Page 29

The snow falls like it has no place to go, drifting aimlessly as though it’s trying to float for as long as it possibly can. But it will eventually touch the ground. We all do.

Looking out the living room window, I spot Michael, Beth, and Brian traipsing around in the front yard, tossing snowballs at one another. They’re dressed in winter jackets, snow pants, thick-knitted hats, and heavy gloves. Their cheeks and noses are rosy from the cold. Plumes of frosty air escape their mouths as they laugh and tease one another. Nicole sits off to the side, using my mop bucket to build herself an igloo. She didn’t want to go out and play in the snow. But I told her to. When she asked why, I told her it was my house and my rules. Always the snark, Nicole had replied, Fine, I’ll build an igloo, and I’ll live in it until the snow melts. So, there she is—my difficult middle child, packing the mop bucket tight with snow and stacking the mold, one onto another. She’s already erected five rows in a circle around the circumference of a small kiddie pool. I’m sure I’ll have to drag her back inside at some point today to make sure she doesn’t freeze to death trying to prove a point.

Eddie, Emma’s father, appears at the top of the driveway dressed in blue jeans and a jean jacket. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, scrambling away from the cold. Hot air bursts out of his nostrils like he’s a bull preparing to charge. Either he’s out of breath or he’s angry. He marches in Brian’s direction. It’s not until he’s six feet away that Brian even realizes he’s there. They exchange a few words before Eddie beckons Brian to follow him, and the two of them walk toward our house, stopping before they climb the stairs of the porch.

I can’t hear them, but I can read my husband’s lips. “What is it?” he asks.

Eddie speaks too quickly for me to pick up on what he’s saying. His cheeks are flushed, and I don’t think it’s from the cold. Brian’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open an inch or so. They nod and pat each other on the back before Eddie turns and makes his way up the driveway. Brian looks up at the window I’m standing at. I lift my chin and stare right back. His eyes tighten and he shakes his head—clearly disappointed in me.

I know they found Emma’s bicycle.

I know that because I made sure they would.