They had come to the front of the Everett household, and he paused at the brick walkway. “I see your point,” he said.
“Good. A little honest recognition of how complex the smallest part of our world is will make you truly awed.”
Awed. That was exactly how he felt. Awed by the littlest detail, like a snowflake, all the way to the greatest thing, like John Lawrence’s near-death.
Awed by the creations of the Lord and the creations of man. Like the ice palace.
And parades. He thought of Christal’s words: “You can’t wait for a parade to come to you. You have to go to the parade.” It was time for him to go to the parade, in more ways than one.
❧
They missed the parade, but knowing that John Lawrence would live was worth it.
The sun was nearly set, and the sky was a vision of splendid oranges and purples and golds, like marbled fire, and the ice palace glittered in the late afternoon light. Visitors streamed toward it, drawn by the icy glory. It dominated most of Central Park with its wintry splendor.
Christal’s steps slowed as she tried to take in the beauty of it. Her eyes didn’t seem to be big enough to absorb it.
“It’s incredible.” She breathed at last.
Isaac took her mittened hand in his. “I’ve been reading about this in the newspaper and hearing people talk about it, but I didn’t quite grasp what it was going to be like.”
“How could anyone imagine something like this? It shimmers, doesn’t it?”
“I know the statistics of it,” he said, reaching in his pocket with his free hand. “I have it right here.”
She tore her attention from the ice palace to look at him. “You have statistics in your pocket?”
“It was in the newspaper. I thought it would be interesting.”
Had she hurt his feelings? She squeezed his fingers through their mittens. “It will be interesting. I was just teasing. Read on, please!”
“I won’t read the entire thing, but here’s the gist of it. The palace is built from twenty thousand blocks of ice, and the ice has been brought in from all around the area, even from Fargo, North Dakota.”
“Why would they do that?” She turned back to study the ice castle, which shone with an iridescent gleam in the last vestiges of the afternoon sun.
He shook his head. “They needed the ice, I suppose, but I’d imagine that the folks in these other communities might have enjoyed being part of this.”
“It’s really much bigger than I’d ever dreamed it would be.”
“According to the article, it’s 189 feet long and 160 feet high. The central tower alone is 106 feet tall!”
The ice castle, silhouetted against the vermilion and scarlet sunset, was commanding. It glowed with the vivid reflected colors of the sun’s last blaze, combined with the cool blues and purples and greens from within the ice itself.
“It’s a frozen rainbow,” she said, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She turned to look up at him. He was staring at the ice castle, his mouth open a bit, and his breath came out in short white puffs. He was no longer hunkered down inside his coat and muffler. Perhaps the scene in front of him was enough to make him forget how cold he was.
The last vestiges of light vanished beneath the horizon as the sun sank with its usual wintry suddenness, and Isaac sighed. “One of the oddest things about this area,” he said, “is how quickly the sun sets. It lays out the most glorious palette, and then, just like that, it’s done. Day is over and night begins.”
“That’s only in winter. In summer the sun takes a more leisurely stroll ending its daylight time, and the sunsets last longer. You’ll see.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I’m looking forward to that—and not just because it’ll be warmer then!”
The ice palace suddenly began to glow from within, sending a kaleidoscope of color across the snow.
“Electric lights,” he said to her. “There are electric lights in there. I have to see that!”
“I saw them at an exhibition last year. The fellow who was speaking claimed that there’s no flame involved. It was quite amazing.”
“It’s the future, according to Uncle Alfred. One day that’s how we’ll be lighting our houses!”
She shook her head. How could anyone believe that? Light without a flame? Was it possible? And in their houses?
He tucked her arm closer to his body, and together they walked toward the palace. Around them a crowd of people surged forward, all of them headed in the same direction.
The evening was wrapped in magic. The palace seemed to be illuminated with its own radiance, still echoing the last moments of the sun’s wild blaze.
“ ‘He casteth forth his ice like morsels: who can stand before his cold?’ ” she said softly.
She leaned against Isaac, taking advantage of the fur surrounding the hood of her coat to steal covert glances at him. His cheeks, above the swath of the muffler he’d wound around his neck, were reddened with the cold, and his nose was scarlet.
He wore a great fur hat that made her smile; it looked for all the world as if an oversized squirrel were perched upon his head. The poor man was dressed as if he were going on an Arctic expedition instead of just across the city.
Yet the ice palace had apparently made him temporarily, at least, forget his constant chilliness. He didn’t walk bent over, as if he were trying to preserve every particle of heat possible. Instead, he stood straight and craned his neck out of the safety of the muffler to see the spectacle before him.
The crowd gave them no choice but to keep moving toward the arched entrance to the ice castle. A young woman dressed in a long white wool coat rimmed with white fur stood next to a portly gentleman in a dress overcoat. The buttons of his coat strained over his stomach, and he moved from foot to foot to keep warm, like Aristotle on his perch, Christal thought.
“Good evening!” the woman sang out. “Welcome to the Winter Carnival!”
She looked like the spirit of winter, garbed in pure white, her cheeks rosy in the cold, and she smiled widely at each person who entered the castle through the arch, motioning them in with a wave of her white-gloved hand.
The man, however, was clearly the gatekeeper, and pleasantries were at a minimum. “Twenty-five cents entry a head,” he said mechanically. “Twenty-five cents.”
Isaac held out two quarters, and coin and paper exchanged hands. “We’ve got our tickets,” he said to her. “We can go in.”
The young lady swept her hand toward the entrance. “Enjoy the ice palace!”
The castle was extraordinary from the outside, but inside it was stupendous. No matter where Christal looked, there was something unexpected, something wonderful.
A village of Sioux Indians was set up in one of the rooms. It was an entire encampment, and Christal’s eyes couldn’t stop looking at all of the details, from the tepee to the clothing. It was an astonishing display.
“They brought this all here and set it up? It looks so real!”
“It is real,” Isaac said. “All of this is real.”
Through the translucent walls of ice blocks, she could see people moving about. Everyone was clad in layers, and she wished she’d thought to bring her muff. Her fingertips were beginning to get numb even through the woolen mittens, but her whole arms could freeze and she wouldn’t leave.
“There’s the ice-skating rink,” Isaac said, pointing.
“Papa told me that there are two ice-skating rinks, and a curling rink, too!” She shook her head. How could all this be? “Toboggan slides, too! I’ve never seen such a thing!”
“Look,” Isaac said, pulling her in a different direction. “There are warming rooms! We can even buy food here!”
Christal couldn’t take it all in. It was splendid beyond belief, right down to the crystalline walls and ceiling made of ice.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said.
Everywhere they turned, there was s
omething else to see, each thing more amazing than the other. The dark of the night was chased away by the electric lights that punctuated the grand building, brightening every corner.
“Next week they’re adding the items from the Adolphus Washington Greely Arctic expedition,” Isaac said. “His sled will be here, and his journal, and even his gloves and his boots.”
They strolled through the palace arm in arm.
She stopped suddenly and took off her mitten.
“What are you doing?” he asked in surprise.
She pressed her fingertips to a nearby wall, pulling them back only when the cold became too much to bear.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“It’s like a dream. I had to make sure it’s real.”
“It’s real,” he said. “I’m thunderstruck—although that’s probably not the right word to use in an ice palace. Whoever thought of this is a genius.”
“A genius? So you’ve changed your mind? It’s not as silly as you thought?”
“I was wrong.” He laughed. “Those words don’t come easily to me, understand, but they’re true. This is beyond belief. It’s like something from one of those fairy tales you like.”
She shook her head. “Fairy tales have ogres and trolls in them.”
He faced her and took her hands in his. “Let’s make this a real fairy tale, Christal. This is a castle, and you’re a princess. That much is true. Would you consider letting this very common man spend his life with you?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “You mean—?”
“In simple English, please marry me. I love you beyond all thought. Please, Christal, marry me.”
The magic of the ice palace wrapped them in a glittering embrace.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
Epilogue
From the church bulletin:
The congregation of Redeemer Church bids a fond farewell to Rev. Matthew Everett and his wife, Sarah, who have gone to Tahiti in the missionary service. As his last official act as minister of this church, Rev. Everett joined in holy matrimony his daughter, Christal Maria, and Dr. Isaac Tobias Bering.
A belated wish for Ruth and Alfred Bering, whom we have known and loved for many years, as they start the next chapter of their lives as husband and wife: May you always know sunshine.
It is written in the Bible: The greatest of these is love. And so it is.
Dr. Bering’s Spice Cookies
2 ½ cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 ½ teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon cloves
1 teaspoon nutmeg
¾ teaspoon cinnamon
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup shortening
¼ cup molasses
1 egg
Extra sugar (about ½ cup) to roll the cookie dough in
Mix together dry ingredients and then add shortening, molasses, and egg. Shape dough into balls about 1 to 1¼ inches in diameter, and roll in extra sugar. Place on cookie sheet, tapping each cookie very slightly to flatten dough balls a bit, and bake at 350 degrees for eight minutes. Let cookies cool on cookie sheet. Makes about 40 cookies.
About the Author
In first grade, JANET SPAETH was asked to write a summary of a story about a family making maple syrup. She wrote all during class, through morning recess, lunch, and afternoon recess, and asked to stay after school. When the teacher pointed out that a summary was supposed to be shorter than the original story, Janet explained that she didn’t feel the readers knew the characters well enough, so she was expanding on what was in the first-grade reader. Thus a writer was born. She lives in the Midwest and loves to travel, but to her, the happiest word in the English language is home.
Dedication
To Higher Ground at Sharon Lutheran Church: His heart stopped, my heart broke, but your hearts were big enough for both of us. Thank you for being there when I needed you so much.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Janet Spaeth
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
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