Winterfrost (20 page)

“Pia,” Bettina said softly, as if the very sound of her voice might interrupt the child’s delicate balancing act. “Come.”

Bettina squatted and held her hands out toward her baby sister. She held her breath as Pia lifted one wobbly foot and put it down again. The little girl, face tense with concentration, repeated the motion, propelling herself slowly across the kitchen. Each step nearly resulted in a tumble, but somehow the child managed to recover her balance just in time.

By the time Pia reached her sister’s waiting arms, Bettina was laughing and crying and praising her little sister all at once. Pia beamed with excitement as she wiggled free to try it all once more.

The Larsen sisters spent the remainder of their time alone together feeding the animals, playing with new Christmas toys, and practicing walking all over the house. Mor and Mormor were on their way back to Lolland, and Far was close behind. It would be a grand surprise for all to see how baby Pia had changed while they were away.

But Pia wasn’t the only one who had changed. Bettina never searched for winter greens without thinking of the cozy kitchen beneath the giant oak tree. She never once walked the forest trails without hearing Gammel’s voice in her mind and remembering the night she accompanied him as he made his rounds among the forest animals.

Bettina’s love for Christmastime returned. Farfar would never again be there to share in the holiday festivities, she knew, but his joy and excitement would remain as long as she kept them alive. Who else would tell Pia about the magic of winterfrost and the nisse of the farm and forest?

But most of all, Bettina never again went about her business in such a great hurry that she didn’t take time to look. It is the seer, after all, who must slow down enough to take note of the world around her.

And though it didn’t happen every day, or even every year, sometimes when Bettina was paying very close attention, she’d catch a glimpse of red as she walked through the pines or while she did her chores or rode her chestnut mare along the country roads.

And if she stood very still, and hoped and waited and believed, she would sometimes see a tiny nisse man, with a beard growing ever grayer with each passing year, stop and remove his hat and tip his head in her direction. Just to let her know that all was right between his world and hers.

I will forever be indebted to the families Poulsen, Christiansen, Højmark, Pedersen, Skammelsen, and Vestergård, who opened their homes and hearts to a young American stranger all those years ago; Danish children (young and old) who told their nisse tales to me via letter, e-mail, and mormor; all the Mainely Writers, especially those who accepted the challenge to read entire drafts of
Winterfrost
: Ann Mack, Nancy Roe Pimm, Thea Gammans, and Naomi Kinsman Downing; Laura Ruby for giving
Winterfrost
Uncle Viggo; Kaylan Adair and the incredible Candlewick team for believing in nisse; Karen Grencik for believing in me; Dora McAfee for her resourcefulness and generosity; Mark, Olivia, Seth, and Maggie for always saying, “We gnome you can do it!”; and the real Bettina, a tireless fact-checker and dear friend.