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Mommy’s happier now, Beccah thought.

And she’s happier because Uncle Logan’s here.

Beccah knew her Mommy hadn’t been happy in a really long time. Not since daddy died, not since she had to come back to the Mansion. Mommy hid it really well (she was like Olivier like that, she never admitted when she was sad) but Beccah saw. Saw the way her face went all broken sometimes when nobody was watching. Saw the way she held onto some things just a little harder than she needed to and for a little bit too long. Beccah might have been the littlest LeBeau but she wasn’t stupid: she knew what was going on around her and she’d been worried. Scared even, because there was nothing she could do to make Mommy happier and the only thing she could imagine helping was having Mommy forget about Daddy, and she felt sick in her stomach whenever she thought like that.

So most of the time she tried not to.

Beccah couldn’t help it: She couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting about her Papa. She’d adored him before he went to heaven. But then the bad men from the government came to New Orleans and Daddy said he had to fight. That if him and Mommy didn’t then maybe someday someone would come and try to hurt her or Olivier too. So he’d gone away with Uncle Kurt and Aunt Ororo and, and- she forced herself to think it- and he’d never come back. Uncle Logan had showed up in the house, the first time she’d ever seen him, and told her he had to talk to her Momma, said something real quick and quiet-like that made Mommy holler and wail. Olivier had come and got her and brought her to his room and they’d curled up together, both of them scared outta their wits until Uncle Logan came and told them what happened to Daddy. That he’d died protecting them and Momma and they must be so proud o’ him, because he was such a good man. Beccah could still remember the way Olivier had yelled at the giant, hairy man, so loud she’d stared at him with wide eyes because she’d never heard him talk back to a grownup like that before. Olivier just didn’t do that. But Uncle Logan hadn’t stopped him, and hadn’t argued either: He’d just let him get it out and then stayed with Mommy and him and her all that night, holding Mommy while she cried. It was the strangest thing but Beccah had never heard her mother cry before then: She’d never even really known Mommies could cry, but they did do-

And until Mommy had come back to the Mansion to stay with Uncle Logan she’d cried an awful lot.

But not anymore. Not now. Beccah smiled, watching her Mommy and the big, hairy feral argue and wrestle on the couch. Uncle Logan was holding something over his head outta Mommy’s reach and she was trying to tickle him to get it back. Which Beccah could have told her wouldn’t work because Uncle Logan always turned the tickles back on you. She was laughing, trying to wriggle away but never quite managing it- Although it didn’t seem to Beccah that she was trying really hard. She kept falling onto instead of away from him, smiling from ear to ear and giggling like Auntie Jubie did when she was playing with Uncle Scott. Eventually Uncle Logan gave up whatever he was keeping from her and she grabbed it, holding a bright red plectrum up to the light, practically dancing on the couch in victory like one of Beccah’s friends. The little girl grinned, realising what this meant: Mommy had found her guitar and her CDs from New Orleans yesterday and now she was going to start playing again. It was another thing about her first home that Beccah had missed: When she was really little Mommy had played music all the time, with Aunt Katrine on her big, dusty ole grand piano and Uncle Julien on his fiddle. The house was never quiet- Mommy had played alongside them on her guitar, singing in this special way that made the room go quiet and Daddy stare at her. It was one of her earliest memories of her parents, Mommy singing a lullaby for her while Daddy rocked her and called her his petite princesse. Olivier smiling and asking Mommy to sing one for him too. Beccah smiled, remembering: She’d wanted to learn the drums so she could help her family play, but Daddy said she would have to be older and that she was good enough at making noise already without giving her specialised equipment-

She noticed that the laughter had stopped then.

Mommy and Uncle Logan were staring at each other really weirdly, like they’d forgotten how to breath or something. Logan covering Mommy’s hand with one massive, hairy paw, the plectrum peaking out from between his fingers and the other hand playing in her white streaks, tucking one behind her ear. It would have looked kinda funny but Beccah didn’t feel like laughing: instead her tummy felt kinda fluttery, and despite herself she looked away. She somehow knew that this wasn’t something anybody else was meant to see. That it was a good thing, but a… private thing. A grown-up thing, in a way that singing lullabies never had been. The moment stretched out, seeming to last forever and then… Mommy said something she didn’t quite catch. Suddenly Logan moved back, letting her stand up, his face looking disappointed and weary. Almost the way it had looked that first night they met, when he came to tell them about Daddy though not as bad. Beccah was about to go to him, to give him her best and biggest hug like she did the other times he seemed upset-

But before she could Mommy came back, carrying her guitar.

The plectrum glowing in the light as she held it out to him and then settled down to sit between his knees. Beccah watched, strangely fascinated as his big, blunt fingers moved against the frets, Mommy’s littler fingers coaxing them. Putting them in place. He looked nervous- which was weird, because Uncle Logan never looked nervous- and then he began to copy her movements. She placed his fingers into a G chord, then a D. Made him lean harder on the strings though Beccah knew it hurt your fingers to do that. Logan tried to strum the strings but Mommy stopped him, told him that was a more advanced lesson. That he had to get the hard part first and then he could try making noise. He twisted to look at her and her eyes went that same wide, couldn’t-breath way again. Her eye-lashes fluttering as she leaned towards him, laying her forehead against his. He took this really deep breath like he was taking her scent and then- then-

Uncle Logan kissed her.

Very gently, the way Uncle Scott kissed Auntie Jubie when she came back from the field. His big arms went around her, the guitar tumbling from her grasp as she curled up against him. Her fingers curling in his hair now and pulling him closer again. A moment passed, then another and another like that-

And then, finally, Mommy Smiled. Really, truly Smiled for the first time since before Daddy died.

And for the first time since that happened, Beccah did the same.

“You need to go to sleep now, little sis,” Olivier’s voice sounded behind her. She was surprised that she hadn’t heard him because Uncle Logan had been teaching her how to be a hunter for weeks now and she should totally be aware of her surroundings. But she supposed she would just have to tell him she needed more lessons when he was less…busy than now. She turned to see her brother pointedly not looking at their mother, a blush creeping across his face. A little grin there too, his red-on-black eyes almost glowing in the faint light. She hadn’t seen him look this embarrassed since the first time he saw Sooraya Qadir in gym class- And that had involved kissing too, eventually.

Though since Dust hadn’t told him off she guessed that Sooraya (like Mommy) didn’t mind that stuff at all.

“Seriously, Bex,” he murmured. “You need to go to bed. Quietly.”

“Stealthy quietly? Like Uncle Logan showed me?”

Olivier’s smile grew wider. “Exactly like Uncle Logan showed you.”

She crossed her arms, her expression quizzical. Apparently she looked exactly like her Momma when she did that. “Do I have to skin a squirrel first?” she asked him.

“No-”

“But you said exactly like Uncle Logan-”

“He just means you have to go to bed, little darlin’.”

And she and Olivier turned to look at Logan, who was grinning at the, his arms crossed around Mommy. Beccah half expecting him to be mad at her for snooping, but he so wasn’t: He looked way too happy with his hands curled up in Mommy’s hair, holding her close while the guitar rested at his feet. Out of force of habit Beccah darted forward, taking the guitar and laying it against the wall like you were meant to do if you didn’t want the neck to warp. She shot Logan a disapproving So There look so he’d know that that’s how you were supposed to take care of an instrument and Mommy giggled.

“Well that told me,” Logan muttered, grinning.

“That it did,” Mommy said.

And then acting on impulse Beccah raced over, climbing onto the arm of the chair and hugging him and Mommy together. Giving him a little peck of a kiss on his cheek like she used to do- Like she used to do before Papa went away. She heard Mommy’s indrawn breath, saw Logan’s eyes widen at what she did but he didn’t tell her off or anything. Just let his big, heavy hand rest on her head for a second, the weight reassuring. She got the feeling he’d never done that before. “Thanks, little one,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome.” And then she darted back towards her brother, standing behind his legs though she wasn’t sure why. Peeking from behind him at the grownups and feeling Olivier’s hand in hers. Knowing she’d done the right thing.

A beat.

Beccah let her brother lead her back to bed then. Climbed under the covers with her favourite bear- he was bright blue, so he was called Hank Bear, naturally- and waited for sleep to come. Wondered for the first time if she was ever going to find someone she liked the way Mommy liked Logan and Olivier liked Sooraya- Because there must be something to this kissing business if it could make Mommy as happy as that. She turned onto her tummy, staring into the darkness and waiting for sleep to come. Those questions still echoing through her head though something told her they were for another day. She held the Hank Bear tighter, smiling in the darkness and then-

Then, from far away, she heard her Mommy playing. One chord, then another, her gentle, warming voice lilting through the house. Singing a song she hadn’t sung in so long that Beccah had been afraid she’d forgotten the words. The little girl sat up, listening, smiling brightly as she heard a bass growl murmuring beneath the soprano-

And in the darkness, she crooned the words along with her mother. Holding the bear to her chest, a feeling like happiness and tears smushed together exploding in her heart.

“Hello blackbird,” she sang, “Hello starling-Winter’s over, be mah darlin’…

Long time coming- But now, the snow is gone.”

Beccah fell asleep with a smile on her face.

She’d never know it but after she heard her daughter sing with her, Marie did the same.

THE SNOW IS GONE Josh Ritter