something happened to take her baby away forever?
She stood in the doorway and closed her eyes, trying to bring back the comforting feeling that Laura was with her. The room seemed empty now, deserted. Marian picked up a dust cloth and wiped the top of the bookshelf. Then she rearranged Laura’s toys, as if the act of cleaning her baby’s room would bring her back.
This time nothing helped. She couldn’t shake her terrible loneliness.
“Where are you, Laura?” Her forlorn whisper hung in the silent room long after the words were spoken. There was no answer. Marian switched off the light and shut the door behind her, plunging the room into darkness again. Laura’s room. Laura’s toys. Laura’s clothes. Life was all so empty without Laura.
Somehow she made it through supper, putting on a cheerful act for Dan. Then she sat at the kitchen table, correcting papers until the childish printing swam before her eyes.
“I’m going for a walk, honey.” Marian raised her voice so Dan could hear it over the sound of the television. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Wear my parka, Marian. It’s warmer than your coat. I just heard the news. It’s five below tonight.”
It was clear and cold, a perfect December evening. Marian’s boots squeaked as she walked past the lighted houses. The Murphys were still up. They were probably waiting for Barbara to get home. She worked at the Tom Thumb until ten on weeknights.
Marian’s breath sent up icy clouds of moisture that condensed in the air like smoke. Dan’s parka kept her toasty warm inside. It was made for subzero temperatures. She’d walk around the block once. Then she had to get back home.
Irma Mielke hadn’t shoveled today, and her house was dark. Marian wondered whether she was visiting her son in Florida. Irma usually spent the month of December there. She always came back with a suntan that was the envy of everyone in Nisswa.
The snow was trampled with the boot prints of neighborhood children. Marian could pick out Ricky Owens’s path. His boots were unique. Ricky’s father had carved initials in the bottom of the rubber.
Marian followed the trail of RO s to the end of the block. Ricky had stopped at the park on his way home from school. There was a cluster of footprints near the Viking monument. Two other children wearing moon boots had joined him there.
The park was deserted at this hour. Fir trees stretched up to tower over the surrounding houses, and the green-painted benches were covered with snow. Marian brushed off a bench with her glove and sat down for a moment. It was so quiet, she could hear her heart beat. There was only the sound of her breathing to mar the silence.
She sat for long moments, staring up at the streetlight. A few lazy flakes of snow were falling, whirling and dancing in the circle of light. The snow stuck to her eyelids, and she brushed it away. The night was still and waiting. Was Laura up there somewhere, watching her?
The park in the winter was a lonely place. Marian shivered slightly. Her toes were numb. She could feel the cold creep through the leather of her boots. She stood up and stomped her feet. Then she pushed her hands into the deep pockets of the parka and walked back the way she had come.
“You know how I feel about it, Marian.” Dan’s voice was firm. “I won’t go back to work if I feel I can’t fulfill the terms of my contract.”
“But how about the team, honey?” Marian made an effort to be cheerful as she brought in his morning coffee and sat next to him. “The boys simply won’t accept a substitute. They’re convinced that no one else can coach them. You could coach from the sidelines, couldn’t you? They really need you.”
“Sure, I could coach from the sidelines.” Dan gave a bitter grin. “That’d be fine if I coached basketball or baseball. Hockey’s different, Marian. You’ve seen me out there with the team. You know how critical it is to demonstrate everything.
She stood in the doorway and closed her eyes, trying to bring back the comforting feeling that Laura was with her. The room seemed empty now, deserted. Marian picked up a dust cloth and wiped the top of the bookshelf. Then she rearranged Laura’s toys, as if the act of cleaning her baby’s room would bring her back.
This time nothing helped. She couldn’t shake her terrible loneliness.
“Where are you, Laura?” Her forlorn whisper hung in the silent room long after the words were spoken. There was no answer. Marian switched off the light and shut the door behind her, plunging the room into darkness again. Laura’s room. Laura’s toys. Laura’s clothes. Life was all so empty without Laura.
Somehow she made it through supper, putting on a cheerful act for Dan. Then she sat at the kitchen table, correcting papers until the childish printing swam before her eyes.
“I’m going for a walk, honey.” Marian raised her voice so Dan could hear it over the sound of the television. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Wear my parka, Marian. It’s warmer than your coat. I just heard the news. It’s five below tonight.”
It was clear and cold, a perfect December evening. Marian’s boots squeaked as she walked past the lighted houses. The Murphys were still up. They were probably waiting for Barbara to get home. She worked at the Tom Thumb until ten on weeknights.
Marian’s breath sent up icy clouds of moisture that condensed in the air like smoke. Dan’s parka kept her toasty warm inside. It was made for subzero temperatures. She’d walk around the block once. Then she had to get back home.
Irma Mielke hadn’t shoveled today, and her house was dark. Marian wondered whether she was visiting her son in Florida. Irma usually spent the month of December there. She always came back with a suntan that was the envy of everyone in Nisswa.
The snow was trampled with the boot prints of neighborhood children. Marian could pick out Ricky Owens’s path. His boots were unique. Ricky’s father had carved initials in the bottom of the rubber.
Marian followed the trail of RO s to the end of the block. Ricky had stopped at the park on his way home from school. There was a cluster of footprints near the Viking monument. Two other children wearing moon boots had joined him there.
The park was deserted at this hour. Fir trees stretched up to tower over the surrounding houses, and the green-painted benches were covered with snow. Marian brushed off a bench with her glove and sat down for a moment. It was so quiet, she could hear her heart beat. There was only the sound of her breathing to mar the silence.
She sat for long moments, staring up at the streetlight. A few lazy flakes of snow were falling, whirling and dancing in the circle of light. The snow stuck to her eyelids, and she brushed it away. The night was still and waiting. Was Laura up there somewhere, watching her?
The park in the winter was a lonely place. Marian shivered slightly. Her toes were numb. She could feel the cold creep through the leather of her boots. She stood up and stomped her feet. Then she pushed her hands into the deep pockets of the parka and walked back the way she had come.
“You know how I feel about it, Marian.” Dan’s voice was firm. “I won’t go back to work if I feel I can’t fulfill the terms of my contract.”
“But how about the team, honey?” Marian made an effort to be cheerful as she brought in his morning coffee and sat next to him. “The boys simply won’t accept a substitute. They’re convinced that no one else can coach them. You could coach from the sidelines, couldn’t you? They really need you.”
“Sure, I could coach from the sidelines.” Dan gave a bitter grin. “That’d be fine if I coached basketball or baseball. Hockey’s different, Marian. You’ve seen me out there with the team. You know how critical it is to demonstrate everything.
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