Winterfrost

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Winterfrost Page 12

by Michelle Houts


  “I’m sorry, dear girl,” Gammel said, his voice soft and apologetic, “but it is not your responsibility to come pleading on my son’s behalf. Ulf should have returned your sister to you and come to me himself, to make amends. The greatest good comes when each takes responsibility for his own mistakes.”

  “Yes, I know, but —”

  Gammel raised a hand to shush Bettina. “You’ve done what I asked of you, and you’ve done what Ulf asked of you. I’m sure he’ll have no issue with returning Pia to you now. If you need my help returning to Askø in the morning, just let me know.”

  And with that, Gammel went inside and was gone.

  By now the forest was completely dark. Bettina stood and looked toward home, frustrated and cold. How could Gammel be so stubborn? His remorseful son was ready to make amends, to end a twelve-year misunderstanding. Why couldn’t he just accept Ulf’s apology — even if it did come from a human? He was supposed to be the wise one, but Bettina felt sure she was the only one thinking rationally.

  As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Gammel was right about one thing: it was too late to return to Askø now. The night was black, and there didn’t seem to be a goose or gull waiting to take her anywhere — not that one could while she was still human size, she reminded herself.

  Bettina didn’t need light to find her way now that she was back on familiar ground. She knew every tree, every bend in the path between the giant oak and home. She was just steps from the backyard when she began to feel as if she was no longer alone. She smiled to herself and continued walking. She listened most astutely to every crackle of twigs under her boots, every rustle of dead leaves as her coat sleeve brushed by bushes along the path, trying to detect any sounds from the nisse world. Then she stopped quickly, her body as frozen as the December air.

  Swish, swish, swish.

  “Klara?” Bettina called.

  Silence.

  “Klara, I heard you running,” she said.

  Then swish, swish. And a giggle.

  The little nisse appeared.

  “Oh, I was trying to stay hidden!” Klara’s cheeks were pink — because of the night air or because of being spotted, Bettina wasn’t sure. Red faced or not, she was a delightful sight to Bettina’s weary eyes.

  “So, how did it go? With Gammel?” Klara asked.

  “You weren’t there? I thought maybe you were lurking nearby.”

  “Nope. I had things to do. So? How’d it go?”

  “Not so well,” Bettina said. She filled Klara in on her conversation with Gammel as they followed the path through the woods that led to the Larsens’ back garden. “I’m going to have to convince Ulf to come face his father himself,” she concluded. “And I have no idea how.”

  “You’ll think of something, Bettina. A good night’s sleep in your own bed will do you good.”

  At the edge of the garden, Bettina stopped. “I can’t sleep. There are chores to be done.”

  Klara giggled with excitement.

  “Done!”

  “Surely the fire must have gone out.”

  “Done!”

  “Really?”

  Klara skipped gleefully. “Done, done, done!” she chanted. “Klara has the speediest feet in all of Denmark!”

  Bettina laughed. “And I am very grateful for it!”

  In the kitchen window a welcoming light glowed, and in the barn the haymow light seeped through the crack in the big red doors.

  “Won’t you come inside with me?” Bettina offered, but Klara was already halfway to the barn.

  “No,” she answered. “I should like to be a house nisse someday, but tonight I’m taking care of my brother’s work. I’ll see you when I see you.”

  Bettina waited until Klara had disappeared before she went into the warm house. As she showered and dressed for bed, she realized how much richer her life had become now that she believed in something Farfar had always known to be real.

  But, oh, how empty was Bettina’s heart without her baby sister! And how devastated her parents would be if they returned and —

  Some thoughts are best left in the unthought corners of our minds. Most of them begin with What if . . .

  Bettina fell asleep that night pushing all her What if . . . thoughts into the deepest corners she could find.

  Bettina slept so well in her own bed, it surprised even her. She woke clear headed, and before she even left the warmth of her bed, she had formulated a plan. Well, most of a plan. There were a few small details to work out, but she hoped those would come to her in a timely manner.

  When the sun crept up over the fjord, Bettina was dressed and ready to face the day. She knew that everything had to go right in order for the outcome to be perfect. The end of Far’s week in Skagen was quickly approaching, and Mor and Mormor could return from Århus at any time. Several obstacles remained that could prevent Bettina from having Pia home in time, and she just could not let that happen!

  Unfortunately, Bettina would have to face one of those obstacles early in the day. How, exactly, would she return to Askø? In her human-size state, she was quite sure there was not a single bird in all of Denmark big enough to do the job. No, she would have to arrange her own transportation, and she knew what that meant. With a sigh she felt halfway to her toes, Bettina took the tea tin from under her bed and emptied it into her backpack.

  She dressed and ate a bowl of oats and milk so quickly, she really didn’t taste them at all. Then she headed to the barn. Amazingly, the winterfrost still hung around, and Bettina couldn’t help feeling that anything was possible when the world looked so magical.

  There was no sign of Klara in the barn, but the chores had been done and the tools all hung in their proper places. In the corner by the door stood the family’s bicycles, all of them unused since October. Bettina had to dust hers off a bit before opening the barn doors to wheel it out. No sooner was she out the door than she noticed the front tire. Flat as a pancake. Mor’s bike, too, she discovered with dismay, had one flat tire. Far’s bicycle was the only one in working condition, so she mounted it, her tiptoes barely touching the barn floor. Teetering precariously as she rode down the driveway, Bettina was finally on her way.

  She knew the main roads would be free of snow, but the back roads might be a bit tricky. Sure enough, she ended up walking the bike more than riding it until she got to town. Then she pedaled furiously toward the fjord. It was early enough that she was able to glide past the closed shops without being noticed. She even managed to avoid the workers from the night shift leaving the sugar factory by ducking through an alley and out the long road toward the harbor.

  Harbor traffic was sparse at such an hour, and Bettina was at the ferry and waiting, somewhat impatiently, ten minutes before the ferryman arrived for the day’s first crossing.

  “In a hurry to get to Askø?” he questioned with a high-pitched cackle, then used his teeth to open a bottle of soda. Bettina was relieved that he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he released the moorings and revved the engine of the green-and-white ferry boat.

  “You’re my first customer,” he quipped. Bettina handed him the fifty-crown fare for one passenger with a bicycle. The ferryman nodded and smiled, and Bettina noticed one of his front teeth was missing. Perhaps it’s unwise to open soda bottles with your teeth, she thought.

  Much to Bettina’s dismay, the ferryman waited five, ten, fifteen minutes for other passengers. When none came, he finally set the ferry in motion.

  “Guess you’re not just my first customer, but my only customer,” he shouted over the roar of the engine as they shoved off toward Askø.

  Bettina gave the man a polite smile but said nothing. Instead she leaned over the small ship’s rail, watching the water rush by. In the summertime, she would see pancake-size jellyfish pulse their way through the water, but not in December. In December the same cold gray-green sea churned past the ferry again and again and again.

  Time passed nearly as swiftly as the water beneath th
e boat, and in less than thirty minutes the ferry was docking on the Askø shore. Crossing by seagull was even faster, Bettina thought.

  “You visiting someone? There’s not much here in the winter months,” the ferry operator said as Bettina wheeled the bicycle down the ramp toward land.

  Bettina smiled. “What I need is here.”

  He shrugged and took a long swig of his soda. “Sure hope you’re right.”

  Bettina pedaled quickly past the empty summerhouses and deserted farmers’ markets toward the small patch of dense forest on the far side of the island. She recalled exactly the flight of the goose. North, a little east. Sure enough, her memory was keen, and she was amazed at how much ground she could cover on her bicycle. The empty fields flew right by her, and the dry grasses that were tall enough to hide her view of the landscape the day before were just short weeds blowing in the winter breeze today.

  Bettina ditched Far’s bicycle at the edge of the woods. She would never be able to ride it through the dense underbrush.

  And then, another obstacle. Could she find Ulf’s cottage with the pinecone-scale roof ? Tucked so perfectly among the leaves and moss, Ulf’s tiny house would be easy to miss. Even though Bettina knew exactly what to look for, every tree looked the same as the one beside it. She walked the small patch of forest several times, until she knew that she was retracing her steps. After what felt like a very long time, she saw the white-barked tree that had snagged Klakke the day before. She laughed with surprise when she noticed that the branch he’d dangled from yesterday, which had seemed perilously high off the ground, was one she would have to bend down to reach today.

  From the white-barked tree, it was easy to retrace the path to the tiny cottage with the pinecone-scale shingles, tiny front door, and little iron knocker. Moments later it lay before her eyes, a masterful blend of nature and architecture.

  This time Bettina had to lie down on her stomach, just as she had done at Gammel’s house, and lift the knocker. It fell with the smallest of taps against the little oak door. There was a long, terrifying pause in which a thousand thoughts went through Bettina’s mind. What if Ulf wouldn’t answer? What if Ulf had left again, taking Pia someplace else? Panic rose in Bettina’s throat, making it difficult to breathe.

  Then the door opened, and it didn’t take long for Bettina to realize that her human size had both advantages and disadvantages. Ulf himself, who ultimately held the fate of her family in his hands, seemed far less intimidating to Bettina when she was so much larger than he. But in this state, she could never get back inside the house to snatch Pia and run, if it came to that.

  Ulf didn’t invite Bettina inside. Instead, he stood just outside the door, looking hopeful and more humble than the first time they’d met. Perhaps he realized it was Bettina who held the fate of his family in her hands.

  “Did you speak to my father?” he asked. “Do I have his blessing to return to Lolland?”

  Bettina knew of no easy way to break the news to Ulf.

  “I did speak to Gammel, but I’m afraid he won’t accept an apology unless it comes directly from you.”

  Ulf sat down on the mossy green carpet outside his front door.

  “I should have known better.” He sighed.

  “I’m so sorry, Ulf,” Bettina said. “I did my best.”

  “It’s no use,” Ulf cried. “I’ll never be accepted by my family again.”

  Bettina was worried. She was worried about Ulf’s despondent state of mind. And she was worried that since he hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted, Ulf would see no reason to give Pia back.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Ulf stood up. With one long, disappointed look at Bettina, he went into his house and closed the door behind him.

  Bettina rested her head on her arm. Was this it? Would she be forced to leave Askø again without Pia? Oh, the very thought brought instant tears.

  “Ulf!” Bettina called through the closed door. “Please!”

  Bettina waited, frozen for what seemed like many long minutes. At last Ulf returned, with Klakke close behind, and in Ulf’s arms was tiny baby Pia. And in Pia’s mouth was a tiny yellow beet-sugar pacifier! Pia’s sweet blue eyes grew round when she caught sight of her older sister. If Pia was startled by her sister’s large size, she showed no signs of it.

  Pia squealed, barely keeping the pacifier between her lips.

  A little sound — half sob, half cheer — came from Bettina’s throat. Oh, how she longed to hold her baby sister! Bettina extended her hands, a little uncertain about how she’d hold on to such a small and delicate being.

  With Pia still in his arms, Ulf looked up at Bettina. His dark eyes no longer looked menacing. A small smile curved his lips, and for the second time, Bettina could see the family resemblance. As the smile grew, Gammel’s twinkle and Pernilla’s sweet dimples appeared.

  “She’s all yours,” he told her.

  Ulf lifted tiny Pia and placed her gently in Bettina’s waiting hands. As he did, Pia quickly returned to normal size. Bettina teetered and caught her balance, not expecting the weight of the almost-one-year-old.

  “Oh, Ulf!” She laughed, hugging Pia tight. “You should have told me that was going to happen!”

  Ulf shrugged. Klakke cheered to see the sisters reunited, bouncing up and down in an involuntary dance of joy. His wrong was at last righted! There couldn’t have been a happier nisse in all of Denmark.

  And yet, at that moment, there was likely not a sadder nisse in all the world than Ulf.

  “I will miss that little one,” Ulf said. “You’re free to go home now, you know. Back to Lolland and back to your family.”

  He was speaking as much to Klakke as he was to Bettina.

  “Thank you, Ulf,” Klakke said with a sincere nod toward his elder cousin. “Your blessing means the world to me.”

  It seemed the two had come to terms regarding the care of the Larsen family, and Bettina was relieved.

  Ulf turned his back to go inside. There would be no happy reunions for him.

  “Wait, Ulf,” Bettina heard herself say.

  Ulf turned, and Bettina shifted Pia onto her hip. My, how big she seemed. Bettina had to remind herself once more that Pia’s first birthday was just days away.

  Bettina knelt down and held out her free hand, palm side up.

  Ulf studied Bettina’s hand for just a moment before he climbed into her palm and she lifted him until they were face-to-face.

  She looked into his small dark eyes. “Only a few short days ago, my only knowledge of nisse came from the stories Farfar had told me and the Christmas decorations we hang each year. Then I met your family. What kindness they’ve shown me! Gammel is wise beyond his three hundred ninety-two years, Pernilla is as sweet as the day is long, and —”

  It suddenly struck Bettina that Ulf had never even met Pernilla’s adorable twins.

  “Oh, Ulf! You have the most precious niece and nephew!”

  Ulf nodded. “I know. Pernilla sent word. And I hear stories sometimes, from nisse on holiday in the summer months.”

  Bettina nearly burst with the notion of plump nisse women and round nisse men in bathing suits on the beach, but she remained serious, knowing that her words might reunite yet another incomplete family.

  “Ulf, you must come back to Lolland with us. You have to talk to your father.”

  Ulf’s face softened a bit. Was he thinking about his home beneath the crooked oak? The warm fire? Pernilla’s winter vegetable stew bubbling on the stove?

  “A wise old gentleman told me once, ‘The greatest good comes when each takes responsibility for his own mistakes.’ ”

  Ulf smiled. “Your farfar was one of the wisest men I’ve ever known. Nisse or human.”

  “He was very wise,” Bettina agreed. “But those words came from your father, Ulf. From Gammel.”

  Ulf’s eyebrows rose in surprise, then lowered in deep contemplation. At last he spoke.

  “Well,” he said. “If you’ll put me down, I�
�ll get my coat and hat. We should be going.”

  “You’re really coming?” Bettina asked.

  Ulf nodded. “I’ve stayed away long enough. If my family will have me, it’s time to return to Lolland.”

  Bettina pedaled Far’s bicycle toward the ferry with Pia riding happily in the child carrier on the back and both Ulf and Klakke tucked safely in her backpack.

  Odd how things work out, she thought. If she’d ridden her own bicycle or Mor’s, she wouldn’t have had a child seat for Pia.

  Back home, Klara would have chuckled over Bettina’s way of thinking. There was nothing odd about the two bicycles’ flat tires. But nisse, of course, rarely seem to get credit where credit is due.

  At the ferry, the gap-toothed ferryman sat with his feet propped on the railing, another green bottle of soda in his hand.

  “Good day, missy. Back so soon? It’ll be an hour before I shove off again.”

  “An hour?” Bettina slumped, resting her forearms on the bicycle’s handlebars. Mor and Mormor could arrive home at any moment. Or they could be home already, walking through the empty house, calling for the girls.

  The ferryman didn’t move from his spot.

  “Yup.” He tipped his bottle toward a weathered sign and a large clock hanging on the side of the dock house. “Got to stay on schedule. Says right there, next ferry crossing is at four o’clock.”

  Suddenly, the ferry driver noticed Pia.

  “Where’d ya get that kid?” he asked.

  Bettina straightened up and tried not to look as panicked as she felt. How could she possibly explain this?

  “Play dumb.” The voice came from her backpack.

  “What?” Bettina whispered.

  “I said, ‘Where’d ya get that kid?’ ” the ferryman repeated, looking even more suspicious.

  “Play dumb,” the voice repeated. It was Ulf. “You can do it.”

  Bettina wasn’t sure if Ulf had just complimented or insulted her, but she felt confident she could handle the ferryman.

 

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