Winterfrost

by Michelle Houts

  She thought of Mormor and her broken hip in Århus. Mor had reached her by now. She thought of the goats and then of the tiny forest animals, and she wondered if they had found the grain behind the barn. She gazed at the white landscape and imagined two gray rabbits coming upon the oats and nibbling contentedly on the newfound treat.

  Within minutes Bettina’s eyes closed, and Lolland disappeared.

  For the second time in a single day, Bettina woke from a deep sleep feeling confused and a bit uncertain. How long had she been asleep? A quick glance out the window told her that Pia’s carriage was still outdoors and the blankets around the little girl hadn’t moved at all. Bettina turned on a light, and the dusky room filled with a warm glow, urging Bettina toward a more coherent frame of mind. It was time to wake Pia and begin dinner preparations. Bettina took her now-cold tea to the kitchen and opened the door to the back garden.

  She pulled baby Pia’s carriage back into the house and shut the door.

  “Time to wake up, little one,” Bettina cooed, removing the warm pink drape from the pram. When she did, she gasped and her hands flew to her mouth.

  Baby Pia was gone.

  That very afternoon, high in the hayloft, Klakke wasn’t sleeping well at all. Nothing had gone as he wished these past two days. He’d not yet forgiven the Larsens for their neglect. He’d had his nisse revenge, but messing up the barn and tampering with goat feed hadn’t brought him the satisfaction he’d expected. Klakke liked Bettina, and her uneasiness in the barn only brought regret to the young nisse.

  Even the winterfrost hadn’t completely lifted his spirits. Stuck in the barn until dark, he was certain that at any moment the sun would come along and burn its way through the clouds. If that happened, the fog would be gone, taking the beautiful winterfrost with it. And no one could say when another would come.

  For hours Klakke tossed and turned and dreamed, until at last he woke, curious to see if the wonderful winter landscape remained. It was not yet dusk. Common sense told him to stay hidden, but once again his youthful impulses won out.

  Outside, Klakke was pleased to find that the sun had stayed behind the clouds the entire day. The winterfrost had survived! Slowly, Klakke felt his grudge against the Larsens fade. He was beginning to feel like his old cheerful self again. Klakke darted across the all-white barnyard to the forest’s edge, whistling and kicking up his feet as he went. He still didn’t understand why the Larsens would neglect to leave his rice pudding on Christmas Eve, but in the still beauty of the winterfrost, Klakke’s anger cooled and he was able to think clearly. The awful oversight likely had something to do with Mr. and Mrs. Larsen leaving in a hurry. Perhaps the family had been too distracted to remember their poor nisse. Well, he could forgive them just this once. He knew that Gammel would say that forgiveness is the kindest of paths to take. Klakke was finished with his tricks. He was ready to behave himself again.

  By the time Klakke finished parading around the farm, he found himself at the edge of the Larsens’ back garden. It was late afternoon, pushing evening, and there were no lights on in the house.

  Curiosity pulled him into the Larsens’ garden, where in the summer he loved to gaze at the beautiful flower beds, but where he seldom dared to go. What if someone was looking out from the big windows in the brick house?

  In a particularly bold move, Klakke ventured through the neatly trimmed hedges, now heavy with frost. He took a cobblestone path from the garden shed to the back patio, where he only hesitated a moment before climbing two small stone steps. He realized that he was closer to the house than he’d ever been before, but a deep sense of wonder drove him on, toward something on the patio that he’d seen often.

  He never could say exactly why he did it. It wasn’t an act of revenge, for he really had forgiven the Larsens for their neglect. Rather, the winterfrost seemed to have a strange effect on the mischievous little nisse, pushing him toward the house, toward the pram, and right up to baby Pia.

  Klakke climbed up the side of the pram without jarring it at all. When his eyes fell upon little Pia, he drew in his breath in both wonder and awe. The human baby was sleeping like a snow angel, so sweet and innocent. Her round pink cheeks puffed out with each breath.

  And then, although he didn’t set out that December afternoon to do what he did, he lifted her gently from the pram.

  And Klakke stole baby Pia.

  Bettina stood only a moment in stunned silence before she ran back outdoors. Pia could not have gone far, she thought. Bettina was clearly flustered and not thinking rationally. For if she had been, she would have realized that Pia could not have gone anywhere at all. The child couldn’t even walk.

  Bettina’s mind and heart seemed to be in a race against one another, both pounding so crazily it felt as if an undirected orchestra had taken residence inside of her. Her stockinged feet responded to the awful music as she darted aimlessly about the patio and garden in search of her baby sister. Gradually, logic prevailed. There was no way Pia could have climbed out of her carriage and wandered away on her own. And then a thought like the dull thud of a bass drum brought the music to a sudden halt: If Pia didn’t leave on her own, someone must have taken her!

  Like the steady, unstoppable evening shadows in the forest, panic set in. Bettina searched the frosty patio for footprints and found none besides her own frantic tracks heading here and there and in circles. Anyone taking the baby from the pram would have left tracks. It made no sense at all. What was she missing?

  Bettina’s eyes darted around the garden. In all directions, the delicate winterfrost appeared undisturbed. Not a branch or a twig had been shaken.

  Bettina was just about to search the barn when she noticed a small spot near the stone path that led into the forest — a spot that appeared darker, less sparkly than its surroundings. She followed the path and examined the area closely. The seedlings that grew low at the edge of the forest were bare. Something had knocked all the frost off the tiny branches. And yet there were no footprints, no other clues to follow. She eyed the patio and let her eyes follow the path to the place she knelt. What was small enough to disturb only the tiniest branches but large enough to carry off a baby — all without leaving footprints in the snow? Some sort of bird? An animal that could hop great distances?

  But no such creatures existed in the forests of Denmark — or anywhere else that Bettina knew of.

  Barely able to breathe, Bettina stood and faced the forest.

  “Pia!” she called, but only her trembling voice came back from the darkness, sounding emptier and lonelier than when it had left her throat.

  Perhaps a strong wind had lifted the baby from her pram, Bettina thought crazily. Perhaps Pia was just out of sight, shivering and cold, but unharmed under the cover of the pines. Bettina stepped cautiously forward, her socks now soaked and her toes so cold she could no longer feel them.

  But what was a dusky evening in the garden was black as midnight under the trees.

  “Solen er så rød, mor,

  og skoven blir så sort . . .”

  The lullaby Bettina had sung earlier that day floated through her mind.

  “The sun is so red, mother,

  the forest is so black . . .”

  “PIA!” Bettina shouted once more, but the dark trees answered with silence. Bettina shivered. She wasn’t dressed to be so long outdoors. Her toes ached. She had to get inside.

  All across Lolland, the winterfrost remained, but without the daylight, it had lost its sparkle. As Bettina eyed the empty baby carriage in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but hear Farfar’s voice.

  The most mysterious of events occur during winterfrost.

  Bettina raced to put on heavy clothes — snow pants, a down-filled ski jacket. On a shelf by the door, she found Far’s warmest gloves and, in the wood room, her own snow boots. So what if it was dark? She told herself she wasn’t scared of the dark or of the forest or of strange and mysterious happenings. A younger Bettina might have been afraid, but
this Bettina was old enough to be left in charge. Finding Pia was her job. As she dressed, she formed and re-formed a plan in her head.

  Her first idea had been to contact Mor or Far, but she quickly thought better of that. They were a long way from Lolland, and what could they do except worry? Worry and be disappointed that Bettina had been unable to handle the responsibilities they’d asked of her.

  Instead, Bettina would enlist the Pedersens’ help. Her parents had told her to call the Pedersens if anything went wrong. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed the telephone. Three times, six times, eight times the phone rang in her ear, and no one picked up at the Pedersens’.

  Bettina hurried to the window that looked out across the empty fields toward the neighboring farm. Through the foggy twilight, she could see that not a single light glowed in the Pedersens’ house or barn. And their pickup truck wasn’t in the driveway.

  The Pedersens were not home.

  There was only one thing left to do. Bettina went back outside and headed straight to the edge of the forest. It was a vast expanse of trees, stretching from one side of the island to the other. Massive oaks and tall pines intermingled, forming a dense wood interrupted only by the clearing where Far and Mr. Pedersen cut their firewood. Though void of large trees, the area was dense with scrub brush and newly planted seedlings.

  Bettina surveyed the dark woods before her. Within these shadowy depths was a path that she knew well. One direction headed toward town, while the other wound through acres and acres of forest before it eventually led to the sea. No sooner had Bettina started down the path than she wished she had thought to bring a flashlight. The evening was dark, but inside the forest it was black.

  She glanced nervously to one side and then the other. It was the same forest where the birds sang sweetly and the woods’ flowers bloomed all summer, she told herself. But at night, in the dead of winter, the forest whispered unfriendly thoughts. Birds lurked, nesting above her head, and squirrels and mice shot out unexpectedly across the dark path. What other creatures might be hiding just out of sight? Bettina closed her ears and her mind to everything except finding Pia and walked on.

  Far had shown her years ago how to follow tracks in the snow, so Bettina kept her eyes on the forest floor. But much to her dismay, the only tracks in the woods were her own. It appeared that no one else had traveled this way since the last snowfall.

  Still, she continued on. She stepped gingerly at first, unsure of what was hidden beneath the coating of frost and snow. With deliberate steps, she tried to land squarely on solid ground, but occasionally she stepped on a fallen branch or a small log and nearly lost her balance. Long spindly branches reached out from the dense underbrush, snagging her coat and tugging at her as she walked. Bettina tried to keep her thoughts focused firmly on her mission, but stories of witches and ghosts and trees that suddenly come to life and grab young girls were never far from her mind.

  It was pitch-dark now, the sky above the woods no longer distinguishable from the branches. What help would she be to Pia if she got lost in the woods overnight? Bettina had no choice but to retrace her quickly fading footsteps to the place where the forest met the garden path leading directly to her own backyard.

  Reluctantly, she followed the path all the way to her back door. Someone had been on the patio and taken Pia. But who? No one could have done it without leaving footprints, she reasoned. Everyone — everything — leaves footprints.

  Everything but ghosts and spirits and nisse.

  Bettina was quite sure that she didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits. But nisse? She had once been a believer. But as a person grew, logic had a way of prevailing over magic, and Bettina’s childish certainty had faded. But Farfar’s belief had never waned. He had been as certain of nisse as he was of the hair on his head.

  Bettina stood, wide-eyed at the thoughts that tumbled inside her mind. Was it possible? Mor and Far would shake their heads and scoff at the notion. But with Pia missing, Bettina could rule nothing out.

  If there were such things as nisse, she decided, and if one lived on the Larsens’ farm, then there was only one place for her to go next.

  She ran to the barn. Bursting through the door, she flipped on the lights and yelled, “My name is Bettina Larsen, and I want my sister back!”

  Hans and Henrietta raised their heads from their feed buckets and stopped chewing. The goats stared, and the barn cats backed away from Bettina’s unexpected outburst. There was silence.

  Bettina stood frozen. Her eyes were on the mow above, and her ears strained, listening for any small noise. There was nothing.

  “Listen here, nisse,” she shouted into the air, dismayed at the lack of authority in her voice. She cleared her throat and continued. “If you are here and if you took my sister, I want you to bring her back to me tonight!”

  There was still no reply. Bettina turned to go. Hans and Henrietta had once again stuck their heads in their grain buckets and resumed their noisy munching, but otherwise all was still. Bettina stopped in her tracks. Noisy munching? She hadn’t done the evening feeding yet.

  Bettina looked around. The horses had fresh grain. The goats stood with hay hanging from each side of their mouths. Water buckets were filled to the brim with cold, clear water. Even the cats’ feed pan was topped off.

  If she’d had any doubts at all about whether or not there was a nisse in the Larsens’ barn, they were quickly subsiding. But who was this nisse? And, more importantly, was he there to help or to harm?

  Panic and determination faded into desperation. If only she hadn’t slept while Pia napped! Surely the nisse wouldn’t have dared to take Pia if Bettina had been watching her. But why would a nisse want a baby? No answer Bettina could imagine made her feel any better.

  Inside the kitchen, Bettina turned on the lights. There sat Pia’s pram, just as Bettina had left it. What if the past hours had been nothing more than a bad dream? What if Pia had been there sleeping all along? With a small glimmer of hope — and desperately in need of a miracle — Bettina approached the carriage and carefully moved the blankets. There was no sleeping baby. Only a well-worn stuffed goose. Pia had not been magically returned to her rightful place.

  At once all the tears Bettina had been holding in came rushing out. She picked up the stuffed animal and held it to her face. It smelled sweet and fresh, like Pia after her bath. Bettina’s heart ached. Where could Pia be on this cold night?

  Bettina had been able to hold down the farm for just one and a half days before she let something so horrible happen. Still holding the stuffed goose, Bettina walked slowly into the living room. Far would be home from Skagen by the end of the week. Mor and Mormor would arrive soon, too. Bettina knew she had to have everything back to normal by then. But how?

  She sat down on the same couch she had dozed on earlier that day, but now she wasn’t at all sleepy. She gazed around the room. It was a comfortable living room. Mor’s wooden rocker sat near Far’s favorite stuffed chair. Photos of Bettina and Pia adorned the end tables. A smiling photo of Farfar, with eyes both reassuring and mischievous, seemed to be telling her something from a silver frame across the room. Floor-to-ceiling shelves of books arranged in no particular order covered one entire wall of the living room. It was an area of the house Mor often referred to as “the library,” even though it wasn’t actually a room itself.

  Bettina rose to her feet and walked over to the library. Her eyes scanned the shelves, but she wasn’t sure why. She knew the titles so well, she could list them with her eyes closed. There were picture books, and Bettina’s stomach knotted as she read over Pia’s favorite titles. There were carpentry books. And knitting and sewing books. There were volumes of history and folktales. There were cookbooks and books with maps of the world that so fascinated Bettina, she could spend hours engrossed in their pages.

  But on this night, it was the long shelf of gardening books that caught Bettina’s attention. She scanned over the titles. Flowers Abundant, How to Grow Winter V
egetables, and You and Your Trumpet Vine. At the end of the shelf, slightly crooked and sticking out just a little, was a large white book that Bettina barely remembered seeing before. But she had seen it. She had watched Farfar pore over this very volume, his thick gray eyebrows tilted in deep thought. She gasped when she read the title: How to Care for and Keep Your Nisse.

  Bettina took the book to the kitchen table. She pulled out a wooden chair and sat a moment before flipping open the cover. Heavily illustrated and written in great detail, the book was loaded with nisse sightings, nisse stories, and — most helpful — nisse facts.

  Bettina turned to a chapter titled “The Nature of the Nisse” and read:

  The nisse is at almost all times a kind creature. He takes great pride in belonging to a family, and he looks after the members of the family, both human and animal, with the utmost care and respect.

  Bettina found these words comforting, knowing that if her little sister was at this very moment with a nisse, he might be kind and loving. She read on, hoping to find anything that would tell her why Pia might have been taken. Perhaps the book had a chapter on nisse who kidnap small children.

  Bettina read more. She recalled long-forgotten facts that Farfar had once taught her — that nisse couples have only two children, always a set of twins; that nisse are keenly connected to nature, and that they sleep all day and frolic and play and work at night. She also learned many new things: Nisse are excellent woodsmen and navigators and cannot get lost, even in unfamiliar territory. And one cannot lie to nisse, as nisse can see right into the heart and know instantly if intentions are good or bad. And, according to the book, human-nisse encounters are rare, as the nisse will go to great lengths to remain unseen.