She woke to the breaking of twigs and the flash of fire in the darkness， and for a moment she thought she was home and had nodded off in front of the woodstove. That wasn’t right， though. It was too dark， too cold. Her body ached， and she couldn’t move. Something bound her. It was heavy and smelled familiar. Like home. Out of the corner of her eye， she saw movement in front of the fire. A figure bending over， putting something to the flames. Then breaking something over a knee， then more flames. The figure turned toward her， blocking the light.
　　“Mabel？ Are you awake？”
　　She couldn’t speak. Her jaw seemed sealed， the muscles stiff. She tried to nod， but it hurt.
　　Everything hurt.
　　“Mabel？ It’s me—Jack. Can you hear me？” And he was beside her， kneeling， brushing her hair back from her face.
　　“Are you warmer？ I’ve got the fire going good now. You feel it？”
　　Jack. She could smell him， the scent of cut wood and wool. He reached around her， pressing at her sides like he was tucking a child into bed， and she knew why she felt bound. She was wrapped in blankets. She was confused again. Was she home， in her own bed？ But the air was so cold and stirring slightly， and overhead there were branches and beyond them a sky so black and full of stars.
　　Stars？ Where had they all come from， like bits of ice？
　　“Jack？” It was only a whisper， but he heard. He had turned his back， to go to the fire， but he returned to her side.
　　“Jack？ Where are we？”
　　She heard him clear his throat， maybe the beginning of a cough， and then， “It’s all right. This is going to be all right. Let me get that fire bigger， and you’ll warm.”
　　When he stood， hunched beneath the branches， and moved away from her， his body blocked the light and heat of the fire. Mabel closed her eyes. She’d done something wrong. He was angry with her. It came back to her the way grief does， slowly. She remembered the child， the snow， the night.
　　“How did you find me？”
　　He was feeding the fire， building it higher and higher until she could see his face and feel its heat.
　　“I don’t know.”
　　“Where are we？ Are we far from home？”
　　“I don’t precisely know that either.” He must have expected this to frighten her， because then he said， “It’s going to be fine， Mabel. We’re just going to have to rough it here for a few more hours. Then light’ll come， and we’ll find our way.”
　　His voice faded. Mabel drifted， sank into the warmth， and it was like a childhood fever， dreamlike and nearly comforting. 　　“Can you sit up？” Jack held a 1）canteen. She wondered how long she had slept. Beyond the fire it was still dark.
　　“I think so.” He grasped her around the shoulders and helped her to sit. When she reached for the canteen， the blanket fell open to reveal her bare arm. She was naked.
　　“Careful. Don’t let that loose，” he said.
　　“My clothing？ Why on earth…”
　　He pointed toward the fire where her dress hung from a branch， along with her undergarments.
　　Closer to the fire， her boots were propped open near the flames.
　　“There was no other way，” he said， almost as if apologizing.
　　She tried not to 2）gulp the water， but to take small sips.“Thank you.”
　　“Sometimes I could hear you calling my name，” he said. “I thought I heard you in the brush， but it was just a cow moose and her calf. Then I tripped over the lantern， and I knew you had to be nearby.”
　　Jack went to the fire. He took down her dress and shook it out.
　　“It stopped snowing，” he said as he crawled under the tree with her. He groaned softly as he leaned against the trunk and put his arm around her. She thought of his barely mended back.
　　Mabel leaned her head against his chest. “How does she do it？”
　　He didn’t answer at first， and Mabel wondered if he understood her question.
　　“She’s got something different about her，” he said finally. “She might not be a snow fairy， but she knows this land. Knows it better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
　　She 3）cringed at the words “snow fairy，” but knew there was no 4）malice in it.
　　“I can’t imagine， spending every night out here. How could you let her…I’m not angry anymore. It’s not that. But why didn’t you worry about her？ She’s just a little child.”
　　He kept his eyes to the campfire. “When she didn’t come back in the spring， I went up to the mountains looking for her. I was sick with worry. I thought I’d made a terrible mistake， and that we’d lost her.”
　　“I can’t bear the thought of something happening to her，” Mabel said. “She may be lovely and brave and strong， but she’s just a little girl. And with her father dead…she’s out here all alone. If something were to happen to her， we would be to blame， wouldn’t we？”
　　Jack nodded. He put his arms around her again. “It’s true，” he said.
　　“I just don’t think I could stand it. Not again. Not after…” She expected Jack to 5）shush her， to pull away， to go back to the fire， but he didn’t.
　　“I’ve always regretted that I didn’t do more，” she said. “Not that we could have saved that one. But that I didn’t do more. That I didn’t have courage enough to hold our baby and see it for what it was.” 　　She turned to look up into his face.
　　“Jack. I know it’s been so long. My God， ten years now. But tell me that you said a proper goodbye. Tell me you said a prayer over its grave. Please tell me that.”

　　“His.”
　　“What？”
　　“His grave. It was a little boy. And before I laid him in the ground， I named him Joseph Maurice.”
　　Mabel laughed out loud.
　　“Joseph Maurice，” she whispered. It was a name of contention， the two names that would have shocked both their families—two great-grandfathers， one on each side， each a black sheep 6）in his own right. “Joseph Maurice.”
　　“Is that all right？”
　　She nodded.
　　“Did you say a prayer？”
　　“Of course，” and he sounded hurt that she had asked.
　　“What did you say？ Do you remember？”
　　“I prayed for God to take our tiny babe into his arms and cradle him as we would have， to rock him and love him and keep him safe.”
　　Mabel let out a sob and hugged Jack with her bare arms. He tucked the blanket around her and they held each other.
　　“A boy？ Are you certain？”
　　“I’m pretty sure， Mabel.”
　　“Curious， isn’t it？ All that time the baby was inside me， tossing and turning， sharing my blood， and I thought it was a girl. But it wasn’t. It was a little boy. Where did you bury him？”
　　“In the orchard， down by the creek.”

　　She knew exactly where. It was the place they had first kissed， had first held each other as lovers.
　　“I should have known. I looked for it because I realized I hadn’t said goodbye.”
　　“I would have told you.”
　　“I know. We are fools sometimes， aren’t we？”
　　Jack got up to feed the fire， and when it was burning well he sat again with Mabel under the tree.
　　“Are you warm enough？”
　　“Yes，” she said. “But won’t you come in with me？”
　　“I’ll only make you cold.”
　　She insisted， helping him strip out of his damp clothes and opening her blankets to him. He did bring in cold air， at first， and the coarse wool of his long underwear rubbed against her bare skin， but she burrowed more tightly against him. Up and down her body， she felt his leanness， how age had pared back his muscles and left loosening skin and smooth bone， but his hold was still firm. She rested her head on his chest and watched the fire flare and send sparks up into the cold night sky.

　　听到树枝被折断的声音，看到黑暗中的火光，她醒了过来。有一瞬间，她以为自己在家里的柴火灶前打盹。但不是。周围太黑太冷了。她身上很痛，无法动弹。有什么东西束缚着她，很沉，有一股熟悉的味道。家的味道。她眼角一瞥，看到火堆前有人影晃动。有个人弯下身子，往火堆放入某样东西，然后不知用膝盖折断了什么，火旺了起来。那个人向她走了过来，挡住了火光。
　　“梅布尔？你醒了吗？”
　　她说不出话。她的下巴好像被封住了，肌肉僵硬。她试图点头应答，但感到很痛。
　　全身都痛。
　　“梅布尔？是我——杰克。你听得到我说话吗？”他跪在她身边，帮她把盖在脸上的头发捋到后面。
　　“你现在感觉暖和点了吗？我把火生好了。感觉到了吗？”
　　是杰克。她能闻到他身上的味道，木柴以及羊毛的气味。他抱住她，紧搂她身子两边，就像在哄孩子睡觉一样。她知道为什么自己会有束缚感了。她被裹在了毯子里面。她再次感到很迷惑。她在家吗，在自己的床上吗？但周围的空气很冷，有微微的风声，他们的头上是树枝，透过树枝，她看到了漆黑的夜空中繁星一片。
　　星星？像一粒粒雪花的星星，它们来自哪里？
　　“杰克？”她的声音很小，但他听到了。他本来已经转身向火堆走了过去，但他又回到了她身边。
　　“杰克？我们在哪儿？”
　　她听到他清了清嗓子，也许是想要咳嗽，然后他说：“没事，不会有事的。我去把火烧旺点，你的身子就会暖起来了。”
　　他站了起来，从树枝下弯腰走过，离她越来越远，他的身子挡住了光线和火的热气。梅布尔闭上了眼睛。她做错了事情。他在生她的气。痛苦再次缓缓向她袭来。她记起了那个孩子，那场雪，那个夜晚。
　　“你怎么找到我的？”
　　他正在添火，让火越烧越大，直至她能看到他的脸，感受到热气。
　　“我不知道。”
　　“我们在哪里？离家远吗？”
　　“我也不是很确定。”他肯定想到这样说吓到她了，所以他又说道：“一切都会好起来的，梅布尔。我们只要在这里熬几个小时就好。等天亮了，我们就能找到路了。”
　　他的声音渐渐变小。梅布尔思绪飘远，沉浸在温暖中，感觉像小时候发烧一样，宛若身在梦中，甚至让人感到安心。
　　“你可以坐起来吗？”杰克拿着一个水壶。她想知道自己睡了多久。火光之外的地方仍是一片黑暗。
　　“应该可以。”他抓着她的肩膀，扶着她坐了起来。当她伸手去拿水壶时，她身上的毯子滑了下来，露出了她光裸的手臂。她身上没穿衣服。
　　“小心。别让它滑下来。”他说道。
　　“我的衣服呢？为什么……”
　　他指了指火堆那边，她的裙子被挂在了一根树枝上，还有她的内衣。
　　她的靴子离火堆更近，被解开立在火焰旁。
　　“没有其他方法了。”他以近乎道歉的语气说道。
　　她尽量不大口灌水，而是一小口一小口地喝。“谢谢。”
　　“有时我好像听到你在叫我的名字。”他说。“我好像听到你的声音从灌木丛里传来，但那只是一头母麋鹿和她的幼崽。然后我被灯笼绊倒了，我就知道你肯定在附近。”
　　杰克走到了火堆那边，把她的裙子拿下来，大力抖了抖。
　　“雪停了。”他边说边爬进树底下，待在她身边。当他靠在树干上，用手臂环抱着她时，他发出了轻轻的呻吟声。她想起了他受伤未愈的背部。
　　梅布尔把头搁在他的胸膛上。“她是怎么过活的？”
　　他刚开始没有回答，梅布尔疑惑他是否听懂她的问题。
　　“她身上有些与众不同之处。”他终于说道。“她也许不是个雪仙子，但她了解这片土地，比我认识的任何人都更了解。”
　　“雪仙子”这个词让她有点儿心慌，但她知道他没有恶意。
　　“我无法想象，每晚都在那种地方过夜。你怎么能让她……我已经不生气了。没那么生气了。但为什么你不担心她呢？她只是个小孩子。”
　　他凝视着火堆。“春天那会儿她还没有回来的时候，我去山上找过她。我担心死了。我觉得自己犯了个大错，我以为我们失去了她。”
　　“一想到她会遭遇到什么不好的事情，我就无法忍受。”梅布尔说。“她也许很可爱、勇敢、坚强，但她只是个小女孩。而她爸爸不在了……她自己一个人待在这种地方。如果她遭遇不测，那我们就是罪人，不是吗？”
　　杰克点点头。他又抱住她。“确实如此。”他说。
　　“我只是觉得我再也无法承受了。再也承受不住了。在那之后，就再也无法……”她以为杰克会让她别再提这件事，会转身走开，回去火堆那边，但他没有。
　　“我一直后悔自己当初没多做点事儿。”她说。“不是后悔我们没能挽回那个孩子。只是后悔我没有多做点事儿，后悔我没有足够的勇气抱抱我们的孩子，看看它的样子。
　　她转头看着他的脸。
　　“杰克。我知道已经过去很长时间了。我的天，十年了。但告诉我，你有和它好好道别。告诉我你有在它的坟前为它祷告。告诉我你有，拜托。”
　　“他的。”
　　“什么？”
　　“是‘他’的坟墓。是个男孩。我在送他入土前，我给他取了个名字，叫约瑟夫·莫里斯。”
　　梅布尔大声地笑了出来。
　　“约瑟夫·莫里斯。”她喃喃自语。这是个会引起争论的名字，这两个名字会让他们两边的家人感到震惊——分别是两家曾祖父的名字，他们都是家里的害群之马。“约瑟夫·莫里斯。”
　　“这名字还可以吧？”
　　她点点头。
　　“你有说祷告词吗？”
　　“当然。”她居然这样问，他的语气听起来有点儿受伤。
　　“你说了什么？还记得吗？”
　　“我祈求上帝把我们的宝贝抱在怀里，像我们原本打算做的那样，轻轻摇着他，爱他，保护他。
　　“梅布尔轻轻啜泣，用她光裸的手臂抱着杰克。他裹紧她的毯子，和她紧紧相拥。
　　“是个男孩？你确定？”
　　“我很确定，梅布尔。”
　　“真奇怪，不是吗？孩子一直在我身体里，在里面翻来覆去的，与我血脉相连，我还以为是个女孩。但却不是，是个男孩。你把他埋在了哪里？”
　　“果园里，小溪顺流而下的地方。”
　　她知道确切的位置了。那是他们第一次接吻的地方，是他们成为恋人后第一次拥抱的地方。
　　“我早该想到的。我想知道在哪里是因为我意识到我还没有好好道别。”
　　“我该告诉你的。”
　　“我知道。我们有时候都很傻，不是吗？”
　　杰克起来添加柴火，添好后他又走到树下和梅布尔坐在一起。
　　“你觉得够暖和了吗？”
　　“够了。”她说。“但你不进来和我一起裹着毯子吗？”
　　“我只会冻到你。”
　　她坚持要他进来，帮他脱掉湿衣服，打开毯子和他裹在一起。一开始他确实把冷空气带了进来，而且他那粗糙的羊毛长内衣摩擦着她光裸的皮肤，但她向他挨得更紧。她全身都能感受到他的削瘦，岁月消耗掉了他的肌肉，只余下慢慢松弛的皮肤和平滑的骨头，但他的怀抱依然坚实。她把头放在他的胸膛上，看着闪耀的火焰以及向寒冷的夜空飞溅而去的火花。