Melt

by Robbi McCoy

  Jordan made an effort to concentrate on the present. “Are you talking about inanimate objects?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It applies to everything, including people. I think photography is unique among the arts because it’s the only one that doesn’t invent its own reality. With music and writing and painting, the artist creates something that doesn’t exist in the real world. Even a painting of an object isn’t a replica of it. But a photograph is an exact likeness of something that’s already there. The real value of a photograph is that it freezes a moment in time forever. Just like the ice does.” Kelly paused, looking suddenly self-conscious.

  Jordan gazed patiently at her, listening, looking at the light in her eyes, thinking about the changes in her looks and manner. She had been attractive back then, no doubt about it, but now she was much more beautiful than she ever was as an undeveloped, untested, unscarred girl of nineteen. Jordan had never much liked the looks of young women of that age. They were so unfinished, as if a painter had done a preliminary sketch and hadn’t yet filled in all the fine details. It’s the details that make a person’s face resonate interest. And details come from living.

  “Some people don’t see the art in a photo,” Kelly said. “Because it’s a replica made by a machine. Like what I was just saying. It’s not something invented. But a good photographer can add something so there’s no way you would have had the same experience of the subject if you’d just happened past it on the street. Do you know what I mean?”

  Jordan nodded. “I think so. A photographer sees something other people don’t see and then tries to convey that vision in the photograph.”

  “Exactly! Ordinary scenes or objects that you’d never think of as photo-worthy, even. Like a worn-out saddle on a fence post. In the photo, it’s presented with as much of its raw beauty or ugliness or whatever is true about it that people look at it with new eyes and feel something they couldn’t have felt without the photo.” Kelly’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled.

  She had changed. She seemed full of confidence and poise. And passion for her work. Jordan felt enormously proud of her. Not that she could take any credit for it. Whatever sort of woman Kelly had become, she had achieved it on her own. The best Jordan could claim was that she hadn’t damaged her in any way. Kelly had come to her with her delusions about love intact and had left in the same condition. If she had grown cynical since then, she had someone else to blame for it.

  “That was extremely eloquent,” Jordan said. “I’d say you’ve chosen the right career.”

  Kelly sighed. “I guess I wasn’t that good at science.”

  “Oh, you were a good student. But I don’t think your heart was ever at home there. I’m really happy to see you’ve found your calling. I know Chuck wouldn’t have asked you along if you weren’t good.”

  * * *

  While they had been talking, especially once Kelly started talking about her work, Jordan had seemed to relax and warm up. She had managed to deflect the conversation away from the subject Kelly had come to talk about, their relationship. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what she’d come to say. She had just wanted to have a private chat and see where it led, get to know Jordan again. In her mind’s rehearsals, she had often poured out her heart to Jordan and declared, “I still love you!” Invariably, in these failed fantasies, Jordan would shield her face with her hands and say, “Oh, no! Not again!”

  Kelly would spare her that tonight. She had matured enough to know that saying “I love you” to someone who couldn’t reciprocate was a demanding and selfish act. Not that she didn’t feel it. The way she felt tonight she might have been that silly girl all over again. It would almost be worth making a fool of herself if she could inspire Jordan to kiss her once more like she had all those years ago. The first kiss had lasted her nine years. Maybe the second…

  “Thank you for the tea,” Jordan said decisively, putting the empty cup on the edge of the table.

  “Thanks for the chat,” Kelly replied. Understanding it was time to go, she stood and collected the mugs. “I just wanted to tell you,” she ventured, “that I appreciate everything you did for me back then and how kindly and wisely you handled it.”

  Jordan nodded. “I’m glad to see how well you’ve done, Kelly. See you in the morning.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jordan woke to a beeping sound. She rolled over and opened her eyes, noting the stiff muscle in her neck. It had been a restless night. As she sat up, she remembered Kelly’s visit from the previous evening. She was sure there had been some purpose to that other than chatting over a cup of tea. Or maybe not. She had no reason to be suspicious. Maybe Kelly just wanted to catch up.

  There was that beep again. She glared at the sheet hanging between her and the computer, then slipped on her thongs and walked over to discover a message from Ilulissat Search and Rescue. She read it, then quickly dressed and went outside into the cool morning air. Malik was in the kitchen mixing something in a bowl.

  “Good morning,” he said cheerfully.

  “Morning. Is there coffee?”

  “Yes. It has just finished perking.”

  She poured a mug and took a temperature-testing sip. “What are you making?”

  “Pandekager,” he replied with a grin.

  Of course, she thought. When it was his turn to make breakfast, it was always pancakes. Last week he had proposed making them for dinner as well, but Brian had a fit, so they had hot dogs instead.

  “Greenlandic pandekager,” Malik elaborated.

  “Really? How so?”

  “I picked some fresh bilberries yesterday.” He tipped the bowl so she could see the berry-studded batter.

  “Sounds good.” Jordan sat down at the table as Julie arrived and grabbed a mug from the counter. “Julie, could you wake up Kelly? I have some news for her.”

  Julie nodded and walked over to Sonja’s tent. A few minutes later Kelly emerged wearing a sweatshirt and Sonja’s too-long sweatpants, her hair askew, her eyes bleary. She looked adorably disheveled. Jordan felt lighthearted at the prospect of delivering good news to her.

  “I hope it’s not too early for you,” Jordan said. “But I thought you’d want to hear the news as soon as possible. Your friend Pippa was found and flown back to town last night. She’s okay.”

  “Oh!” Kelly’s hands flew to her face, then she heaved a deep sigh.

  “I suppose you want to get back as soon as possible to visit her in the hospital.”

  “Hospital? But you said she was okay.”

  “She has a concussion and a twisted ankle, so they’re keeping her for observation. They said she was conscious and alert when they found her. Just a little dehydrated. Apparently she’d fallen into a ravine or something. Thanks to you, she’s safe now.”

  Kelly sank into a chair. “Jordan, thank you so much for everything.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad we could help. Malik’s going to town in a while to get some supplies. He can take you back. So I’ll see you when you come out with Chuck.” She turned to Malik. “Malik, when the pancakes are ready, could you bring me a couple? I’ve got some work to do this morning before we head out to the field.”

  She walked rapidly to her tent, glad to be away from Kelly’s stare. As long as Jordan had been able to see her as a child, she didn’t have to be taken seriously. But now she was a woman. Beautiful and complex with depth and nuanced hues. There was no denying the physical attraction Jordan felt toward her, but it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. When Kelly looked at her, she seemed to be looking right inside her. It made it hard to look her in the eye and it made her want to run and hide.

  She went to her bed and lay back down with her cheek on the cool pillowcase. She closed her eyes, remembering the one kiss they had shared. She had kissed Kelly too long and had wanted so much more than one kiss. But the circumstances were wrong in every way.

  There were plenty of her colleagues who had no qualms about relationships with their students, often wit
h a greater age disparity than between her and Kelly. It was a common enough phenomenon to be a cliché: the middle-aged professor and his young protégé. He strutting about looking ridiculous with that self-satisfied coquette on his arm. How could he be so pompous as to think she wouldn’t open her eyes someday soon and see him in all his wretched ludicrousness?

  Not to look ridiculous was one of Jordan’s chief goals in life. She had earned the respect of her colleagues, but one stupid mistake could change everything. Besides, men didn’t suffer loss of reputation as easily as women did, even in the modern world. She knew how much harder a woman had to work to hold onto credibility. She couldn’t allow herself to show weaknesses associated with her gender, like sentimentality, passivity and self-doubt. Her rule was that it was okay to feel those things, but it was not okay to let others see them. Which made it hard sometimes to ask for help…or understanding. Or anything, really, because needing something, anything, automatically put her in a position of vulnerability.

  She had been lying on the bed for several minutes when she heard Sonja’s voice.

  “Jordan, I’ve got your breakfast. Are you sick?”

  Jordan rolled over and sat up. “No. Just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night and I woke up with a stiff neck.”

  Sonja smiled sympathetically, her bangs hanging halfway over her eyes. She set a plate of syrup-covered pancakes on the side table, then sat on the edge of the bed. “Sorry,” she said, putting her hands on Jordan’s shoulders and massaging gently. “Why don’t you lie back down and I’ll give you a massage. I’m pretty good at it. So people tell me.”

  Jordan brushed her away and swung her feet to the floor, facing her pancakes.

  “Good news about Pippa, isn’t it?” Sonja asked.

  Jordan nodded. “Quite a relief for Kelly, I’m sure.”

  “I bet you were totally blown away when she turned up here out of the blue like that.”

  “Uh-huh. The last place I would have expected to see Kelly Sheffield. Actually anyone from home.”

  “She said you haven’t seen one another for nine years. Why is that?”

  “She was my student,” Jordan said flatly. “I don’t keep in touch with many students.”

  “I get the impression she was a special student.” Sonja looked up to catch Jordan’s eye. “Very special.”

  “Not that special,” Jordan said sternly, cutting a triangle out of her pancake stack.

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Whatever you were to her once, that’s in the distant past. She’s got Pippa now, hasn’t she?” Sonja looked pleased with herself. “And it’s apparently serious. They’re totally devoted to one another.”

  Jordan stiffened, dropping her fork in the plate. “Did Kelly say that?”

  “More or less. It was her explanation for blowing me off when I made a pass at her last night.”

  Jordan laughed, noticing it came out sounding more bitter than amused. “You made a pass at Kelly?”

  “Uh-huh. Why shouldn’t I? She’s super hot. Anyway, she turned me down flat.”

  “Maybe she just isn’t interested in…” Jordan reconsidered her insult. “Blondes.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just too old for her.” Sonja tossed her bangs and strode out.

  Jordan brushed off the implied insult about her age and took a bite of her breakfast. She shook her head at Sonja’s seduction technique. Apparently she thought she could goad Jordan into bed. She plied her as often with abuses as compliments. This morning her argument seemed to be, “Nobody else would want you, you old hag, so you may as well take me.” It didn’t much matter. It was a lost cause whichever way she played it.

  Sonja was one of several students who had made a play for her over the years. Jordan had plenty of experience in this department. The thing to do was pretend not to notice that they were sitting in your class fantasizing about slithering into your lonely spinster life and blowing your mind. They imagined that you weren’t getting any and they were going to rock your world. They were so naïve and so arrogant, most of them. Because of their youth, they didn’t know how obvious they were. Or how boring.

  That Kelly had turned Sonja down pleased Jordan, but didn’t surprise her. Kelly couldn’t have changed so much that she would be so cavalier about sex. It was totally out of character to think she would go for a cuddle in the sack with Sonja. Especially if she was seriously involved with someone else. But an eighteen-year-old? That seemed out of character too.

  There was always the chance Kelly was in love with Pippa and couldn’t stop herself from what looked to an outsider like folly. Maybe Pippa was really something special. Age wasn’t always an accurate gauge for a person’s maturity.

  I’d like to meet this Pippa, Jordan thought, stuffing a forkful of pancake in her mouth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  For the last hour, Kelly had been listening to a remarkable story that Pippa had kept quiet about until today. They sat side by side on the couch in the boarding house living room, drinking hot chocolate while rain banged on the windowpane behind their heads. Work plans for everyone had been canceled due to bad weather.

  Pippa had been home from the hospital two days and said she felt fine. No more pain in her head. No more dizziness. Her twisted ankle was rapidly improving. Though she limped, she was walking unaided.

  As soon as they’d been reunited at the hospital, they had both eagerly told the other about their adventures. Kelly had been touched to hear how anxious Pippa had been about her in the midst of her own ordeal, and how she had fired a half dozen questions at the rescue team the moment they had found her, like, “Where is Kelly? Is she safe?”

  Kelly had already heard the story of Pippa’s accident and her rescue. But today she learned that the most important part of the experience for Pippa wasn’t any of that. It was what had been going on in her mind during her many hours in the cave, an elaborate and surprisingly coherent dream about a fourteenth-century Norse woman named Asa.

  There was nothing truly strange about the story. It seemed historically reasonable. There were a lot of similar stories about how the Viking settlers lived and how they ultimately died out. What was weird was that Pippa was convinced it wasn’t a dream. She seemed to think it had all really happened just as she dreamed it, that centuries ago the Viking woman had hidden from the Thule in the very cave she herself had fallen into. Had not only hidden there but had miscarried her baby there.

  “This has been on my mind every minute since I got back,” Pippa said. “But what I didn’t realize before is that the baby has to be buried in that cave. Where else would it be? She didn’t take it with her.”

  “It might not have been buried at all,” Kelly pointed out, going along for the sake of conversation. “She had a lot on her mind. She might have just left it there and some animal took it away.”

  Pippa shook her head. “She wouldn’t have done that. These people were devout and superstitious Christians. It would be important to her to bury it. I know it’s there. It’s under the rocks, the pile of rocks I told you about. It’s not just a random pile. It’s a burial mound. She carved a message there. I saw it. That has to be an epitaph.”

  Kelly shivered. “You’re freaking me out here, Pippa.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” She frowned and took a drink from her mug.

  “No, no,” Kelly objected. “It’s good that you told me. I really enjoyed the story. But, you know, it’s just a story. A vivid dream.”

  “What if it wasn’t a dream?”

  “What else?”

  “A vision,” Pippa replied solemnly. “Like a message from the past.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  Pippa shrugged. “Nivi believes it. She believes I can see into the future and the past.”

  “That’s just folklore. You know that. What happened to you is just the combination of the concussion and the suggestion that Nivi planted in your mind. You said yourself you were drifting in and out of consciousness
and you even hallucinated that you saw someone in the cave. Obviously, there was no one there. You can’t really trust your experiences from that day.”

  Pippa shrugged. “Maybe. But I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to know what happened to her. Did she survive? I’ve tried to conjure it up in my mind again, to continue the story. But it’s no use. I get nothing.” She set her mug on the table, looking morose.

  She was obviously feeling very close to this story of hers. It was real to her. These people were real to her.

  “I just have a feeling about Asa,” she said. “She’s trying to tell me something and I don’t believe it’s just that she died of starvation with the rest of them. I think there’s something special about her.”

  Because she’s the heroine of your story, Kelly thought, and you don’t want to think of her perishing so ingloriously. Kelly pulled Pippa’s head under her chin, giving her a bracing hug as Mrs. Arensen appeared in the doorway in a shapeless floral dress.

  “I am taking a count,” she announced. “For supper. Jens and Mr. Waddell are going to the Disko Hotel.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “How can a student afford a forty-krone hamburger? Mr. Lance, he is also going.”

  “What are you cooking?” Kelly asked, making a mental note that extravagant meals were on Mrs. Arensen’s list of moral weaknesses.

  “Laks,” she replied.

  Kelly turned to Pippa. “Salmon?”

  Pippa nodded.

  “That would be great,” Kelly said. “I love salmon.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Arensen smiled, stretching her thin lips even thinner. “Nice fresh fish caught this morning. I have been having it all day in a pot with sugar, salt and onions. Nice pickled fish. What about you, Pippa? Will you be having supper with us?”