East of the Sun, West of the Moon

by Carole Bellacera

  Faraway, a wolf howled in the stillness. Another incentive to keep going. She summoned the strength to move her legs and once again, she was sliding down the path that, she hoped, led to Reiardsfossen.

  * * * *

  The only sound she could hear was the whistling of her lungs as she gasped painfully for air. Eyes fastened upon the tips of her skis, she slid along the trail. Somehow, her feet were moving—one ski before the other in never ending repetition. Faintness swept over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth to force herself not to give into it. I have to keep going. If I stop now, I'll die. She tried using psychology, imagining she was a long-distance cross-country skier vying for the gold medal in the Winter Olympics. But it didn't work. Her ears roared and dark spots appeared before her eyes. I'm going to pass out. Yet, like a mindless automaton, she forced herself to keep going. The trail descended and her speed picked up. She saw the slight bump ahead, but it was too late to do anything about it. With a thud, her right ski hit it and she was out of control. In a blur of snow and black trees, she rolled across the snow-covered ground and came to a stop face-down. She lay still, pressing her face against the snow. It felt so cool against her flushed skin. A comforting pillow of softness. Why was she in such a hurry anyway? She was too tired to be skiing. A little rest. That's what she needed. Just a few moments to sleep...

  Her eyes closed. The roar in her ears had diminished to a peaceful murmur. It was a lovely sound. Reminded her of something ... a place of sanctuary ... but what? ... where? ... something to do with home ... Virginia ... yes ... the back yard ... the brook and the waterfall. Slowly, her eyes opened. The roar was louder now.

  A waterfall. Of course! Reiardsfossen! If it was the waterfall, that meant the village wasn't too far away!

  With all her strength, Leigh pushed against the ground and finally brought herself to a sitting position. She brushed the snow from her face and looked around for her skis. They were several feet away. It seemed to take forever to crawl toward them. Then another agonizing moment passed as she stumbled to her feet. Forcing herself to concentrate, Leigh snapped one boot into her bindings, then the other one. She pushed off. The trees thinned out, and soon, the roar of the waterfall grew deafening.

  The clearing was ahead. She slid into the sunshine and blinked. The village of Ose lay below like a scene from a Christmas story-book. If it weren't for the thin streams of smoke coming from the chimneys, Leigh could almost imagine Ose was a gingerbread village dolloped with white royal frosting, just like the ones she'd often prepared for the holidays. Surrounding her, the mountains rose majestically, blanketed with the heavy snowfall of the last two days. To the east, a wide snowfield sloped gently down toward the village. It didn't look too difficult, especially if she took it slowly. She took a deep breath and eased her way across the snowfield. The weight of the rifle bit into her shoulder, and she thought briefly of leaving it. But then she remembered the howl of the wolf.

  Her mind was still on the wolves when she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Her heart lurched. A few feet away stood a man dressed in a bright colorful costume. It was the man from Ose who played the Hardanger fiddle. He smiled and waved.

  "Oh, thank God!” Leigh moved toward him. “Please, you have to help me!"

  He nodded, pulled his fiddle from his coat and began to play. Confused, Leigh stopped. What was wrong with him? She needed help and he was playing his damn fiddle!

  "Do you speak English?” she shouted.

  His head bobbed as he played a lively tune on the Hardanger. He smiled at her. Then he turned to go.

  "Hey!” Leigh cried out. “Don't go!” He disappeared. Right in front of her. He simply wasn't there. She rubbed her gloved hand across her eyes. He was gone. Or had never been there at all. A sob escaped her throat. Maybe none of this was real. Maybe she was still back at the cabin, dreaming. Waiting to die.

  She turned back toward the village. It was still there, bright and sparkling in the afternoon sun. She knew she had to keep going. Dream or no dream, there was nothing else to do. Her chest burned with the effort of skiing through the heavy snow. Suddenly she remembered Erik saying that the village looked much closer than it actually was. But he was wrong! Had to be. It couldn't be that far. The onset of another coughing attack forced her to stop again. It quieted after a few moments, but it had exhausted her so much she almost gave in to the irresistible urge to drop to the snow-covered ground and close her eyes for a few minutes. Somewhere in the back of her fever-fogged brain, she realized the danger in that compulsion. She'd almost given in to it once before. This time, she wouldn't. She fixed her eyes ahead to the open snowfield.

  That was when she saw it. Something dark sticking up out of the snow in the middle of a patch of white. She blinked groggily, thinking it was another hallucination like the Hardanger man. But something inside her, some sixth sense, told her this was real, and whatever it was signaled of urgency.

  Like a parting curtain of fog, her mind became clear and lucid. It spurred her forward. Long before she was close, she'd registered the object as a ski, and as she drew nearer, she knew in her heart it belonged to Erik. Another fact was clear. The snow was different—no longer a smooth landscape of unmarked nature, but showing signs of recent turmoil, as if a celestial truck had dumped several tons of hard-packed snow in the spot. Leigh stared around her, a tight knot of fear in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes fastened on the odd appearance of the slope to the north. It was as if a huge gash had been cut into it, leaving a cracked wall of snow hanging perilously to the mountain-side.

  Avalanche. The thought sent terror shooting through her heart. Her frantic eyes returned to the ski lying half-exposed above the snow. Erik's? Stifling a sob, Leigh dropped the rifle and jabbed at her binding with a pole to release her skis. Stepping out of her skis, her feet sank into the deep snow. She dropped to her knees near the half-buried ski and began digging. It surfaced easily, but there was nothing more.

  "Oh, God.” Leigh sank back on her heels, tears streaming down her face. Then she saw a few inches of a bright red cord. She remembered the avalanche cord Erik had attached to her when they'd skied to Reiardsfossen. With a grateful sob, she stumbled over to where part of it was exposed and frantically, wildly, began to dig. Her breath steamed out in frosty clouds as she clawed at the snow, panic urging her on. From somewhere, the strength of determination flowed through her and she knew she would never give up. Not until she found him. There was no doubt in her mind it was Erik. She refused to entertain the possibility he might be dead.

  Even with her thick gloves, her hands were numb when she finally reached his body. With all her remaining strength, she dug away the snow above his waistline. Gasping with exertion and fear, she could only cry out his name as she brushed away the last of the snow from his waxy, bloodless face. She fumbled to feel for a pulse at his throat. It was faint, but his heart was beating. Quickly, she adjusted his head, pinched his nose and began to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

  For an eternity, there was no response. Nothing. But she refused to give up. And while she paused to grab another breath, she felt him move. Then he coughed. Leigh clutched at him. “Erik. Oh, thank God."

  His eyes fluttered. He stared at her, dazed. “Kayleigh,” he murmured. “I've brought the doctor."

  "You were caught by an avalanche. I saw your ski."

  Slowly, comprehension dawned in his eyes. He tried to move. “Where's the doctor?"

  "Was he with you?"

  Erik nodded, grimacing. “We were on our way back to the cabin when...” He groaned softly and his face twisted in pain.

  "Where do you hurt?"

  "My leg ... I think it's broken."

  "You're still half-buried...” She began to scoop the snow away from the lower half of his body.

  Erik shook his head weakly. “Not now. Find the doctor ... he's somewhere near."

  "Was he wearing an avalanche cord?"

  "Ja. On the way down, I saw
... that the conditions were very bad."

  "Yet, you went for help anyway,” Leigh said, overcome with shame. How could she have believed he'd deserted her? She moved away from him and started to get to her feet, but froze when she heard a growl behind her. Her heart jumped into her throat as she turned and stared into the great yellow eyes of a large gray wolf twenty yards away. The animal stared at her warily, his mouth opened in a menacing grin.

  "What is it?” Erik asked.

  "A wolf,” she said softly. Where had she dropped the rifle? Frantically, she looked around and saw it only a few feet away.

  "Don't make any sudden moves,” Erik warned. “He's just curious."

  She edged closer to the rifle. Curious or not, she would feel better with that gun in hand. The wolf didn't move, but continued to watch her. Her hand closed on the rifle-butt. She dragged it to her and hoisted it into firing position, planning to fire above his head to scare him off. A sudden movement from Erik arrested her.

  "No!” With superhuman effort, he wrenched his upper torso toward her and with one large hand, knocked her to the ground. He fell back, writhing in agony.

  The rifle dropped out of her hands and skidded over the snow as she fell sideways onto an elbow. As she lay there gasping for breath and wondering why Erik had knocked her down, she became aware of a soft hissing sound growing closer from the direction of the valley.

  The crushing pain in her chest intensified. She closed her eyes in agony. Please God, I don't mind dying—just make the pain go away. As if from a great distance, she heard voices speaking in Norwegian. She struggled to open her eyes and in the disappearing afternoon light, she saw shadowy forms surrounding them. Good. Help was here and now she could just relax ... and sleep. Funny, she no longer felt the cold.

  Chapter 19

  Vivid scenes played behind Leigh's closed eyelids, scenes of blinding white snow, swirling avalanches and hungry wolves. Erik, his face ravaged by pain, called out in a panicked voice. Suddenly she found herself rolling in the wet snow, tumbling haphazardly down the mountain-side, clutching futilely at sparse bushes that evaporated on contact.

  Her eyes flashed open. She found herself staring at an anonymous white ceiling. A peaceful silence filled the room. She was safe, and most important of all, warm again. Her eyes moved upward to a plastic bag hanging on an I.V. pole, following the clear tubing down to where it was attached to a heavily taped needle inserted into the back of her left hand.

  Was she still in Ose? And where was Erik? She didn't remember anything after the rescuers had arrived. Erik had just knocked her to the ground to stop her from shooting at the wolf. At the time, she'd been shocked. Only now did she understand why he'd done it. A shot from the rifle would have brought another avalanche hurtling down. How stupid of her not to have realized that. Yet, she'd been panicked and feverish. Thank God Erik had stopped her, or they might both be dead.

  It was incredible enough that he'd survived the avalanche. She'd read somewhere if an avalanche victim was knocked unconscious and buried, the odds for survival were increased because less oxygen was used up. That must have been Erik's case.

  "Oh God, thank you for letting me find that ski,” she whispered. Where was he? She needed to see him, to assure herself that he was, indeed, alive. She felt a call button at her side, and pressed it.

  After an anxious moment had passed, a uniformed nurse appeared at the door. “Ja?"

  Oh, Jesus, please let her speak English. “The man that was brought in with me? Erik Haukeland. I must see him. Please, is he all right?"

  The woman stared at her impassively. “Very soon,” she said firmly. “The Doctor will see you very soon."

  "No, I don't care about a doctor. I want to see Erik Haukeland."

  Her expression remained unchanged. “Ja. Soon,” she repeated. The nurse turned and left the room, leaving Leigh beating her fists against the bed in frustration.

  * * * *

  "Mrs. Fallon? I'm Dr. Svendsgaard. You're here at the community hospital in Byglandsfjord."

  He was a middle-aged man with slightly graying hair, a neatly-trimmed goatee and twinkling blue eyes. “You've had quite a rough time of it in the last few days, haven't you?"

  "Not exactly jolly,” Leigh agreed.

  "You've probably guessed you're suffering from a mild case of pneumonia."

  "Mild? I'd sure hate to know what a severe case would feel like."

  Dr. Svendsgaard smiled. “My dear woman, you would never have made it down that mountain if it had been worse than mild. We've started you on antibiotics and I can guarantee you'll be feeling fine in a week or so. That is, if you will agree to no more cross-country skiing through avalanche country. What on earth were you doing out on the mountain-side when you were so ill?"

  "I'm not sure myself,” Leigh said. “I guess I was delirious from the fever. Doctor, when can I see Erik Haukeland?"

  "Soon, my dear. Young Haukeland is a very lucky man. Just a concussion and a fractured tibia. Indeed, he will be fine in a few months. Thanks to you, I might add. You saved his life. He wouldn't have lasted much longer without air.” He shook his head. “These tourists. They do not know what they're doing. An inexperienced hunter from London fired a shot which set off the avalanche. Can you imagine the stupidity of such a person?"

  Leigh felt her face grow hot. She'd come close to doing the same thing.

  "Oh, but listen to me going on! You want to see your young man.” Dr. Svensgaard beamed. “Just let me find a nurse who can wheel you down to his room. You're still too weak to be walking around. You were very badly dehydrated when you were brought in, you know. Pneumonia's high fever will do that to you.” He turned to go. “I'll send a nurse or an orderly down right away."

  * * * *

  Twenty minutes passed before a student nurse appeared in the doorway. She smiled brightly and spoke in perfect English. “Mrs. Fallon? Dr. Svensgaard said you wish to visit Mr. Haukeland? He has a visitor right now, but as soon as she leaves, I'll take you down to see him."

  "She?” Leigh asked, startled. Who was it? Margit? His mother? But how could she find out without appearing nosy? “Oh, it must be his mother."

  The girl shook her head, smiling. “Oh, no! Not unless she's a twenty-year-old redhead!"

  So, it was Margit.

  "I'll come down for you as soon as she leaves."

  "Never mind,” Leigh said slowly. “I'm beginning to feel tired. I think I'll sleep for a while."

  After the nurse left the room, Leigh stared at the drip of the I.V. bottle, imagining Erik and Margit together, planning their future. It was better to leave things as they were. If he wanted to see her again, he'd come to her.

  * * * *

  "Yes, Mrs. Fallon? Is there something I can do for you?” It was the perky student nurse who answered her call.

  "I was just wondering ... has Mr. Haukeland's visitor left yet?” It had been several hours since Leigh had first heard Margit was visiting Erik. Finally, she decided she couldn't wait any longer for him to come to her. She had to see him. Somehow, she had to touch him once more, assure him of her love and say goodbye. There was so much guilt in her for thinking he'd deserted her—left her in the cabin to die. Of course, she'd been half out of her mind with fever, but still, she couldn't help feeling the twinge of conscience when she thought of Erik struggling up that slope with the doctor. He'd risked his life for her. She just wanted to see him one last time before she left for home.

  "Oh, yes. They left about thirty minutes ago,” the nurse said. “Mr. Haukeland is being transferred to a hospital in Oslo."

  "He's gone?” Leigh asked, stunned. Without saying goodbye? No! It wasn't possible! Erik would never do that. A message. He must have left a note for her. “Did he leave a message for me?"

  She looked blank. “Why, no. Not with me. But I'll go check at the front desk."

  "I'm sure he left some kind of message for me,” Leigh said, her stomach churning. “Please ask everyone."

 
Her mind whirled as she waited. She couldn't believe he'd left without seeing her. It was so unlike Erik! Could it have been Margit's doing? But how could she possibly have that much power over him?

  The nurse returned, and by her face, Leigh knew at once the news wasn't good. “No message,” she said. “I'm sorry. I asked everyone on duty."

  Leigh blinked back tears. “Thank you,” she said softly. With a sympathetic smile, the nurse left the room. Leigh's eyes blurred as she stared down at the delicate silver ring on her finger with the entwined initials of E & K.

  "Oh, Erik ... how could you?” she whispered.

  She'd been trying to prepare herself mentally for the moment they'd say goodbye. And now, it was all over. No goodbyes were to be said. “I needed to say goodbye to you, Erik. Didn't you realize that?"

  She didn't know how long she sat in that hospital bed, staring at nothing. The shadows lengthened in the room as the feeble sun slipped behind the mountains. Still, Leigh couldn't summon the will to move. What was there to do anyway? Erik was with Margit, flying home to Oslo. Slowly, her eyes moved to the telephone on the bedside table. With a trembling hand, she reached out for it, and quickly, before she could lose her nerve, she dialed the operator.

  "Yes. Do you speak English? Thank you. I'd like to make a call to the United States. The number is 703-759-6384."

  A few minutes later, she heard the ring of the phone in a house an ocean away and could imagine the ultra modern kitchen where just a year ago, she'd been preparing a family meal. It seemed like a thousand years ago. The phone was picked up in mid-ring. Leigh's heart leapt when she heard Melissa's familiar soprano. “Fallon residence."

  "Mel, this is your mother,” she spoke with a tone of quiet determination. “Don't hang up. I'm calling from Norway. No...” she paused, “He isn't here with me. I won't be seeing him again.” A sob caught in her throat, but she went on, “Melissa, I'm going to fly back home next week. No, not Virginia. I'm living in New York, remember?” She felt a spark of hope in her heart. “Mel, is it my imagination or do you sound disappointed? Oh, then I guess it was my imagination. Anyway, I'll be coming down to visit as soon as I get in. Yes, I'm aware you don't want to see me, but that's too bad. It's time you and the boys sit down with me and get this thing straightened out. We're going to get our relationship back on track..even if it kills all of us. Why should we?” Leigh was silent for a moment, flabbergasted at her daughter's insolence, yet she was almost sure she sensed a vulnerability beneath Melissa's caustic words. “Because ... damn it ... I'm your mother, and I love you.” She waited but there was no response on the other end of the line. “I'll take a taxi from the airport. Tell Mark and Aaron I'm coming. Bye, Mel."