by Robbi McCoy
When she woke, they ate what was left of the food. She hadn’t planned on an extra day. Though she was still not fully recovered, she knew they had to push on while the weather allowed or they might be trapped by another storm and starve to death.
It was afternoon when they left the cave, emerging into sunshine and straggling gray clouds. A breeze coming off the icy bay bit at their noses. She knew it wasn’t likely they would find any more shelter, so she planned to keep walking as long as possible, through the night, hoping to reach the village by morning.
As evening approached, Asa spotted a herd of reindeer grazing close to the shoreline. She picked up Gudny and placed her on her shoulders so she could see them. There’s that smile, Asa thought, leaning her head back to look at Gudny’s delighted face. It cheered her to see it, as it always did. Back on her feet, Gudny walked beside her, holding her hand. Their pace was not fast, but it was steady.
Gudny’s good mood was short-lived as twilight descended. She was tired and hungry and continued to remind her mother of both conditions. Asa was having her own problems, feeling weak and struggling with the weight of her pack. There was a persistent pain in her abdomen and she knew she couldn’t carry both the pack and Gudny. Their rest stops came more frequently, which worried Asa, and when they came to an impassable ravine that stretched far inland, she nearly burst into tears.
“What’s the matter, Mama?” Gudny asked, tugging at her clothes.
Asa sighed and slipped the pack off her back, letting it fall to the ground. “I’m tired, hungry and sore. I don’t know if I can go on.”
Gudny leaned against Asa’s legs. “It’ll be all right,” she said softly, echoing Asa’s earlier words to her.
Asa took hold of Gudny’s hand and stared into the ravine at her feet. It was deep, jagged and in a strange way welcoming. One step and all of the misery of life would be over. If her hand had been empty, it would have been an easy step to take.
Gudny slipped away and took hold of the strap on the pack, tugging at it. “Do you want me to carry this?” She heaved, gritting her teeth and screwing up her little face, dragging the pack across the ground.
Asa laughed and reached down to take it from her, recommitted to her task. They walked parallel to the ravine until it came to an end at a trickling brook. They stopped at the brook to drink. As Asa squatted beside it, she spotted a patch of bright green further up. She walked up to investigate.
“Kvan!” she shouted with delight.
The large-leaved plants grew in the soft gravel beside the brook. Gudny sat on a rock while Asa cut down several plants with her stone knife.
“You like kvan,” she reminded Gudny, handing her a stalk.
Gudny held it in her gloved hand, looking puzzled.
“Eat it,” Asa urged. She demonstrated by taking a bite off a stem. Gudny did the same, frowned, then ate some more. She had never eaten raw kvan. Normally, they cooked it in milk, which was much better, but it wasn’t so bad this way.
Asa tied a bundle of kvan to the outside of her pack and they set off again, both of them chewing a stalk of the plant. She felt more optimistic now that they had some food. As they worked their way back on the other side of the ravine, she looked south along the shoreline and thought she recognized a certain rocky point. She couldn’t be sure, but if it was the landmark she thought it was, they were two and a half hours from home. Two or two and a half hours for a healthy adult. For the two of them, maybe three and a half. Still, that was wonderful to realize…if it were true. She tried not to get too excited. One rocky point looked a lot like another. If it was the one she knew, they would find out as soon as they got high enough to see past it. There was an island on the other side of it, jutting up from the frozen bay. It was a favorite roost of birds and was shaped like Thor’s hammer lying on its side. The handle of the hammer faced east. There would be no mistaking that landmark, if it was there.
Asa quickened her step, anxious to get the view that would tell her they were nearly home.
Chapter Thirteen
Kelly was disappointed that Jordan hadn’t offered to share her tent. It was possible she was unhappy with Kelly’s sudden appearance here. She’d thought she’d gotten rid of her years ago, that annoying besotted girl whose uncontrolled passions sapped her energy. But I’m not that girl anymore, Kelly inwardly objected, at the same time realizing Jordan couldn’t know that. That’s what Kelly was here to prove.
Exhausted both physically and emotionally, she retired to Sonja’s dome-shaped tent. She spread her borrowed sleeping bag on a cot next to Sonja’s. Then she took off her boots and lay on top of the sleeping bag, staring up at the bright blue fabric stretched tight across the tent’s aluminum skeleton. The sound of music reached her ears indistinctly.
It had been over two hours since she got here. The more time that went by, the more worried she got about Pippa. She had heard nothing yet. Why was it taking so long? She yearned for and dreaded the moment when she would hear that Pippa had been found.
A shadow outside the tent distracted her. The flap opened and Sonja ducked inside carrying a cookie. She dropped onto her cot and broke the cookie in half.
“I brought dessert,” she said.
Kelly rolled onto her side and took the offering. It was peanut butter, soft and sweet and just the right thing to cap off the night.
“Thanks.”
Sonja sat on the edge of her cot facing Kelly. “Are you all set?”
“Yes. All the comforts of home.”
“I’ve been living like this for a few weeks already. It’s not bad. I don’t mind. The worst thing is the mosquitos.”
Kelly nodded and ran her finger over one of the itchy red bumps on her cheek.
“That reminds me,” Sonja said, reaching into her front pocket. “I have an antiseptic wipe for that cut on your leg.”
Kelly sat up and pulled her pants leg up to reveal several small scratches and one cut deep enough to have bled.
“How did you get so scratched up anyway?” Sonja asked.
“Brambles. I went through a horrible bog. There are some really nasty plants around here.”
Sonja rubbed the moist cloth gently across the wound a couple of times, producing a slight sting. “Yeah,” she said. “You should stay on the trail.”
“I would have if I could have found it.”
Sonja caressed Kelly’s calf tenderly before rolling the pant leg back into place. Then she looked up and smiled. “You’re cute.”
“Thanks. I don’t feel very cute tonight.”
“I admit you looked fresher this morning, but you’ve had a rough day. Still, pretty darn cute. The way we keep running into each other, maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”
Kelly laughed, then abruptly cut herself off when Sonja leaned toward her, looking like she was going to kiss her. Kelly caught her shoulders and held her off.
“No goodnight kiss?” Sonja asked, rocking back onto her cot.
Kelly shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. This just doesn’t seem like the time and place.”
Sonja pressed her lips together in resignation and sighed. “Okay. I understand. It’s not that often a rocking hot lesbian shares my tent. I was thinking it was my lucky night.”
“Sorry.”
“Is Pippa your girlfriend?”
Kelly was surprised by the question. “No. We’re just friends.” She got inside her sleeping bag and lay on her side facing Sonja. The cots were nearly touching, as the tent was so small it could barely sleep two.
“So you were Jordan’s student too,” Sonja said, crawling into her own bag. “When was that?”
“Ten years ago. How long have you known her?”
“A year. I’ve had her for two semesters. She’s great, isn’t she? I was so lucky to get chosen for this fieldwork. It’s a terrific opportunity. Eight weeks in Greenland. Everybody’s so envious.”
“I can imagine. Eight weeks is quite a while to be gone, though
. Nobody brought their spouses, I guess.”
“No. Malik’s lucky. He’s got all his family in town. Brian’s wife is back home and he misses her like crazy. And Julie’s single.”
“What about Jordan?” Kelly tried to make her voice sound as casual as possible. “Did she have to leave someone behind?”
Sonja narrowed her eyes slightly before saying, “Not that I know of. She’s married to her work. But she doesn’t talk about her personal life, if there is one, which I totally doubt. How about before, when you knew her?”
“She was like that then too.”
Sonja’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Her students call her The Ice Queen.”
Kelly flinched. “Really?”
Sonja shrugged. “It’s not in a mean way. Everybody likes her. Girls especially. When she was your teacher, did you know about her? Did you know she was gay?”
“Yeah, we knew. She didn’t discuss it or anything. I mean, she wouldn’t talk about something like that, but she didn’t try to hide it.”
“Were you out then too?”
“I was just figuring things out. Jordan became a role model for me. I was looking for female role models, I guess, lesbians in particular.”
Sonja smiled knowingly. “Did you have a crush on her?”
Kelly hesitated before saying, “Yeah, sure. Who wouldn’t, right? I mean, don’t you?”
Sonja laughed, but didn’t seem inclined to answer. Was that a yes? Kelly wondered.
“Do you know anything about her?” Sonja asked. “Her family or background?”
“No, not really.” What Kelly did know, she wasn’t inclined to share with Sonja. Though the facts were skimpy and of little use to someone trying to force her way into Jordan’s private world, Jordan wouldn’t like them being shared.
Jordan grew up in a poor, religious farming family in the Midwest, one of two daughters. Her sister had remained there, marrying and having three children. As far as Kelly knew, Jordan had little to do with any of them. Their lives had grown too far apart in every way imaginable. To Kelly, Jordan had seemed isolated with no family, no lover, no close friends. All of her relationships seemed to be purely professional, except her odd friendship with Kelly. It was hard to know how to describe that, hard even to call it a “friendship,” but they had been close in a way, and Kelly believed Jordan had been fond of her.
“What about you?” she asked Sonja. “Nobody waiting back home?”
“Nope.” Sonja adjusted her pillow and laid her head flat. She held the open edge of her sleeping bag up. “You sure you don’t want to zip them together? It’s warmer that way.”
“Fortunately, it’s not a cold night.”
Sonja laughed again and zipped up her bag. “Good night.” She turned over and grew quiet.
Kelly lay on her back, listening to the soft music drifting through the still night. She gradually recognized it as smooth jazz. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but if somebody was still playing music it probably wasn’t too late. She soon concluded that she wasn’t going to fall asleep so easily after all, despite her exhaustion. She was too worried about Pippa and too aware of Jordan’s nearness.
She unzipped her sleeping bag, prompting Sonja to roll over and say, “Where ya going?”
“I can’t sleep. Is there any herbal tea?”
“You know where the coffeepot is. It’s right there.”
“Do you want anything?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be asleep in a minute.”
Kelly pulled on her jacket and went outside. The music, she discovered, came from Malik’s tent, easily identified by Atka lying just outside the entrance. The interior was dimly lit. The other two tents nearby, Julie’s and Brian’s, were both dark. This cluster of small tents was downslope from the center of the camp where the kitchen and living areas were set up. Jordan’s tent, the big one, was about fifty feet further up from there. A lantern was on inside. Jordan was still up.
Thumbing through the teabags, she selected an orange spice, noting a few packets of rooibos. That had been Jordan’s particular favorite, she recalled. Maybe it still was.
She turned to the stove to see Malik standing beside her. Startled, she gasped and clutched her chest. His black eyes were cool and expressionless. The Greenland flag on his scalp glowed pink in the night sunlight.
“Sorry,” he said in a soft, nonthreatening voice. “I did not mean to scare you. I heard you walk by.”
“I didn’t think I’d made any noise.”
“Only the feet of animals make no noise.”
Impulsively, Kelly glanced down at his feet, seeing a pair of Teva sandals and wondering what she had expected to see. Atka sat beside him, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
“You are making tea?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t think I can sleep. Too worried about Pippa.”
“Let me light the stove,” he offered, lifting the lid to reveal two burners. “Pippa is a sweet little girl.”
“You know her?”
“We have lived in the same town all our lives. You see how small it is.”
“Of course.”
He struck a match and lit the stove, adjusting the flame before putting a pan of water on the burner.
“I hope I didn’t wake you up with my thunderous tromping through camp,” Kelly said.
Malik smiled. “No. I was awake, working. I never sleep well in summer. As a kid, I would stay up sometimes all night in summer. Lots of kids do that.”
“I’ve seen it. At midnight, I’ve looked out the window to see them racing past in the road on their bikes. It seems so strange.”
“Three months of the year we do not see the sun. We hibernate like bears and wait for it. In the spring, when the first ray of sunlight peeks over the hills and touches our cheek with a kiss of warmth, we awake. ‘Seqineq nuivoq,’ we say with joy in our hearts: The sun has risen. The frozen earth begins to melt. Out flows water, insects, plants and animals, emerging like a flood of life, swelling as the days grow longer and the great summer thaw begins. Then we sing and dance and celebrate life. No time for sleeping.”
He spoke like a poet, Kelly observed. “You said you were awake, working on something. What?”
“I am making a collection of Kalaallit stories in English, to save them for the world. It is what I do in my spare time. Some of these have never been written down in English before.”
“What a wonderful project!”
“Yes.” Malik looked pleased with her response. “I have been searching through old libraries here and in Denmark to find forgotten stories written down by European visitors in the sixteen and seventeen hundreds. I compare those to traditional stories handed down orally, trying to find the roots of our legends. But mainly I talk to old people and ask them what stories their parents and grandparents told them when they were little children. I was very glad to meet Nivi today. She invited me to come to visit her, so she can tell me all her old stories. Just like in your country where every child knows the story of Little Red Riding Hood or the legend of the tooth fairy, I hear many of the same stories over and over and that is how I know they are part of our culture and have been passed down for many generations.”
“I’d love to hear some of those stories,” Kelly said. “It’s so interesting that you work in both the science of the natural world and the culture of the people at the same time, that you’re so interested in both.”
“There is no difference to me between the natural world and the people who live in it. It is all Greenland.” He smiled, then turned to the boiling water on the stove. “Here is your water ready. I will see you in the morning and I hope to hear good news about Pippa.”
He returned to his tent, Atka at his heels, and the camp was silent again. Kelly put a teabag in a mug and poured hot water over it, then her attention was drawn back to the big tent with its circle of white light seeping through the fabric.
She impulsively opened a packet of rooibos and made a second cup of tea.
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Chapter Fourteen
Staring up through the hole above, Pippa could tell it was night by the color of the sky. It was rosy gold. She didn’t know what day of the week it was. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep. Her head hurt and her swollen ankle throbbed with pain. She sat up and gritted her teeth through the painful process of removing her boot. Finally it was off and she leaned back with a deep sigh. Her stomach rumbled so loudly it echoed through the small chamber. Too bad she hadn’t been carrying her backpack when she’d fallen in here. She could really use that ræklinger now. Not to mention her water bottle. She ran her tongue over her dry lips.
She understood now that she wasn’t in America or England or Africa, but in Greenland as she always had been. Her mind had cleared. She had fallen into this cave while picking cottongrass flowers. The ground had given way beneath her feet, plunging her into this dungeon. She also understood that it wasn’t really a cave, not in the strict sense of the term. It was a pocket created by a pile of boulders that had fallen in the ravine long ago. The space between them had filled in over time with gravel, sand and dirt, forming an airtight chamber. It wasn’t airtight anymore, she mused, looking through the opening above.
It hadn’t been airtight earlier either, she thought, not during the Viking days. That is, if everything she had just seen had actually happened.
For several minutes, she had been lying here marveling at the experience she had just had, trying to decide if she had been dreaming or if she had had a vision. It wasn’t like any dream she’d ever had. It was vivid and powerful, and the emotions of it still gripped her. She remembered earlier that she’d seen a woman’s face in the darkness, and she now knew that face was that of a Viking woman named Asa. She also believed that this was the same cave Asa had happened across in her journey home. Everything about it fit. Somehow that woman was speaking to her across the centuries.
Gradually overcoming the amazement of her vision, Pippa turned her mind to her own situation. Perhaps, she thought tentatively, Asa is trying to help me. She sat up and peered into the gloom. Hundreds of years ago, there had been at least one crevice between the rocks of this structure wide enough for a woman to fit through. If she could find that and open it up again, she might be able to get out. Because there was no way she could get out the way she had come in short of flying.
