by J L Gillham
When I look up, I realize Finn is staring at me. “I have today off from the diner. Need any help?”
I’m about to decline when Nicky interrupts. “Sure. You and Noelle can take care of the reindeer. Come to think of it, I was supposed to help out with them last night too, but...” he glances toward his foot.
I bite my lip. “Both of you can help,” I offer, then smile at Aurora.
“Oh, um, I was going to check out the sewing room.” The disappointment in her voice is impossible to miss. Then she adds, “But, if you’re busy...” Aurora wraps her arms around herself and looks down.
“I’ll take you. It’s a short hobble,” Nicky says.
Once we’ve all finished dinner, Nicky and Aurora head off.
“Wait here,” I say to Finn. Five minutes later, I’ve grabbed my utility belt and stocked my one empty pocket with a treat for the reindeer, carrots. Fortunately, that also reminds me to add some doggy treats to the pocket designated for them.
We exit Homebase, then walk in silence until we get to the stables. “Can you tell me all the names of the reindeer?” Finn asks.
“Sure, but don’t expect any to have a red shiny nose,” I tease. Just then a breeze chills my exposed skin. I pull up the hood attached to my jacket. Finn does the same thing. I list the reindeer’s names. By the time I’m done, we are at the stables.
“Hi, Kringle. How are you?” My smile wilts as I catch the expression on his face.
“Some of the reindeer have gotten loose.” He scratches his head and stares off at nothingness, muttering again, “Can’t be.” Then after a pause, he adds, “Must be.”
Unsure if he’s muttering about Nicky not taking care of the elves last night, I clear my throat. “Did you know Nicky got hurt?”
This pulls him from his thoughts. He looks up at me. “Is the poor lad okay?”
“He’ll be fine in a few days, but I’m here to do his chores.” I look around for a moment, then let my gaze rest back on Kringle. “Which I guess means looking for the missing reindeer,” I say in more of a question than a statement.
“Right, right.” Kringle scratches his head again, then heads to the exit. All three of us step outside. There are tracks leading in two directions. “The two of you can follow those.” Kringle points at the ones heading east. “I’ll follow this set north.”
Finn and I make our way to the forest. The breeze amps up a notch, and I press my gloved hands against my cheeks to protect them.
“Looks like two sets of reindeer prints,” Finn says. I glance at him to see his cheeks are already pink from windburn.
“I think these hoof prints are Maribelle and her daughter, Pixy.” I’m about to ramp up my pace when I see something I can’t ignore. Pausing, I tilt my head back as far as I can. “It’s expanded,” I say out loud but to myself.
“What is?” Finn looks up, too.
I grind my teeth, annoyed I forgot even momentarily that he is with me. Lies begin filling my mind, like a tiny pond overstocked with fish. I rub my arms as I begin reeling one in.
“Hear that?” Finn asks.
I’m grateful not to have to talk about the tendrils of the crack of the dome above expanding since I last saw them. However, my momentary relief is short-lived as I remember the current panic about the reindeer.
I strain to listen. “That must be them!” A loud grunt sounds in the distance. The closer we get, the thornier the path gets.
“Ouch.” I glance down to see a few dots of blood on my right wrist.
“Found her!” Finn shouts from the other side of a hill.
I make my way to the top then around two broad trees to see Maribelle. Finn is pulling at a thicket of branches her antlers got tangled up in.
After five minutes of failing to get her to stop yanking left and right, I remember my last-minute pit stop. “Here you go.” I give her carrots and one of the cookies I stole from the kitchen. “And there’s one more for you if you just stop wiggling.”
Finn rubs behind her ear, and I continue talking in a calm voice. Little by little, Finn unwinds the heinous branches until I hear an audible sigh. “She’s free.”
I give her the second of my three cookies. “This last one is for your little girl. Where is she?” I attach the leash to Maribelle’s collar and lead her toward the edge of the forest.
As we scan the outskirts of the tree line and the nearby mountain, Finn clears his throat. I turn to him.
“So, excited about your big day tomorrow?” he asks.
Do I tell him how much our conversation helped me? Before that, I was never willing to give being Santa a try. But now that my parents aren’t willing to let me out even on a rare occasion, can I still follow through with my promise to myself to take on the Santa mantel?
I sigh as I think about the bird sanctuary going up in smoke and how much trouble I’ve caused in my pursuit of happiness. Yes, I’ll step into the role I inherited, even if it means never fleeing this snow globe prison except to deliver gifts on Christmas Eve. But before I do that, I’ll have to go through the ceremony.
“Hopefully, I won’t trip as I make my way toward the front,” I say while shaking my head.
“Oh, right. Your coronation is tomorrow.” Finn continues walking. I keep up with his pace while Maribelle saunters slowly behind me. He chuckles. “I was talking about your birthday.”
My cheeks turn red, and it’s not from rubbing up against any poinsettias. I shrug but don’t say anything. Him bringing up my birthday only reminds me about my party last year and that I almost embarrassed myself by confessing my feelings for him.
We both continue searching. “I see something.” Finn jogs toward one of the cave entrances. He holds something up. “I think it’s her collar!”
“Huskety-o-muskety!” I shout.
“That’s a new one,” Finn says as he jogs next to me.
“Sorry, it means hurry.” I chuckle, forgetting not everyone uses some of the phrases I’ve heard my entire life.
With a glance back toward the forest, I make up my mind. “You stay here,” I say in a soothing voice to Maribelle. “And I promise to return Pixy as soon as possible.” I secure her to a thin tree, then jog to Finn.
“Thanks,” I say as I take the collar and slide it so that it dangles from the carabiner hook on my belt next to my grappling hook.
“Looks like she wandered in here.” Finn takes a step into the shadows.
I rub my cheeks up and down a few times then lower my hands, grateful the caves will protect us from the wind outside. Then I follow Finn, calling out, “Pixy, where are you?” Thirty steps in and we are already confronted with a choice.
“Any chance you’ve been in these caves before?” Finn asks.
“Yes, but it’s been a little while,” I say. What I don’t say is that Cole and I inspected some of them last year. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t some secret tunnel I could crawl through that would get me under the magical barrier and through to the other side of Winter Wonderland.
The caves aren’t off limits, exactly. Dad always said to let someone know if I was playing in them, and to never go alone. Well, I’ve got one of his two recommendations fulfilled, even if no one but Finn knows where we are going.
“That way,” I point to the tunnel on the right.
“Do you hear the reindeer?” Finn follows my lead.
“No, but the air seems a little fresher,” I respond.
“Is that some survival technique you picked up?” Finn catches up to me.
“Yep, from ‘Lord of the Rings.’”
I press the button on my headlamp, turning on the tiny but powerful LED light.
A few minutes later we are presented with another fork in the passageway. It doesn’t take long to discover the first option leads us to a sudden dead end. Unfortunately, Pixy isn’t waiting for us at it. We backtrack, then take the only other choice. We move in silence until Finn speaks. “Are you expecting to beat Nicky’s score on the next simulation trainin
g?”
I figure he’s making small talk. At least it’s something easy enough to answer. “As soon as I can get one more round in, I should have it in the bag.”
“Your training seems...” he trails off.
By his tone, it seems like he might finish with intense or a waste of time. “Fun,” he says.
I chuckle. “Not as much as playing Monopoly or snowball soccer,” I tease.
Fun is one word I’ve never used to describe my time pretending to be the next Santa. A challenge? Yes. Annoying? Absolutely. But fun?
“You should try it sometime,” I say.
“Can I? That would be awesome.” Finn lifts his fist into the air and shakes it. “I’ll beat the highest score. You wait and see.”
Suddenly, my light begins to flicker. “Uh-oh.” The moment I begin speaking, it ticks off. I make a mental note to add a backup battery to my utility belt. Before I have a chance to panic, our path is illuminated by my headlamp switching itself back on.
We continue down the path. “Pixy!” I shout, in case she can hear us. “Come here, baby.”
“Ouch!” Finn says.
I turn and face him.
“The ceiling must be getting lower.” He’s crouching down and rubbing his head. At this moment, my fickle light turns back off. We both pause until it comes on again. This time it takes twice as long for the illumination to return.
Once it does, I need to mimic Finn and begin crouching too.
“Think we should turn back?” he asks.
“We’ve come this far. Mine as well go all the way,” I answer. However, I wonder if there are occasional cave-ins. I decide we will turn back if there is any sign of danger.
Eventually the hunching turns to crawling. I begin humming to take my mind off the feeling of impending doom. “Do you think Pixy could even make it through this tunnel?”
Although there is only two feet of space between my head and the ceiling, there is plenty of room to my left and right. Finn and I are shoulder to shoulder so that we can both see using my headlamp.
“She’s the smallest of them all. Pixy wouldn’t need to lower her head at this height,” I answer.
A large chunk of dirt falls from above. “Yuck,” I say, then spit trying to get some of the muck out of my mouth.
“We need to turn back.” Finn stops moving. “I don’t like the fact that the ceiling, even just a little, is now part of the floor.
I’m about to concede defeat, especially since up ahead the entire dimensions of the tunnel begin to get narrower, when I hear a loud whiny baying sound.
“Pixy!” I shout.
I scurry, not waiting for Finn. Finally, I can barely see the outline of Pixy in the distance. “I’m coming, sweetheart.”
But instead of being reassured, Pixy turns and stomps away. As the pace of her exodus increases, so does her yowling in terror. And the ceiling begins raining dust and debris.
“Huskety-o-muskety!” Finn shouts from right behind me. The sporadic sprinkle of chunks from the ceiling turns into a constant downpour as we move quickly.
“Ow!” I complain as I hit a rock. Then we are plunged into darkness as a rock smacks into my headlamp cracking my light.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Fortunately, once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize light is coming from in front of us. “Keep moving,” I say as I crawl toward the dimly lit opening. With the rocks still falling, I slow my pace and use one hand to cover my head. Finn bumps into me. We both half crawl, half roll out of the tunnel and plop onto the floor of the cave.
I sit for a moment to catch my breath. Then something wet rubs against my cheek as I hear a loud slurp. “Pixy, stop,” I say, holding my hand up to block her. Opening my eyes, I watch as she saunters over to Finn and resumes her licking.
“Guess you’re okay, huh?” Finn says, but doesn’t stop the reindeer from her impromptu face washing.
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, then get the collar from my utility belt. After slipping it onto Pixy, I asses my surroundings. This area is illuminated by a crevasse in the western corner of the ceiling.
“I’ve got this.” I stand and remove my grappling hook from my belt. With perfect aim, I throw it so it grips the edge of the opening. “Yes.” My new plan is for Finn and me to climb out and get help now that we know where Pixy is.
My victory is short-lived. Instead of pulling myself up by the rope, part of the ceiling breaks off and drops to the ground. With it comes the grappling hook.
“Better not try again.” Finn shakes his head. “Guess we’ll have to find another way out.” Finn wipes his hands on his pants and begins inspecting our room. “Wait. I think I hear...” Instead of finishing his thoughts, he heads into a dark tunnel opposite the side we entered through.
“Finn!” I shout. Then I race to catch up to him, Pixy trailing close behind.
“It’s this way,” I hear him say.
I hold my hands up in front of me, unable to see. “Stay close, girl,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster.
Finally, I hear it too. “The waterfall!” The closer I get to the cascade, the better I can see. The center of the waterfall is frozen solid, but thin streams of liquid surround and run down the icy column.
When I catch up to Finn, he’s scrubbing his face with hands from the droplets of runoff.
“Any idea where we are now?” he asks. The water and dirt have mixed, making soot-colored trails run down his face as he finishes rinsing off.
“Absolutely.” I don’t try to hide my smugness. “See that?” I point to the varying shades of blue leading toward an exit. “We are at the ice caves.”
“I didn’t know about these,” Finn says. Pixy licks the nearest frozen wall.
“During the winter the waters go through numerous cycles where they repeatedly freeze and thaw causing the ice caves to constantly change.” I run my hand along a column of ice. Finn and Pixy follow me. We pass by the end of the waterfall, taking careful steps on the nearby rocks so we don’t slip.
“Watch your step.” I try to lead Pixy along a thin trail of rocks that juts out barely above the two-inch-deep frozen walkway.
“Stunning,” Finn says as he admires the stalactites formed from water seepage in the same way one would do an art gallery. The iridescent shades of blue are just as captivating as any priceless painting. Up close the section of ice I’m looking at reminds me of the magical snow globe. I gasp, an idea forming in my mind that I’ll work out shortly.
I take a deep breath the moment we are out of the caves. Finn stands next to me. “Wow, these are beautiful. Maybe we can come back after Christmas, do some exploring?” he asks with eagerness in his voice.
I turn around and look behind us and shake my head. “I think I’ve had enough of dark, tight spaces for a while, ice or no ice.” What I don’t elaborate on is some of that time has been in the vents under the arboretum.
Once we’ve skirted the mountain, mother and daughter are reunited. Maribelle licks Pixy and sniffs the air around her. Finn and I each hold on to the cords of the reindeer as we make our trek back home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“You dropped something,” Finn says when we are near the reindeer barn. He bends down and picks up the folded slip of paper that had been in my back pocket. By the time I’ve closed the distance between the two of us, his jovial expression diminishes.
The note from Cole is written in the snowflake alphabet. Even though I gave Finn the translation days ago, it’s doubtful he would’ve memorized it in that short of time, not just because of the difficulty, but also why would he?
“Thanks.” I yank it from his hand. When I look up at him, he’s smiling, but the grin doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
In the note Cole simply apologized for not writing more lately and said he’s looking forward to seeing me, nothing Finn would get upset about if he could translate it.
“And thanks for your help.” I force a smile.
“Sure.” Finn tilts his h
ead.
“I just remembered there’s something I need to do.” I know it’s a lame excuse to separate from him, but I’m too excited at my revelation to care.
“Would you mind taking the girls back to the barn?” I bite my lip.
Finn nods. He takes the leashes and heads off. I’m sure Finn thought my abrupt departure a bit rude, but I just have to find out if the epiphany I had in the ice caves is correct.
Although I’m worn out from crawling along the cave floor, I jog to my room, grab my go-bag, and make my way back to the ice caves. Once there I pass them by and spend the next fifteen minutes jogging until I reach the furthest part of the eastern barrier. There can’t be any lingering eyes.
Finally standing before the dome, I don’t stop to catch my breath. Instead, I pull the magical snow globe out of my go-bag. “No!” I shout when I see that the cracks zigzag their way around the entire piece of glass.
Holding it out as far from my body as I can, I realize I’m bracing myself as if the snow globe is about to shatter from the fissure. After a few anticlimactic seconds, nothing happens. Instead of spending more time inspecting the snow globe as if I’m Sherlock Holmes and it holds the clue to my current case, I continue on with my purpose for being at this border.
I’m so close to the wall my white puffs of breath hit it. “This has to be the answer,” I say. Clutching the magical snow globe against my chest, I walk forward. And nothing stops me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Yes!” I shout after I’ve walked through the shimmering wall. I look all around, half expecting Ebenezer to be standing right before me ready to kidnap me. I allow my heart to return to a steady rhythm as I realize I am all alone. Off in the distance are scattered trees and snow-covered hills as far as I can see.
“Huh,” I say aloud. To my surprise, the view is a bit anti-climactic. There’s not much difference between the snow-covered forest I saw when I smacked into Finn last week after running through the exit of Winter Wonderland and the scene before me. No matter. I’ve figured out how Nicky, Finn, Aurora and I made it through the barrier when we went to the beach. And how to make my great escape.
