Page 49 of Out of the Cold

Gabe smiled at the memory. “He called me that night and told me we could never shop together again.”

They both grew quiet again, thinking their own thoughts. He could hear her soft breathing.

“I never told you,” she said finally, “but the first time I met you, I thought you were all wrong for Ricky.”

“Why?”

“He was so withdrawn after his father and I divorced. So I asked for someone sensitive, maybe artistic. And then we got you. You looked so big and macho, and I worried you wouldn’t understand him.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I suppose you can blame Tori. She’s the one who thought it was a good fit.”

“And she was right. I kept my mouth shut and watched you with him, and I realized I had misjudged you. You were so gentle and patient with him, and I loved you for it.”

His eyes were starting to well again, and he couldn’t seem to shut himself off the way he usually did. “You’re killing me here, Teresa.”

“Well, you should call me more. This is what you get.” He could hear the tears in her voice, but also the smile. “Would you ever think about mentoring another boy?” she asked. “You have so much to give.”

“No way. I—” He broke off, unable to go on.

“I’d be the last one to suggest that anyone could replace Ricky, but there are so many kids who need someone, and taking care of people can help. It connects you with the world.”

“I know you’re probably right, but I can’t do it again.”

“At least think about coming back home. Your friends miss you.”

He sat for a few minutes after saying goodbye, his relief that she didn’t blame him leaving him wrung out. She’d said it many times, but he hadn’t been able to hear it. All he could think was that she’d lost her son because of him.

Everyone told him to stop blaming himself, that it was Ricky’s bad decision that got him killed. But it had happened on his watch, and nothing anyone said could change that.

***

Lucy’s first real snowarrived in the middle of the night. Opening the curtains in the morning, she stared out the window and watched it come down for long minutes. She might have been in a snow globe—it was that silent and perfect.

“This is it, Hilde,” she told the dog. “My moment of truth.”

She quickly pulled on her hat, snow pants, and jacket, then headed outside.

When she held out her hand, the flakes fell to her mitten perfectly formed, for all the world like miniature versions of the paper snowflakes they’d sometimes cut out in grade school—the closest that Florida children got to the real thing.

Hilde raced madly around, snuffing into the snow, her tracks an erratic and joyful design in the landscape.

There were a couple of inches already, enough to make her first snowball. She threw it as far as she could, then another and another, aiming for a cedar tree twenty feet away. Hilde tried to fetch them, racing after each one, only to look around in confusion when she couldn’t find them.

But it wasn’t time for their walk. A real exploration would have to wait.

“Come, Hilde,” she called. She had to say it twice before the dog came to her, tongue hanging outside her mouth.

Inside, she made a quick breakfast and sat down at her laptop. Normally she tried to write in chronological order to make sure the arc of her story stayed true, but this morning she broke her rule and started a scene set on a snowy day in Chicago. While there would be plenty of other snowy days, today was magical, and that’s what she wanted in her book.

Mick and Maggie walked down the dirty city block together as snow started to fall. Soon it had covered the grit and grime, making everything clean and new. Maggie smiled at him and he looked at her, his expression holding an emotion she was almost afraid to name.

“Here, take this,” he said, pulling off his scarf.

“No, I—”

But he was already wrapping it around her neck. It was soft and warm from his skin.

Mick took her hand. “Maggie, darling,” he said.

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