She sat on the sofa and wrapped her arms around her waist. I snapped on the table lamp and stood beside her. I could see the white tattle of pale frostbite on her bronze face hadn’t quite taken hold. If she had been out in the cold much longer she would have been in trouble. I wanted to hold my warm hands to her face, heal her.

“I’m having a hard time,” she said. I saw the sudden gloss of her eyes, but she did not cry. She leaned forward and grabbed the toes of her shoes to warm herself.

“You’ll stay here for a while,” I said, “at least until this blows over.”

I wanted her to be grateful but she seemed resigned. “OK,” she said, and then, “Yes.” The room seemed suddenly warm. I lifted the window to catch a breath of air.

“Take the bedroom,” I said. She looked at me and suddenly away from me.

“I’ll sleep out here,” I said. She eyed the short sofa. “It’s fine,” I said. It didn’t look like I’d be getting much sleep anyway. Now I had Stoner and Yellow Knife to contend with. I stuffed Aida’s small hand-knit pillow beneath my head. Louise was in my house and I would have slept on the porch steps to keep her here.

There was no door to seal my bedroom; the room opened wide to the living room. I could see Louise clearly in the soft light of the moon, and I slowed my breath and pretended to be asleep, but I was watching her. Louise undressed in that light. Her hands were slender and smooth and beautiful at her throat as she unsnapped the fastener, as each button opened to skin. I watched her hands as she undid the buttons on her blouse, as she unzipped her skirt. Her thin slip fluttered to the floor. I held my breath. Louise stood naked in my house. Light was moving like dust over her shoulders, turning Louise’s hair the color of smoke. Her bronze skin looked pale and gray as rain. I saw the perched line of her nipples, the round curve of her hips.