The Snow Child

by Eowyn Ivey

washed the plates, finding some satisfaction in the clatter, but her anger was deflated when she saw that Jack had long since fallen asleep in his chair. She was left with her own ineffective bustle and noise.

She might be curt and ungrateful, but by God she could bake.

He was, actually, patient and instructive, and did not patronize her. Never once did he say, “Now, watch that knife” or “Mind you don’t cut yourself.” He assumed Mabel could do the work, and so she could.

You did not have to understand miracles to believe in them,

To believe, perhaps you had to cease looking for explanations and instead hold the little thing in your hands as long as you were able before it slipped like water between your fingers.

He rarely gave orders so bluntly, and Mabel seemed surprised into submission.