“She didn't mean—”
“I know.”
“She's sleepy.”
“I know.”
“Sometimes she—”
“I know, Sarah.”
His voice cracked.
Gracie stirred.
Jack lowered his voice.
“I know.”
Sarah approached.
“I can take her.”
Jack looked down.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then nodded.
Sarah lifted Gracie carefully.
The child protested.
“No.”
Sarah kissed her forehead.
“Come on, darling.”
Gracie's hand remained curled into Jack's shirt.
Sarah gently opened her fingers.
Jack watched.
The gesture seemed to hurt him physically.
Sarah carried Gracie upstairs.
When she returned twenty minutes later, Jack was gone.
The back door stood open.
Sarah found him in the barn.
No coat.
Standing beside an empty stall.
“Jack.”
He did not turn.
“You'll freeze.”
“I’m fine.”
Sarah almost smiled sadly.
People said that when they absolutely were not.
She approached.
Jack's shoulders tightened.
“She used to call me that.”
Sarah stopped.
“Lucy?”
He nodded.
“Every night.”
“I'd come in from chores.”
“She'd hear the door.”
“Dad.”
He laughed once.
Broken.
“Sometimes I pretended not to hear so she'd say it again.”
Sarah's eyes filled.
Jack turned.
“I forgot what it sounded like.”
She said nothing.
He continued.
“I thought I wanted to.”
Sarah stepped closer.
“You don't have to feel guilty.”
“You don't know what I feel.”
“No.”
“But I know grief isn't loyalty.”
Jack stared.
Sarah continued.
“Loving someone after loss doesn't erase the person you lost.”
His jaw tightened.
“You say that like you believe it.”
“I’m trying to.”
She looked toward the house.
“My husband was a good man.”
“I loved him.”
“For a long time I thought surviving him meant betraying him.”
Jack's eyes softened.
“Did it?”
“No.”
Sarah shook her head.
“It meant I survived.”
Jack looked at the snow beyond the barn.
“I haven't.”
“Yes, you have.”
“No.”
“You're standing here.”
“That's not the same.”
Sarah considered.
“No.”
“Maybe not.”
Then she said:
“But perhaps surviving is where living begins again.”
Jack looked at her.
Something passed between them.
Not romance yet.
Possibility.
Which was more dangerous.
The next morning, the storm continued.
Sarah and Gracie could not leave.
Jack acted irritated by this fact.
Nobody believed him.
Sarah made breakfast.
Gracie discovered the wooden horse upstairs.
That created the first real conflict.
Jack found her in Lucy's room.
Gracie sat on the floor with the toy beside her.
Sarah stood in the doorway, horrified.
“Jack, I'm so sorry.”
Gracie looked up.
“I horse.”
Jack could not speak.
His chest closed.
For one instant Lucy stood there.
Not Gracie.
Lucy.
Golden hair.
Stockings.
Four years old.
“Higher, Daddy.”
Jack stepped backward.
Sarah immediately lifted Gracie.
“We're leaving the room.”
Gracie protested.
“Horse!”
“No.”
Jack turned and walked downstairs.
Sarah followed ten minutes later.
He stood at the kitchen window.
“I'm sorry,” she said.