Author's Notes: Thank you kindly to Primroseburrows for the beta!

Martha slid her hands into the hot water to wash the dishes, sighing at the welcome warmth. The clock ticking on the wall was the only sound aside from the glasses tinkling in the sink. She enjoyed the solitude and the sun streaming in through the window. George was in town picking up books in the mail--Old McKeown over in Aklavik had wanted a book on tropical fishes, and they'd had to order it from the central library in Yellowknife. She couldn't help but wonder what he wanted with it. Then there was the new medical encyclopedia for Doctor Taylor, and some children's books.

Humming under her breath, she finished off the dishes and dried her hands. She heard steps on the porch, boots stamping to shake off the snow. They were too light to be George's, so Benton must be back from playing with Innusiq. They were close friends, and he often stayed with Innusiq and June's family when Martha and George were out on trips supplying books to outlying communities.

Benton kicked off his boots. He looked gangly and awkward in the way of a boy in the middle of a growth spurt, and his cheeks were reddened from the cold. It was April, and the ground was still covered with snow, but there was a constant drip, drip from the eaves of the house as the sun insistently warmed the roof.

"Benton, watch the floor, I don't want it wet."

"Yes, Grandma."

He brushed the boots off and set them in the corner. Dinner was cooking on the stove, it would mind itself for a while. They sat down by the window to go over Benton's math lessons, taking advantage of the lengthening days to save lamp fuel.

She hadn't asked to bring him up, and privately she doubted that Robert should have gotten a child at all. He wasn't very suited to being a father. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, and she'd gotten used to having Benton around.

He looked up with a slight frown. "Why is the square of the sine plus the square of the cosine equal to one?"

"Try using Pythagoras' theorem."

He nodded and drew a right triangle on his paper, marking one of the acute angles. "Hmm, so if the hypotenuse is one, then...all right, I get it."

Benton would soon learn all that she knew of mathematics, but she had books he could learn from after that, and in other subjects she still had much to teach him. Martha took Benton's schooling seriously, and to her own surprise had found she enjoyed it. He was so bright, grasping the most complicated ideas easily. Teaching Robert had never been like this. Oh, he had been good enough at his lessons, but it hadn't been where his focus lay. There had never been the spark that was in Benton, that curiosity and hunger for learning. Of course, it would never do to praise him too much. Vanity was most unbecoming.

Martha herself had had to fight for an education. Her parents had been simple, hard-working people, and her father had muttered about how reading too much would spoil her. Still, she had treasured every battered book she could get her hands on, and it wasn't until she had gone to college and met George that she realized how she had been starving for someone who was her equal intellectually.

This was something she could give Benton, at least, even if she hadn't the inclination to mother him in other ways. He'd been reserved from the start, and she'd felt somewhat relieved at that. The last thing she had wanted was a needy, clinging child.

Martha got up to stir the pot of stew. The potatoes were done, and she poured off the water. "Let's do your Chinese lesson next, Benton."

He nodded, and got out a small notebook, pages filled with Chinese characters. Benton bent his head over the book, his dark hair still damp and curly from the outdoors, and started writing. The soft scratch of pencil on paper was a familiar background sound as Martha made herself a cup of tea and then sat down with Benton again.

Feet on the porch again, heavier, from two men. She heard the excited barking of sled dogs. Then George's voice: "Martha, Robert's come to visit!"

Oh, really. She got up to greet him. "Mother, hello."

"Robert, welcome home. It's been some time."

He went on the defensive, as if she hadn't expected that. "Well, I've been busy. Buck and I've been on patrol."

"That's as may be. Everyone has their priorities." She glanced at Benton. The boy was watching his father with the air of a sled dog wondering if Robert was going to throw him a bone.

Robert went slightly red and his mouth set. "Well, it's no wonder I don't come home if this is the reception I get."

"For God's sake, Robert, don't be so dramatic. I said you were welcome, didn't I?" Martha took his parka from him and hung it on a hook. George was nowhere to be seen; perhaps he was staking the dogs. He never could take a conflict, she thought with some exasperation.

Robert had taken his boots off and gone over to Benton, clapping him heartily on the shoulder. "Hello, son."

"Hello, dad."

"How are you doing?"

"Fine. Grandma is teaching me Chinese now." Robert bent to look at the open notebook on the table, shook his head a little, and turned to Martha.

"What's the use of that, now? There's more useful things he could be learning."

"Only about a sixth of the world's population speak Chinese, Robert. Just because we live in the North is no reason to be provincial."

Benton was sitting up straighter. "I like learning Chinese, dad," he said in a clear voice.

There was something about his face, then, that reminded Martha of Caroline, something about the eyes and the set of his mouth. Robert flinched a little, then muttered: "Well, son. You can come out with me tomorrow, and we'll see how well you remember driving the team."

"I've been practicing with Quinn's team. I've gotten a lot better since the last time you were here." There was a flash of eagerness in his eyes, but Robert had turned toward the door again.

"I'm sure you have. Well, I should go out and see to the dogs. They've run a long way today." And with that, Robert pulled his parka on again and left the cabin.

"Let's get back to your studies." Benton looked up at her, startled, and then bent his head obediently over his notebook again. Martha shook her head and sighed. She hadn't meant to sound so sharp'"it wasn't fair to take her irritation out on Benton.

"You're doing very well with those, Benton." She let her voice soften as she looked over his shoulder at the vertical repetitions of the character shui, carefully rendered in round, boyish handwriting.