‘That’s so nice of you, thank you.’ I’m grinning into his face now and feeling all kinds of warm fuzzies in my heart that I haven’t felt for years.
I see him pull his body a little further away from me as he surveys my face, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.
‘Will you let me take you out on the resort again tomorrow? Just us?’ he says, suddenly.
I fluster a little over my reply, but I hope it comes out sounding unfazed and casual.
‘Don’t let Toivo hear you talking like that,’ I say, covering the puppy’s ears. ‘He’ll feel left out.’
Stellan looks down at the sleeping pup on my lap and smiles.
‘But I thought you had a lot of work to do on the resort?’ I add, immediately rewarding myself with an imaginary kick for being such a self-sabotaging spoilsport.
He nods, and seems lost in thought for a moment. ‘No. The staff could probably run this place like clockwork, if I ever gave them the chance. They should manage without me for a while. I do have a special job for Christmas Day that I can’t get out of though.’ He lifts Toivo from my lap and returns him to Kanerva, all the while smiling secretively.
I raise an eyebrow, but I don’t pursue it. He’s letting me know we’ve only got tomorrow together and that’s it, so I’m going to say ‘yes’ and make the most of his precious free time before my holiday ends.
‘All right then,’ I say, trying not to betray the little buzz of happiness that I feel at the thought of Christmas Eve with Stellan, which is contending with my annoyance at myself for capitulating so easily on my resolve to steer clear of him. ‘I’ll spend the morning with you, on one condition,’ I say, and I hope it comes across as nicely standoffish.
‘What’s that?’ he asks.
‘That you drop your defences a little?’ I watch as he frowns at this, and I press on. ‘We used to know each other pretty well, and I feel like we’ve gone back to the beginning again.’
‘Is that so bad? Getting to know each other again?’
I absorb the intense earnestness of his expression and think that, of course, he’s right. It’s been so long since we knew each other, and we’ve both changed. Me more than him, probably, if looks are anything to go by. His shoulders are broader maybe, and it’s hard to tell with these snowsuits, but he seems more muscled and substantial somehow, and even though he’s got his beanie rammed down over his hair once again, I noticed earlier that he was blonder. But he’s still the same serious, calm, steady Stellan, with the same brief sparks of warmth and humour that I loved about him.
‘Of course, that’s no bad thing,’ I say. ‘I’d love to get to know more about you and your life now. And of course things have changed, but… please don’t put up a wall. Let me in a bit. We’re not kids any more.’
Stellan nods slowly, his smile laced with self-recrimination. I’m guessing he’s heard this from other people too.
‘There’s an old joke about Finns, you know. It goes… you can be sure you’re talking with a Finnish introvert if he looks at his shoes when he speaks, and you’ll know you’ve met a Finnishextrovertbecause he’s looking atyourshoes when he speaks.’ Despite his insistence about his introverted nature, he laughs and looks straight into my eyes. ‘But you’re right, I’m thirty-six now, I’ve changed a lot, even if I’m reserved at first.’
‘Reserved? You were positively grumpy yesterday, not to mention during lunch today.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. I won’t hold back any more.’
‘Good, OK,’ I say with a decisive nod.
‘Allow me to walk you back to your cabin. Nari will be waiting. And I’ll come find you tomorrow morning at eleven?’
‘What are we going to be doing?’
‘Just wear your snow gear, I’ll think of something special.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘So, are you going to tell me how things went with Niilo this morning on the husky run, now we’re out of earshot of the resort staff?’ I ask, as Nari clambers onto the toboggan at the top of the floodlit slope. She’d been reluctant to spill the beans over our early dinner at the hotel restaurant with the serving staff, Niilo’s friends and colleagues, flitting to and fro.
‘See you at the bottom!’ she yells with a grin before shuffling herself to the edge of the slope and disappearing into the darkness with a delighted scream.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ It was hard enough work dragging this plastic death wish device from the bottom of the slope all the way up here, now I’ve got to dodge the pre-schoolers on even smaller – and more lethal, in my opinion – versions of my toboggan, merrily launching themselves head-first downhill without a care for the other people criss-crossing the run below.
‘Here goes nothing,’ I say as I sit down, hearing the flimsy plastic creak beneath me. I’d cross myself, but I’m not sure I’d be doing it right, and honestly, does Jesus even do holy protection for otherwise sensible adults willingly flinging themselves down a slippery slope on something only marginally better engineered than a canteen tea tray?
Just as I’m bum shuffling my way to the edge, two teenagers bustle past me, throw down their toboggans and recklessly hurl their bodies upon them as they’re already in motion. I’ll just have to wait until they’ve cleared my landing zone; the last thing I want is to have a crash, but instead of stopping, I find the momentum of the toboggan on the hard ice is carrying me over the precipice and suddenly I’m hurtling downhill after them.
It’s at this point Nari streaks past me again, screaming ‘Yee-haw!’ She’s red-cheeked and howling with laughter and holding the toboggan ropes in one hand while lasso-spinning her scarf above her head with the other, like anaprès skicowgirl.
