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            Sidney sat at the kitchen table writing in her journal. Eight days had passed in cold silence since they cleaned up the big avalanche into the cottage. No new snow had fallen, and the sun made a brief appearance for a few hours during the day. They waited impatiently for the melt to begin. But there was no sign of it. When they went out on the deck in the morning to check the weather, they could see animal tracks, evidence that they weren’t the only ones suffering up here, but nothing to indicate that a thaw was about to occur.

            The electricity stayed on so they could watch the world go by from their little TV, while they ate biscuits with jam in the mornings and canned food for dinner. Sometimes Sid would boil up some pasta to add to the beans or soup. One morning Matt had gone down to the lake with an axe and his fishing rod. He’d tried to chop a hole in the icy lake. No luck with that. Their idea of a fried fish dinner didn’t pan out. No pun intended, she wrote. Ha, she thought to herself, there is so little to laugh about lately.

            She recorded the details of each day, one day after another came and went in slow repetition. Each page in her journal seemed a duplicate copy of the one before it. She did the washing, cleaned up the dishes, swept the floors, made the beds, brushed off the deck and porch. She played with the cat, who seemed content with their new routine. Toast slept most of the night and well into the morning. When a patch of sunlight would hit the window sill she would jump up onto the ledge and let its rays warm her fur. Then she’d follow the sunny spot on the floor until it faded into evening. A couple times a day she’d make her way to the cellar to do her duty. That done, she’d be back upstairs ready for another nap. Sometimes she’d briefly explore the dark corners of the living room and pantry to see if any mice had crept in. House cats can easily adapt to peculiar situations.

            There was still about half a bag of cat food left. Sidney had started giving her a little less than usual, but so far Toast hadn’t complained. Maybe there were mice in the cellar, little snacks for a bored cat.

           In the summer she never felt bored or claustrophobic like she did these days. She spent so much time outdoors in the summer, even when she was reading or just relaxing, she’d be out on the deck. Now it was a chore just to get outside. She had to bundle up in a heavy coat, scarf, hat, mittens, sox, and boots if she wanted to stay out more than just a minute or two. A quick dash outside in her robe and slippers sent chills through her in a matter of seconds.

The thermometer hovered in the twenties during the day. She didn’t check it at night, but it was bone chilling once the sun went down. She had dug out their old electric blankets. As long as the electricity stayed on, they would be warm enough while they were asleep.

            Sidney needed something to read. It was amazing how quickly she was going through books. It didn’t matter what they were --  thrillers, mysteries, love stories -- she read everything she could find. She’d been back upstairs going through the closets looking for old paperbacks. She checked the closet, under the bed, she even ploughed through their dresser drawers in her search. She came up with a few clothes they could use. Most of the stuff they kept up here was for summer. She found a couple tee shirts and a cardigan sweater. She was grateful for the sweater. But she found nothing interesting to read.

            She’d have to look elsewhere, meaning somebody else’s house. Matt had brought some books back with him when he broke into Ben’s house, but she knew there were lots of books over there. She had been irritated when she learned that Matt had gone there without her. She knew where the key was. If she had been with him, she would have found it and just let them in. One more person they would have to apologize to when this was over.

            It occurred to her that she’d been vaguely irritated at Matt ever since he’d been to Ben’s cabin. She doodled in the margin of the journal while she gave that idea a little more thought. They were stuck here and it was his fault, entirely his fault. He’d even owned up to it one evening after several shots of brandy.

            Mostly these days they had very little to talk about. Routine stuff, but no real conversation. There was too much to say but she couldn’t start the conversation. She thought it would be better not to say anything than to explode the pent up feelings she kept inside. As long as the food and electricity held out, they could make it. She couldn’t dwell on what might happen if they lost power again.

            The food was running low. It had been two weeks now, maybe a few days more. They were losing weight. There was plenty to do so they were getting plenty of exercise and not enough calories to replace what they were using up. She realized they had to be careful, try to eat enough and yet try to save enough food to last awhile. They had to be careful outside not to slip and fall. No broken bones or other disasters, even catching a cold could be a problem. More things to worry about.

            It was probably time to head down to the next nearest cabin and try to break in. It was on the other side of the lodge, about a quarter mile away. An easy walk in the summer, but now not quite so easy. They struggled to walk through the snow in places where they hadn’t tramped it down. They needed snow shoes. Matt had checked Maggie’s house and didn’t find anything he could use there. He was trying to make some out of tree branches, but so far nothing worked very well.

            She thought of Ben again. She wasn’t anxious to go over to Ben’s even though she knew exactly where the books were. She and Ben were friends. They had spent lots of time together over the years, nothing romantic, just good friends, but it was their secret. They didn’t tell their spouses because they knew it wouldn’t sit well, them knowing that Ben and Sidney were spending so much time together. Matt would be suspicious, so would Edith. Why spoil things. When their spouses were around, they stayed away, just a wave or a quick hello, nothing more.

            During the week they had meals together, sat and chatted the evenings away in Ben’s cozy living room. They didn’t go fishing together or do anything in public. Once in a while they’d meet up while out hiking, but otherwise, as far as the rest of the world knew, they were just neighbors. But people talk, the smallest little slip and people would begin to wonder. It wasn’t terribly unusual for people to come and go from the lake during the summer. There were other commuters, nobody paid much attention to what the neighbors were doing. Owners, and friends and family of owners were always showing up. Nobody kept track of who was staying at anybody’s cabin.

            Ben’s wife came up to the lake usually only once or twice a summer. She simply didn’t like it up here. Ben came and went regularly, and he was always alone. He would stay a couple of nights during the week, catching up on his reading and puttering around. He said he found it more productive to work on new lectures at the lake than at his campus office.

            Matt usually arrived on Thursday or Friday night and stayed on until Monday morning. That’s when Sidney had the use of a car. She could run down to Quincy to do grocery shopping and run errands, use her cell phone to make calls, catch up on the news, check in with her daughter, Lynne. Sometimes she would invite friends to stay with her for a few days, but most people were either too busy or weren’t all that interested in the low key times at Goose Lake.

            Life had been easier now that the power was back on. The weather improved. The sun came out. It was easier to make it from one day to the next. Ben’s knee improved a little each day, or at least he stopped grumbling about it. Both of them carefully watched the snow pack. They had measured it. In some places it was over two feet deep with high drifts around the trees and their cottage.

She’d been up on the road, even though it was an ordeal to climb the steep driveway. Nothing disturbed it, there were no tire tracks, nothing to see except for the small trails made by little animals, big animals too, she supposed. She had no idea what animals might still inhabit this area during snowy weather. Wolves maybe, perhaps coyotes, even cats and deer for all she knew. She’d look for some nature books at Ben’s. Maybe do some research.

            This morning she had cleaned up the cottage as usual, did some laundry, organized their winter clothes, aired the bedding. She inventoried the food again. She had found an old cookbook with some simple recipes she could make with what she had on hand. She wasn’t a great cook, and she didn’t have many ingredients, but she was able to keep them fed. She’d made a pot of beans, with some molasses in them, thanks to Maggie’s stock of staples.

            When the chores were done, she worked on her needle point when the spirit moved and read her paperbacks in the evenings. She was tempted to open up the loft so she could get away from the TV noise. Now that they had power, that was Matt’s entertainment, that and the radio. The rest of the time, he'd be down in the cellar or tromping in and out.  He kept his projects and patrols to himself.

            She was a little hesitant to make the run to Ben’s place. She figured she’d time it when Matt was tied up with something down in the cellar. She would rather go over there alone, if possible. Maybe now was a good time. The sled was by the deck door and the path was cleared. She could get through the snow. She decided she wouldn’t mention it to Matt. She’d be back before he knew she was even gone.

            She grabbed her coat, mittens, backpack, put on her boots, found the sled and took off, down the steps, across the driveway, around the small pines, staying clear of their heavy branches. In places she fell through the crusty snow, in other places, she'd slip or trip over unseen branches and rocks. She reached Ben’s steps in good time, up the steps, hand through the window, unlock the door and she was inside, just like that. She had a small flashlight with her and she left the door open for light. She knew her way around so she quickly headed for the bookshelves in the living room. It smelled just like Ben. There was even a little cigar residue lingering in the air. That’s it. She’d bring Matt back a cigar or two and call it a surprise for him. “Look what I found!” He’d like that.

            She found field guides, birding books, some nature writing volumes that sounded interesting, but nothing that would tell her exactly what kind of animals might be roaming around outside their cottage this winter. Darn. She’d take the one called “The Complete Tracker.”  It was filled with patterns of animal foot prints. On to fiction. Ben liked mysteries and they traded books often. Ah! She found a couple LeCarres she hadn’t read yet, and a few of the Grafton ABC mysteries. She couldn’t remember if she’d read them. They went into the stack. A few very old McBane 87^th Precinct procedurals that she always turned down. She would take them now. He also had a few real classics but she didn’t feel up to War and Peace or Crime and Punishment right now.

There was plenty of room in the sled so she grabbed up a handful of books she’d never heard of. At least she wouldn’t have read them already. Next were the cigars. She found the cigar box when she opened the drawer of the hutch. What the hell. She took the whole box. Why not?

She opened the door to the pantry. Maybe Matt had overlooked something last time. On a lower shelf in the back she spotted a couple envelopes of microwave popcorn. Yummy! She’d take that. And a half a jar of Tang stood next to it. Was this what Ben considered emergency rations? She smiled. That sounded like something he would say. The jar seemed to be frozen. Wasn’t Tang supposed to be like powder? Sydney shook the jar, but the contents didn’t move. She put it in her backpack anyhow. Maybe she could chisel it out of the jar and melt it. What was good enough for astronauts would be good enough for them. How about Tang and popcorn for breakfast? The all-American meal.

She looked around. Anything else worth taking home with her? Her flashlight beam caught a reflection, which gave Sid a start. What was that? She walked over to it. Ah-hah, a photograph in a small frame standing on an end table by Ben’s favorite chair. She didn’t remember seeing that before. She picked it up and trained the flashlight on it. Oh-oh. It was a photo of the two of them. Where on earth was that taken, she wondered. There were others in the photo too. Oh, maybe it was at the lodge. One of those evenings when she walked down there to have a meal with Beth and Sam. Was that Sam in the background? Where was Beth, maybe taking the photo? Wonder why she snapped that photo. And if so, why did Sam have it? Sid was dressed up, well, dressed up for the lake. She had slacks on, not jeans, and a blouse, even a necklace. She couldn’t exactly remember when that was, a few summers ago, maybe more than that.

Ben looked good too. He was wearing his favorite blue sweater with the shirt under it, very preppy. His beard appeared to be trimmed. He was leaning in towards her. It looked like she was whispering something in his ear. Very chummy. Ben was tall and lean, arms folded in front of him, an amused grin on his face. Sidney simply could not recall the occasion. If Beth had taken the photo, why did she give it to Ben? And if she gave a copy to Ben, why didn’t she give her one too?

She felt her face begin to flush. What on earth was this all about? She had no photos of Ben in her place, especially not in small silver fames. This was definitely a puzzle. But it was a puzzle she didn’t want Matt trying to figure out. She’d have to hide this photo somewhere. She looked around the room. There must be a place to stash it. Next time she saw Ben she’d ask him about it. As she was looking around the room, she suddenly heard footsteps coming up the porch stairs.

“Hey, Sid! Are you in there?” Matt called from the doorway.

Cripes, where to hide the damned photo. Quickly she leaned over and pushed it under the couch and then answered, “Yes, I’m in here looking for some books.”

“Oh, there you are. I called for you and you didn’t answer. Then I noticed the sled tracks heading this way so I followed you. Did you find anything good? Need some help?”

“Well, no, I didn’t think I would need any help. Oh, look. I found something for you. Over there, on top of that pile of books on the footstool,” Sidney said, pointing with her flashlight. When Matt turned, she checked the floor to make sure the photo was safely under the couch. Whew. That was close.

“What?” he asked. “You mean these cigars?”

“Uh-huh. I was thinking maybe you’d enjoy a cigar after those fine meals we’ve been dining on every night.” She tried to smile and make it sound light, but it came out rather sarcastically in spite of her best efforts.

“Hmm. Yeah, maybe. I’ve never been much of a cigar man myself. Actually I never smoked anything. Well, maybe a little pot when I was younger. Say, do you think the professor might have stashed a little pot around here somewhere?”

Sidney rolled her eyes. “I don’t have the foggiest idea if there’s any pot around here.”

            “Anything else?” Ben asked as he made his way to the closet where he’d found the cardboard box on his first trip. He was after the wine, and wanted to check out the hutch to make sure he hadn’t missed anything from the last trip.  

            While Matt continued the booze inventory, Sydney slipped into the small alcove bedroom off the living room. It was just large enough for a double bed, a small dresser and a nightstand. She could make out the faint outlines of the furniture. One small window in the room was shuttered tight against the weather. She aimed her flashlight at the nightstand. Another photo? Oh my god, what was going on, she thought, as she made her way to it. Whew. It was a family photo of his kids and their dog.

            “Matt, do you want to look around in the bedroom? Maybe find some clothes that fit you?” Sid called out?

            “Nah, I got enough stuff,” he answered. She could hear the bottles rattling as Matt made his way out to the sled.

            Sidney took another cursory look around. What else could they use? Candles, maybe. Yes, there had to be candles around here.

            “Matt, check the shelf for candles, see if there are any matches too, okay?”

            “Sure thing, Sid,” Matt answered. She heard him rumbling around in the living room.

            “Here they are, lots of matches. Not much else though. Hey, Sid, is there a cellar to this place, do you know? Maybe there’s something down there we could use.”

            “I don’t think so, Matt.” Sidney looked around the kitchen. She didn’t remember Ben ever working with tools.

“If there are tools around here I sure don’t know where they are. Maybe in that shed ouside. Are you done in there? I’m ready to head back. It’s cold in here.”

            “Yeah, I’m coming.”

            They staggered out into the snow, Matt pulling the wobbly sled with the books and bottles in it. Sidney had her pack filled with a few other books, and the meager food supplies she gathered up at Ben’s.

            “You know, Matt, I think we should head down to another cabin one of these days. Our food’s running a little low. Who knows what we’ll find next. What do you think?”

            “Probably a good idea but I don’t know how we’ll get there without snow shoes. It’s rough making it over here to Ben’s. We’d probably have to walk around by the lake, too hard to go by the road and then get down to those cabins.”

            Uh-huh,” Sidney nodded, as she plowed along beside Matt.  

            “I’ll give it some thought, maybe tomorrow we’ll give it a try. Let’s go home now and open a bottle of red and maybe I’ll have myself a cigar.” He leered at her. She hadn’t seen him smile like that in ages.

             Go to Day 17

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