I remembered him showing me where to stand as he swung his ax. How to keep a safe distance in case the tree kicked back like an angry horse as it fell. How to make the cut so that the tree fell mostly where he wanted it to fall. In this case, downhill. In this case, away from him. Away from me. Where it could do no harm.

But my mother was busy with the stew. And Esther was busy with her chores. And my father was busy with his ax. And I was the one who suddenly saw Samuel running across the open ground where the snow had drifted away and the bare dirt was burned pale with cold. I was the one who saw that he was running after a rabbit, his eyes fixed on the white smudge of its tail.

The tree broke just then. Began its fall. Began its great arc toward Samuel, its branches thrashing, slowing as it snagged on the branches of other trees, spinning heavily, and I charged beneath it, grabbing Samuel as I ran, both of us shoved from behind to land hard, just out of harm’s way.

I remembered lying on the cold ground with Samuel in my arms. How he struggled to get free, yelling, “Why did you do that, Ellie?”

I remembered holding him tight as I turned to see my father lying still under the tree’s branches.

His blood on the snow.

I remembered not knowing what to think about that.

I remembered pulling Samuel away before he could see my father, dragging him toward the cabin as he tried to break loose from my hand clenched tight around his wrist, hauling him farther from the garden and the tree and my father, casting him into the snow where Esther was gathering wood, where Esther was supposed to be watching him, where Esther was unaware of any trouble until I raced into the cabin yelling for my mother, until I ran back to where my father lay, my mother with me, Esther chasing us, calling, “What’s happened?” and Samuel chasing her, all of us climbing through the chaos of branches and dirt and snow to try to lug the tree off my father, all of us pulling at it together as he lay so still beneath it that I was sure he was dead.