The wind howled through the frozen trees as young Harry dragged a fallen pine trunk across the snow on his sled, his breath coming in ragged puffs. His uncle, Thomas, the local woodsman, had told him to take it after darkno one would notice.
“Harry! Harry!” A voice rang out. He turned to see sharp-eyed Emily, his classmate, running toward him.
“What dyou want?”
“Let me help.”
Harry frownedwhere did a girl get such strength? But together, they hauled the heavy load back to his cottage.
“Whos watching the little ones?” Emily asked.
“Gran, who else? Mums at work.”
“I stopped by to help with your schoolwork, but the door was locked. Little Alfie said youd gone toward the woods.”
“Had to lock it…”
“Still running off?”
“She is,” Harry muttered. “Back to London, to her mum. Poor thing, suffering and making us suffer with her.”
They reached the house and unloaded the wood.
“Ta, Emily.”
“Dont mention it. Hand me the sawwell make quick work of it.”
“I can manage.”
“Oh, sure. Youll hack at it for hours, or well do it properly now.”
With practiced rhythm, they sawed the trunk into neat logs. Inside, six-year-old Alfie and two-year-old Lily pressed their faces to the frosty window.
Harry took the axe and struck with precision, splitting the wood cleanly. Emily gathered the scattered chips, her breath misting in the cold.
Soon, the fire roared in the hearth, casting flickering light across the ceiling. Warmth seeped into the tiny cottage.
“Let me make you some soup,” Emily offered. “Your Aunt Maggie wont have to cook when she gets home.”
“Nah, were alright,” Harry mumbled, flushing. “Granll do it.”
“Oh, no, Harry!” Alfie whined. “Last time she threw in cabbage, peas, and dill seedsit was awful! Let Emily cook!”
“Oi, Ill do it. Come help, Alfie.”
“Whos this?” A raspy voice came from the cornerGran, wrapped in shawls and a worn coat, shuffled forward.
“Gran, take those offits warm now.”
“Freezing, Michael.”
“Michael? Im Harry, your grandson.”
“Is he? Wheres Michael then?”
“Gone… hell be back soon.”
Emilys brow furrowed. “Shes talking about your dad?”
Harry shrugged. He hated this conversation.
MichaelHarrys fatherhad left them last winter, taking everything: the pigs, the cow, even the young heifer. His mother had begged him to leave the heifer, but hed laughed. “What kind of man comes to his bride with nothing?”
From that moment, Harry despised him.
When Maggie returned, the children sat around the kerosene lamp, Harry reading to Alfie while Gran dozed by the fire, little Lily asleep beside her.
“Mum,” Alfie whispered, “its so warm. Harry got wood, and Emily helped. She made soup. Gran keeps wandering offwe had to fetch her twice.”
Maggie ruffled Alfies hair, a tired smile touching her lips.
“Harry… you carry too much.”
“Its alright, Mum.”
As she ate, a knock came at the door.
“Harry, see who it is.”
A bundled figure burst in, shaking off the cold.
“Christ, its freezing! Heresome lard and salted pork.”
“Valerie, you shouldnt”
“Nonsense! Got flour?”
“A bit.”
“Then take these eggs and milk too. Well manage till spring. And dont fret over seed potatoesJohn said well spare you some.”
Two nights later, Valerie slipped in with a tiny piglet.
“Its risky, Val,” Maggie whispered.
“Wholl know? Hed have diedthirteen born, and this was the strongest.”
The next day, Maggie was called to the farm office.
“Mum,” Harry pleaded, “maybe itll be nothing?”
“I dont know, love. Watch the little ones.”
The chairmanonce Michaels friendlooked away as he spoke.
“Take a piglet from the farm. Valerie will pick a good one. And… take some milk for the children.”
“How will I feed it?”
“Well manage. Come April, the farm will give you a heifer.”
Maggie nodded stiffly.
As she turned to leave, he stopped her.
“Liz… forgive me.”
“For what?”
“For Michael. I never thought hed… do this.”
Maggie walked home, her breath shallow. A neighbor called out.
“Liz, love, let Harry fix my roof. Ill paygot salted pork from last autumn.”
“No need, Clara. Were not starving.”
“But I heardyour Michaels riding about with that woman, laughing like theres no tomorrow. While his children”
“Were fine!” Maggie snapped, hurrying away.
Inside the shed, she finally let the tears fall.
“Mum?” Harrys voice came softly.
“Liz… Im a burden.”
“Dont say that!” Maggie yanked a rope from Grans hands. “What are you thinking?”
They wept together, the weight of winter pressing down.
By spring, Gran took to her bed, calling for Michael.
He never came.
At the fresh grave, Michael knelt, head bowed.
“Forgive me, Mum.”
“She already did,” Maggie said, setting down a flask. “Drink. Remember her.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Ill go. Talk to her.”
“Will she hear me?”
“Yes. A mothers heart… it always does.”
The wind sighed through the trees. Life was just like that.
