I tried the ice, then I took her hand, and we stepped onto the sheet and cautiously shuffled to the opposite bank. Then I put my arm around her and helped her up the steep, snow-covered incline. When we were on solid ground I took off her coat and put mine around her. She seemed disoriented, which I knew wasn’t a good thing. I had learned about hypothermia in scouting. They taught us to watch for the umbles: stumbles, mumbles, fumbles, and grumbles. Grace was stumbling and mumbling. We needed to get inside the house. My father was home but the last I saw of him he was in his bedroom. It didn’t matter; she had to get inside. I led her back to the bridge. As we neared the house Grace was shaking so hard I practically had to carry her. I walked as fast as I could with nearly her full weight leaning into me. We finally got to the back porch, and I opened the door. I could hear the television; my father must have gotten up.

“Come in,” I whispered.

“Is your dad home?”

“He won’t come out.”

Suddenly my dad yelled, “Eric!”

“Yeah?” I shouted back.

“Get me a Dr. Pepper.”

“Sure. I need to go to the bathroom first.” I turned to Grace. “C’mon. Hurry.”

We slunk around the corner to the bathroom. I quickly turned the shower on full and steam filled the room. Grace tried to take her clothes off but her hands were trembling so badly she couldn’t do it. I pulled off her coat, then knelt down and untied her shoes. When she had stepped out of them, I pulled her socks down and off. She tried to un-button her blouse but she couldn’t push the buttons through. She looked at me helplessly. I suppose this would be most teenage boys’ ultimate fantasy, but I was a young fourteen and was as terrified as I was mystified by the opposite sex.

I reached my hand inside the shower. The water was scalding. I adjusted the knobs until it was warm. “Get in,” I said.

“…my clothes…”

“Just get in. You’re already wet.”

She stepped inside the shower. The first minute or so she shivered as the hot water soaked through her clothing. Then she seemed to relax.

“I’ll be back,” I said.

As I was shutting the bathroom door my dad called again. “Eric, where’s my Dr. Pepper?”

“Coming.”

I got a glass from the cupboard, a bottle opener and a bottle of soda out of the refrigerator and brought them to him. Even though much of the dexterity had returned to his hands, he was still unable to open a bottle. I pried off the bottle cap and poured the soda into the glass. “Here you are.”

He stared at me. “Why are your pants all wet?”