Christmas at Frozen Falls

by Kiley Dunbar

  Turning with a grin and pulling me to him, he tells me it is, but only just, and asks if I’m hungry. I get a kiss on the forehead and a glimpse at the tray behind him on the counter.

  ‘Oh wow. Another of Rasmus’s surprises?’

  There sits a dish of marshmallows, little gingerbread men cookies, segments of freshly peeled mandarins and black cherries on stalks beside a steamy bowl of thick, melted dark chocolate.

  ‘Let’s eat,’ he says.

  We wander to the hearth where I find an open bottle of red wine and glasses. And there’s a fresh dry robe on the sofa for me.

  I see Stellan glance towards it as he settles himself on the rug. I know he’s wondering what I’m going to do. Feeling no hint of my former shyness, I let the bed sheet fall to the floor and Stellan watches me slip into the cosy dressing gown.

  We eat our Christmas night meal in the flickering light, and it barely enters my head that in a matter of hours I’ll be flying home to England. Instead, I dip a shiny cherry into the liquid chocolate and let it knock messily against Stellan’s smiling lips.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Niilo climbs back into bed, avoiding the clothes strewn over the bedroom floor. He passes the mug of milky tea to Nari, who had been dozing under the covers.

  ‘It’s midnight, Christmas is over,’ he says.

  ‘That’s a shame. I don’t want it to be,’ Nari replies sleepily, leaning back into his arms as they settle themselves comfortably and she sips from the mug. Niilo’s fingertips brush Nari’s forehead, pushing away her hair so he can kiss a soft, smooth spot.

  ‘I forgot to give you your Christmas gift,’ he says, reaching for the bundle by the bed; it’s wrapped in brown paper and tied with embroidered ribbon, like the colourful decorative bands she’d seen on his gákti jacket.

  ‘What? But I didn’t give you anything!’

  A breathy laugh escapes Niilo’s smiling lips, thinking how only an hour ago he had held his breath, lifting his hips and arching his spine beneath her, their fingers interlocked and heads thrown back. A shudder ripples his nerves at the remembrance of it. ‘On the contrary…’ he started to say, only to be met by a gentle dig in his stomach from Nari’s elbow.

  ‘Can I open it?’ Nari asks, passing him the mug before pulling at the ribbon.

  Inside the paper lies a carved bear, standing tall on its grizzled legs, looking upwards as though searching the sky.

  ‘You made this? For me?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Out on the last trail, before you arrived.’

  ‘Oh right, so you didn’t carve it for me exactly, you didn’t even know me then,’ Nari says teasingly, smiling at the gift.

  Niilo doesn’t dare tell her how he’d known she was coming to him, but just hadn’t met her then, or how he’d felt compelled to set to work on the bear that very day.

  ‘Well, it’s beautiful, thank you, Niilo. I’ll treasure it.’ She turns to kiss him, stretching her neck to reach the tip of his nose, making him smile. ‘You should really sell these. You could make a fortune.’

  ‘Then I would no longer enjoy making them. I believe in the beauty of one of a kind.’

  They fall contentedly silent as they hold each other in the little warm bedroom beneath the patchwork quilt made one winter long ago by four pairs of hands under that very roof.

  ‘We should sleep. I’ll be getting on a plane soon.’ Nari’s voice is low and grave.

  ‘And I’ll be heading out on the wilderness trail again tomorrow morning with a new group. Five nights camping out.’ He places the mug on the table by the bed and stretches his arms out, stifling a lawn. ‘I’d rather stay here with you. The trails are getting old now. I must have spent half my life sleeping in tents and driving sleds.’

  She hears him breathe a sigh. ‘Don’t think about it now. Think about that tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.’

  ‘Goodnight, Nari Bell.’

  She wriggles down under the covers, letting Niilo mould himself to the shape of her back, warm and curved. He listens to her breathing, and says softly, ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘Mmm, me too,’ she replies dreamily, still clasping the carved bear to her heart.

  As he holds her, the thoughts of the day before re-emerge and after a long time spent brooding over them, he finds himself whispering them to Nari in the darkness.

  ‘I’ll miss you terribly. But it’s only right that you leave, go back to your travels and your work. You have a whole new year ahead of you where you can do anything and go anywhere. I’ll be right here, rooted to the earth, my home, and my routine at the resort. You know, Stellan had a girlfriend once, Karin, and she tried to live here with him, but it was too much to ask. She got tired of always waiting for Stellan, and one day she left, went back to Stockholm, and she was right to. He was messed up for a long time after she left, but I don’t think it ever occurred to him to go and see her. He was too busy here. Like me.’

  He places a soft kiss on Nari’s shoulder blade with a sigh. ‘I knew if we met, and if we touched, I’d fall in love. I told you I used to think that nobody could be lonely and waiting like I was, before you. I used to be convinced that if the right person were to present themselves to me, if they pressed their fingers to my chest, I’d melt like snow falling on the flowing river. That person is you. I knew that if I let you touch me, I’d be scattered into particles that would burst in the sky like the aurora. I was right. And I knew it would be harder to say goodbye. And all along I knew I’d risk making you feel miserable, or guilty – or, even worse, make you feel as though I’m here judging you for being free and having a life of your own out there. I don’t want to clip your wings, those are what I love about you most, Nari.’

  He waits for her reply, her acknowledgement that she understands what he’s saying; that he’s sending her on her way tomorrow morning and it pains him, but that he wants her to live her life, full of fun and adventure, and sometimes think fondly of him.

  ‘Nari?’

  But she was asleep, breathing softly.

  A wry smile spreads on his face in the darkness, and he sinks deep into thought. Perhaps it’s for the best that she never knows the depths of his feelings for her. She’ll leave tomorrow and be happy. She doesn’t need to know how he’ll pine and ache.

  Just then, a blue flash of light flickers from the floor. Nari’s phone. It must be Sylvie in a frantic panic, wondering why Nari hasn’t returned to her cabin. Carefully, he frees his arms, leaving Nari to roll away, smiling in her sleep. He tucks the quilt around her then reaches for the phone. A quick reply to say she was safely with him would suffice, he thinks.

  But instead of a panicked message from Sylvie, there’s a tiny thumbnail picture of a smiling man, older than Nari, wearing dark shades, smart in a white collar and tie. Beneath the image was his message.

  My advisors tell me I can’t enter the UK until the spring. Don’t ask. Tax reasons. So London’s off, sorry. I’ve arranged a charter from Manchester airport on New Year’s Eve for you. Come meet me in Grand Cayman for some fireworks, lobster and a champagne sunrise on the beach? No pressure, but I hope you come. My pilot is at your disposal, Stephen, x

  Niilo replaces the phone where Nari will find it, and Stephen’s message, tomorrow. ‘Of course,’ he whispers with a nod of acceptance. ‘Of course.’

  He swallows down the lump in his throat, and slips beneath the covers once more. For the next few hours he can hold her as she sleeps, and then his life will return to the way it had always been, only colder.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lying on the rug in front of the dying fire, face to face, our robes long since chucked into a crumpled pile at our feet, we’re whispering.

  ‘I’ve loved being here, thank you for bringing me.’

  Stellan laughs gently, amused that I’m thanking him. ‘My pleasure,’ he says.

  ‘I don’t want to go home.’

  I think of the wet airport tarmac and the Manchester traffic; a bleak contrast to the white magi
c of Frozen Falls. His fingers lazily twirl the hair falling around my face, and I say, ‘I’ve loved every second of meeting Niilo, and seeing Nari happy, and Toivo was just the highlight of the trip!’

  Stellan’s eyes widen. ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ I say with a low laugh. ‘I love the food, and the colours in the sky, and the snow. Oh, and your ice bar, and the champagne, and the waterfall. I’ve loved every bit of my time here.’

  I slide in closer to Stellan and he wraps his arms around me tightly, but he doesn’t speak. Maybe he’s going to sleep again. So I make the most of the silence and list every other perfect little detail. ‘I love the comfort and the Scandinavian practicality of it all; the triple glazing, the wet rooms, and the underfloor heating, and how the beds have two single duvets instead of a big double one so nobody can hog it! And I love—’

  ‘You say that a lot, don’t you?’

  ‘What?’ I ask, lifting my eyes, even though I can’t see him. I don’t want to leave the cosy nook of his chest.

  ‘You loved those cookies we made on Christmas Eve, you love the chocolate, you love everything.’

  There’s a little alarm bell ringing in my head. Don’t say anything, just tell him you’re an appreciative kind of person, laugh it off, and go to sleep. You’re leaving soon and it’s been so perfect. But there they are, my fingers hovering over the self-destruct button.

  ‘Is there something wrong with that?’ I hear myself saying.

  ‘No, that’s not it. It’s just that’s not a word we use for everyday things, or for other people really. Not often.’

  ‘I know. You already told me that, years ago. But love’s not an unusual word for me to use.’ I’ve got a little dagger of resentment clutched in my palm, and for a moment I wonder if I’m going to use it. ‘And it’s not unusual for my family to say it. My parents tell me they love me all the time, and I say it back. It’s white noise in our house.’

  I realise that I’ve just confirmed exactly Stellan’s point; my exclamations of love are just white noise, repetitive and meaningless. That’s definitely enough. Stop now, I warn myself. But I can’t help adding one last little stab. ‘It’s normal.’ I’m as cross with myself as I was with him.

  I know exactly what I’ve done. I’ve taken what he shared with me about his cold, demanding, undemonstrative dad and used it against him. I’ve dredged up and weaponised painful memories of his poor sick father who surely must love his son with all his heart, whether he says it or not.

  Stellan moves his shoulder out from under my head. He’s looking down at me as he talks, his arms still holding me, but slacker. I daren’t move.

  ‘Saying you love something or someone, using that word, it pretty much does mean you’re in love with the thing. It’s not something I’d say to my parents, or about a biscuit.’

  Or a girlfriend? I don’t say it, but I’m thinking it.

  He’s silent now, signalling he’s moved on from the topic. But I’m recklessly hurtling back round for another swipe at him. It’s been fifteen years and I’ve kept these thoughts inside and if we don’t blurt it out now, we never will.

  ‘I didn’t know that… but I meant it, then, when I told you I loved you. I meant the actual I’m in love with you, won’t you love me? kind of I love you.’

  ‘I knew that. That’s why I had to leave.’

  ‘Oh, not this again! The white knight making his noble sacrifice to save the damsel from an extra year of student loans or, heaven forfend, a job in a call centre or something! It sounds very much like the commitment phobic knight got his end away then beat a hasty retreat!’

  ‘No. I loved you.’

  Silence.

  My heart thumping.

  A gulp moving Stellan’s throat.

  ‘You were in love with me? Not the biscuit kind of love?’ I say.

  ‘Yes. Of course I was in love with you.’ Stellan exhales a long breath and I feel his grip around my body break as he lets his back flatten on the mattress, rolling away from me.

  All the while, I’m replaying what he’s just said, running diagnostics, scanning his voice for modulations and intonations and finding a definite stress on ‘was’. Undeniable. He’s taking pains to ensure I understand he’s referring to the past. He was in love with me then.

  I hear the voice inside my head once more, wanting me to prod, poke, interrogate. So what about now? But I won’t ask. I’ve said enough, and for my efforts I’ve been rewarded with the hideous embarrassment of memories of myself launching million megaton love-bombs at a bewildered twenty-one-year-old Stellan and sending him running for cover, an embarrassment unchanged, inalterable, even with this new information that he was in love with me.

  We don’t speak. I don’t want him to say anything else, in case he reiterates his point that he loved me in the past tense. I heard him loud and clear and once was enough. And I daren’t say anything.

  ‘What now? Shouldn’t we talk about this?’ he says.

  ‘Silence is golden. Let’s just sleep.’

  * * *

  The morning arrives, but no light dawns.

  It’s only an hour or so since I managed to drift off. Now there’s an uneasy anxiety spreading through me. The clock above the fire that by now has turned to dull embers tells me it’s almost six o’clock and I have a ten-thirty flight to catch. If we don’t leave now I’ll miss it. I think of my unpacked suitcase back at the cabin. I turn to wake Stellan, but as I’m about to nudge his shoulder, I pause.

  This is the last time I’ll be with him like this. I let my eyes take him in, trying to memorise every detail: his pale skin and the shape of bone and sinew beneath, the taut muscles I’d been spellbound by last night, now relaxed. I look over his long pale lashes and straw-coloured brows, every freckle on his cheekbones.

  I’m put in mind of what Niilo told me the day we threw crumbs for the wagtails and sparrows outside the lavvu – that day seems like weeks ago now, but it was only the twenty-third, four days ago. How strange. Niilo had told me that in remote and austere places each tiny crumb is precious. We ate, he said, then the dogs ate our scraps, leaving miniscule crumbs for the birds to find. And that’s what I’m taking away with me. Waste not one moment. Enjoy every little crumb of pleasure that life throws at you. Be satisfied. And don’t dare ask for more.

  Stellan’s eyes flicker open and he looks at me, blinking and sleepy. I’m hit by the paleness of his irises once more. I’d sink into their depths if I could. I’d bleed myself into his veins, embed myself forever like a tattoo under his skin, if he’d let me, but I learned long ago what happens when I feel this way. When I ask for too much, I lose everything. So, I’ll be contented with what I had here.

  I tell him I’m ready to leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Back at my cabin I’m throwing things frantically into my case, grabbing for my passport, checking under furniture and in drawers for things I might have left behind, and feeling sure I don’t have everything I arrived with.

  ‘Anything the cleaning staff find they’ll send on to you, I promise,’ Stellan’s saying from my cabin door. He’s adopted the lowering, grave attitude he had when we first came face to face again on this very doorstep five adventure-filled days ago.

  I’m pulling on my trainers, an extra jumper and my coat because I’ve had to surrender the lovely thick snowsuit and big boots to the resort again, and I’ve packed my cosy pink suit away. I’ll be making my journey to the airport in the clothes I arrived in. They feel oddly light and insubstantial.

  ‘Have you finished packing? I called a cab.’ I hear Nari screech from somewhere outside.

  She too has clearly spent the night away from the resort and is in a similar mad panic to my own, but Niilo’s nowhere to be seen.

  I pause for a second by the Christmas tree and lift one of the decorations from a branch, a simple star. ‘The resort won’t mind if I take just one of these, will it, Stellan?’

  He’s leaning agai
nst the doorframe watching me, a vague smile playing on his lips. ‘I doubt it’ll be missed.’

  As I stand my suitcase by the door trying to peer past him to see if the taxi’s here, Stellan reaches for my waist, pulling me towards him, and even though we spent the night kissing, it’s so unexpected that I gasp. I catch sight of Nari screaming, ‘Tickets!’ and racing back inside her cabin, so I let Stellan kiss me, and I swear I can see stars and the aurora when our eyes are closed, but it’s accompanied by a sad pang like hunger in my stomach.

  The sharp blast of a taxi’s horn brings me round.

  This is it, this is all you’re getting, I tell myself, so you’d better smile and make the best of it.

  Neither of us has mentioned the tetchy argument we had this morning back at the lake house, and how I accused him of being a commitment-shy liar and a cowardly heartbreaker posing as a concerned, self-sacrificing hero, always maintaining he left me for my own good.

  We haven’t talked about how he picked at me for saying how much I love this and that, harmless, joyful exclamations of happiness.

  Now, with only seconds left at Frozen Falls, I’m torn between sulking about it all, and wishing with all my heart I’d kept my big mouth shut and just let him fill me in on his understanding of what love means.

  I spoiled our last night together, right at the last moment, when we should have been wrapped in blissful sleep. Maybe if I’d shut up he’d be smiling brightly again now, telling me how he’ll miss me, letting me see this affecting him.

  For once, I find it easy to stop myself saying the things in my heart. I can still hear Stellan’s words. He loved me once, long ago. Past tense.

  So, the words that I do utter are guarded, enfeebled and, surprisingly, accompanied by a stream of sudden tears which seem to shock Stellan into even deeper silence.

  ‘I have to go, the taxi’s here. Stellan…’

  He wipes my wet cheeks with his thumbs and I plaster on a plucky smile.