Winterfrost

by Michelle Houts

  “Your sister is fine,” Ulf assured Bettina. “I have let no harm come to her.”

  Bettina turned toward Ulf. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you take her from Klakke? What could you possibly want with a human baby out here? In this empty, lonely wilderness?”

  Tears burned Bettina’s eyes as her anger pushed its way to the surface. It occurred to her that she may have just answered her own question. Had Ulf taken Pia for company? This dark and lonely cottage might only be made brighter with the laughter of a child, especially one as darling as Pia.

  “We shall talk,” Ulf said.

  Still leery, Bettina peeked once more at the peaceful Pia. Although she desperately wished to scoop up her sister and smother her with kisses, Bettina knew it was best not to disturb the sleeping baby until everything was resolved with Ulf and she could take her home for good.

  Ulf motioned for Bettina to take the rocker, which she did. He planted himself on a hand-carved wooden stool. Klakke, strangely still and unusually silent, sat on the hearth close to Pia but far from Ulf.

  There was a long pause. Bettina gazed at Ulf, who seemed uncertain how or even where to begin the necessary conversation.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “Not long ago — longer to your way of thinking than to mine — I lived happily on Lolland.”

  “You knew my family.”

  Ulf nodded. “Quite well. Not only knew the Larsens but cared for them. For two generations.”

  Despite her best efforts, Bettina simply could not picture Ulf as a young, happy nisse, smiling, whistling, and going about his business on the farm. “And so you knew Farfar?”

  At the mention of Farfar, Ulf’s face softened just a bit.

  “Indeed. From the time he was a boy, your grandfather spoke to me, though he never once saw me. Every day, without fail, he came into the barn and greeted me. But then, many children acknowledge their nisse; it’s the adults who pretend we don’t exist. But your farfar was different, Bettina. Long after he abandoned his childish ways, after he grew to be a stout and sturdy man, he still talked to me daily.”

  Ulf’s words came as no surprise to Bettina. Farfar had been absolutely certain about the existence of nisse in the forest and on the farm. And even when Bettina’s mother would cluck her disapproval over Farfar’s tales, Farfar would stand firm in his belief.

  “Farfar believed in nisse,” she told Ulf. “He told me so many times.”

  “Of course he did. Even though I never let myself be seen. That’s what made your farfar special, Bettina. He believed without seeing.”

  “Farfar’s gone,” Bettina told Ulf. “Did you know?”

  Ulf’s stoic face turned suddenly sad. It was a look just like the one Bettina had seen in her own mirror many times: Ulf also missed her grandfather.

  “I did know. My sister sends word of important happenings on Lolland.” Ulf sighed. “I miss him, but I guess I’ve been missing him and the rest of the Larsen family for twelve years.”

  Ulf glared at Klakke, who’d been uncharacteristically subdued.

  “It wasn’t my fault they called me,” Klakke said, defending himself.

  Ulf grumbled. “No, but they did, didn’t they? They called you to do the work I’d done, and done well, for many years. A young nisse like you!”

  Klakke wasn’t going to take this sitting down. He stood up, tall and straight, and Bettina thought he looked altogether different from when he’d hid behind her just a short time before.

  “It was your own carelessness that got you into trouble!” he snapped.

  Horrified, Bettina glanced toward Ulf. How would the already-disgruntled nisse react to such an outburst from his younger cousin?

  But much to her surprise, Ulf looked resigned. “It’s true,” he confessed. “I’ve never denied that I was to blame. But I still maintain that the punishment didn’t fit the crime.”

  As much as she didn’t really want to take sides, Bettina had to admit that it seemed Ulf had been judged rather harshly for something that was an accident.

  “I don’t understand why Gammel sent you away.”

  “Oh, he didn’t send me anywhere,” Ulf said. “I left on my own. Out of anger. My father didn’t believe that what happened to Kasper was an accident.”

  “But of course it was! You wouldn’t have let anything happen to Farfar’s horse on purpose. Right?” Bettina held her breath until Ulf answered.

  “Of course not!”

  Bettina let herself breathe again.

  “Why, then, would your father believe you would? This is your chance, Ulf. Tell me your side of the story.”

  Ulf shifted on his stool.

  “All right, then. Twelve years ago, all was well at the Larsens’. I was doing my job just as I had done for a hundred years before. And the greetings from your farfar, Bettina, were the highlight of my day. Then one spring day, the younger Mr. Larsen and his wife brought home a new baby.”

  “Me?” Bettina wondered aloud.

  “Yes, Bettina,” Ulf continued. “It was you. I was overjoyed. I had been around when your far arrived and even when your farfar came into this world. There’s no greater joy than when the family welcomes home a new babe. And your arrival was no exception.

  “Your grandfather was so proud. So very proud, in fact, that he didn’t linger in the barn that day. So eager was he to see his precious granddaughter that he forgot to speak to me! For a week after you came, there was not a single greeting, not a word of acknowledgment from your farfar. I was shaken. Afraid it had finally happened.”

  “Afraid what had finally happened?” Bettina asked.

  “It struck me, Bettina, that your farfar had become like all other grown-ups. He had concluded at long last that his nisse friends were not real.”

  “Oh no! That’s not true! He never stopped believing, Ulf.”

  “I know that now,” Ulf said, his voice heavy with regret. “But I didn’t then. Your farfar’s abandonment — or what I believed to be his abandonment — hit me harder than I expected. I was so preoccupied with my self-pity one afternoon that I didn’t check Kasper’s stall latch. I should have. I had checked and double-checked all the locks and latches every night for as long as I’d been a barn nisse. But that day I didn’t. Burdened with my dark thoughts, I climbed up into the mow and went to sleep. And by morning, it was too late.”

  “He had gotten into the feed room,” Bettina finished. Oh, if she’d heard Kasper’s story once, she’d heard it a thousand times. Farfar had always blamed himself for not latching Kasper’s stall that night. It was a cautionary tale, told over and over again on the Larsen farm. A horse left before feed will eat without stopping. The sweet grain will be too much to resist, and he’ll colic and die before he gets his fill.

  Ulf looked down. He was silent.

  “But that wasn’t your fault, Ulf.” Bettina tried to console him. “Farfar was careless, too! He was distracted and eager to return to my side. The blame isn’t all yours!”

  Ulf looked up, his eyes filled with pain and regret.

  “It is the job of the barn nisse to take care of the animals, especially when the humans can’t do it themselves. Your farfar is not to blame, Bettina. It was my oversight that caused Kasper’s death, my distraction — not his.”

  Bettina knew it was useless to argue the point further. Clearly Ulf believed that he alone was responsible for the death of Farfar’s prized horse. But one thing still confused her.

  “Even if it was your fault,” she began tentatively, emphasizing the if, “why did you leave? Surely anyone who knew the circumstances would have forgiven you.”

  Ulf frowned and Klakke appeared agitated. Clearly Bettina had hit a sore spot.

  “Anyone but my father. He had heard me complaining about your farfar’s lack of attention. He knew that I was angry, and my anger dismayed him. He was afraid I’d left the stall unlatched as a way of getting back at your grandfather.” Ulf flushed. “I hadn’t, of course, but it didn’t really mat
ter; I had done what no barn nisse should ever do, and that is to allow harm to come to one of the barn animals.”

  “And this punishment you spoke of ?” Bettina asked.

  “I was removed from my post.” Ulf scowled.

  Klakke remained calm this time. “Gammel called me,” he explained. “He called me from Falster to take Ulf’s job.”

  Bettina looked from young Klakke to his older cousin. Oh, how humiliating it must have been for Ulf to be replaced by the younger, less-experienced Klakke!

  “I don’t think Gammel meant it to be for long,” Klakke went on. “I think he only meant for it to be a short while. For you to think about what had happened.”

  Ulf made a sort of snuffling sound. “As if I could think of anything else! Besides, I couldn’t stay and watch you care for the Larsens,” he told Klakke. “And my father knew that.”

  “And so you left,” Bettina said, understanding at last. “You left Lolland and came here to live your life alone.”

  Suddenly it occurred to Bettina that Ulf hadn’t stayed away completely.

  “But you came back,” Bettina said. “You were at Gammel’s just recently. You took Pia!”

  Ulf nodded. “I did come back. But it wasn’t to cause further mischief.”

  Klakke made a noise that sounded very much like a snort. Ulf paid no attention.

  “Pernilla sent word that now might be a good time to come. Gammel, she said, was softening in his old age. And, to be honest, it is his age that worries me most. He’s three hundred ninety-two. He won’t be here forever.”

  Bettina hadn’t thought of the nisse losing loved ones to old age the way she’d lost Farfar.

  Ulf took a deep breath. “I came back to Lolland because I wanted to make amends. But, thanks to Klakke, nothing went as planned.”

  Klakke leaped from the hearth.

  “Me? What did I do? You’re the one who took Pia from me!”

  Ulf threw another log on the fire. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to share his side of the story. At last, he answered.

  “Sit back down, Klakke, and I’ll tell you.”

  Klakke sat.

  “It was the day after Christmas. The twelfth Christmas I’d spent alone here on Askø. That’s a lot of years for humans. A lifetime, for you, Bettina.”

  Bettina nodded.

  “Though it’s but an eyeblink in the nisse world, it felt like a lifetime to me as well. And I made up my mind that it was time. Time for me to return to my family. Time to look into my father’s eyes and let him see my regret and sorrow.

  “When I arrived on Lolland, the winterfrost was breathtaking. I wandered through the forest, enjoying its beauty. I remembered how much your farfar loved the winterfrost, Bettina, how he’d become especially talkative to his nisse on those days — for who can experience a winterfrost without feeling that magic is all around them? Inspired by these memories, I decided to check on the Larsens. I was anxious to see how young Bettina had grown while I’d been away and if she took after her grandfather in any way.

  “I got to the Larsen farm, and all was quiet. Too quiet. Though it was early, I saw no smoke from the chimney. I saw that the car was gone, and I wondered if the family was gone for the holidays.

  “I crept inside and listened. I could detect the sounds of movement from one of the bedrooms above, but not the other. Pernilla had told me that the family had a second child — another sweet daughter. Were the girls home alone? No wonder the fire had gone out! I went into the wood room and stoked it back to life.”

  “You stoked the fire?” Bettina asked, remembering how she’d awakened to a warm house.

  Ulf nodded.

  “Thank you,” said Bettina.

  A hint of a smile appeared on Ulf’s face. “It felt good to be of service to the Larsens again. But I knew my next stop was to look in on Klakke in the barn. Why had my cousin let the fire die out overnight?”

  “You were checking up on me?” Klakke asked, bristling.

  “I knew that something must be off for you to have neglected the fire. And when I entered the barn, I could see that the animals needed tending, too. But you were hiding out in the haymow, sulking.”

  Klakke’s cheeks grew pink. “I . . . I . . . I was feeling a little neglected. I didn’t get my rice pudding on Christmas Eve.”

  Ulf ignored his young cousin’s confession and continued. “And didn’t I know too well the risks involved when one indulges in self-pity? I took care of the animals, then I left the barn and returned to the forest thinking perhaps I could convince Gammel to reinstate me to my post at the Larsens’.”

  Klakke’s pink face became very pale. Even Bettina felt alarmed. Would Ulf really have gotten Klakke reassigned, simply because he’d been upset about his Christmas pudding?

  “I wandered a bit in the winterfrost, trying to think of the right words. The longer I wandered, the more I doubted my plan. Were you and I really so different, Klakke? Hadn’t I been doing the same thing when I neglected to check the latch on Kasper’s stall? Sulking? The only difference between us, really, had been luck. Mine turned out to be much worse than yours.

  “It was thinking of this bad luck that made me question my plan to reconcile with my father. Would he really welcome me now? Hadn’t I proved to be an unreliable barn nisse by running off and hiding rather than facing my mistakes? I sat under a fern near the big oak for hours, losing my nerve, and wondering if I should just go back to Askø. And then you appeared, Klakke.”

  “With baby Pia.”

  “With Pia. When you set her down outside the door of the big oak and went inside, I couldn’t believe my eyes. You had taken a human baby? Even worse, you had left her on the frosty ground all by herself ? I knew I had to act quickly. It was the perfect opportunity. If I held on to the baby for just a day or two, I could return her safely to Gammel, say I’d found her in the forest — which was no lie — and I’d be the hero who saved the day. Surely Gammel would welcome me home then.”

  From the hearth, Klakke groaned and put his head into his hands. Bettina knew he must be regretting his impulsive decision to take Pia in the first place. She felt bad for the young nisse, yet at the same time she couldn’t really blame Ulf for wanting to teach Klakke a lesson. He had been very foolish and wrong to take baby Pia, even though he’d meant her no harm.

  “So I brought Pia here, and I’ve been taking very good care of her.”

  “But why haven’t you returned her to us?” Bettina asked, recalling Ulf’s plan to keep Pia just for a day or two.

  “I was ready to bring her, but before I could leave, my brother-in-law showed up.”

  Bettina had nearly forgotten that Hagen had paid Ulf a visit yesterday!

  “Why didn’t you give her to Hagen to bring home?” she asked.

  Ulf looked at the wooden floorboards. “I wasn’t happy to see Hagen. It was my father I really hoped to see, and the conversation didn’t go well. He reminded me that by taking Pia, I’d only further damaged my relationship with the Larsen family. And that’s why my father sent you, Bettina. He knew that there would be no mending the father-son relationship until I’d made everything right with you.”

  From the cradle came a soft, contented coo, and Pia’s eyes fluttered. Klakke leaped to his feet at the sound.

  “May I?” Bettina asked Ulf, her heart aching and Pia so close.

  “Of course.”

  Bettina wasted no time scooping up her sister from the bed. Still wrapped in the thistledown blanket, Pia was the softest, warmest, most wonderful thing Bettina had ever felt.

  The little girl’s sleepy eyes spotted her older sister, and she awakened more fully. She laughed and reached for Bettina’s face. Bettina held her close.

  “I’m sorry,” Bettina told Ulf. “I’m so sorry for . . . for all you’ve been through. It’s not fair that you’ve been made to suffer so much for a mistake. But I’ve been suffering too, with my sister missing.” She took a cautious step closer to the door, trying to form
the words in her head that would allow her to gracefully exit both the conversation and the house.

  With Pia still snugly wrapped in her arms, Bettina made her wishes known.

  “I would like to go now and take Pia home. My parents will be —”

  Ulf raised a hand to stop her.

  “No. First you must help me.”

  Bettina’s excitement over finding Pia gave way to new fears. She held Pia a little closer.

  “But I don’t know how I can help you, Ulf. You’ve got the forgiveness of the Larsen family, if that’s what you need. I believe you didn’t mean to harm Kasper, and I don’t blame you for his death. Now, all I want is to get Pia back home.”

  “Listen to me, Bettina. In my own efforts to reconcile with my family, I’ve made things worse. I now have to answer for what happened to Kasper all those years ago, and I have to explain why I’ve been hiding a baby on Askø these past days!”

  Ulf’s frustration was unnerving. An old saying, a favorite of Farfar’s, kept running through Bettina’s mind. You made your bed, now you must lie in it. Ulf’s actions had gotten him into this mess. He should have never taken Pia in the first place.

  Still, how long should a person have to lie in the bed he’d made? Forever?

  “But how can I help you?” Bettina asked, no matter that she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to.

  Ulf began to pace the dull wooden floor. With every step, his desperation grew more evident, until finally he stopped and made his wishes very clear.

  “You must go to my father and tell him that we’ve met, and that you’ve forgiven me for taking your sister from Klakke.”

  Bettina listened carefully.

  “And then you will tell him that you believe me when I say that I didn’t leave the horse stall unlatched on purpose. And that I didn’t leave because of a guilty conscience, but because I couldn’t bear watching someone else do the job I was born to do. And I couldn’t bear my father’s disappointment.”

  Bettina understood disappointing an elder. Though she had only disappointed Far a few times in her life, each instance was seared into her memory and caused her to prickle with shame to recall it. And now, with the clock ticking away precious hours until her parents returned, Bettina risked disappointing them in the most unthinkable way possible. She must get Pia home. And if helping Ulf was the only way to make that happen, she’d just have to do it.