In Winter's Grip by Brenda Chapman Page B

carefully averted from hers.
    Claire wiped a gloved hand across her forehead. “Billy Okwari? That scrawny Native kid in our class?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHe married some girl from Lutsen and moved away. Odd you should ask about him, though, because I saw him in town the other day. At least, I think it was him. Somebody said he’d moved back to the area recently. Boy, you have a good memory. It’s not like he was part of our gang or stood out in any way. He was one of those kids who never spoke up in class or got involved in anything. Why do you want to know?”
    â€œNo reason. I just remembered him from those days.”
    Claire had given me more information than I’d expected. Back in the area again? No wonder I hadn’t been able to find his name in the phone directory the times I’d looked. My heart beat faster at the thought of seeing him. We were both married, so it would be alright to make contact again, or at least that’s what I told myself. The rapid beating of my heart should have warned me otherwise.
    Jonas had supper waiting for us when we got home around five. He’d stuffed a lake trout with crab, breadcrumbs and lemon juice and served it with baked potatoes and garden salad. We sat around the kitchen table and dug into the food like we hadn’t eaten for days. A combination of fresh air and exercise had whetted our appetites. I couldn’t remember when food had last tasted so good.
    Gunnar sat across from me, and I watched him without him noticing. He kept his head lowered, his thin shoulders hunched inwards and his blonde hair hiding his eyes. His fork moved steadily from plate to mouth, the only sign that he was conscious. Finally, he stood and grabbed his full milk glass and the empty plate in one quick motion, leaving the table without having uttered a word. The rest of us had barely spoken either, except to comment on the food and the trek we’d made through the woods. It was as if my father’s murder had sapped our energies, and we didn’t have the strength to rise above our lethargy.
    Jonas lifted his head. He pointed his knife at Gunnar’s empty seat. “What’s with him?” he asked Claire.
    â€œHe’s been in a foul temper. I’ll talk to him later.” Claire stood and gathered up her dishes and cutlery. She carried everything to the counter then moved across the kitchen to the stove, where she picked up the kettle. “A cup of tea, Maja?” she asked.
    â€œThat would be lovely.” I lowered my fork, realizing that there was nothing left on my plate.
    Jonas pushed back in his chair. “Would you like to go for a walk after supper? We could make it as far as Hadrian’s for a nightcap, if you feel up to it.”
    It would be good to have a chance to talk with Jonas, because I knew the next day we’d be making funeral arrangements. Tobias had stopped by while we were skiing and told Jonas my father’s body would be delivered to the funeral home in the morning. Not to mention as soon as I laid my head on the pillow, all the worries would keep me from sleep. Maybe, a shot of something strongly alcoholic would help relax me. “Yes, that would be good,” I said. “I’ll wash up after my tea, and we can head out.”
    Jonas lumbered to his feet. “Come get me in my shop. I’ll be ready to go when you are.”
    The wind was still blowing in gusts, periodically whipping up billows of snow that wet our faces, making us lean into their strength. The snow had stopped falling, however, so Jonas and I were able to make good time between the blasts of wind. The temperature had dropped since the afternoon, but the bank of cloud cover kept the cold from being unbearable. I’d dressed in the borrowed jacket, hat and scarf that Claire had said were mine for the duration of my visit. Jonas had two flashlights that we used for the first part of our trek because streetlights