Glare Ice by Mary Logue

put his two front feet into it, then Velcroed it over his back. It had a high red collar and a green body. With his heavy fur under that, he should stay pretty warm.
    “Okay, let’s go.” She turned the porch light on and stepped outside. The stillness of the woods settled on her. Then she saw what was making it so quiet. Snow was coming down. It must have just started. A sifting of white. Lovely, lovely snow. Inside her something grew, a feeling of hope and possibility. If this soft confection could fall from the sky and transform the world in an hour, surely she could take charge of her life and make it into one she would want.
    Snooper pulled at his leash.
    “Let’s go down to the lake,” she suggested, and again, the happy little dog danced.
    They walked, and the snow fell, light, feathery snow that sailed out of the sky. Around the lampposts in the town, it seemed to swarm like bees around a hive. It started to accumulate on the sidewalks.
    When they got to the town center, they turned down the street going to the park. No cars were parked on the street, no one was outside at all. The new Christmas decorations had been hung last week—large silver bells—and they moved gently in the snow. Everyone in town had contributed money toward the bells. Sven had worked hard to hang them up. He was so proud of them. He told her he had picked them out himself.
    Down on the lake, Stephanie could see two figures out on the ice, one bigger than her and the other about half that size. She slowed her steps; she didn’t really want to talk to anyone. She was leaving. It made no sense to try to get to know anyone. She was gone.
    But she kept moving toward the lake. When Snooper saw the two people on the lake, he strained at his leash to go see them. He was a very friendly dog and liked to greet everyone. Stephanie kept a good hold on him. He would have to be disappointed.
    When she was close to the edge of the lake, she could see who was out on the ice. It was the woman deputy, Claire Watkins, and her daughter. Stephanie wasn’t sure what the little girl’s name was, but she sure was cute. She had on a pair of skates and was trying her darnedest to move around on the ice. Her ankles were bending, and her skates were slipping out from under her. Down she went.
    “Mom, that’s ten. I’ve fallen down ten times so far.”
    “I would have broken every bone in my body,” Claire said. She had on big boots and was sliding around close to her daughter, but not trying to catch her when she fell. That was probably a good idea. That way her daughter would learn more quickly not to fall—there would be incentive.
    Stephanie stood close to them and watched. Snooper started to whine, so she picked him up and cuddled him. He snuggled down into her arms and hid his head in the crook of her sleeve.
    She wanted to have a daughter. One that she would protect so that no man would ever hurt her.
    The snow kept falling.
    Stephanie remembered when she had told the policeman that her boyfriend had hit her. “So move out,” he had said.
    “I don’t want to leave him.”
    “Then I can’t help you.”
    When Jack had broken her arm, she had gone back in to file charges. She went to the same policeman because she thought he would remember her. He had.
    “It’s your own fault,” he had told her.
    She had left without filing. She knew she would get no help there.
    She could step out onto the ice and say that someone was trying to kill her. She could tell this Claire about all that had gone wrong in her life. But Claire had a daughter, and they were having fun skating. Thanksgiving was tomorrow. No one wanted to hear about her problems. Claire would probably blame Stephanie too. Tell her that if she would have only thought more highly of herself, this would have never happened.
    Stephanie had only seen Buck skate once. When she had first started to get to know him, he had invited her to go watch him play hockey. She had been astounded at how