The frigid wind, blowing directly from Canada, poured unimpeded over the bleak prairie. Crusted, glittering snow collapsed under Raine's feet as she walked back and forth between Julia's house and the print shop. She hardly noticed the weather. An even colder chill settled around her heart. She moved through her days in a numbed state, holding at bay thoughts of Jade’s soul-destroying words. She worked on the paper and talked to Julia as if nothing had happened, but something had. A very deep and private part of her, unable to stand the pain, had gone into hiding. Her only consolation was Tate. She had made arrangements to take him sledding on their next Saturday together, and knowing she would be seeing him again was the only thing that made the week tolerable. But when Saturday morning came and Jade brought Tate into Julia's little house, she ignored the sudden thrust of agony at seeing Jade again and stared at Tate. His small face was downcast, his mouth turned down, and he looked everywhere but at Raine.
