縛著她，很沉，有一股熟悉的味道。家的味道。她眼角一瞥，看到火堆前有人影晃動。有個人彎下身子，往火堆放入某樣東西，然后不知用膝蓋折斷了什么，火旺了起來。那個人向她走了過來，擋住了火光。

“梅布爾？你醒了嗎？”

她說不出話。她的下巴好像被封住了，肌肉僵硬。她試圖點頭應答，但感到很痛。

全身都痛。

“梅布爾？是我——杰克。你聽得到我說話嗎？”他跪在她身邊，幫她把蓋在臉上的頭發捋到后面。

“你現在感覺暖和點了嗎？我把火生好了。感覺到了嗎？”

是杰克。她能聞到他身上的味道，木柴以及羊毛的氣味。他抱住她，緊摟她身子兩邊，就像在哄孩子睡覺一樣。她知道為什么自己會有束縛感了。她被裹在了毯子里面。她再次感到很迷惑。她在家嗎，在自己的床上嗎？但周圍的空氣很冷，有微微的風聲，他們的頭上是樹枝，透過樹枝，她看到了漆黑的夜空中繁星一片。

星星？像一粒粒雪花的星星，它們來自哪里？

“杰克？”她的聲音很小，但他聽到了。他本來已經轉身向火堆走了過去，但他又回到了她身邊。

“杰克？我們在哪兒？”

她聽到他清了清嗓子，也許是想要咳嗽，然后他說：“沒事，不會有事的。我去把火燒旺點，你的身子就會暖起來了。”

他站了起來，從樹枝下彎腰走過，離她越來越遠，他的身子擋住了光線和火的熱氣。……