There was a knock on the door, and Fraser looked up from his wood carving.

"Grandpa, are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Come in!" Fraser replied, setting aside his knife and the half-finished carving of a wolf. A young woman opened the door and smiled cheerfully at him. She had a toddler on her hip, and Fraser smiled to see them. The little boy began struggling to be put down, and she set him down on the floor.

"How are you today?" she asked Fraser, coming up to give him a hug.

"Oh, just fine," Fraser said. He moved the knife out of reach of the boy, who was using the table top to steady himself. "How are you? And how is Mary doing?"

"I'm Mary," she said. "My sister is Susan. She's studying in Edmonton."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Fraser felt a little ashamed of himself--he ought to be able to keep his grandchildren straight.

"No, that's all right," she said. The little boy was pulling at his flannel shirt, and Fraser tried to lift him into his lap, but he was heavier than he looked. Mary lifted him up, and Fraser stroked his curls. "What's his name again?"

She smiled proudly. "Jamie. Isn't he beautiful?"

"He is, indeed." Jamie's hand had taken hold of his own, and Fraser looked at the chubby fingers gripping his own wrinkled ones. It was hard to believe that he had great-grandchildren. He could hardly keep his family sorted these days, let alone all the other new people in Inuvik--the bright-eyed constables at the detachment seemed impossibly young. The world around him seemed to flow and change while he wasn't looking, and he couldn't keep track of it all.

Only Ray was still entirely clear to him.

Fraser fumbled for the lost threads of the conversation. "So how is your sister doing?"

"She moved to Edmonton, to study. She's going to be a physical therapist." Her voice was patient and cheerful, and Fraser realized that he must have asked that before.

"Oh. Would you like some tea, or coffee? I'm sorry Ray isn't home, but I'm sure he'll be here soon."

She looked uncomfortable, and Fraser couldn't fathom why. "No, that's all right. We ate before we left home."

The boy, whose name had slipped his mind again, had gotten hold of the wood carving and was putting it in his mouth. "No, don't do that. It might give you splinters. But I'll give it to you when it's finished, if you like."

The boy smiled broadly with a couple of white teeth showing. "Issit?"

"It's a wolf."

"Wolf!" the boy repeated approvingly and tried to stick the carving back in his mouth.

"Yes. I had a wolf once," Fraser said, to distract the boy while he took the carving away. "Or rather, he had me."

"Oh, he likes stories. Why don't you tell him that one?" his granddaughter said. "And I can collect your laundry for you."

Fraser felt a brief twinge of humiliation that they couldn't do their own laundry any more, but swallowed his protest. There was no sense in making things any more difficult for her than they had to be.

He looked down at the little boy and began the story. "Once when I was young, I fell into a bear trap..."

Strange how vivid the memory was compared to the present (even though this particular memory involved several blows to the head). He closed his eyes and remembered Dief's wet tongue and stubborn, puppyish enthusiasm.

When the story was finished, his granddaughter lifted the child down. "We'll be on our way, then. I left you some frozen dinners, be sure to eat them, all right? There's a note on the door of the fridge, so you'll remember."

Fraser levered himself up from the armchair with some difficulty, following them to the door.

"Say goodbye to Grandpa, okay?" She waved, and the boy did the same.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait until Ray comes back? I'm sure he would love to see you both."

She looked away, but not before Fraser could see the pity on her face. "We'll see him another time."

Fraser watched them disappear down the path. He and Ray were old, yes, but they had both lived a good life. They still had a good life, and there was no need for pity.

He went inside again and sat down in his armchair, waiting for Ray to return.