The snow fell in slanted sheets, sticking to the trees and rocks. Lynn would run outside to deliver more wood down through the basement window into Lucy’s expectant little hands and come back inside with a coating of ice on her hair. Weeks passed where they saw no one else, and Lynn would anxiously peer toward the stream to be reassured by the puffs of gray smoke that rose over the trees. Stebbs she could see through her binoculars, when the cold was bearable enough for her to look.Lynn taught Lucy to play simple card games and they spent many hours making up their own. Lucy demanded a bath, and so Lynn brought in buckets of snow from outside to warm on the stove so that the little girl could have a sponge bath at least. She caved into the temptation herself and even washed her hair, something that Mother had always warned against during the winter, fearing that Lynn would catch cold. But they kept the fire burning brightly and Lucy would hum quietly while putting tiny braids in Lynn’s hair and fixing them up with little bows that she’d found among some dolls in the attic.The little fingers eased through Lynn’s hair, coaxing her into a doze that she fought against.
