Christmas at Frozen Falls

by Kiley Dunbar

  ‘I can relate,’ I tell him.

  I throw his toy for him umpteen times and each time he obediently returns it to me. After a while, and as I’m realising I should probably go before one of Stellan’s staff arrives and finds me sniffing huskies, Toivo’s keen eyes begin to grow droopy. He’s tired out already. So, I scoop him up again and he immediately falls asleep on my lap.

  ‘Oh, Toivo, I’m going home in the morning and I’m going to miss you so much. I didn’t think I could love another dog after Barney, but here we are. Has anyone ever told you that they love you? Has Stellan, I wonder? Hmm? Well, minä rakastan sinua, little Toivo. I love you.’ He snores almost imperceptibly and I watch his round belly moving. ‘The last guy I said that to made a run for it, all the way from Manchester to Lapland. But you wouldn’t do that, would you?’

  I lean over his fuzzy, wrinkly head and plant a kiss between his ears, and something in me breaks, and I suddenly want to sob my heart out. Saying goodbye to this little guy is harder than I thought it would be.

  I shouldn’t have come here today. Why put myself through another heartrending goodbye? I’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime.

  Just as I’m searching my snowsuit pockets for a tissue, I hear someone clear their throat behind me, and I wilt a little more, because I know who it is.

  ‘How long have you been standing there?’ I say, as I turn around to look at Stellan. My jaw drops open and I take a few bewildered moments to recover myself. ‘Wow! What are you wearing?’

  I’m looking at head to toe dark red velvet, white furry cuffs, curly-toed reindeer hide boots, and a fur-trimmed hat with a pompom hanging down by Stellan’s grinning face.

  ‘I told you I had a special job to do on the resort this morning.’

  ‘You’re Santa Claus?’

  My eyes must be as round as saucers because Stellan’s like none of the moth-eaten department store Santas I ever saw as a kid. He is high-end, deluxe Mr Christmas. His tunic is embroidered with patterned Scandinavian ribbons of colourful thread and he’s wearing a thick green sash around his trim waist. There isn’t so much as a hint of dodgy cotton wool sideburns or an unconvincing elasticated beard, thank goodness. All I’m seeing is the sleek blond ends of Stellan’s hair squashed down under the hat, a smoothly shaven jaw and killer cheekbones.

  The effect is hypnotic, and I grin back at him because that smile he’s giving me means my Christmas day is most definitely looking up. I purposefully don’t give voice to any of the inappropriately smutty remarks about sitting on his lap or asking what he might have in his sack for me – even though they’re queuing up on the tip of my tongue ready to be blurted out. The strain is almost too much to bear.

  ‘So, have you been a good girl this year, Sylvie Magnusson?’ he asks with a devilish wink.

  ‘Oh, thank God someone said it!’

  And we’re off again, laughing like we did yesterday and his eyes are sparkling in the harsh strip lights above us.

  ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he says.

  ‘It’s all right, you had work to do. I understand. Listen, you took a day and a half off from the resort for me. I’m happy with that.’ I try to give a carefree shrug, but he knows I’m faking it. He comes to sit beside me and gives the sleeping Toivo a scratch on the head.

  ‘You don’t understand. One of the enclosure fences was pushed over by a snowdrift. Usually I’m around to clear the snow, but yesterday I wasn’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. You neglected your work because of me, and I shouldn’t have let you.’

  ‘Are you kidding? I was having the time of my life yesterday. I wouldn’t have left for all the world, only the fence came down and some of the dogs got loose and one of the pregnant bitches got frightened and ran off into the forest. If she’d whelped out there there’s no way the puppies would have survived the night.’

  I raise a hand to my mouth.

  ‘That’s why my phone was ringing yesterday after I’d told the staff not to disturb us, but they knew, in her frightened state, she’d only respond to my calls, and so one of the husky team drove over to your cabin hoping to find me there, and I just panicked and flew out the door. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’d have done the same thing. Did you find her?’

  ‘Yes, thank God, after a long search. She was hiding, terrified, under a bridge about a kilometre away. But by the time we’d got her settled again, and rounded up the others, and repaired the fence, I was worried it was too late for me to come back to your cabin.’

  ‘You should have come, I was hoping you would. I saved you some cookies.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘For an hour I did. Then they got eaten.’

  ‘I thought it wouldn’t be right, turning up uninvited, late at night, especially after I ran out on our date.’

  ‘Stellan, you never need to wait for an invitation to come see me. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ He nods to himself, processing what I’ve said, taking the reassurance I’m offering.

  But my brain’s reeling and I’m speaking again before I have the awareness to stop myself. ‘I thought you left because… well, because we were kissing and I was too…’ I break off for a moment because Stellan’s looking at me, his brow hitched and his lips quirking. Is he amused or does he think I’m insane? ‘I was afraid you didn’t come back last night, and you didn’t call me this morning, because I was too… full on, like, you know, weirdly too into you?’

  I hear a guttural exhalation of his breath and he’s shaking his head in protest. ‘That definitely was not the reason.’

  Hallelujah! Rewarded and reassured, all I can do is grin daftly and hope he’s thinking about picking up where we left off when we were interrupted last night.

  ‘What has been going on in your head, Sylvie Magnusson?’ he asks, but he’s not mocking, he looks worried, guilty even.

  I look down at Toivo and find my cheeks are burning. ‘I don’t know, I get carried away thinking about things sometimes, and I was really enjoying being with you last night, and…’

  ‘Me too,’ he cuts in, letting me breathe. ‘I’ve been looking for you all over the resort today. I finished delivering the kids’ presents hours ago. I checked here twice, thinking you’d eventually come to see this little dude. Where have you been?’

  ‘I was at the spa, actually. Had the place all to myself. I guess it’s unusual for women to spend Christmas morning alone wrapped in Finnish seaweed and volcanic clay?’

  ‘I guess so.’ He laughs a tense laugh, still a tiny bit guilt-stricken. ‘I should have called you last night.’

  ‘Yes, you should, Santa Stellan. You could have been stuck down a chimney and unable to get out for all I knew! So… what are you doing for the rest of Christmas day?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he shrugs. ‘Do you have plans?’

  ‘Well, I was going to get cleaned up and head back to the restaurant for the Christmas meal tonight, but I wasn’t exactly relishing the idea of eating by myself, not today. Nari’s not with me, you see.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Niilo told me about his plan. The joik. I guess it worked?’

  ‘You could say that. They scarpered on his snowmobile faster than you could say “ditch the gooseberry”.’

  ‘I’m glad we’re alone.’

  I don’t say anything, but I smile and give him the time he needs to form his words. I’m not going to rush Stellan today. I know that it wasn’t me that made him leave so hastily last night, but I’m still not willing to risk another of his sudden departures. Maybe I’m finally learning what it means to just enjoy being with Stellan without getting lost in him and craving more and more.

  ‘I have a plan of my own. For us,’ he says.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘My truck’s outside.’

  I pretend I’m thinking about it for a moment, and see Stellan’s expression change to one of sudden panic, before I laugh aloud. Who am I trying to kid? ‘Let’s go,’ I say.

  ‘This is on
e date Toivo can’t come on.’ His voice is gentle. He knows this is going to be difficult.

  It takes me longer than it should to lower Toivo into his pen, and I watch as he nestles sleepily against his mother who flicks her tongue over his snout before falling asleep again too. After taking a few pictures with my phone, I stand up, take Stellan’s outstretched hand, and I walk away from him, for good. Goodbye, little Toivo, my Lapland husky.

  I’m struck by the awareness that on arriving home tomorrow my flat’s going to feel a whole lot emptier without a pup to greet me, an emptiness I thought I’d started to get over.

  I swallow hard as I climb into Stellan’s truck and fasten my seatbelt. There won’t be anybody to greet me back home. But I’ll have plenty time to wallow in that realisation back in Castlewych.

  Stellan’s turning the ignition key and smiling at me from behind the wheel. I’m not going to overthink any of this. Whatever happens today I’m just going to enjoy it, really chilled, like Stellan said yesterday.

  As we’re about to pass the resort centre, Stellan pulls the truck to a halt by the restaurant’s kitchen door where a man in chefs’ whites appears. Stellan steps out into the snow and takes a box from him, putting it in the back of the truck and exchanging some friendly words before hopping into the driver’s seat.

  ‘What was that?’ I ask.

  ‘There’s no food where we’re going, and no stores, so Rasmus made us a picnic.’ Stellan’s pulling us out onto the road again and throwing the chef a wave.

  I resist the urge to interrogate Stellan about where exactly we’re heading; he’s obviously enjoying having arranged a surprise and I don’t want to take that away from him, and besides, I trust him.

  As we pull up at my cabin door a few moments later I admit I give him a puzzled glance. He pulls the brake lever and turns to me, putting an elbow on the passenger seat headrest, noticeably pink about the cheeks and coy looking.

  ‘Sylvie, without any pressure or expectation, I wonder if you mind…’ He stops, suddenly self-conscious. He raises his eyes with embarrassed annoyance to the fur trim of the Santa hat he’s just realised he’s still wearing and hurriedly pulls it from his head as a blush spreads appealingly across the lightly freckled apples of his cheeks. ‘What I’m trying to say is, where I want to take you, it’s a distance from here. Is that OK?’

  He sees me nod with raised, intrigued brows, so he carries on.

  ‘The thing is… do you want to sleep there, with me? Overnight, I mean.’

  He’s adorable when he’s struggling like this; his respectful reticence somehow contrasting sharply with his broad ruggedness and the curve of his lips that seems to betray his unvoiced thoughts.

  ‘Are you saying I should pack my jammies?’

  For a split second I see the blaze in his eyes before he grins. ‘Jammies are optional.’

  I stifle a laugh and unbuckle my seatbelt. ‘Give me a sec, then.’

  Carried by some higher power other than my snow-booted feet, I dash up the steps and into my cabin, grab the thing I need and turn immediately again for the truck, stopping only to wave my pink toothbrush jubilantly in the air from the doorway. I see Stellan through the driver’s window, resplendent in his festive outfit, tipping his head back in a laugh.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Merry Christmas to all my readers out there! If this blog is posted as scheduled, you should be able to see this bright and early on Christmas morning, and I should be safely tucked up in my cosy bed following a night out on the town with a new acquaintance… more of this in a moment!

  Readers, if you’re Scandinavian, you might be getting steamy round about now. I’m talking about the traditional Christmas day sauna.

  Did you know there are approximately five million Finns and three million saunas in Finland? They take this red hot ritual seriously, people. It’s a necessary part of everyday life here, and it’s especially important at Christmas when the sauna has an early spring clean and a festive makeover before the family pile in together for a holiday sweat.

  I asked a (very cute, very chatty) local, one of the resort workers (a handsome reindeer herder, in fact), about his sauna habits and this is what he had to tell me:

  “I sauna every day; it relaxes me and helps me switch off from work for a while. And yes, we sauna naked. It’s not a sexual thing. We have good body image here because nakedness is just a natural part of our day. If a Finnish friend invites you to sauna then he really likes and trusts you, and you’ve been extended a great honour, so make sure you bring some beers. You can talk, or not talk, you can make it hot or not too hot. As long as everybody is happy”.

  Now, I’ve sweated with the best of ‘em: in a (hokey, just for tourists) steam ceremony in the California desert; in Turkish baths in Istanbul; in a serene Japanese onsen, so I have zero qualms about the Finnish Lapland version, but my travel companion, S, really isn’t into it. The very idea of it had my BFF clutching at the zipper of her fleece and pulling it up to her chin. She said, and I quote:

  “As if! There’s not a snowflake’s chance in a sauna I’d strip off in front of [name redacted, LOL!] and then publicly perspire. Its gross and it’s weird and it’s just too Scandinavian”.

  She might be too far gone to help. But my handsome herder got me thinking about how public communal saunas seem to be at odds with the national stereotypes about shyness and introversion. Now you know I love to crush a stereotype, but I’m hoping all this ‘good body image’ and healthy attitude to nudity means these Finlanders are just as uninhibited in other parts of their lives… for example, when sharing a cosy Christmas date with a new blogger friend from England, maybe?

  Happy Christmas, you guys! xx Nari

  #NariBellInvestigates #BFFsGoDating #ChristmasinLapland #HotHerder #SmokinHot #Sauna #ChristmasDay

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The journey out to wherever we are going is one of those wildly happy moments you only get in the excitement of getting to know someone new – or in my case, getting to know them again – when your jokes all land perfectly and they catch every offhand reference you throw. Nothing’s miscommunicated, nothing’s amiss, and you’re convinced no two people in the whole world could possibly have the intense connection you’re sharing right this minute.

  We drive on a main road for some time in the grey light of the early afternoon. As far as my eye can see there’s nothing but tall forests of pine trees covered in snow and the occasional truck making its way in the opposite direction.

  ‘Want to see how the resort got its name?’ Stellan asks.

  ‘Frozen Falls? I’ve been wondering about that.’

  A moment later, we turn off the road and Stellan pulls the truck to a halt in what is unrecognisable as a layby. The snow is piled high in drifts and I can’t see any way out of here. That’s when Stellan reaches behind his seat and hands me some weird metal rectangular-frame things and says, ‘Snowshoes, they fit over your boots.’

  ‘We’re walking?’

  ‘Sure are,’ he says, as he steps out the truck, shrugs on his thick black jacket, and packs the things Rasmus the chef gave him into an already heavy-looking backpack.

  * * *

  The pace is embarrassingly slow as I struggle to stay upright and to stop laughing. With every step I take my feet sink into the powdery snow right up to my calves, despite the snowshoes, and I have to haul myself out again, and the whole time Stellan’s effortlessly walking backwards and heaving me by the arms. He’s sinking too but doesn’t seem to be having the same amount of difficulty I am; mind you, he has half a foot’s height advantage over me, not to mention his muscled thighs powering him along.

  It feels colder out here than back at the resort as we enter a gully with steep rocks on either side of us, unusual in the flat landscape. My nostrils prickle and I can feel my airways constricting in the arctic chill.

  ‘How much further?’

  ‘Everything in life worth having requires some effort and patience,’ he
says. ‘It’s just through this ravine then a climb to the top of the reach. Keep going, you’re doing great.’

  I make a concerted effort to keep my legs moving and just as I’m approaching the limits of my endurance I realise we’ve arrived at the top. Looking behind me I see the truck only a few metres below us, but I feel like I’ve conquered Everest. And that’s when I face forwards again and notice it down below us, like a sunken gothic cathedral of melted candle wax sheltered inside a small, rugged gorge cutting through the forest.

  ‘These are the frozen falls.’ Stellan’s beaming proudly as though he’s carved them himself.

  ‘Wow!’ That’s all I can manage under the circumstances as I take in the magnificent sight of what must, in the warmer months, be a mighty waterfall, now magically suspended in thick layers of icicles, some transparent like crystal, some opaque and icy blue, others shining and golden as though lit from inside.

  ‘They’re nothing like as big as the Korouoma falls but they’re more remote so you don’t get as many tourists here. I’d be surprised if anyone’s been here for weeks.’

  I don’t know anything about this other, rival waterfall, but there’s no way it can be prettier than the sight I’m beholding right now. ‘Can we get down there?’ I ask in wonder, not quite able to trust my eyes. Maybe I’ll be able to believe what I’m seeing if I can actually reach out and touch it.

  ‘Follow me.’ Stellan deftly leads me down into what feels like the chancel of a frozen church. There’s a perceptible change in the crunching sounds of the snow under our feet and I become aware that below us and the thick layer of powder is a deep pool of frozen water.

  ‘In the summer, I swim right here,’ says Stellan.

  I think instantly of all the things I would give to see that sight. ‘It must be stunning,’ I say. ‘The waterfall, I mean.’