Melt

by Robbi McCoy

  Nivi answered in Greenlandic. Exasperated, Kelly took her phone out of her jacket pocket and held it up, noting it still had no signal. With this visual aid and hand gestures, she hoped she communicated her message when she said, “Telephone? Computer?” She made typing gestures with both hands to simulate keyboarding.

  Nivi shook her head. Kelly wasn’t certain she was being understood, so she pointed past Nivi into the interior of the house and said, “Can I look around?”

  Seeming to understand, Nivi stood aside and allowed Kelly into the house. It was musty, dim and cramped inside. Old furniture filled up the room and there was no sign of anything modern. No electronics, no television. After a few minutes, Kelly realized there wasn’t even electricity. A couple of oil lamps provided light. There was a wood-burning stove in the kitchen and no running water. What had she expected from a family living above the Arctic Circle miles from anyone else? She realized it had been stupid to think there was a computer here. It was possible, of course, to have a satellite connection, but if that was something of value to Nivi’s family, they wouldn’t be living like this in the first place.

  She gazed into Nivi’s calm brown eyes and sighed. Why did they live like this? she wondered. A few miles north was Rodebay with electricity, a Laundromat, people to talk to. A few miles south was the modern city of Ilulissat.

  Then she remembered why she was here and felt herself succumb to despair. As tears fell on her cheeks, Nivi clucked at her and looked concerned.

  “I wish you could understand me,” she said. “But even if you could, what can you do with no way to call for help?”

  Nivi looked solemnly at Kelly as if she were trying to read her mind, then she disappeared into another room. While she was gone, the small head of a child peered out from the doorframe, his eyes fixed on Kelly with curiosity. He must be Nivi’s grandson, Kelly assumed. She waved a greeting at him and he pulled back and disappeared from view.

  When Nivi returned, she wore an overcoat and carried a rifle. Alarmed, Kelly stepped backward, wondering if she should run for her life.

  Nivi spoke to her rapidly and motioned toward the door. Kelly passed through it into the daylight beyond. The old woman followed and gestured as she walked toward shore. Kelly hesitated, so Nivi gestured even more emphatically.

  “What?” Kelly cried. “I don’t know what you’re saying. I have to get to Ilulissat.”

  She turned and started walking away, deciding she had no other option than to continue with her original plan. Nivi caught up with her and grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her back. Kelly resisted, shaking her off, despite the rifle. She was determined not to be intimidated. She had been through hell already today and was in no mood to be messed with.

  “Pipaluk!” Nivi growled, frowning intensely.

  Kelly pointed north. “Pipaluk.” Then she pointed south. “I’m going that way.” She pointed at herself.

  Nivi nodded as if she understood, but Kelly was sure she didn’t. Then she took hold of Kelly’s arm again and led her down to the shore. Kelly decided to let herself be manipulated until she at least knew what Nivi had in mind.

  An orange tandem kayak lay on the gravel beach. Orange Blob! Kelly realized. Nivi placed her rifle in it and pushed it into the water. Then she pointed to it, urging Kelly to get in. There was no doubt about what she wanted, but there were too many ways this wasn’t a good move. Did she think the two of them should return to rescue Pippa? Was she planning on paddling all the way to Ilulissat? Not a terrible idea, Kelly realized, though Nivi was an old woman and may not have the strength for it. Maybe between them they could manage. It would be quicker and easier than walking, that was certain. Or was she just taking Kelly out on a fishing trip? In view of the rifle, Kelly reconsidered that last thought. More likely a seal hunting trip.

  Hoping to persuade the kayak toward Ilulissat, Kelly tucked her backpack into the bow and got in, taking the forward seat. Nivi got in behind her and they pushed off. Nivi offered no resistance as Kelly turned the craft south. Feeling chilled, she zipped her jacket up to her neck and cinched her hood tight around her head.

  They paddled smoothly over the glassy water and Kelly began to relax. This would work. In no time they would be there and a rescue team could be sent out.

  But they had only been on the water ten minutes when Nivi pointed inland, into a deep, sheer-cliffed fjord and attempted to turn the kayak toward it. Kelly resisted, paddling the other way and saying, “Ilulissat!”

  “No, no!” Nivi argued, shaking her head. The rest of her argument was in Greenlandic.

  “What the hell!” Kelly said to herself. Then she faced Nivi and said, “Pipaluk!” She drew her index finger across her throat and made what she figured was a universal sound for a last gasp.

  Nivi nodded as if she understood perfectly, then pointed into the fjord again.

  They fought each other until the kayak turned uselessly in a circle and Kelly felt her arms losing strength. She stopped trying to overpower Nivi, as they were clearly going nowhere. Defeated, she sat with her paddle resting across the boat.

  Nivi seemed to take that as agreement and turned them into the mouth of the fjord. It curved up ahead, so Kelly couldn’t see how far back it went. Apparently they were on a seal hunt after all. She decided she would have to get out and start walking again as soon as she could get off the water. Nivi obviously had no idea what she was trying to do and she didn’t know how to make her understand.

  As they traveled deeper into the fjord, the walls on either side grew higher and closed them into a narrow and dramatic channel. The water had changed color. It was now murky, a milky greenish gray. Kelly knew what that meant. This was meltwater from a glacier. At the head of this fjord, she assumed, an arm of the inland ice flowed into the bay. The cliffs on either side of them were sheer and vertical. There was no way to walk out of here. Kelly hoped there would be a way as they got further along. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to get back on track until she could persuade Nivi to turn around and leave the fjord.

  This is a nightmare, Kelly thought in exasperation. This entire day is a total nightmare.

  She took up her paddle and joined Nivi in pushing the kayak deeper into the fjord. The sooner we get in here and do whatever she wants to do, she decided, the sooner we can get back out. Nivi paddled steadily, humming quietly and contentedly behind her. Her song was rhythmic and surprisingly restful.

  They followed a wide curve to the left and suddenly the glacier was visible up ahead. The ice filled a high canyon and flowed down the side of a mountain to the fjord where it formed a calving front about sixty feet tall. The ice river above was striped gray, brown and white, the stripes following the contours of the canyon and revealing the flow pattern in an otherwise solid and motionless looking surface. The front of the glacier was white and cerulean blue, the pure interior that was exposed when the ice broke off. In front of the glacial tongue were several floating icebergs. This glacier wasn’t a large one. The little bergs moving through this fjord might not even make it intact to the bay. They were rapidly melting under the summer sun. As they passed close, Kelly could see rivulets of water running off them.

  If she had been less anxious and preoccupied, she would have been happy to be here. She would have taken photos of this spectacular scenery. As it was, the only good news she could find in this situation was that they would soon reach the end of the waterway and would have to stop.

  A dull echo from their paddles resounded off the cliff walls on either side as they glided easily on the calm surface. Nivi steered them expertly around the icebergs, still humming her melody.

  It was the clang of metal that first alerted Kelly to human activity at the edge of the fjord. The sound drew her attention to a smooth, sloping moraine on the north bank. As they came around a subtle curve and the entire face of the glacier came into view, the moraine also became visible in its entirety.

  Kelly’s mouth fell open as she saw a campsite with several tents er
ected, tables set up, people milling around and a moored motorboat at the edge of the water. She practically tipped the kayak in her excitement. She spun around to look at Nivi, who nodded up and down, grinning.

  Kelly felt tears of relief come to her eyes. She paddled rapidly toward shore where two people and one tail-wagging husky came to greet them. The dog kept close to a stocky, dark-featured young man, a Greenlander, Kelly guessed. But the young woman, the blonde, was somebody Kelly already knew. It was flirty Sonja Holm from the morning tour. What a wonderful stroke of luck. Not only had Nivi taken her to people who could get help, but at least one of them was an American, so there would be no more trouble with language.

  “Sonja!” Kelly called, waving frantically. “Sonja!”

  Sonja waved back and stepped down to the water’s edge to pull the kayak onto shore. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” she remarked, looking perplexed. Then looking more closely, she said, “You’re a mess!”

  Chapter Ten

  Why don’t I think to ask these things ahead of time? Jordan wondered, looking up into the greasy guts of the yellow all-terrain vehicle her students had nicknamed Curly after one of The Three Stooges because it could take a lot of abuse. Right now, she wished Curly would live up to his name a little more literally so she could just give him a whack now and then to keep him in line. As part of the recruitment process for this summer gig, she should add some questions to the application about essential skills. Can you cook? Do you have any mechanical ability? Do you know how to play Canasta? In some ways, science could be said to be secondary to these other talents when a group of people was stuck on a glacier together for eight weeks.

  She lay on her back on a piece of cardboard, tightening the last two bolts that would secure the new belt in place. Of her four students, not one of them had the mechanical ability to change a spark plug, let alone replace a broken belt. You’d think it would have been a safe bet in a group with one guy who loved backpacking and everything outdoors, one athletic lesbian, a female pilot and a native Greenlander that one of them would know how to work on engines. “I can fly a plane,” Julie had elaborated. “But I don’t work on them.” As for Malik, he was the brooding intellectual type. Not a wilderness man like his Inuit ancestors. He had never even driven a car. There wasn’t much use for cars in Greenland.

  So the job was left to Jordan. She didn’t really mind. She enjoyed getting into the muck. It was satisfying to occasionally work with one’s hands instead of one’s brain.

  She snapped the belt to check its tension. Satisfied, she slid out from under the vehicle. Brian took the socket wrench from her and helped her up.

  “Is it fixed?” he asked, his asymmetrical face even more than usually askew with concern.

  “Yep.”

  He handed her a rag and she wiped her hands on it, standing back to admire Curly in all his utilitarian glory. Brian loomed over her at six-three, tall and lanky, wearing a knit cap over the careless hair that rarely saw a comb. A heavy brown beard obscured the better part of his face. Earlier in the year, in class, he had been clean-shaven and Jordan preferred him that way. He was shaggy and slapdash enough as it was. But he had decided that a remote Greenland science outpost deserved no less than completely unrestrained hair growth. She couldn’t criticize him for that. She herself hadn’t shaved underarms or legs for the three weeks she’d been here. With the inadequate military-style shower, about all they could do was keep from being offensive. Malik somehow managed to keep himself groomed to perfection, however, and was always clean-shaven. But Julie, like Brian, had gone primal. Not too often you saw a straight American woman with hairy armpits.

  They were a good group, for the most part. All smart and serious about the work. They didn’t love each other, but they worked well together. That was actually better than some of the more friendly alternatives, she mused, recalling groups from the past.

  It was hard to tell ahead of time how a group like this would function under these conditions, especially with the added element of the unknown member, Malik. He had joined them after they arrived. None of them had known him previously, but he was working out well and Jordan was happy to have a Greenlander on the team. It seemed right. He was responsible for the name Camp Tootega. Before any camp construction began, Jordan always had her team choose a name. This time, Sonja had insisted that it invoke some sort of female spirit because their leader was a woman and she wanted to emphasize female power. Brian had rolled his eyes at that, leaning toward something more natural, like the name of a bird or fish. Of course, he didn’t know any Greenlandic names, and a couple that Malik provided were utterly unpronounceable to the Americans. But then Malik had granted Sonja’s wish with Tootega, the name of a wise old goddess of Inuit mythology who could walk on water. “Perfect!” she had declared, holding a hand out to present Jordan, as if she were the earthly incarnation of the deity herself. Jordan had burst out laughing. But it wasn’t a bad name and they had voted to go with it. So this summer, it was Camp Tootega. From that moment on, Sonja and Malik had been friends. Jordan was glad of that because Malik had not gotten on well with Brian or Julie. But so far, thank Goddess Tootega, no fights.

  “Can I start it up?” Brian asked, nodding toward Curly.

  “Sure. Go for a spin.” She tossed him the keys, then glanced down to the dock to see a bright orange kayak on the beach. “What’s this? A visitor? That looks like Nivi’s kayak.”

  “Who’s Nivi?” Brian asked.

  “She’s a local. Lives nearby. I haven’t seen her since last summer. Every once in a while she’ll come by to sell us fish. Maybe she’s brought us a salmon or a halibut. I hope so because I’m tired of eating out of cans.”

  Jordan walked to the center of camp just as Sonja arrived, her arm around another young woman’s shoulder, a shapely brunette wearing a T-shirt, shorts and hiking boots. Her boots and legs were splattered with dried mud and her demeanor suggested weariness.

  “There’s been an accident,” Sonja explained as they approached. “We need to call for help.”

  The stranger looked up and met Jordan’s eyes with her own light brown ones. Eyes the color of amber ale, searching, worried and instantly familiar. Jordan uttered an involuntary gasp. Kelly Sheffield!

  Kelly’s weary anguish was instantly transformed into shock. “Jordan!” she exclaimed, staring unbelievingly.

  “You two know each other?” Sonja asked.

  “Yes,” Jordan replied, rapidly collecting herself. “Kelly used to be a student of mine. What’s happened? Are you hurt?”

  Kelly looked around in confusion. “Is this your camp?” Her eyes flooded with tears as she pulled away from Sonja and flung her arms around Jordan’s neck, leaning on her heavily.

  “Jordan,” she gasped, “thank God! You’ve got to help. Pippa’s out there somewhere. She’s lost or hurt or…I don’t know what happened to her.”

  Jordan held her loosely, stroking her back to calm her, confused and uneasy as Kelly’s sobs overtook her.

  “Her friend Pipaluk,” Sonja elaborated. “She wants us to call a search team. She’s been lost for several hours now. She was lucky to run into the old woman over there.”

  Jordan glanced toward the dock where Malik and Nivi stood in conversation. Still muddled, she gently freed herself from Kelly. “Yes, of course we can call for help. We have a satellite phone. I’ll make the call right now. You should come along to answer questions.”

  Kelly nodded her understanding, her eyes full of emotion and bewilderment. She’s not the only one who’s bewildered, Jordan thought. What the hell is Kelly Sheffield doing in Greenland?

  Jordan led the way to her tent, Kelly close behind, wiping tears from her face but no longer crying. Jordan couldn’t shake her amazement at seeing her here. It had to be a coincidence because Kelly was clearly as surprised as she was.

  She held the flap aside, then followed Kelly in. The tent was separated into two distinct rooms by a curtain made of sheets. On
the right was Jordan’s personal space, her cot, dressing table, a shelf of books, a rack of clothes. On the left was a more public area with several chairs, equipment, stacks of boxes, and a long table containing a computer, radio and telephone, all the tools that kept them connected to one another and the rest of the world.

  She led the way to the worktable and offered Kelly a chair, pausing to take a better look at her. She must be thirty years old now. The track of her tears stained her cheeks where they had traveled through a layer of dust. She was beautiful, Jordan noted with awe. Changed but familiar with her clear pale complexion, small ears and nose, delicate features. Jordan observed her full, feminine mouth, as alluring as before, the same mouth she had so foolishly tasted nine years ago.

  The last time she had seen Kelly, Jordan recalled, her face had been also been stained with tears.

  It had been on her twenty-first birthday. Jordan had invited her out for a drink to celebrate. Her first legal drink and a rare social occasion for the two of them. Jordan didn’t usually go out with students, especially not ones who were in love with her. But this was an important day. In addition to the landmark birthday, it was the last time they would see one another and they both knew they were saying goodbye forever.

  Ever since Jordan had told Kelly she was leaving to take a position at UCLA, Kelly had been morose. At first, she had said she was coming to LA too, but Jordan talked her out of it. Kelly was in no position to do something like that, in the middle of obtaining her degree and with almost no money. It would have been the height of folly. “The most important thing,” Jordan had advised her, “is your education. Don’t let your emotions sidetrack you from what’s truly important.” Don’t make the same mistake I made, she could have easily added.

  Kelly was fundamentally a practical girl and so she relented. Perhaps she even understood that Jordan’s departure meant that she would be free at last from a hopeless infatuation. With Jordan out of the picture, she could move on and find someone more appropriate to love.