Christmas at Frozen Falls

by Kiley Dunbar

  But suddenly, we’re not laughing. There’s something familiar happening between us, and we both fall silent as our eyes lock.

  ‘Sylvie,’ he says, and I recognise that deep tone that sends my mind reeling. ‘I want to kiss you. Is that all right?’

  I tell him in a strangely high-pitched voice that, yes, I suppose it is all right.

  He exhales sharply, looking at me through narrowed eyes, before coming closer still. His lips brush mine for the briefest second. The sensation of his mouth and the sound of his breathing send an instant thrill of recognition to every nerve in my body as they pass on the message. This guy? He’s back? But we loved this guy!

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hi again! I thought it was time I treated you to another festive blog post.

  It’s strangely quiet at my cabin today and I find I have a little spare time, so I’ll tell you about the place I’m staying.

  Frozen Falls knows luxury accommodation. I have a huge soft bed, there’s underfloor heating in every room, and one of those fabulous wet rooms with the massive showerheads that I just love about Scandi countries. The resort provides a huge pile of firewood, so it’s kind of a DIY situation when it comes to lighting up your own grate, and there’s even a Christmas tree and a big basket of decorations, so you can really make yourself at home. But the highlight of the cabins for me is the bedroom under the stars. Still no aurora though. But I’m keeping my eyes open.

  Looking out at the trees and the dark and the snow you feel a million miles from the big cities. I almost forget they exist. We’re so remote, I get an overwhelming sense of expectation that anything can happen way out here. In fact, I’m heading out soon, ready for another adventure.

  The touristy veneer is cosy and inviting but I’m ready to discover what else Lapland has to offer. I just know its keeping its best secrets hidden. Frozen Falls is quietly reserved, well organised, clean, and generous, but what lies beneath all that? I’m going to find out. I’m going to ask my new friend and guide today if he’ll show me the places only locals know.

  Surely, not everything about this place is cookie-cutter pretty and wholesomely homey. I don’t mind getting grit on my boots and frostbite on my fingers if it means I experience something real, something only Inari has to offer, and it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be authentic.

  #offthebeatentrack #locallife #NariCultureDetective #Lapland

  Chapter Seventeen

  It’s only been half an hour since I waved Stellan off in the sleigh, watching from the steps of my cabin as the reindeer’s white powder puff tails wiggled away into the grey noon light. He’ll be heading back here soon, once he’s seen to a few jobs around the resort, and I’ve got to finish making lunch and there’s this clothes-strewn cabin to straighten before he gets here. So, as much as I’d like to flop down in front of the fire and stare out of the window at the snow falling, I can’t afford to daydream.

  I’ve stripped off my snowsuit, and I don’t need my extra layers, so they’re gone too, and I’ve done my best to assemble something approaching a tempting meal from the contents of the fridge. It’s all looking rather nice laid out on a big wooden board on the kitchen island, if I say so myself.

  I put the bread in the oven to warm through and dash to the bedroom to brush my hair and reapply Nari’s lipstick (like she told me to, if I got the opportunity). As I slick the deep red colour over my lips I can still feel the tingling sensation from Stellan’s kiss. A kiss that lasted only a second before we clambered, dazed and smiling, into the sleigh for the ride back to the resort. I wonder if he’ll kiss me again. He always was so… moreish. I’d better tidy myself up a bit more.

  I manage to send the fire roaring and crackling in the hearth and it is so warm in this cabin I don’t even need my fluffy slipper boots – I don’t fancy Stellan seeing me in those – and it’s beginning to dawn on me that, on this trip at least, he’s only really seen me in my outdoor polar gear over big jumpers and a million layers. Back in the day I never gave a thought to my clothes, I just threw on my DMs and whichever Topshop clobber were to hand and assumed I looked reasonably cute. Is that what Stellan’s expecting now? When he gets here he’s going to see me in just my soft black trousers and this hot pink jumper – another of Nari’s suggestions; she said it would ‘pop’ with my red hair and lipstick, but I feel a bit ridiculous and overdone.

  Frankly, I’m freaking out as I peer at my reflection and think how Stellan doesn’t seem to have aged much at all. His skin is still smooth and pale like unfired porcelain. I’m putting his fresh-face down to all this exercise and healthy arctic living, and he’s been clean-shaven apart from that first time I saw him again, when Nari and I thought he was a burglar trying to kill us. And his mouth is still infuriatingly youthful and pink.

  I think about his eyes as he pulled away from our kiss, heavy-lidded and dazed, and how I’d been struck by a shyness I haven’t felt in years. ‘How am I doing at opening up a little?’ he’d said, his gaze still lingering on my mouth.

  ‘Hmm,’ I’d replied, slyly. ‘Not bad, I suppose.’

  It had felt pretty easy and fun kissing in the snow outside the ice bar. But now I’m beginning to wonder what he was thinking. A pity snog? A bit of nostalgic nuzzling? He can’t fancy me now, not after all this time, and not with what I’ve been through lately. I’ve aged while he just hasn’t. I sigh and pinch my cheeks. At some point around my thirty-second birthday my formerly smooth-as-a-baby’s-bottom face took on the exact texture of flock wallpaper and I’m aware that Stellan probably thinks I’m a bit saggy of tummy and, God forbid, fluffy around the jowls.

  Well there’s nothing I can do about it anyway and, oh shit, that’s him banging at the door!

  Any concerns I had about how Stellan would react to seeing me in my normal clothes with my hair uncovered disappear as I pull open the door to discover Toivo, Kanerva’s littlest puppy, held aloft at face height by a grinning Stellan.

  ‘Somebody wanted to see his favourite English lady again.’

  ‘And what did Toivo want to do?’ I hear an unnecessarily goofy laugh coming from somewhere and realise it’s me. ‘Sorry! Come in.’ Lifting Toivo into my arms and holding him close, I enjoy the sensation of his fluffy ears tucked under my chin. ‘Thank you for bringing dis liddle guy.’ I carry Toivo off towards the fridge. ‘Let’s see if I can find you something to eat, huh?’

  Stellan stops by the door, immediately taking off his hat and peeling his snowsuit down. I’m glad I’ve got Toivo to distract me, because when I glance towards Stellan again, having offered the pup a morsel of the mysterious potted meat that was included with the welcome goodies, Stellan’s standing in my kitchen in dark trousers and a deep blue jumper – the Nordic, patterned kind you seriously wouldn’t expect a guy to look this good in. His hair’s all mussed up and bed-headish and I’m surprised I manage to contain the impulse to leap on top of him there and then. Impossible with a dog in my arms. Again, thank you, Toivo. I take a moment to remind myself I’m going to play it cool and just enjoy my last afternoon with Stellan.

  ‘This looks great. I’m so hungry,’ he says. ‘Usually I eat lunch in the kitchen at the dog sheds or out on the trail with the tourists, and it’s never anything as fancy as this, believe me.’

  ‘It sounds as though you need to treat yourself once in a while,’ I say, taking the bread from the oven before handing him a plate and a glass of champagne. I’m doing my best look-at-me-being-the-perfect-hostess-slash-domestic-goddess impression, even though all I’ve really done is tip the contents of jars and packets onto a board.

  ‘I think you’re right. You know, I can’t remember the last time I took a day off work in the busy season, let alone two days in a row,’ he says, as he tears a hunk of bread from the loaf and loads his plate with cheese and olives.

  ‘Really?’ I lower Toivo to the ground and set to work on filling a bowl with water for him.

  ‘I never had a good reason to before,’ Stellan s
ays with a smile that’s immediately followed by something that looks like self-consciousness.

  ‘In that case, I’m honoured. Come on, let’s sit by the fire,’ I say, helping him out.

  I pile my plate with the Lappish deli treats and we settle ourselves on the floor by the wide hearth, leaning against the sofa. Toivo tumbles around on the rug by our feet as we eat and I keep the champagne topped up in our glasses.

  Stellan asks me what I’d usually be doing on Christmas Eve and I opt to tell him about the alternate years me and Cole would spend with my family, which leads on to me talking about Mum and Dad’s New York holiday. I grab my phone, showing him the pictures they’ve been posting to Facebook for the last few days – they arrive in a sudden flurry of pinging notifications whenever I set foot within reach of my cabin’s Wi-Fi. Stellan watches as I ‘love’ every one of them.

  ‘This is them in Central Park, and that’s my dad with what looks like a huge slice of pepperoni pizza and a daft grin, and there they are Christmas shopping at Bloomingdales.’

  ‘They look happy.’

  ‘They are. They’re so cute together. Since they retired they just rattle around the house following each other about, making endless cups of tea. Mum reads stories from the newspaper to Dad and he has a grumble about politics or whatever’s bothering him that day. And they cook together a lot. It’s nice.’

  Stellan’s lips are smiling but there’s a dark look in his eyes. ‘Yeah, my parents never really had that kind of relationship. Dad’s always been kind of… distant. He worked most of the time when he was here, and when he wasn’t working he was worrying about work. Then his health forced him into early retirement and now he disappears on these long walks alone around Helsinki.’

  I can see talking about his father is causing Stellan some pain, but I let him say it aloud, wondering if he’s ever voiced this stuff before.

  ‘I always thought my mother seemed lonely but I could never talk to her about it. She’s probably still lonely, even now,’ he says, brushing some imaginary fluff from his sleeve. ‘But my sister lives in Helsinki; she sees my parents a lot and helps out.’ I witness the little flicker of guilt cross his face. He gulps his drink.

  ‘You can’t be everywhere at once,’ I tell him. ‘Besides, you’re giving your all to this place, aren’t you? And that’s for them, right?’

  He nods, but doesn’t answer, and is suddenly distracted by the buzz from his mobile on the floor beside him.

  ‘You should probably get that,’ I say, and am immediately rewarded by the sight of him reaching for his phone and turning it off without so much as looking at the screen.

  ‘The staff can manage without me for one day.’

  He sounds breezy and resolute but I appreciate the effort that took. He carries on eating and I let myself be distracted by Toivo begging for some cheese, which I slip him. I’m realising now how lonely Stellan’s been, working here for years, trying to make his parents proud. There’s been a toll to pay for inheriting the resort.

  ‘Did you ever, um… have a girlfriend here, or… whatever?’ I tail off, not sure I should push him on this. But he knows all about Cole, so fair’s fair.

  He hesitates at first, and when the words finally come, they’re slow and careful. ‘A few. The longest was Karin. She worked here the year after Dad had the stroke.’

  He raises his eyes to mine with a hint of caution. Is he wondering if I really want to hear this stuff? I do, and kind of don’t, at the same time. He sees me (fake) smiling my encouragement and presses on.

  ‘Karin was a ski instructor. She stayed around when spring came, and she helped out in the hotel, because of me, but… I don’t know, I was busy running this place. I guess I wasn’t as present as I could have been. She went home to Stockholm.’ He gives a punctuating nod of his head, before adding, ‘Quite rightly.’

  ‘Ah, well, it couldn’t have been very serious if she left you here, could it? Maybe it was for the best.’ I’ve said it out loud before I realise how glib and crass it sounds. Stellan noticeably blanches and I want to shrink into a ball and roll under the sofa. ‘I don’t mean she didn’t like you. I mean, she is only human, she probably thought you were some kind of Norse god made flesh…’ Shut up, Sylve! ‘What I meant was…’

  ‘It’s OK.’ Stellan laughs, letting me off the hook. ‘I didn’t look after her feelings so she left. And, you’re right, it wasn’t so serious… not compared to us.’

  He’s looking right at me and I feel myself freeze. I want to say, ‘But you left me.’ Instead I’m left floundering, feeling my heart skipping beats all over the place and wondering how it’s possible this guy can give me this sudden jolt of hope and happiness at the same time as I’m remembering the sad, sinking emptiness of being dumped by him.

  ‘Sylvie?’ he’s saying.

  I don’t know where to look or what to do, but it’s suddenly very warm here in front of the fire and I could do with some cold arctic air to clear my head.

  ‘Sylvie? Are you all right?’

  I look at his face, all concern and what I’m hoping is regret, and I just know I’m going to say it. I can’t not. The words are already spilling out and I feel fat, stupid tears accompanying them.

  ‘Stellan, why did you leave me?’ God, this is hideous and not at all what I had planned for our chilled out, one-off lunch date. I put my glass down, flattening my palms against the floor to stop it seesawing beneath me. ‘It’s not like I neglected you, or because I was working too hard, was it? I was there for you, one hundred per cent.’

  ‘You were there for me, you were!’ Stellan’s suddenly kneeling in front of me, his plate of food abandoned beside him. His hands grab mine. ‘I didn’t leave because there was something wrong with you, or with us. I had to leave.’

  ‘Without telling me first?’ Oh no, I’m about to full on sob in his face, which is inching closer to mine. I feel his fingers sink into my hair, holding me as he focuses those light eyes on mine.

  ‘Do you remember how it was… at the end? We were always together, and we were getting closer and closer?’ he says.

  I nod, but can’t speak yet. I think about those last few days, searing flashbacks to us in bed, kissing with flying sparks, and the feel of his skin against mine. ‘Why would you run away from that? It was perfect. We were perfect.’

  ‘We were. Those were the happiest days of my life. I wanted to stay so badly. I could have stayed there my whole life, kissing you.’

  The strange tender pain of a teenage broken heart grips me again, as if I’m falling into a time warp. I feel the physical ache in my chest just as I did back then, except I’m not nineteen-year-old me, there is no hurriedly written note on my pillow, and Stellan’s not on a flight home. He’s right here in front of me, and I can’t think of any better way to numb the hurt than to pull him towards me and kiss him, so I do, and he lets me. For a few moments there’s just us and the magical unnamed thing that connects us.

  ‘Wait, wait.’ Stellan pulls away just as I’m tipping our weight so he’ll tumble on top of me onto the rug. ‘I can’t think when you’re kissing me. I can hardly breathe! I have to tell you what happened. I can’t kiss you like this.’

  Now he wants to talk? If ever there was a time for silence, this is it. His eyes are heavy and drowsy and I can see the fight in him to break away. He has the look of a scared sinner at the confessional, and he’s got red lipstick smeared over his mouth. I hand him a napkin and we both set to work wiping the greasy red stains from our faces.

  He shuffles closer to the fireside, pulling me by the hand so I move over too, and he passes me my champagne glass again. I watch him take a deep breath that expands his chest and he exhales in a sudden heavy blow, getting ready to speak.

  ‘Do you remember that day I came back to your dorm, and you’d just had some exam results, and found out you’d failed?’

  ‘Rub it in, Stellan.’ To be honest though, I barely recollect it, and it hadn’t troubled me at the time, not
when I had Stellan in my life.

  ‘You said you didn’t care about the results, do you remember? You just seemed so happy to spend your time with me, and then we ended up kissing as usual and we slept together that afternoon for the second time, and it was kind of incredible. And we talked about getting some dinner, remember? We got dressed and went out for takeaway. When we got back you told me that you…’ He seems to be struggling to catch his breath now. ‘You told me you loved me. You came right out and said it in that grim little student kitchen. And it hit me. I just knew, instantly. I was bad for you. I was the reason you were failing uni, I was a distraction.’

  ‘I didn’t care, I wanted you to distract me!’

  ‘And you also wanted to be a teacher. That was one of the first things you ever told me, remember? The night we met? You said you loved researching Scandinavian history? You said that’s what made you want to be a teacher.’

  I shrug. ‘I guess I did.’ It’s half a lifetime ago since I had burning ambition like that and it didn’t last long. It’s hard to recapture that frame of mind.

  ‘I was thinking of your parents and how disappointed they’d be if they knew some guy who was only going to be around for a semester had turned up and made you flunk your exams. I worried about the impact their disappointment would have on you…’

  It’s at this point I interrupt. ‘I told you this morning my parents were never like that.’

  ‘You did, but I had no idea of that fact back then. I thought everybody was struggling with the same kind of pressures I was under, or something like it anyway. But, regardless of what your family would think of us, I couldn’t live my life knowing I’d spoiled your chance at getting the degree you needed to be a teacher. And you were only nineteen, just a kid really. So I left before I wrecked your future.’

  ‘But you broke my heart. I was crazy about you.’

  ‘I know.’ He takes my hand. ‘And I knew if you kept looking at me the way you looked at me that last time I saw you, back in your dorm, I’d never have the strength to leave and let you be everything you wanted to be.’