Housekeeping: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

people brought boxes to sit on and planks and burlap bags to stand on around the barrels, and frankfurters to roast, and clothespins to clip frozen mittens to the lips of the barrels. A number of dogs began to spend most of their time at the ice. They were young, leggy dogs, affable and proprietary, and exhilarated by the weather. They liked to play at retrieving bits of ice which sped fantastically fast and far across the lake. The dogs made a gallant and youthful joke of their own strength and speed, and flaunted an utter indifference to the safety of their limbs. Lucilleand I took our skates to school, so that we could go to the lake directly and stay there through the twilight. Usually we would skate along the edge of the swept ice, tracing its shape, and coming finally to its farthest edge, we would sit on the snow and look back at Fingerbone.
    We felt giddily far from shore, though the lake was so solid that winter that it would certainly have supported the weight of the entire population of Fingerbone, past, present, and to come. Nevertheless, only we and the ice sweepers went out so far, and only we stayed.
    The town itself seemed a negligible thing from such a distance. Were it not for the clutter on the shore, the flames and the tremulous pillars of heat that stood above the barrels, and of course the skaters who swooped and sailed and made bright, brave sounds, it would have been possible not to notice the town at all. The mountains that stood up behind it were covered with snow and hidden in the white sky, and the lake was sealed and hidden, yet their eclipse had not made the town more prominent. Indeed, where we were we could feel the reach of the lake far behind us, and far beyond us on either side, in a spacious silence that seemed to ring like glass. Lucille and I worked that winter on skating backward, and pivoting on one foot. We were often the last to leave, so absorbed we were in our skating and in the silence and the numbing sweetness of the air. The dogs would run out to us, rowdy and obstreperous, overjoyed that not everyone had left yet, and they would nip at our mittens and run circles around us so that we had no choice but to leave. And as we glided across the ice toward Fingerbone, we would become aware of the darkness,too close to us, like a presence in a dream. The comfortable yellow lights of the town were then the only comfort there was in the world, and there were not many of them. If every house in Fingerbone were to fall before our eyes, snuffing every light, the event would touch our senses as softly as a shifting among embers, and then the bitter darkness would step nearer.
    We would find our boots and pull off our skates, and the dogs, excited by our haste, would put their muzzles in our faces and lick our mouths and run off with our scarves. “Ah, I hate those dogs,” Lucille would say, and throw snowballs after them, which they chased with increasingly raucous delight and shattered in their teeth. They would even follow us home. We walked the blocks from the lake to our grandmother’s house, jealous to the point of rage of those who were already accustomed to the light and the somnolent warmth of the houses we passed. The dogs shoved their muzzles into our hands and romped around us, nipping at our coats. When we finally came to our house, which was low and set back and apart by its orchard, we were not much surprised to see it still standing, the porch and kitchen lights shining as warmly as any we had passed. We pulled our boots off in the porch, smelling the warmth of the kitchen, and limped into the kitchen in our socks with our hands and feet and faces aching, where our aunts sat flushed by the vapors that rose from their stewing of chicken and baking of apples.
    They smiled nervously at us and looked at each other. “This is much too late for little girls to come in!” Lily ventured, smiling at Nona. They watched us tensely and timidly, to see the result of their