She didn’t linger in the car. Instead, she stepped into the cold air and helped the children out of the car. Gripping one child with each of her hands, she moved across the crowded parking lot. Behind her came the sound of the sleds scraping across the icy asphalt as Peter dragged them along. Connie and Jimmy had a trove of sleds down in that basement, and Claire had selected a small one with a high back and two medium-sized sleds.
But when they finally reached the place where everyone was sledding, Kathy was cranky, already too tired to want to climb the hill at all. No amount of cajoling could change her mind. Little Jimmy, on the other hand, tried desperately to drag one of the bigger sleds up, undeterred by the slipping backward that kept him more or less in place.
“Look at Sisyphus,” Peter said.
“He’s the one who—”
“The boulder,” Peter said.
“Right.”
He loved those Greek myths. Persephone and Hermes and Aphrodite. Claire couldn’t keep them straight. For Christmas he gave Claire an elaborately illustrated book on Greek mythology, written by a Swiss couple. The wife had made the drawings with woodblocks, or some such. It was pretty enough, and she made a big show of how impressive she found it, but really she thought it was a gift for him. At night, he read to Kathy from it, when all the girl wanted was her Little Golden Books, The Poky Little Puppy and The Little Red Hen, with their simple stories and bright illustrations.
By this time Kathy was having a full-blown tantrum, screaming as loud as she could, demanding Mimi and stomping her feet.
“I’ll take him up,” Peter finally said.
“And leave me with her?” Claire said.
“This was your bright idea,” Peter said, taking the rope from the sled Little Jimmy had been trying to get up the hill. “Come on, buddy.” He took Little Jimmy’s hand.
Claire watched him walk steadily up the hill.
“Kathy, stop that now. Sledding is the most fun you can imagine,” Claire said in her most soothing voice.
But the tantrum had taken over completely, and there was no talking to Kathy.
Claire knew she should pick up her daughter, even though Kathy would make her body go rigid and just scream louder. She could see Peter and Little Jimmy almost at the top now. Jimmy practically ran the rest of the way, jumping up and down as he waited for Peter to reach him there.
“Here comes Daddy and Jimmy,” Claire said, pointing.
Kathy quieted for an instant, but it was just to catch her breath before starting another round of screaming.
“Be quiet,” Claire said through gritted teeth.
All she had wanted was some time outside, the feeling of the fresh air on her cheeks and the wind in her hair. How had she managed to get stuck down here with an unmanageable toddler while Peter—who hadn’t even wanted to come—was flying down the hill, grinning?
The sight of him made her so angry that she sat Kathy down on the baby sled and picked up the rope to the second sled.
“Stay here,” she told her daughter.
“Mama!” Kathy yelled.
Claire didn’t turn around. She walked up the hill, taking big gulps of air. She could feel her heart beating hard against her ribs, feel the baby inside her kicking.
Kathy’s now-distant voice yelled again: “Mama!”
Claire had reached the top. She waited for a group of four or five teenagers crammed onto a shiny toboggan to position themselves at the crest before she sat on her sled. She would have preferred to lie down across it, but her stomach was too large for that, so she sat up, stretching her legs and holding on to the rope to steer. At the bottom of the hill, Kathy was a small faceless dot in a red snowsuit. From here, Claire could not hear her cries. She only heard the whoosh of the wind and the chatter of other sledders. The tobogganers were squealing as they zigzagged downward.
Exhaustion washed over her again. What was she thinking coming here? Peter had been right. She should have stayed inside and taken a nap.
Squinting against the glare of the sun, Claire tried to pick out Kathy in the crowd at the bottom of the hill. She saw green and blue and pink snowsuits, but not the red one Kathy wore. She shielded her eyes with her hand, trying to stay calm. But no. She could not find Kathy there. Claire thought about Dougie Daniels and that man, Smythe. All of these people, she thought, all of these strangers. Any one of them could be a monster like Smythe. If someone saw Kathy alone there, it would be so easy to snatch her without anybody noticing.
“Kathy! Kathy!” Claire called foolishly. The wind ate her words as soon they left her lips.
Awkwardly, she tried to run down the hill, but sleds veered dangerously close to her and, afraid of being knocked down, she could not make her way through them.