Chapter Twenty #2
Kyle stopped and, looking up at the sky, gripped Simon’s arm. ‘Is that … ?’ he whispered.
‘I think it is,’ Simon murmured, his eyes wide with wonder as ribbons of green and violet suddenly danced between the disappearing clouds.
They stood in silence as the aurora began to unfurl.
Simon closed his eyes and made his wish. When he opened them again, Kyle nudged him gently. ‘I hope that whatever you wish for, it will soon come true.’
Simon took a deep breath. He turned to stare into Kyle’s blue eyes. ‘Me too,’ he whispered, ‘me too.’
‘You said that the evening would be memorable,’ Kyle said softly.
But as Simon gripped his amulet and stared at the incredible lights in the night sky, neither man had any notion of just how memorable the evening would be.
In the reindeer camp at the top of the hill, excitement buzzed amongst the guests, as many had just witnessed their first glimpse of the Northern Lights.
But, as Bill Zhang had predicted, the cloud cover thickened, and the ribbons of green and gold, which had been momentarily brilliant, faded, much to everyone’s dismay.
However, any disappointment soon vanished when Matti stepped forward and clapped his hands.
‘Are you ready to meet the true stars of the Arctic?’ he asked.
Heads turned to the clanging sound of gates swinging open, and to everyone’s delight, a herd of reindeer trotted into the clearing.
‘Take a bucket and fill it with pellets, but be sure to hold it in outstretched arms,’ he warned as the soft-eyed creatures surrounded the guests and, knowing that food was imminent, began to nuzzle and bump into bodies.
‘I say!’ Kenneth shouted as his bucket was upended by a boisterous young reindeer.
He was suddenly surrounded by the hungry creatures who piled in to scoop up the pellets scattered on the ground.
‘Babs! Help!’ Kenneth called out as he was butted in his bottom while another sniffed his pockets with a snort of warm breath.
Losing his footing, Kenneth stumbled to the ground, where a reindeer bit into Kenneth’s trapper hat and shook it like a terrier with a chew. Unfortunately for Kenneth, the reindeer’s grip snatched the toupee with the hat, and Kenneth yelped as it landed unceremoniously on the snow.
‘Babs, please help!’ he cried out, with one hand covering his bald head while he frantically searched for his wife as the reindeer, losing interest, pranced off to find another food-filled bucket.
‘Man up, Kenny!’ Barbara retorted as she reached down to retrieve the offending objects and return them to her husband.
Then, stroking a Bambi-like reindeer, Barbara was thoughtful as she said, ‘They’re rather cute,’ and ran her gloved fingers over the soft fur, wondering if a coat made of reindeer might be stylish.
But soon bored with fondling smelly reindeer, and regretting drinking too much before they’d set off, Barbara wandered away in search of a bathroom before her bladder burst.
Observing the incident and seated on the snowmobile, Jim laughed as he held out his bucket. Leticia stood alongside, stroking the bulky frame of the bull that was gobbling up Jim’s pellets. ‘His coat is almost white,’ Leticia said as she admired the magnificent male.
Jim nodded. ‘It’s a brown-grey colour in summer and lighter in winter,’ he said.
‘But he’s not got any antlers?’ Leticia was curious as she ran her fingers over the knobbly lumps on the reindeer’s head.
‘Matti says that males lose their antlers in winter, when the mating season is over. Females shed their antlers after calving in spring.’
‘So, are you telling me that Santa’s Rudolph and his reindeers, who all have magnificent antlers, are possibly female?’ Leticia laughed.
‘I suppose they might be, which means that Santa’s sleigh is probably pulled by a team of strong, determined women.’
‘Well, that figures,’ Leticia said, ‘it takes a woman to navigate the globe overnight and deliver billions of Christmas gifts to children.’
With the reindeer herd contentedly fed, guests followed the glow of a line of lanterns that led to a Sámi lavvu.
The large, tent-like structure was made from a covering of reindeer hides stitched together and stretched over a framework of wooden poles.
In the centre of the lavvu, a fire burned, the smoke escaping from an opening in the top.
‘It’s lovely and warm in here,’ Joy said as she removed her coat and sat down on an extended bench. ‘Is this where a Sámi family live?’
Henry sat beside her, and as he stared into the flames, he rubbed his hands together.
‘It is,’ he replied, remembering the guidebook he’d studied.
‘The fire isn’t just for heat, but for cooking too, and the lavvu is portable.
It’s perfect for a nomadic Sámi tribe as it allows them to move with their herds across the tundra. ’
Food was served, and Joy was cautious as she stared at the deep dish of stew placed before her. ‘Is this what I think it is?’ she asked Henry.
‘Yes,’ he nodded, ‘try not to think about it because I have to say, it’s absolutely delicious.’ Henry spooned a piece of reindeer meat and tucked in.
But Joy was hesitant, and her spoon hovered mid-air. ‘I don’t know if I can,’ she said, ‘they were licking my mittens only moments ago.’
‘This one wasn’t.’ Henry forked a chunk of potato with the reindeer meat.
Steeling herself, Joy took a tiny bite. ‘Actually,’ she said, her eyebrows lifting, ‘that’s quite tasty.’
Henry grinned. ‘Served with a thick gravy, guilt tastes surprisingly good.’
The meal was topped off with apple cake and almond cream, and when plates were cleared away, Matti took to the centre of the lavvu and stood beside the fire. The guests became silent as he began to speak.
Matti told tales of his family, their seasonal migration, and their bond with the herd. Reindeers were everything to the Sámis, he explained, from providing food, clothing and tools, every part of the animal was used. The creatures were the Sámis’ partner in survival.
Joy was fascinated to learn that the knee of Matti’s traditional trousers was made of a reindeer knee, and the sections of his jacket were stitched pieces of reindeer hide.
Henry nodded his respect as Matti told how his ancestors could ‘smell’ an approaching storm and track lost reindeer in white-out conditions.
Matti ended the evening by performing a traditional joik, sang a cappella: a haunting song that had been passed down through generations of Sámis.
The guests were spellbound as they listened to his raw, deeply emotional voice.
When he finished singing, there was a momentary silence as though the ghosts of Matti’s ancestors were lingering in the shadows of the flickering flames of the fire.
Then, slowly, one by one, the guests began to clap, and as the applause rose, Joy felt tears in her eyes.
She suddenly felt emotional, as though all the anguish of everything that had gone before had loosened its grip.
The joik had unlocked something, and now, as guests left the lavvu, her tears fell softly.
When Henry’s fingers curled into her own, she let them.
When he dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief, she smiled.
As he helped her into her coat and tucked the scarf at her neck, she let him take her hand and lead her back to the coach.
And when he settled her into her seat and placed his arm around her shoulders, she lay her head on his chest and closed her eyes.
As the coach began its journey back to the ship, snow started to fall in soft, silent flakes against the windowpane.
Joy heard the hum of the engine and felt the steady beat of Henry’s heart against her cheek, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, Joy didn’t think about what she’d lost with Tom.
Instead, she was thinking about what she might have found with Henry.