Frozen: Conceal, Don't Feel

by Jen Calonita

  Papa and Ma reached in for a hug at the same time. They were a family of huggers and laughers. Anna clung to them, not wanting to let go.

  Papa looked at her with tears in his eyes as well. “Anna Bear, these aren’t our secrets to tell. We hope you can respect that.”

  “I can, but I do have a secret of my own that I wanted to share with you.” Her cake wasn’t ready, but since they were sharing, it was the perfect time to tell them. “And it has to do with Freya, too.”

  Ma looked rattled. “It isn’t…Do you know…”

  Anna could feel her heart thumping. Her lips were suddenly dry, but she couldn’t stop now. She thought of how Freya had always said Be true to yourself. This was her being true. “I want to move to Arendelle.”

  Her parents stood perfectly still. Anna kept going.

  “You both know I’ve wanted to live in Arendelle for as long as I can remember. I love Harmon, but it feels like there is a whole big world out there that I’m missing out on. A world at the bottom of this mountain.” Anna pointed to the window where Arendelle was visible. “I promise I’m not moving there without a plan. I’m going to open my own bakery when I make enough money, and until I do, I’ll work in a bakery near the castle. Freya always said there were several. Several! Not just one, like we have here.”

  Her parents still appeared tongue-tied.

  “I know I’ll be far away, but I’ll visit, and you can visit, too.” They hadn’t interrupted her yet, so she kept going. “I’m eighteen and it’s time I started my own life. Freya always talked about how much I’d like Arendelle, and I know she was right.”

  Her mother nodded knowingly, filling Anna with hope.

  “I think you are too young,” Papa blurted out.

  “I’m eighteen,” Anna whispered.

  “Johan,” her mother started.

  He shook his head. “Tomally, you know I’m right. A woman is of age at twenty-one. I’m sorry, Anna, but you are not ready. It isn’t…safe.” He looked at Ma. “Arendelle isn’t the right place for you right now. We need you here.”

  “Ma?” Anna said, but Ma shook her head.

  “Papa is right,” Ma said. “We are getting older, Anna Bear, and this bakery is a lot for us to handle. It was always our dream that someday you would run it.”

  The idea touched Anna greatly. She knew her parents were tired of being up before dawn and baking all day. But staying in Harmon forever wasn’t what she wanted. She could feel it in her bones and see it in her dreams—dreams full of snow and voices. Sometimes it felt as if someone was looking for her. But that was silly.

  “You know I love this shop, and I love being with you, but I’ve always dreamt of living in Arendelle,” Anna told them gently. “I feel like I’m meant for something bigger. Life is short. Losing Freya taught me that. I don’t want to wait another day to start my life.”

  Ma and Papa kept looking at each other.

  “She isn’t ready,” Papa said firmly to Ma. “It isn’t safe.…”

  “I know.” Ma looked at Anna. “We want you to have the life you dream of—a life in Arendelle—and you will have it. I know it in my heart just as you do, Anna Bear.” She squeezed her hand. “It just isn’t your time yet. Trust us.”

  “I understand,” Anna said, but she truly didn’t. She blinked back tears and held her tongue. She never disobeyed her parents, and she wasn’t about to now, but three years felt like a long time to wait.

  I wish I had the power to stop time, Elsa thought as she stood at her bedroom window, watching people flood into the castle courtyard toward her family’s bronze statue. The gates were open and the chapel was prepped. The choir she’d heard practicing for days was ready to perform. But the time for her own rehearsals was over. She should stop worrying, but she knew she couldn’t. Time seemed like it was roaring ahead, and Elsa couldn’t slow it down.

  She had already gotten dressed with Gerda’s help. Her gown was beautiful, but it wasn’t designed for comfort. And it wasn’t created with her in mind. It almost felt as if she were a doll playing dress up, living in someone else’s body. But she kept reminding herself the dress only had to be worn for a few hours. She could manage until then. There was nothing left to do but wait to be called.

  I wish I could stop time, Elsa wished again, but she knew it wasn’t possible.

  Being with Hans the other day had put her mind at ease, but standing in her room again, she couldn’t escape her thoughts. Papa and Mama, I wish you were standing here beside me. I can’t do this alone.

  Elsa heard grunting and turned around. Olaf was trying to move her hope chest and failing.

  “Olaf!” Elsa hurried over. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for Anna,” he explained. “She should be here for this.”

  Elsa leaned down, her sadness almost overwhelming her. “We don’t even know who Anna is.”

  “I know she’d want to see you, though!” the snowman said brightly. “Maybe she’s in this hope chest. She loved to hide in here.”

  Elsa was about to ask Olaf what he meant when she heard the knock at her door.

  The time had come.

  Olaf reached out to hug her. “Good luck!” He ran to hide behind her bed. “I’ll be waiting when you get back.”

  Elsa opened the door. Hans was waiting in a white dress uniform. “Princess,” he said with a smile, and held out his arm, “are you ready to be escorted to the chapel?”

  No, she wanted to say, but she was happy to see him standing there. Hans was so thoughtful. He had offered to escort her to the ceremony, and she had agreed, knowing his presence was calming.

  “Ah, look at this!” said the Duke, appearing out of nowhere. “The very picture of young love.”

  The Duke, on the other hand, was not calming. What was he doing there?

  He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and looked up at them over the edge of his ample nose. He had slicked his white hair back for the occasion and was in full military dress, with a gold sash and medals swinging from his jacket. “What a fine day this will be for the two of you!”

  Lord Peterssen rushed down the hall toward them. “I believe the future queen decided Prince Hans would be escorting her to the ceremony.” Then he motioned to the Duke. “Why don’t I take you down and help you find a seat near the front?”

  Thank goodness for Lord Peterssen!

  The Duke ignored him. “I was just thinking about how elated the people will be to see Hans of the Southern Isles on her arm publicly for the first time. They’re not only getting a queen, they’re getting a potential king, too. Today would be a fine day to announce their union. Don’t you think?”

  Elsa blushed. Lord Peterssen shifted uncomfortably. Hans looked away.

  She was growing tired of the Duke’s pushiness. Marriage was not on her mind. She and Hans had developed a lovely friendship that could perhaps become more, but she had a crown to think of first and secrets that were consuming her. Plus, it was her coronation day.

  Elsa heard a crash inside her room. Olaf!

  “Your Grace, Elsa and I have already discussed this.” Hans’s voice was curt. “Her duties come first.” Lord Peterssen nodded agreeably.

  “Of course, but still, announcing an engagement today, when Elsa is standing in front of her kingdom, would show them she will be a queen of the people,” the Duke insisted.

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Anger bubbled up inside her.

  “Princess?” the Duke pressed. “Don’t you agree?”

  “I think this conversation should take place later,” Lord Peterssen said, checking his pocket watch. “The chapel is already full. We should be starting the ceremony soon.”

  Hans looked at Elsa questioningly. “He brings up a good point, but the decision rests with you. What do you think?”

  “I…” Elsa hesitated, feeling her fingers starting to tingle. No matter how much she enjoyed Hans’s company, they’d only known each other a short while. She couldn’t put her finger
on it, but something was definitely holding her back.

  “Have you even properly asked the princess?” the Duke asked, hitting Hans in the arm. “A princess deserves a proper proposal.”

  Hans’s cheeks turned red. “No, but—”

  “Ask the girl!” the Duke said jovially. Lord Peterssen ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Today is the day!”

  “Elsa!” It was Olaf. He had never yelled to her when she was with people. “Elsa!” Maybe he was in trouble!

  Lord Peterssen looked puzzled.

  “Forgive me, but I think I left something in my room,” she said. Her whole body was starting to tingle.

  Hans didn’t seem to hear her, because he was already getting down on one knee.

  The sensation had never taken over her whole body before. Suddenly, she felt as if the walls were closing in. She had to get to Olaf.

  The prince looked up at her shyly. “Princess Elsa of Arendelle, will you marry me?”

  “Elsa!” Olaf called again, louder than before.

  “I believe Gerda is calling me,” Elsa said sheepishly, and looked down at Hans. Her face felt flushed. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

  Hans couldn’t hide his surprise. “Yes, by all means…” He trailed off.

  The Duke sighed. “We will wait for you—and your answer,” he said with a thin smile.

  Hans stood up quickly and adjusted the medals on his jacket. He didn’t make eye contact with her. The whole situation was uncomfortable, and the Duke was making it worse. She was upset, but she had to get to Olaf and see what was wrong.

  Elsa opened the door a crack, slipped inside, and shut the door. Olaf was standing right behind her, hopping up and down.

  “Olaf, what is the matter?” Elsa whispered. “You can’t shout like that. Someone—”

  “I think I found something!” he cheered. “I pushed your hope chest too far and it banged into the desk and your lockbox fell off. Come see!”

  Her green lockbox was on its side, empty. The interior of the lid should have had a lining draping across, but now it was sagging and showed a hollow section in the top arch. It looked like something was behind it.

  “See?” Olaf pointed to the liner. “My hands can’t fit just right to pull it away, but something is behind that green stuff. Look! Look!”

  Olaf wasn’t wrong. Gently, she pulled the velvet away, revealing the hollowed-out top. A canvas had been carefully hidden inside.

  Elsa quickly unfolded it. She was astonished to see it was a painting.

  At first glance, it looked like the portrait of her family that hung in the Great Hall. But this painting had four people in it: the king, the queen, Elsa, and another little girl.

  The child was a few years younger than Elsa, and she was the spitting image of the king. She had wide-set blue eyes, bright red hair set in pigtails, and a sprinkle of freckles dotting her nose. She wore a pale green dress, and she was clutching Elsa’s arm as if she might never let go.

  Elsa touched the painting and started to cry. “It’s Anna!” she said. She knew it for certain.

  The memories flooded her body so quickly she felt like she was drowning.

  “I remember,” Elsa said in surprise, and then she collapsed on the floor.

  Thirteen Years Earlier…

  The flour was everywhere.

  It blanketed the floor, was sprinkled all over the wood table, and had made its way into Anna’s hair. The five-year-old didn’t mind. She lifted another scoop of flour from the jar and threw it into the air.

  “It looks like snow!” Anna said as the flour rained down. One of her pigtails was falling out, even though her hair had just been done an hour earlier. “Try it, Elsa! Try it!”

  “You’re making a mess.” Elsa smiled despite herself and tried to tidy up behind her.

  “Princess Anna, please try to keep the flour in the bowl,” Olina begged.

  “But it’s so much fun to throw, Miss Olina!” Anna said, giggling as she tossed more flour into the air.

  “Why don’t you two prepare the dough and I’ll get the stove ready?” Olina suggested.

  “Okay, Anna, you can come help me.” Elsa pushed a loose strand of blond hair off her face and creamed the soft butter by hand with a wooden spoon. Anna climbed up on a stool next to Elsa and watched.

  Together, they added the sugar, flour, vanilla extract, and milk. They took turns stirring until the cookie mixture was a smooth pale yellow. Elsa cracked the eggs, since the last time Anna did them, she’d gotten shells in a batch of cookies they served to the king of Sondringham.

  Elsa was still stirring the mixture when Anna got bored and started racing around the kitchen. Elsa laughed, abandoning her spoon and running after her. Suddenly, Mama swooped in and grabbed both of them.

  “This looks wonderful, girls,” Mama said. “Your father is going to be so surprised. You know how much he loves your krumkaker.”

  “Crumbs cake-r.” Anna tried hard to say the word, but she never could. “Crumb cake?”

  Mama and Elsa laughed.

  “Krumkaker,” Mama said, the word rolling off her tongue smoothly. “I’ve been using this recipe since I was your age. I used to bake these with my best friend.”

  “That’s where you learned to bake with love,” Anna said.

  “Yes, I did,” Mama agreed, fixing Anna’s right pigtail.

  Together, they huddled around the stove as Olina lit it and placed the decorative two-sided iron griddle on top of the flame to heat up. Their krumkake griddle had the Arendelle coat of arms on it, a touch their father loved. Mama poured the first scoop of batter into the center of the griddle and closed it, holding it over the flame. Together, they counted to ten; then she flipped the griddle over and they counted out ten seconds again. The hardest part of the process was removing the baked dough from the griddle so they could mold it around a cone-shaped rolling pin to form the cookie. Olina and Mama never let them help with that part. Olina claimed she had calluses on her fingertips from getting burned by the griddle one too many times. But when the cookie was cool, it was removed from the cone, and that was when both girls were allowed to sprinkle it with powdered sugar. Sometimes they left the cookies hollow, and other times they filled them with a sweet, creamy filling. Papa liked them plain. Before they knew it, they’d made half a dozen cookies and had enough batter to make at least a dozen more.

  “Why don’t you three keep going and I’ll be right back?” Olina told them, wiping her hands on her apron. “I just need to accept this vegetable delivery.”

  “Can I try using the griddle? Please? Can I try?” Anna begged.

  “No, darling,” Mama told her. “You’ll burn your fingers.” Anna watched her mother remove the griddle from the stove and pull the baked dough out of it. She wrapped it around the krumkake pin to form its shape.

  “Your Majesty?” Kai appeared in the kitchen doorway. “The king has asked for you to make an appearance in the council chambers.”

  Mama looked at the girls. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. “Don’t touch the griddle till Olina or I return.”

  Elsa nodded, but by the time she turned around, Anna was already on her tippy-toes, scooping the batter onto the middle of the griddle. “Anna! Mama said not to touch it.”

  “I can do it,” Anna insisted, counting to herself and flipping the griddle. “I want to bake my own cookie for Papa.”

  “Wait for Miss Olina,” Elsa told her, but Anna was impulsive. She hated rules.

  Elsa, on the other hand, swore by them.

  Anna opened the griddle and tried to pull the crispy dough from the middle of the grate. “Ouch!” she cried, dropping the dough onto the floor and waving her fingers frantically. “I got burned!” Anna burst into tears.

  “Let me see.” Elsa grabbed her sister’s hand. Two of her fingers were bright red. Elsa needed something cold to put on Anna’s hand to stop the burning sensation. She spotted a copper pot full of water on the table. Olina wouldn’t be
back for a few minutes. Elsa hovered her fingertips over the pot and concentrated on the water. Seconds later, a blue glow appeared around her hands, and snowflakes and crystals began to flow.

  Anna stopped crying. “Oooh.”

  Within seconds, the water in the pot was frozen solid.

  “Put your hand on here to cool it down,” Elsa instructed as the ice crackled. Anna ran over to touch it. Neither of them heard their mother return.

  “Girls!” Mama’s voice was dangerously low.

  Elsa hid her hands behind her back, but it was too late. She had disobeyed Mama by using her gift in public, where someone else might see.

  “You know better than to—”

  “How are the cookies coming?” Olina asked, returning with a basket of fresh vegetables, which she placed on the counter. She started when she noticed the copper pot she had just filled with water. “My word! What happened to my pot? How could the water freeze on such a warm night?”

  Mama pulled Anna and Elsa to her sides. “Strange, indeed! Olina, Anna burned her fingers on the stove. I’m going to bandage them and get the girls to bed.”

  “But the cookies…” Elsa protested.

  Her mother flashed her a sharp look. “Olina will finish them and you can give the cookies to your father over breakfast. We’re done baking this evening.”

  Olina didn’t say anything. She was still too busy staring at the pot in wonder.

  Elsa hung her head. “Yes, Mama.”

  In the girls’ shared bedroom, Mama applied a salve to Anna’s fingers and dressed her in her favorite green nightgown, then sent Anna to fetch Papa for story time. Moonlight streaked through the large triangular window as Elsa changed into her blue nightgown behind the dressing panel. She could hear their mother singing a lullaby as she picked up a few dolls Anna had left on the floor. By the time Elsa climbed into her bed, Mama was by her side.

  “I’m so sorry, Mama,” Elsa said, still feeling bad.

  Her mother sat on the edge of her bed. “I know. And I know it’s not your fault that Anna got hurt. Olina or I should have been watching, but when we can’t…”