They got Anette undressed and into one of Anna’s nightgowns; Anna insisted she lie in her bed, in the downstairs bedroom. At some point Raina registered that her entire body was shivering, her coat and gloves thawing out, soaking her skin, but there was no chance to take them off.
Because now she had to take Fredrik home.
Tenderly, she wrapped blankets around his tiny frame, with the sharp, birdlike shoulder blades of childhood, the still-round cheek, the skinny legs limp. He was so small. So still—Fredrik Halvorsan, still! He’d always been a whir of activity, even seated: kicking his feet and tapping his fingers against the desk, fidgeting, twisting, looking around. Running on the playground with Anette, the two of them caught up in a perpetual game of tag that had ended in this cruel fashion—Raina had to shut her eyes to his lifeless body. What would she say to his mother—and to Tor?
Gunner shuffled his feet, cleared his throat. “Raina,” he said in that silky, mesmerizing way, and her eyes flew open, her heart jolted with a warning. “My dear, you are exhausted. I’ll take him home, you stay here. Let me take care of you—”
“Enough of that!” Raina cried out, wanting to pummel this man who lived while those like Peter and Fredrik Halvorsan did not. “I waited for you to save me in the schoolroom when the blizzard struck. What a fool I was, what a fool I’ve been, to think you would actually come!”
“I—Anna—it was her. Let me explain.” Gunner dropped his voice to a whisper, looking furtive all of a sudden. “Anna—she convinced me—I could not leave her alone with my children. I had to think of my family—”
“Oh, don’t blame your wife! You’re a man, you could have come. But she was right, you should have thought of your family in the first place. I should have, too. I won’t be so silly—so selfish—again. I don’t need you to rescue me anymore, Gunner, and I don’t think I ever really did. I’m taking Fredrik home myself. He was my responsibility.”
“But dearest Raina, you’re—”
“Listen to the girl, you imbecile.” Anna appeared, carrying a slop bucket from Anette’s sickroom. “Why either of us ever thought we needed you is a mystery. At least one of us has come to her senses. Go!” She shooed Raina toward her mission. “I’ll deal with him. But come back soon—and try to bring the doctor!” There was desperation in Anna’s eyes as she looked to where Anette lay, moaning and shivering.
“I will. And—I’m sorry, Anna, for things I may have done—”
Anna cut her off. “I have much to be sorry for myself.” They looked at each other; it was wariness between them, but respect now, too. Raina had no idea how long it would last.
Then she left with Fredrik’s body in the sleigh. Every moment since the blizzard first struck, it seemed she’d had to do the hardest thing she’d ever done, each task escalating, dragging her further out of childhood. But this, taking Fredrik home to his mother and Tor—this was the most wrenching by far. Her hands shook as they held the reins, her throat was dry, she wondered if she would collapse beneath the weight of the misery she was bringing with her. But she managed to steer the horse on the right path, focusing on his broad flanks, the flecks of ice in his mane. He must be exhausted, too.
As she approached the farmhouse she’d left only hours before, Tor and Sara Halvorsan came rushing to the door, desperate hope on their faces.
“We have found them,” Raina said, climbing out of the sleigh, but holding on to the reins to steady herself before delivering the blow. “Fredrik is dead, but Anette is saved. Because of him, because of your son. He saved her life.”
Tor buried his face in his hands, and she couldn’t look at him; instead, she watched Sara Halvorsan intently, ready to catch her if she fell. But Sara did not. She had aged overnight; deep grooves surrounded her mouth, her eyes permanently bracketed with grief. She gasped but did not falter.