Northern Lights

call it?—inscrutable," she decided. "Those inscrutable stares. I guess he stepped up with Meg when Pat left. But Pat didn't leave." Tears welled in her eyes again. "He died."
    "I'm sorry. I appreciate the information. It always helps to get a picture."
    "You talk to Meg." Charlene got to her feet. "You talk to her about making those Boston people see Pat belongs here. You make her see. She won't listen to me. Never did, never will. I'm counting on you, Nate."
    "I'll do what I can."
    She seemed to be satisfied with that, and left Nate sitting on the side of the bed, picturing himself being squeezed flat by two difficult females.
     
     
    HE DIDN'T CALL HER. She might put him off or just not answer the phone. The worst she could do if he showed up on her doorstep was send him away again, and at least he'd have seen for himself if she was okay.
    He drove along the tunnel of road with the walls of snow on either side. The sky had cleared some, as predicted, so there was a faint glimmer of moon and starlight. It drizzled on the mountains that filled his view, glinted off his glimpses of the river.
    He heard the music before he made the turn to her house. It filled the dark, soared through it and swallowed it. Just as the lights beat back the night. She had them on, all of them, so the house, the grounds, the near trees were lit like fire. And through it, the music streamed and flew.
    He thought it was some sort of opera, though that kind of music wasn't his strong point. It was wrenching, the sort of thing that broke the heart even as it, somehow, lifted the soul.
    She'd cleared a walkway, a good three feet wide. He could imagine the time and effort that had taken. Her porch was clear of snow, and a wood box beside the door was full.
    He started to knock, then decided nobody could hear a knock over the music. He tried the door, found it unlocked, eased it open.
    The dogs, who'd been sleeping despite the music, leaped up from the rug. After a few quick, warning barks, tails wagged. To Nate's relief, they appeared to remember him and pranced over to greet him.
    "Good, great. Where's your mom?"
    He tried a couple of shouts, then made his way through the first floor. There were cheery fires burning in both the living room and kitchen— and something simmering on the stove that smelled like dinner.
    He started to take a peak—maybe a sample—when he caught a movement through the window.
    He moved closer. He could see her now, clearly in the flood of lights. She was bundled head to foot, trudging back through the snow on the fat, round snowshoes they called bear claws. As he watched she stopped, lifted her head to the sky. She stood, staring up, music pouring over her. Then she threw her arms back to the sides and fell backward.
    He was at the door in one bounding leap. Wrenching it open, he shot out, jumped the steps, skidded on the frosty path she'd cleared.
    She popped up when he shouted her name.
    "What? Hi, where'd you come from?"
    "What happened? Are you hurt?"
    "No. I just wanted to lie in the snow for a minute. Sky's clearing up. Well, give me a hand up since you're here."
    Even as he reached out, the dogs flew out and leaped on both of them.
    "Left the door open," Meg managed as one of the huskies rolled with her in the snow.
    "Sorry. Closing it slipped my mind when I thought you had a seizure." He hauled her up. "What are you doing out here?"
    "I was in the shed, working on this old snowmobile I picked up a few months ago. Every now and then I go in and give it a few whacks."
    "You know how to fix a snowmobile?"
    "My talents are endless and varied."
    "I bet they are." Looking at her, he forgot all the little irritations of the day. "I was thinking I might buy a snowmobile."
    "Really. Well, once I get this one up and running, I'll make you a deal. Let's go in. I'm ready for a drink." She sent him a sidelong look as they started for the house. "So, were you just in the neighborhood?"
    "No."
    "Checking up on me?"
    "Yeah, and hoping for that free meal."
    "That all you're hoping for?"
    "No."
    "Good. Because I'm ready for that, too." She picked up a broom cocked by the door. "Brush me off some, will you?"
    When he'd done his best, she took off the bear claws. "Take your coat off, stay awhile," she invited and began to strip off her own.
    "Hey. Your hair."
    She rubbed a hand over it as she hung up her parka and hat. "What about it?"
    "There's a lot less of it."
    It came to just below her jaw now, straight and full and