He went back out and fished the shovel from the shed and chiseled a path from the door of the house to the Caprice and scooped snow away from the tires so they’d roll. Then he went in the house. The water from the kitchen sink was down to a trickle and cold as ice. He filled a pot and set it over the fire to warm.

He found Matty fresh clothes and woke him. Time to get ready for school. Matty stripped to his underwear and dressed in front of the stove while Jack got a towel from the kitchen and dipped it in the steaming pot of water. He washed Matty’s face and neck and ears and then smoothed his unruly hair. He looked pretty good.

“I can do it myself,” Matty said.

“I know.”

Jack started coughing. His chest felt tight and his nose thick. Matty sat watching him. Jack opened a can of beans and gave it and a fork to Matty to eat in front of the fire. He thought he’d save the can of peaches. For what reason, he didn’t know.

“What’s six times six?” he asked.

Matty looked at him. “Thirty-six.”

“Good. Nine times eight.”

“I know these ones,” he said, a look of reproach on his face. “I know to the twelves.”

“Okay. Fourteen times three.”

Matty closed his eyes. Calculating. “Forty-two.”

Outside the window, the sky blued bitter and cloudless. Jack undressed and washed with the cloth and the pot of water and then bandaged his hands again. He got clean jeans and a gray thermal from the highboy and warmed up in front of the stove. He was buttoning the jeans when he heard something in the front yard—what sounded like an engine. He pulled the thermal over his head and said to Matty, “Get behind the couch.”

Matty didn’t move. He stood looking out the window. He spoke in a voice of sheer wonderment. “It’s a girl.”

When Jack looked, a girl was getting out of a blue car.

Not just a girl. Ava.

“Shit,” he whispered. He crouched down, keeping his eyes on the window. She came toward the house, kicking her way through the drifts to the shoveled path. He motioned for Matty to get down, but Matty just stood there, looking out.

Matty smiled. Then he waved.

Her steps crunched on packed snow, then halted. Jack sank low. Waiting. Hushed silence. Strangely quiet. Then she knocked.

He slunk behind the couch. Matty grinned at the window.

“Get down,” Jack hissed.