Winterfrost

by Michelle Houts

  Though young and often foolish, Klakke knew better than to try to intervene in baby Pia’s rescue. The situation was for Gammel to solve, and Klakke would do best to just take care of the Larsens’ farm. That was, after all, his responsibility and his alone. It was the reason he had come to Lolland in the first place. So, Klakke had returned to the Larsens’ barn in the evening, just in time to feed the animals. The horses were unusually spookish, so Klakke sang every verse of “Jeg bœrer med Smil min Byrde” — “I Carry My Burden with a Smile” — as he went about his work. It seemed to calm Hans and Henrietta, and even the goats stopped their constant fussing to listen as well.

  When Klakke fed the cats, the tiger mother dodged him twice, but she eventually came alongside and allowed Klakke to run his small hands across her back. When he got closer to her tail, though, she skirted sideways. Just in case.

  But Klakke wasn’t there to tease. He fed all the animals and carried fresh water buckets much larger than himself. With little effort at all, he hoisted the heavy buckets over his head. Keeping them steady was by far the harder task.

  Klakke’s guilt subsided one chore at a time. Working hard always made him feel better.

  “There you be, my pets,” he told the horses after he’d climbed the edge of the stall. He stood atop the wooden gate, looking eye to eye with Hans and Henrietta. The horses were used to his presence, and they continued to noisily chomp their grain while he spoke.

  “Seems I’ve upset the way of living here at the Larsen place,” he admitted. “But don’t you worry, my friends. ’Cause Old Gammel’s going to fix everything right back to the way it was. And he’s going to do it real quick. Before the mister and missus come home.”

  Hans and Henrietta bobbed their heads as if to communicate their understanding. It was enough to satisfy Klakke. He hopped nimbly from the stall wall to the barn floor below.

  By the time he finished all the barn chores, the sun was ready to creep up over the barren sugar beet fields. And when it did, Klakke knew he’d best be out of sight. On a normal day, he would have climbed the ladder to the hayloft and slept the day away in hidden comfort. But this was not a normal day, and Klakke was feeling an added responsibility to the Larsens. Especially to young Bettina.

  Klakke slipped through the barn door, opened just a crack, and hurried to the wood room. There he restarted the fire that had gone out; Bettina shouldn’t come home to a cold house. It would be bad enough, he thought, that she must come back to a house that was empty and quiet. With a fire roaring inside the stove, Klakke was sure the house would be warm before Bettina returned. He was sure Gammel wouldn’t have sent her anywhere else but home. Morning light had not yet broken the horizon, so Klakke sneaked into the kitchen and flipped on a light over the sink. He smiled as the soft yellow glow washed over the room.

  Back in the barn, Klakke settled himself into the warm golden straw in the loft. He was tired, and sleep came quickly. But it didn’t last long.

  Klakke awoke to the sound of Felix’s deep barking. Vo-vo-vo. Then a moment of silence. Then vo-vo-vo-vo-vo-vo. Someone must be outside.

  Klakke ran to the front of the hayloft and pushed open the window the tiniest bit. Felix was darting in circles around the barnyard, his tail wagging furiously. Klakke’s gaze turned toward the road and saw unmistakably that the neighbors were making their way toward the Larsens’ house. He drew in his breath and closed the door. He was sure Bettina would be home by now. There was nothing he could do to help. Bettina must handle this one on her own.

  Bettina expected the house would be cold and dark, but when she emerged from the forest at daybreak, she noticed three things: a small light glowed from the kitchen window, smoke curled from the wood-room chimney, and everything around her was normal size again. Gradually, during her walk back from making rounds with Gammel, she had grown tall again.

  No longer being tiny came as a relief. It was the first two observations that worried her. With a light on and the fire going, it sure looked like someone was home.

  Surely Mor or Far couldn’t have returned so soon. Or could they have? Had her sense of time been altered while she was nisse size? She took off running toward the door.

  Inside the wood room, she saw that the fire had been stoked recently. The firebox was full, and warmth filled the adjacent kitchen. Bettina removed her winter coat and snow-covered boots, remembering how tiny they had been when she was nisse size. To her amazement, the white thistledown socks had grown right along with her, and they remained warm and snug on her feet. But despite that bit of evidence, Bettina’s recollection of the night in the house under the tree was becoming fuzzy, more like a dream than reality.

  “Hello?” Bettina called as she stepped inside the house. She turned off the light above the sink. There was enough daylight now, even though it was turning out to be another cold, cloudy winterfrost morning just like the one before. This string of identical days only added to her inability to keep track of what day it was.

  “Anyone home?” she asked, her heart pounding. Then just to be cautious, she added, “I’m back from my walk in the woods!”

  There was no response, and Bettina knew she was alone. The clock on the kitchen wall read 7:47, but she ran to look at the one on the fireplace in the living room. When the second clock confirmed the time, Bettina sighed. She found comfort in knowing that she was back to a place where time was measured and meant something. She put a kettle of water on the stove for tea and then sat down at the kitchen table to gather her thoughts and make a plan.

  Outside, Felix let out a loud bark. Then another. She dashed to the window above the kitchen sink and moved the curtain aside. Oh no!

  Rasmus and Lisa Pedersen were walking down the road toward the Larsens’ house.

  Bettina scrambled from the kitchen. She took the stairs two at a time and quickly changed into clean clothes. At the bottom of the steps, she tossed the clothes she’d been wearing into the laundry room just as she heard the familiar ting-a-ling of the bell inside the wood-room door.

  Mr. and Mrs. Pedersen were standing in the wood room when Bettina opened the kitchen door. Their smiling faces covered up a long night of worry.

  “Good morning, Bettina!” Mrs. Pedersen greeted Bettina with a hug.

  “Hi!” Bettina returned brightly. She stood in the doorway, not offering to let the Pedersens in. Mor would be aghast at her rudeness had she been there to witness it, but Bettina could hardly risk their poking around and asking after Pia.

  “Lisa and I are just checking in on you girls,” Mr. Pedersen told her. “Wanted to be sure all is well with your folks away.”

  “Oh, thank you so much. Yes, we are fine. We’re doing great!” Bettina tried to sound convincing.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Mr. Pedersen sighed. “We, uh, we were here yesterday. And we couldn’t find anyone.”

  Bettina took a deep breath. She didn’t like to lie, but she saw no other way out.

  “Yesterday? Oh, we went sledding all day! You know, this winterfrost is so beautiful, we simply had to be out in it,” she explained.

  “Oh, I agree with that! I spent a good deal of time outdoors myself yesterday. Walked through the forest, and it was breathtaking out there,” Mr. Pedersen said.

  He didn’t mention that he’d called her name just before she entered Gammel’s house. Bettina sighed with relief. Perhaps that would be her last lie.

  Mrs. Pedersen was a petite woman, younger than Mor, with no children of her own yet. But she adored baby Pia. Mrs. Pedersen tried to see past Bettina.

  “Where is the baby?” she asked.

  “Pia?” Bettina tried not to stammer. “Pia’s sleeping right now.”

  Mrs. Pedersen frowned. “Still sleeping? It’s nearly eight o’clock. Are you sure she’s all right, Bettina?”

  “Oh, no,” Bettina explained. “I mean yes, she’s all right. But no, she’s not still sleeping. She’s napping. Again. That little girl was up at five in the morning, all bright-eyed and
ready to play. So, we got up very early, had our breakfast, fed the animals, and she’s back to napping now. She’s sleeping cozy in her —”

  Bettina stopped midsentence. She knew the pram where Pia usually napped was right behind her in the kitchen, next to the patio doors where she’d left it after she’d discovered it empty.

  “. . . bed,” Bettina finished quickly.

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Lisa Pedersen sighed. “I was hoping to hold her awhile. Is she walking yet?”

  “Almost.” Bettina smiled, ever the proud sister. “I planned to teach her to walk before Mormor gets here, but . . .”

  Now it was Bettina’s turn to sigh. But I can’t teach her to walk if I don’t know where she is, she thought.

  “. . . but she has a mind of her own, I’ll tell you,” she said instead. “She’ll walk when she’s good and ready!”

  The Pedersens laughed along with Bettina at Pia’s stubborn streak.

  Then there was a moment of awkward silence. A long moment in which Bettina wasn’t sure what to say next and the Pedersens seemed reluctant to end their brief visit.

  Suddenly the teakettle hissed. It started out low but quickly grew to a piercing wail. Bettina let out a long breath.

  “There’s my water for tea,” she stated matter-of-factly. Both Bettina and her neighbors were well aware that Mor would have invited them in for tea.

  Again, uncomfortable silence. Except for the teakettle, whose call was becoming more urgent with each passing second.

  “Well, then, we’d best be on our way,” Mr. Pedersen said. “You tend to the kettle — though do be careful.”

  “Yes, dear, please be careful. And if you need anything at all, you know where we are,” Mrs. Pedersen added, still talking even as she walked backward out of the wood room and into the barnyard. “Anything.”

  Bettina assured her neighbors that she would call if necessary, closed the door, and took the screaming kettle from the stove. She realized that she probably should have said something about the kettle waking Pia, but she hadn’t thought of that. She wondered if the Pedersens had.

  She made a cup of tea and honey, and from the kitchen window she watched Mr. and Mrs. Pedersen making their way back to their farm. She took a small sip of tea. It was too hot to drink.

  As much as she’d wanted the Pedersens gone, Bettina wished them back again. The silent kitchen, the entire house, felt empty. Empty like the pram that stood there before her, a painful reminder of all that had gone wrong in such a short time. Gammel had promised to find Pia, but what if he failed? Bettina tried to imagine what would happen if Pia wasn’t home when Mor and Far returned. She closed her eyes and imagined Mor’s stricken face and Far’s disappointment. Tears burned beneath her still-closed eyelids.

  Bettina opened her eyes and looked out over the backyard. The winterfrost remained, still and silent. Not a single frosty blade of brown grass moved. The sea must be as still as glass, Bettina thought, remembering summer days when her family had followed the fjord to the sea to soak up the breezes and lie on warm sand.

  The Larsens would visit the sea again, she vowed. Pia would toddle in the sand and splash in the cool water with Bettina while Mor, Far, and maybe even Mormor watched from their blankets in the sun.

  Outside something caused Bettina’s thoughts to return from the sea. But what? She scanned the garden, but everything was still. She turned from the window when it caught her eye again — an unmistakable flash of red.

  Just minutes earlier, Klakke paced the haymow floor and went up and down the ladder a dozen times. What were the Pedersens saying to Bettina? Or — perhaps worse — what was she saying to them? Finally, when Felix started barking once more, Klakke peeked out the window in the loft. Rasmus and Lisa Pedersen were leaving! They were all waves and smiles as they headed away from the house, but their smiles didn’t last long. They appeared to be deep in discussion as they walked down the driveway toward the road.

  It seemed Bettina had averted disaster. Klakke was proud. The more he knew of Bettina Larsen, the more he liked the girl. She reminded him somewhat of his twin sister, Klara. Confident. Dependable. And not afraid of adventure. He’d only seen Klara a couple of times each year since he’d left Falster, and he missed her wonderful giggle.

  Klakke was sure he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now. In fact, he wasn’t sure he should go back to sleep. The Pedersens’ visit had made him realize the urgency of Bettina’s situation. How could Gammel expect them to just sit while he tried to work things out? Wouldn’t it be better to have two nisse looking for Pia? Besides, Klakke had created this mess. He should be the one to resolve it. That is what any mature, reliable nisse would do. Klakke was convinced that he must take action, and the sooner, the better.

  Leaving his post was a serious matter, and one that Klakke didn’t take lightly. He knew he could be entering dangerous territory, so he thought it best to leave a note. If the worst happened and he never returned, perhaps Gammel or Hagen would come by and at least they’d know his fate.

  “I’ve gone to Ulf’s abode to retrieve the stolen child. If danger befalls me, please take care of the Family Larsen and their animals,” he scribbled on a small piece of paper, which he placed high in the mow where only nisse eyes would think to look.

  Klakke knew he should take the path that led directly from the back of the barn to the edge of the forest. It was daylight, and taking the shortest route to cover made the most sense. But he couldn’t help himself. He took instead the garden path that led behind the house. It was the same way he had gone the day he took baby Pia from her carriage. It was because of the big kitchen window that he took this path today.

  Klakke moved quickly through the Larsens’ back garden. When he reached the woods, he turned and stood very still. Sure enough, she was there. Bettina stood with a cup of tea in front of the big window, and he was certain she saw him. Then, right before he darted into the forest, Klakke gave Bettina a smile and a tip of his pointed red cap. Just to let her know that everything would turn out fine.

  Klakke wasted no time as he headed through the forest. He was breaking the rules yet again, being outside in broad daylight. But a small voice inside his head told him that he had but one chance to undo the wrong he had done — and that chance was now. He knew that there were those who believed him too young to handle the responsibility of a farm. And he knew of one nisse in particular who had been waiting twelve years for Klakke to slip up. Now he simply had to bring baby Pia back home.

  As Klakke hurried along, he thought about what he had done back at the Larsens’ patio. It is rare that a nisse makes his presence so obvious to a human, especially in human territory. Perhaps this is why most humans don’t believe in nisse — they find it impossible to believe in that which they haven’t seen with their own two eyes. But Farfar Larsen knew without a doubt that the family shared their farms, fields, and forests with nisse. Klakke had heard Farfar speak to him in the barn, even though he was careful to stay hidden away in the mow.

  Klakke continued onward, his mind racing as fast as his tiny booted feet. Bettina was so much like her grandfather. Willing to look for the unseen. Klakke wished there were more folks like Bettina and her farfar in the world.

  Klakke ducked beneath a small log and over a mouse’s nest on the other side. He waved to the startled mouse mother and continued on. Ahead was a large clearing where tall dead grasses blew in the winter breeze. Klakke had never crossed the clearing during the daytime. He glanced around to make sure he was alone — that the pesky Pedersens hadn’t decided to take a stroll through the woods — and then set off.

  Klakke was clipping along at an impressive speed, his boots pat-pat-patting rhythmically over the grassy ground, when he noticed his right foot missed the earth below. He looked down. His left foot also missed the grass by an inch or more. Then his right foot. Then his left. With every stride, his feet were getting farther and farther from the ground beneath him!

  Nervously, Klakke t
urned to look over his shoulder. He saw gray and white feathers and a long, sharp beak holding tightly to his brown coat.

  “Gammel!” he cried as the clearing below became a tiny patch of land among the forest. Soon even the trees — including the giant oak — grew tiny.

  “GAM-MEL!” the little nisse called again, but to no avail. He was high above the forest now, being taken far, far from his home in the beak of a seagull.

  Bettina tripped through the snow-covered forest. She’d been following Klakke for nearly half an hour, not at all sure where he was headed, but praying that if she followed him, she might find more clues that would help her find Pia.

  Bettina had hurriedly layered clothing and stuffed her feet into her boots, and moments after spotting Klakke near the forest’s edge, she’d slid out the back door and rushed after him. Thoughts of Gammel brought less guilt now that she had an excuse to be out in the forest instead of sitting at home. She told herself, I’m looking for Klakke, not Pia. But there was no denying it: Bettina knew that looking for Klakke also meant looking for Pia.

  Continuing through the forest in the direction she had seen Klakke go, she stepped over a small hollow log and noticed a nest of mice burrowed on the other side. Just a few days ago, she probably would have passed over the nest without even seeing it. Doing rounds with Gammel had made her more aware of what was happening in the forest around her.

  When she reached a clearing of dried brown winter grass, Bettina stopped and sighed. In this tall grass, she would never be able to see little Klakke, if he was even out here at all. What now? Feeling defeated and a bit foolish for following Klakke in the first place, Bettina turned for home.

  Then she heard something odd. “Ammmmm-ullllll!”

  It came again, small and faint, and growing more distant with each second.