It took a good ten minutes for me to notice that it was silent in the room and silent outside it, and that light was filtering slowly through my windows. The storm had stopped, and morning was dawning. When I peered out through the gaps in the shutters, I was met with a world of white.

The snow was piled high enough that my shop no longer looked like it stood at all above the street. A flat blanket of snow spread like a highway up to my door and even a little above the threshold, just barely covering the floor of the porch. Other less-elevated shops were buried up to their doorknobs or higher, but at least the blizzard was over – the sky outside looked clear and sunny.

I ran upstairs to dress, washing in a basin of cold water, and made myself a cup of tea, boiling a pan of water over the fire. The cook at the cafe was already shoveling the doorway free, cursing with each deep sharp crack as the shovel sliced through the snow, exhaling as the contents of it spattered like gravel to one side. It was past time I should be doing the same, but I stood on the porch with my tea and watched, the snow crackling occasionally under my boots.

It wasn't long before the plow came through, cutting a single narrow lane down the two-lane street and pushing the snow up high on either side, so that the remaining parked cars stood behind huge walls of white. Richard, sitting next to the driver, leaned out the window and waved at me, and I raised my mug in salutation.

Once it was gone, I ducked back inside for my hat and gloves, then stepped out onto the porch and began kicking away the snow that buried the shovel, which I'd left leaning against the porch railing.

I considered clearing off my entire porch, but only briefly. The weight of the snow was bad for the elderly wood but frankly it would be harder on my shoulders to shovel it all. The walkway to the street would take long enough and I wouldn't have many customers anyway, I suspected. People would want to get out and about, but they'd rather go to the cafe or stock up on groceries.

I had shoveled my way across the porch, down the steps, and halfway to the street before I was interrupted. As I turned to toss the snow to one side, a snowball hit me square in the ear. I scooped up a handful of snow without thinking, turned, and saw Lucas standing there with a look of horror on his face.

"The boy..." he said, pointing at a black blur disappearing in the distance. "It wasn't me!"

"No doubt," I said drily, as ice began to slide down my neck and underneath my collar. I dropped the snowball. "Good to see you in town," I added, turning back to keep shoveling.

"Some storm," he agreed, hesitantly. "Did your power go out?"

"Still is."

"Oh. Mine's back on. I thought maybe in town it wouldn't go out so easily."

The sensation I had was familiar, and I finally put my finger on why. It felt as though it was the end of summer again, when Lucas had only just arrived. He stood outside the low garden wall, a pair of snowshoes strapped on his back and his hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders slumped, eyes cast downwards. He was fumbling for words, too, trying to make small talk without any clue how. I stopped and stuck the shovel upright in the snow next to the walkway, sitting down on the porch step. We regarded each other across the yard.

"How do the cars get out?" he asked, pointing to where the snowbound cars sat behind the plow's wall.

"They dig 'em out," I said. "Or drive them out, one at a time, starting at the south end of the street."

"They plowed out early this morning, as far as the asphalt goes. I thought that was good of them. Charles came to see me."

"Oh yes?" I asked. "Bring you all the news?"

"He offered me a job at the church, shoveling out the yard and trimming the trees. I said no."

"Lucas – "

"Please, Christopher," he stammered, interrupting. "I know you're ashamed of shouting at me – "

This stung. "I am not!"

He winced. "Sorry," he muttered. When I didn't reply, he spoke again. "I just – I want to say stop and forget it all, all what I said, but I'm not taking the church job and – and it's not a lie."

"I never said it was a lie, Lucas..."

"You think it isn't true, which is the same thing. But I know I can do it – I can prove it to you," he said, taking a step forward. There was a short expanse of snow between the sidewalk and where I'd stopped shoveling, which blocked him from coming any closer unless he wanted to wade through thigh-high snow.

"Prove it to me?" I asked. "How? Are you going to turn into a cat right here, right now?"

"No!" he shouted, frustrated. "Will you please just listen to me!"

I had only once before experienced anger from Lucas, and rarely ever heard him raise his voice. I had not seen, or maybe had not wanted to see, that he was furious with me – that his face was dark and his whole body tense.

"All right, Lucas," I said quietly. "You might as well come through, if you can."

It was something of a challenge, and I half-hoped he'd leave, seeing the snow he'd have to push through to get to me. Instead, he pressed his gloved hands into the snow until he found the wide stone garden-wall, then stepped up onto it and stood, ankle-deep, studying it. I thought that he would probably simply leap as far as he could and slog the rest of the way to the shoveled path, but instead he took a step forward and eased his foot down into the snow. It packed down firm before he sank more than half an inch, and he put his weight on it hesitantly.

"I've learned things," he said, standing on the snow and putting his other foot forward, again easing it down carefully. The snow didn't even come up over the toes of his shoes.