”They’ll be back,“ I said.

Jill nodded, but still she stared off in the direction the dogs. In another minute the dogs reappeared, tongues lolling, bearing themselves proudly, as if they’d actually caught the rabbit. I could hear Jill’s breath ease out in relief.

The road wound deeper into the woods, and where the trees had shaded it the snow was deeper and the going harder. Jill was beginning to puff, and I slowed my pace for her. She was slipping a little in the deeper snow, and I put my hand out. She took it. We walked on, holding hands. The dogs found a blue jay working on a pinecone and drove him up to the white pine tree behind him. One of them ran about for a while with the pinecone in his mouth. Finally he dropped it. The other dogs sniffed at it in turn but left it behind them as they ranged off in search of better. We were deep in the woods now, and there was no more trail. Jill held on to my hand as we went, and we crunched through the deeper snow in the evergreen woods. It was harder going, in deep; but she seemed to want to keep going. She was breathing hard and hanging on to me even harder when we broke from the woods and saw the lake again. It was frozen and snow covered, and there were the tracks of animals across it. We turned and walked along the margin of the lake. Here the sun had burned away the snow so that rocks showed and occasionally patches of earth with the grass dead and pale in the winter sunlight. The walking was easier. Ahead we could see the cabin. We had come in a slow loop back nearly to where we’d begun. The dogs saw the cabin and headed for it, running full out, heads extended, bodies bunching and flattening. They were milling at the front door when we got there and all three dashed for the water bowl and drank when I opened the door.

The fire was down and I added wood. There was electric heat in the place. The fireplace was more for show. But when it was going it warmed the room, and I turned the heat off. Jill took off her parka and hung it on the back of her chair and went and sat at the table and rested her chin on her elbows.

”I want a drink,“ she said.

I mixed two, and brought them to the table and put one down in front of her. Then I sat at the table across from her.

”Here’s looking at you, kid,“ I said. I sounded exactly like Humphrey Bogart. Jill drank a little and so did I. The new wood on the fire had blazed up and the flames frolicked in the fireplace. The afternoon light came at a low slant through the windows.

”Tonight,“ I said, ”I’m going to grill chicken over the fire and serve it with succotash and hot biscuits with honey.“

Jill nodded.

”Maybe some coleslaw. Do you like coleslaw? I make it without mayo.“

Jill nodded again. The flames calmed a little as the logs settled in slightly on each other. The dogs were in their semicircle again, looking at us, waiting for dinner. I stood.

”Dogs are hungry,“ I said.

”I’ll feed them,“ Jill said. And stood and went to the kitchen. She poured too much dry food into each of the three bowls and put them down and the dogs dug in. Then she came and sat down again and sipped her light scotch and soda and watched them eat. When she finished she held the glass out to me and I went and made her another light one. The dogs finished eating and settled in on the sofa, overlapping each other in ways that no human would find comfortable. The dogs seemed not to mind at all. In a minute they were asleep. Jill watched them.

”Have you ever wanted to go to bed with me?“ Jill said.

”Every time I see you,“ I said.

”Why haven’t you?“

”In love with someone else. We don’t sleep around.“

”She’s a shrink,“ Jill said. I nodded.

”Can she help me too?“ Jill said.

”Yes,“ I said.

Jill was silent, thinking about this. She watched the dogs sleep while she thought. One of them shifted in his sleep and licked his muzzle with one slow sweep of his tongue.

”Why do you take care of me?“ Jill said.

”No one else.“

She thought about this for a while too. She drank her drink, but not as if she had to get it in quick. She nodded to herself.

”Do you like me?“ she said.

”Yes,“ I said. ”And it hasn’t been easy.“

Again she was quiet. The boss dog turned in his sleep and wriggled himself up on his back and slept that way, with all four paws in the air, legs flexed at the wrist, or whatever dogs called it, the paws hanging limp. The logs in the fireplace made a kind of sigh as they settled further, blending downward into the red mass of the coals.

”He’s gone, isn’t he,“ Jill said.

”Yes.“

”You made him stop, didn’t you?“

”He won’t frighten you anymore,“ I said.

She took another swallow of her drink. She studied the dogs. The afternoon was gone from the window and the night had arrived. The cabin was dark except for the firelight.

”He will frighten me forever,“ Jill said.

”Maybe not,“ I said.