She didn’t know. How could she? Mama wanted Leni to look away as easily as Mama did. To forgive even when the apology tendered was as thin as fishing line and as breakable as a promise to do better.
For years, for her whole life, Leni had done just that. She loved her parents, both of them. She had known, without being told, that the darkness in her dad was bad and the things he did were wrong, but she believed her mama’s explanations, too: that Dad was sick and sorry, that if they loved him enough, he would get better and it would be like Before.
Only Leni didn’t believe that anymore.
The truth was this: Winter had only just begun. The cold and darkness would go on for a long, long time and they were alone up here, trapped in this cabin with Dad.
With no local police and no one to call for help. All this time, Dad had taught Leni how dangerous the outside world was. The truth was that the biggest danger of all was in her own home.
TEN
“Come on, sleepyhead!” Mama called up bright and early the next morning. “Time for school.”
It sounded so ordinary, something every mother said to every fourteen-year-old, but Leni heard the words behind the words, the please let’s pretend that formed a dangerous pact.
Mama wanted to induct Leni into some terrible, silent club to which Leni didn’t want to belong. She didn’t want to pretend what had happened was normal, but what was she—a kid—supposed to do about it?
Leni dressed for school and climbed cautiously down the loft ladder, afraid to see her father.
Mama stood beside the card table, holding a plate of pancakes bracketed by strips of crispy bacon. Her face was swollen on the right side, purple seeping along the temple. Her right eye was black and puffy, barely open.
Leni felt a rise of anger; it unsettled and confused her.
Fear and shame she understood. Fear made you run and hide and shame made you stay quiet, but this anger wanted something else. Release.
“Don’t,” Mama said. “Please.”
“Don’t what?” Leni said.
“You’re judging me.”
It was true, Leni realized with surprise. She was judging her mother, and it felt disloyal. Cruel, even. She knew that Dad was sick. Leni bent down to replace the paperback book under the table’s rickety leg.
“It’s more complicated than you think. He doesn’t mean to do it. Honestly. And sometimes I provoke him. I don’t mean to. I know better.”
Leni sighed at that, hung her head. Slowly, she got back to her feet and turned to face her mother. “But we’re in Alaska now, Mama. It’s not like we can get help if we need it. Maybe we should leave.” She hadn’t known it was even in her head until she heard herself say the terrible words. “There’s a lot more winter to come.”
“I love him. You love him.”
It was true, but was it the right answer?
“Besides, we don’t have anywhere to go and no money to go with. Even if I wanted to run home with my tail between my legs, how would I do it? We’d have to leave everything we own here and hike to town and get a ride to Homer and then have my parents wire us enough money for a plane ticket.”
“Would they help us?”
“Maybe. But at what price? And…” Mama paused, drew in a breath. “He would never take me back. Not if I did that. It would break his heart. And no one will ever love me like he does. He’s trying so hard. You saw how sorry he was.”
There it was: the sad truth. Mama loved him too much to leave him. Still, even now, with her face bruised and swollen. Maybe what she’d always said was true, maybe she couldn’t breathe without him, maybe she’d wilt like a flower without the sunshine of his adoration.
Before Leni could say, Is that what love is? the cabin door opened, bringing a rush of icy air with it, a swirl of snow.
Dad entered the cabin and shut the door behind him. Removing his gloves, blowing into the chapel of his bare hands, he stomped the snow from his mukluks. It gathered at his feet, white for a heartbeat before it melted into puddles. His woolen tuque was white with snow, as were his bushy mustache and beard. He looked like a mountain man. His jeans appeared almost frozen. “There’s my little librarian,” he said, giving her a sad, almost desperate smile. “I did your chores this morning, fed the chickens and goats. Mom said you needed your sleep.”
Leni saw his love for her, shining through his regret. It eroded her anger, made her question everything again. He didn’t want to hurt Mama, didn’t mean to. He was sick …