PART 2 — THE FIRST TIME HE CALLED HER MOTHER

“Ma…”

The sound was barely louder than the crackle of the dying fire.

Maeve froze.

Toby’s small fingers remained wrapped around her bruised wrist. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing uneven, and his eyes struggled to focus.

“Ma,” he whispered again.

Maeve felt something тιԍнтen painfully in her chest.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

She brushed the damp hair away from his forehead.

“I’m Maeve. I’m right here.”

Toby’s eyes closed.

But his fingers did not let go.

Across the room, Tess sat curled beneath an old blanket, watching them with enormous frightened eyes.

“Will Toby die?” she asked.

Maeve turned toward her.

“No.”

She spoke firmly, although fear was creeping into every corner of her mind.

“We’re going to keep him warm, give him little sips of water, and get help as soon as we can.”

Tess looked at the door.

“Papa said people go away when children get sick.”

Maeve stopped.

“Did he?”

Tess nodded.

“He said Mama went away. Then people stopped coming.”

Maeve glanced at Toby.

There was a story in this cabin that nobody had told her.

And suddenly, she understood why two children had been sleeping beneath a table instead of in their own beds.

She dampened a clean cloth with cool water and placed it against Toby’s forehead. She offered him small sips from a cup whenever he was awake enough to swallow.

The hours crawled by.

Outside, the wind battered the shutters. Snow gathered against the door, and the cabin seemed to shrink beneath the weight of the mountain.

Maeve had never cared for a seriously ill child before. She had only the simplest knowledge pᴀssed down by her mother, who had once looked after sick neighbors in their little settlement.

She knew that Toby needed attention and that his condition was worsening.

She also knew she could not manage everything alone.

At first light, she wrapped Tess in a blanket and went to the door.

The snow was deep.

Gideon had not returned.

Maeve looked toward the trail, then back at Toby.

She could not leave him for long.

“Can you stay beside your brother?” she asked Tess.

The little girl nodded.

“Don’t give him anything unless I tell you. If he wakes, call me.”

Tess caught her sleeve.

“Don’t go away.”

Maeve crouched.

“I’ll come back. I promise.”

She had just stepped outside when a familiar figure appeared through the trees.

Gideon.

His shoulders were covered in snow, and a bundle of pelts hung from one hand. He stopped when he saw Maeve standing at the doorway.

“What happened?”

“Toby has a fever. It began last night. He’s worse this morning.”

Gideon dropped the pelts.

For the first time since Maeve had met him, the hard expression on his face disappeared completely.

He pushed past her.

“Toby?”

The boy stirred weakly.

Gideon knelt beside the bed and placed a large hand against his forehead.

His jaw тιԍнтened.

“How long?”

“All night.”

“Why didn’t you send for me?”

“I couldn’t leave him.”

Gideon looked at her wrist.

The bite mark was still visible.

His eyes narrowed.

“Did he do that?”

Maeve glanced down.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“He was frightened.”

Gideon stared at the boy.

Then he lowered his head.

“I should’ve been here.”

Maeve had no answer.

He rose abruptly and reached for his coat.

“There’s a doctor in Miller’s Crossing. I can get him.”

“The trail is dangerous.”

“I know.”

“Gideon—”

He turned.

“Keep him warm. I’ll be back.”

Before Maeve could say another word, he disappeared into the snow.

The next hours were the longest of her life.

At one point, Toby opened his eyes.

“Don’t let him take Tess,” he whispered.

Maeve leaned closer.

“Who, darling?”

His lips trembled.

“The man.”

“What man?”

But Toby was already drifting back into sleep.

Maeve looked at Tess.

The little girl had gone pale.

“Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Tess shook her head too quickly.

“No.”

Maeve did not press her.

Instead, she pulled the blanket around the child and held her close.

By late afternoon, a knock sounded against the door.

Gideon returned with a doctor.

Dr. Samuel Price was a narrow-faced man in his sixties with silver hair and a leather medical bag. He examined Toby carefully, asked Maeve about the symptoms, and checked the child’s condition.

After a long moment, he straightened.

“He needs proper care. This fever could be serious. I’ll stay for now, but we must watch him closely.”

Gideon nodded.

“Whatever it costs.”

The doctor glanced at Maeve.

“You’ve been looking after him?”

“Yes.”

“You did the right thing bringing help as soon as you could.”

Maeve looked down.

She had not realized how badly she needed someone to say that.

The doctor stayed through the evening, giving instructions and arranging to return the next morning. Gideon followed every word.

He brought water, prepared the fire, and sat beside Toby long after the doctor had left.

At midnight, the fever finally began to ease.

Toby opened his eyes.

His gaze moved around the room before settling on Maeve.

She leaned toward him.

“I’m here.”

His lips moved.

“Ma…”

Maeve’s eyes filled.

Gideon looked away.

Tess crawled from her blanket and slipped her hand into Maeve’s.

For a little while, the three of them remained together beside the bed.

Then Toby whispered something that made Gideon go completely still.

“Papa… don’t send Maeve away.”

Gideon stared at his son.

“I won’t.”

Toby closed his eyes.

But Maeve noticed that Gideon did not look relieved.

He looked devastated.

Later, after the children had fallen asleep, Maeve found him sitting outside on the steps.

The moonlight made the snow look silver.

“Gideon?”

He did not turn.

“Why did Toby think you would send me away?”

Gideon rubbed his hands together.

“Because I have.”

Maeve sat several feet away.

“What do you mean?”

He stared toward the dark valley.

“Before you came, there were two women who tried to help with the children. Neither stayed long.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know how to let them.”

Maeve waited.

Gideon swallowed.

“My wife died two winters ago. After that, I couldn’t bear hearing the children cry. Every sound reminded me of what I’d lost.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“So I worked. I trapped. I stayed outside until the cabin was dark. I thought if I kept enough distance, the grief would stop hurting.”

Maeve looked at the cabin window.

“And the children?”

“They waited.”

He finally turned toward her.

“They waited for a father who was too afraid to come inside.”

Maeve felt a quiet ache spread through her.

“Gideon, they’re still waiting.”

He lowered his head.

“I know.”

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then he reached into his coat and placed something on the step between them.

A small wooden carving.

It was a bird, roughly shaped, with one wing unfinished.

“Toby made it,” Gideon said. “Before his mother died. He wanted to give it to her.”

Maeve picked it up carefully.

“He kept it?”

“Every day.”

She looked at Gideon.

“Why didn’t he give it to you?”

“Because I wasn’t the person he wanted to comfort.”

The words hung in the cold air.

Maeve returned the carving to his hand.

“Then perhaps it’s time you gave him someone who will listen.”

Gideon looked at her.

For the first time, she saw tears in his eyes.

And just as he began to speak, a sound came from inside the cabin.

Tess was crying.

Maeve hurried toward the door.

But when she reached the children’s room, she found the little girl standing beside the bed, clutching a folded piece of paper.

“Maeve,” Tess whispered. “I found this under Papa’s pillow.”

Maeve unfolded it.

The handwriting was delicate and unmistakably feminine.

It was addressed to Gideon.

And the first sentence read:

“If another woman ever comes into this house, please don’t let her discover what happened the night I died.”