Will shivered. “I'm cold to the bone.”
“We need to get you into some warm clothes,” Jean said, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing one of three shirts resting on the back of a chair beside the stove. She held it out to him. “Put it on. It'll warm you.”
Will did as he was told. “Feels better. Thanks.”
Wondering if it were possible for Luke and Adam to survive a night in this storm, Laurel filled a mug with coffee and sat at the table. “What do you think happened to them?”
“Don't know. We tried to follow the sled tracks, but they'd been buried in fresh snow.”
“Do you think they're all right?”
Before Will could answer, Jean said, “Of course they are.” She walked to the cupboard, opened it, and took down three plates, then set them beside the apple cake. “God hasn't forgotten those two. He's looking after them.” She opened a drawer, took out a knife, and sliced the heavy, moist dessert. Lifting out a wedge, she gently placed it on a plate. “God knows just exactly where they are, and he'll make sure they get home.” She handed the cake to Will. Meeting his eyes, she said evenly, “Tomorrow's Christmas. They'll be here.” She turned and walked back to the counter, removing another piece of cake. She set it on a plate and gave it to Laurel. After cutting a piece for herself, she sat at the table.
Will stood beside the stove. After taking a drink of his coffee, he set the cup on the warming shelf above the stove, then with his hand shaking slightly, he cut off a bite of cake and ate it. He said nothing.
Laurel sat across from her mother. She speared her cake but didn't eat it. Her stomach ached. “Mama, how can you know they'll be all right?”
“I trust God,” Jean said.
Laurel moved the confection around her plate, then pushed the dessert away.
She didn't want to hurt her mother, but unable to hold back the words, Laurel said, “God didn't save Justin.”
“He won't take another son from me,” Jean said softly. “I know it.” Silence fell over the room. Jean set her fork on the side of her plate. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
Immediately Will set his dessert aside and crossed to her. Kneeling beside Jean, he wrapped his arms around her.
She cried softly. “I want them to be all right. They have to be all right.”
Will held her tight. “They're in God's hands. All we can do is believe he'll do what's best.” Staring at the window, he added, “Sometimes God's will isn't our will. We must trust him. He knows all things; he sees the beginning and the end. He'll do what's best,” he repeated.
Jean looked into Will's eyes. “You're right.” She kissed him. “What would I have done without you all these years?” She managed a small smile. “Let's get you warmed up and into bed. I'll bring in some hot bricks.”
Will kissed her again. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.” He released her, stood, and walked out of the room.
Using oven mittens, Jean grabbed three hot bricks and wrapped them in heavy towels. She kissed Laurel's cheek. “Try to get some sleep, honey.”
Laurel rested a hand on her mother's arm. “I don't know if I can— not with Adam and Luke still out there.”
“Maybe they'll be here in the morning.” Jean gave Laurel a comforting smile and left the kitchen.
Laurel sat at the table. The cabin creaked and shuddered. The wind moaned, hurtling snow against the window. It sounded like hard pebbles hitting the glass. Laurel stared at her coffee mug. The sides of the cup were stained black, and the dark brew sat flat and lifeless like cold brine. She stood, crossed to the sink, and dumped it down the drain. Standing in front of the window, she stared out at white crystals swirling toward the window out of the dark. “Where are you? Please come home. Please.”
She closed her eyes. “God, I beg you to keep them safe. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to them.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Wiping at them, she walked stiffly to the stove, stoked the fire, put out the lantern, and wandered into the front room.
The Christmas tree that had looked merry earlier that day now only served to remind Laurel they had nothing to be cheerful about. Without Luke and Adam, there couldn't be any Christmas. Gifts were piled underneath it. Laurel kneeled and picked up one. It was for Brian. She knew what it was—a top. She smiled. Brian would like it.
She picked up another. The tag was made out to Adam. Laurel's breath caught. How had her mother found a gift for Adam so quickly? She smiled softly. “Mama. She must have gotten it for him today.” She replaced the package.
The floor creaked in her parents' room, then footsteps followed. She stood and turned to find her father watching her.
He looked at the tree. “Doesn't seem much like Christmas.”
“No, it doesn't.”
Will shuffled into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later with his coat and boots on.
“You're not going out again?” Laurel asked, alarm ripping through her.
“No. I'm not that foolish.” Will smiled, the creases deepening in his face. “I have work to do in the barn. I'd planned on getting it done this evening, but …” His words fell away. “I've been working on a sled for Luke—for the race. I figured he'd have a better chance with a new sled.”
Fear, like a knife, twisted in Laurel's chest. What if Luke never used the sled? Softly, she said, “He'll like that.”
With a slight nod, Will turned and walked out. Laurel heard the door open and close. With one last look at the tree, she shuffled up the stairs.
Laurel opened her eyes to a dark room. The sun wasn't up yet, but the world was quiet—no wind, no snow pebbles against the glass— just quiet. Shocked that she'd slept, Laurel sat up. Maybe Luke and Adam are home, she thought, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She pushed her feet into slippers, pulled on a bathrobe, and headed downstairs. The house was empty. Hurrying for the back porch, she hoped to find Luke and Adam's coats hanging by the back door, but she didn't.
She walked to the stove and picked up the coffeepot. It was still half full, so she set it on a burner and started a fire. With that done, she sat at the table, her cheek resting in her hand. “Father, I thought you would save them,” she whispered.
Laurel sat for a long while. Finally her mother joined her and quietly started cooking breakfast. “I figure I ought to have something for them to eat when they get home,” she said.
“Do you really think they're coming home?” Laurel asked, desperate to believe.
“Yes, I do. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they were on their way right now.” She glanced out the window. “It's getting light. They should be here soon.” She turned a piece of sizzling bacon.
