Page 40 of Mistletoe Sky
It was too early for this kind of weather, they knew—a week and a half before Christmas, memories still fresh from Thanksgiving. But Amelie and Willa were ecstatic. Although they were eighteen years old and supposedly “too old to act so childlike,” so some said, they bounced around their house, chattering excitedly about what would happen when they could make their way outside. School was canceled, obviously,and everyone they knew had snowmobiles, snowshoes, and snowsuits, among other things, which meant they could meet up at the hill for sledding or at the water for ice skating, assuming the lake had indeed frozen. The cold was not their enemy.
Their father was in the kitchen, sipping coffee and watching them with a bemused smile. Usually, he was at the fudge shop already by this time, preparing to open for the day. Amelie’s happiness faltered for a moment as she realized that their mother was all alone in her apartment above the shop. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before.
“Have you heard from Mom?” Amelie asked their father.
He shook his head. “The phones are down.”
“We have to go make sure she’s all right,” Willa said, her tone darkening.
“Your mother is a very capable woman,” their father said. “She’s lived in Northern Michigan since she was sixteen years old. She’s seen every kind of storm. There’s a fireplace over there. She can handle herself.”
But Willa and Amelie weren’t entirely convinced.
That morning, after a plate of eggs that they both choked down, Amelie and Willa took shovels to the big wall of white at their front door and began to hatch a path to the road. It took ages to get down the first few steps, and their arms were screaming in pain. By noon, they were halfway from the door to the road and laughing at the sunlight that blinded them, bouncing off the waves of snow and into their eyes. On either side, their neighbors were shoveling as well, waving. Their father was in back, trying to make his way to the shed, where they housed the snowmobiles.
When they reached the road, they created a path on top of the snow itself, where many of the islanders had already trodden. Returning to the house, they found their snowshoes, stocked away in the attic, and returned, eager to make their way towarddowntown. But walking on snowshoes was no simple thing. As they went, they walked crookedly, laughing at themselves.
“Do you think Mom needs anything from home?” Amelie asked when they were already at the first stop sign, gasping for breath. “We should have packed supplies.”
Willa sighed, adjusting her scarf. “Honestly? She’s been in the apartment since the end of summer. I bet she has everything she needs.”
They held the silence for a moment, watching the crystal ice water down below as it stretched beneath a sparkling sky. Already, a few people skated, some better than others. A classmate of theirs fell flat on her bottom and cried out so loudly that they could hear her all the way up here.
In their backpacks, they’d brought their own ice skates, just in case they had time to skate. But they kept going, eager to check on their mother before seeing their friends.
The walk from home to the fudge shop took three times as long and required several breaks for groaning and complaining. When they finally reached Lake Shore Drive, they were surprised to find several other islanders out on snowshoes, happily greeting each other, heading to check on their friends and loved ones.
“Amelie! Willa!” The chili-maker’s son James II streamed over to them in his snowshoes, laughing. “Isn’t this crazy? We haven’t had a snow like this since the seventies. That’s what my dad says.”
Amelie and Willa agreed it was crazy.
“Are you going to check on your mom?” James II asked, glancing down the road toward the fudge shop.
Amelie hated when people insinuated that their mother didn’t live at home, although by now, of course, everyone on the island knew all about their family’s problems.
“She’s okay,” Willa insisted. “She’s been on the island forever. She knows how to handle herself.”
“Yeah. I know.” James II puffed up his chest, as though he wanted to impress them. “You coming skating later?”
“Maybe,” Amelie said, echoing her sister’s annoyance, although she didn’t feel that annoyed.
“I hope they get this cleared up for the Christmas Festival,” James II said as he moved past them, heading for the lake.
Amelie winced. She hadn’t thought to be frightened about the state of the Christmas Festival, not yet. But Willa didn’t let them linger in the street for long. Already, she was off, headed for the fudge shop door, which was buried under a wall of snow.
For a little while, Amelie and Willa stared at the top of the familiar glass door, wondering how on earth they would make their way inside. Amelie was more frightened for their mother’s sake than before, seeing how buried she was. Did she have a shovel in there? Enough warm clothes? Amelie herself started shivering, despite being bundled up.
And then, they heard a familiar and lovely voice from on high. “Girls? What are you doing up here?”
Amelie and Willa yanked their chins up to find their beautiful mother watching them from the second-floor window. With the snow as tall as it was, she wasn’t so far from them, half of her body dangling out, her hand a few inches from the tops of their heads.
“Mom!” they cried in unison, as though they were much younger girls.
“We were worried about you,” Amelie confessed.
Georgia laughed, throwing her head back. “Let’s see if I can get you inside. If you put your boot on that ledge over there and take my hand? Oh, your father wouldn’t like it, but let’s give it a go.”
Amelie went first, dropping her snowshoes behind and nestling her boot into a crevice that let her reach for her mother’s hand. Within a moment, she was leaping through the window and into her mother’s apartment, gasping with laughter. Willa followed her lead, collapsing on the bedroom floor. Their mother was overjoyed. She closed the window and bent to hug them, her cheeks rosy with happiness.
