"Mom, whoa!" Will shouted, blinking. "This is so BIG!"

"I'll say." Ellen watched with concern as the teenagers shot down the hill on sleds, toboggans, and inflatable rafts, laughing and screaming.

Two rafts collided on a mogul, and boys popped out and went skidding downhill. It looked dangerous. "This is kind of big for us, honey."

"No, Mom, we can do it!" Will wiggled in her arms.

"I'm not so sure." Ellen was jostled by a snowboarder, who shouted an apology before he launched himself down the hill. She scanned the slope for younger children, but didn't see a one. She wanted to kick herself. They could have been having fun at Shortridge, but she had dragged him to Mount Everest.

"Now, Mom, put me down!"

"Okay, but hold my hand and let's move over, out of the way." Ellen set him down, and they moved aside. The hill didn't get less steep at the edge, but the crowd lessened. A brutal wind bit her cheeks, and her toes were already freezing. She looked ahead to a tree line of evergreens and scrub pines, and beyond them was a slope that was gentler, with only a few teenagers. "Wait, I think I see a better place for us."

"Why can't we sled here?"

"Because it's better there. Hold on to my hand."

Will ignored her and bolted ahead, along the icy crest.

"No, Will!" Ellen shouted, lunging forward and catching him by the snowsuit. "Don't do that! It's dangerous!"

"Mommy, I can do it! You said! I can do it!"

"No, we're going down the hill over there, so please be patient."

"I am PATIENT!" he yelled, and a group of teenagers burst into laughter. Will looked over, wounded, and Ellen felt terrible for him.

"Come here, sweetie." She took his hand and they walked with effort, dragging the saucer to the other hill, where they stood at the top, both of them sizing it up in silence. It was less of an incline, but no baby hill, like Shortridge.

"Let's go, Mommy!"

"Okay, we'll go together."

"No! I wanna do it by myself!"

"Not here, pal."

"Why can't I go by myself?"

"It's better if I go with you." Ellen placed the saucer on the ground and plopped into it cross-legged, yanking her coat under her butt. Wind whipped across the hill, and she pushed up her sunglasses as Will climbed onto the saucer and stuffed himself into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him like a seat belt, steeling herself. "We can do this."

"Go, Mommy, go! Like him!" Will was looking at another snow-boarder in a red fleece dragon hat, about to go down the hill.

"Hold on to my arms, tight as you can. Keep your legs inside." Ellen gritted her teeth and paddled to give them a running start, setting the saucer sliding down the hill. "Ready, set, go!"

"Whooooo!" Will shouted, then Ellen started shouting too, holding him as tightly as she could until the saucer started spinning. All she could do was yell and hang on to him, watching the world fly by in a blur of snow, sky, trees, and people, completely out of control. Ellen prayed for the ride to be over and clung to Will as he screamed, and finally the saucer slowed toward the bottom of the hill, where they and the snowboarder hit a hard bump that jarred them all loose and sent them sliding downhill.

"NO!" Ellen shouted, as Will pinwheeled past her on his back, and when she finally stopped herself, she jumped to her feet and straggled down the hill after him.

"WILL!" she screamed, on the run. She reached him and fell to the ground beside him, but he was laughing so hard that he couldn't catch his breath, his smile as broad as his face, his arms and legs flat against the snow, like a starfish on the sea floor.

"Way to go, dude!" The snowboarder clapped his gloves together, and Will squealed.

"I wanna do it again, Mommy!"

Ellen almost cried with relief, and the snowboarder eyed her warily from under his dragon hat.

"Lady," he said. "You need to calm down. Seriously."

Chapter Thirty-seven

Ellen trudged along the top of the hill carrying Will, who was crying and hollering in a full-blown tantrum. Teenagers hid their smiles as they passed, one young girl covered her ears with her mittens, and another looked over in annoyance. Ellen had long ago stopped being embarrassed by temper tantrums. She flipped it and wore it like a badge of honor. A temper tantrum was a sign that a mom said no when it counted.

"I want to ' go again!" Will sobbed, tears staining his cheeks, snot running freely from his nose. "Again!"

"Will, try to calm down, honey." Ellen's head pounded at his screaming, and teenagers packed the hill, shouting and laughing, adding to the din. She sidestepped to avoid two older boys shoving each other, and she accidentally dropped the rope to the saucer.

"Mommy! Please! I want' to!"

"Oh no!" Ellen yelped, turning around, but before she could catch the saucer, it went spinning down the icy slope. She had no choice but to let it go. She needed to get both of them home and down for naps.

"I can' do it myself!" Will wailed.

"Please, honey, settle down. Everything's going to be all right." She finally reached the car, where she stuffed Will into his car seat, jumped behind the steering wheel, and pulled out of the parking lot with his crying reverberating in her ears.

"I' can, Mommy! I wanna go again!"

"It's too dangerous, honey. We can't."

"Again! Again!"

Ellen left Valley Forge Park, looking for the route back into the city. Traffic was congested because the Friday rush hour was beginning early, due to the snow. She slowed through the intersection, trying to read the route signs, which were confusing. Routes 202 and 411 were so close to each other, and horns honked behind her.

"I want to do it' again!" Will cried. "We only went one time!"

"We'll go home, and I'll make some hot chocolate. How about that? You love hot chocolate."

"Please' Mommy, please, again!"

"When you're older," Ellen said, but she knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words escaped her lips.

"I'm A BIG BOY!" Will howled, and Ellen didn't rebuke him, knowing it was disappointment and fatigue, a kiddie Molotov cocktail. She took a left turn, looking for the highway entrance when suddenly she heard the loud blare of a siren.

"Is it a fire truck, Mommy?" Will's sobbing slowed at the prospect, and Ellen checked the rearview mirror.

A state police cruiser was right behind her, flashing its high beams. She blinked, startled. She hadn't even known he was there. She said, "Perfect."

"What, Mommy?"

"It's a police car." Ellen didn't know what she had done. She'd been driving slow enough. Her headache returned, full blast. She waited for traffic to part and pulled over to the shoulder, with the police cruiser following.

"Why, Mom?" Will sniffled.

"I'm not sure, but everything's okay."

"Why do they make that sound?"

"So you know they're there."

"Why are they there?"

Ellen sighed inwardly. "Maybe I went too fast. We'll find out in a minute."

"Why did you?"

"Just rest, sweetie, don't worry." Ellen waited as the cruiser door opened and a tall cop emerged and walked along the side of her car, holding a small clipboard. She pressed the button to lower the window, letting in a blast of cold air. "Yes, Officer?"

"License and registration, please."

"Oh no." Ellen realized that she had neither, because she hadn't taken her purse. She had been going to Shortridge before she changed the plan. She took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. "This isn't my day. I left the house without them."

The cop frowned. He was young, with light eyes under the wide brim of his brown hat, worn pitched forward. "You don't have any ID on you?"

"Sorry, no. It's at home, I swear it. What did I do?"