Free Avalanche Dance by Ellen Schwartz

that someone had burned it down.
    But
Molly?
Did Molly have something to do with the fire? Did
she
burn the cabin down?
    And what was Molly doing in the cabin, anyway?
Gwen thought indignantly. That was
her
cabin. Molly had no right –
    She heard her father’s name again. Cynthia’s concerned query.
    “Look, Tanya,” Gwen said quickly, now trying to drown out her mother’s words. “Look at this!” She showed the baby how to balance one container on top of another.
    “Ga!” Tanya exclaimed.
    Not loud enough. “X-rays … MRIs … kidney … permanent damage …”
    Gwen turned her head aside, tears rolling down her cheeks.
    Tanya looked puzzled. She offered Gwen a container. “Ga!”
    After everyone left, Gwen retreated to her chair, returning to her window, to the steady rain falling, falling. She heard her mother tidying up in the kitchen.
    I should help
, she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.
    Then she heard her mother’s tread. Bridget came and sat on the windowsill, facing her.
    “What is it, Mom?”
Had there been a phone call she hadn’t heard?
Gwen thought, alarmed.
Something from the hospital?
“Is it Dad?”
    “No, it’s
you
. “ She leaned forward and took Gwen’s hands. “I’m worried about you, honey.”
    Gwen let out a breath. “I – I’m okay.”
    “No, you’re not. You’re not yourself. I can see it in your face.” She touched a hand to Gwen’s cheek. “You’re so quiet. You’re hardly eating.”
    Gwen’s mind raced, trying to think of excuses, explanations. “Mom, I –”
    Her mother pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in her arms, stroking her ragged hair. “Gwennie, my darling … you seem so sad.”
    Gwen melted into her mother’s warmth. For just a moment, she thought how wonderful it would be to tell her mother everything. To let it all out.
    No
.
    “I
am
sad … about Dad,” Gwen said carefully.
    “So am I …” Her mother’s voice cracked. She hugged Gwen tighter.
    Gwen’s eyes filled. She squeezed them shut.
    Her mother held her at arm’s length, her eyes wet with tears.
    “You’re a wonderful daughter, to care so much.”
    Oh God
.
    “But it’s still not healthy. Maybe Dr. Chan was right. Maybe you need help.”
    “No!” Gwen cried. “No, Mom, I don’t. Really –”
    Her mother placed two fingers over Gwen’s lips. She gazed at her daughter. Finally she said, “We’ll give it a little longer. But I’m not letting you go on like this, Gwen.”
    I can’t go on like this either
, Gwen thought.
But what can I do? What can I do?

    The next day, Gwen’s mom went back to Vancouver. She’d been going every few days, having Sally stay over with Gwen and Percy when she could, checking in on them when she couldn’t. After her mother left, Gwen was sitting, as usual, in the living room when Percy came in. Gwen had noticed that he did this now: instead of playing soccer or building tree forts or scavenging on the beach with his friends, he stayed indoors, shadowing their mother when she was home, following Gwen around when she was away. Or he stayed in his room – doing what, Gwen didn’t know. Sleeping, maybe. Or staring out the window, like she did. Whatever it was, he was quiet.
    Listlessly, he ran his racing cars up and down the windowsill, moving his arms mechanically, not making the gear-grinding, engine-throttling, metal-crashing noises that usually accompanied this play. Gwen took a good look at him for the first time in days. His face was pale, the freckles standing out sharply against his white skin. There were circles under his eyes.
No wonder
, Gwen thought; lately she’d heard him crying in the night. Even from the floor below, she’d be awakened by the high-pitched sound of his little-boy sobs.
    On nights when their mother was home, Gwen would lie in her bed and listen for the sound of her footsteps crossing the hallway above, the soothing murmurs, Percy’s half-articulated “Daddy …” and “scared