Tor went back to the cloakroom, where the sticks of wood were stored; he came back with one armful, dropped it, and when Teacher looked at him expectantly, he shook his head.
“It’s all we have.”
“Oh” was all that Teacher said. She went back to the window. Snow was swirling from all directions, violently enough that it pinged the thin glass. The heavy curtain of snow blocking the view only added to the stifling feeling pressing down on all of them inside.
“Well, let’s sit down. It will probably blow over soon.” She turned abruptly away from the window and went to the cloakroom, where she put on her own heavy shawl—all she’d worn this morning, Anette remembered. Teacher came back and opened the McGuffey Reader on her desk, but then she slammed it shut and went back to the window.
Anette wanted her to say something, anything. She looked around; all the students were gazing hopefully at Teacher, who must have felt it like a pressing weight on the back of her neck.
But Teacher was strangely silent.
* * *
—
RAINA WAS TRYING TO THINK, but the swirling snow and ice outside seemed to make the same swirling mess of her mind; thoughts whirled about but she couldn’t grab any one of them. A blizzard. Fine. We’ve all seen blizzards before. But not at this time of day, during school. Wait it out. That’s the thing. But the wood. The wood isn’t enough. Burn the desks if we have to. But then what? No food. Little children crying—Enid, now little Sofia, weeping at their desks, weeping for their mothers. The boys. Send them out? Try to get help? They’re big, especially Tor. He’s bigger than I am. He’s a good, sturdy boy and his farm is only, what—half a mile away? But people get lost in blizzards on the plains. Even patient, sturdy people.
And above the chaos in her head, one thought, one sentence, one promise stood out.
I will take care of you.
It was the promise he made last week. After Anna Pedersen caught them—doing nothing but looking.
No, that wasn’t true.
He had waited until Raina was in bed, trying to sleep but unable to, imagining his sure, strong hands touching her in places she herself hadn’t ever been able to touch, for the shame of it. Anette was quiet, hopefully asleep, when he crept up the stairs and knelt beside Raina’s bed, and he put his hand upon her shoulder—the only time he’d ever touched her—and he whispered, “I will take care of you, no matter what happens.” And he leaned closer, his lips grazing her ear, she trembled, she quaked…
She believed him. Then she didn’t. Then she did again—a chain between their hearts, that’s what it felt like; it was so heavy, it tugged, then went slack, then tugged again. Yes, she believed him—his eyes were wet with emotion, his touch so gentle. Opportunity had presented itself before then and he’d never taken advantage of his desire to do more; at times, she’d ached for him to, and she’d been so angry when he hadn’t, she’d wanted to slap him just to feel him beneath her hand.
But his honor invited her trust that night; it was like the fragile hope of peace that comes before a war. Peace destined to be shattered.
So surely, he would come for her now? Come for her and Anette—he loved Anette, he did, that was another sign of the goodness in him, he treated the little girl much more kindly than his wife did—he would come. To take them home, and then he could take the rest of the children, too. And although she cringed at the idea of bringing these innocents into that spider’s web, right now she could think of no better alternative. They would freeze to death if they stayed here overnight. There was enough fuel to last a couple more hours, including the desks and books. But who knew how long this storm would last?
So. She had decided—just as she had decided upon him last week; she had decided.
He would come for them. For her.