Christmas with Nick Klaas

Part 30: Return to Sender

Chunks of ice flew in every direction as Nick waved his chainsaw around a large block of frozen water. Some people dealt with stress by taking up yoga. Others tried to get more sleep. And a few even avoided caffeine or alcohol. But the person who was now responsible for pulling off Christmas without a hitch for the entire planet had chosen to pursue ice sculpting in the manliest way imaginable in order to steady his nerves.

He was finally getting the hang of it, too. No longer did his swans look like deformed ducks or the dolphins resemble fat tuna. Those were actually the easy designs he had started with months ago, and after gradually mastering the technique, he'd moved on to more intricate patterns. Snowflakes were his favorites because he could use his imagination to come up with endless forms, but dragons, pharaohs, and even giant palm trees were all fair game. Lately, however, his world revolved around Christmas in every sense of the phrase.

Ten-foot tall nutcracker soldiers and life-sized reindeer dotted the forest clearing around him, interspersed with candy cane bouquets and armies of snowmen. He'd even carved a traditional Santa climbing down a chimney for the heck of it. The translucent ice glistened in the moonlight, as if intently watching its creator work on his latest masterpiece.

Tonight's project was Nick's most ambitious yet. Last night, he'd dreamt of tropical waters full of colorful fish. The vividness of the dream had nagged at him all day, finally inspiring the underwater scene he was now carving. The base recalled coral, anchoring a giant clamshell on top of which a beautiful mermaid sat. Her face had been both the easiest and hardest to sculpt. It was easy because Noelle's perfect features were etched into his mind after thinking of them every single day since she'd left. But it was also hard because the recollection brought more pain than joy from knowing that she was gone for good.

After rounding off a sharp corner to shape the mermaid's tail, Nick stepped back to admire his work. The chainsaw in his hands also appeared to need a break as the engine sputtered to a stop, indicating it had run out of fuel. Putting the tool on the ground, Nick patted the frozen little pieces ice dust off his gloves before also shaking the cold chips from his beard.

The facial hair was a relatively new addition to his look. He'd reluctantly grown the thick, dark scruff out during the fall months when he'd finally accepted his fate. If he was going to be forced to play Santa, he might as well look the part. Of course, he was following his father's lead on the fashion front instead of the popular culture image of the 'jolly old elf,' which saved him from packing on the kilos or stuffing his coat. A few years earlier, the Americans had called the style "lumbersexual" as if they'd invented the look. Funny enough, his Viking ancestors were already rocking it more than a thousand years earlier without all the hoopla.

Nick smiled to himself, ready to get the gas canister from under a nearby pine when an unusual feeling made him pause. There was no obvious reason for his hesitation. The air was still, the night quiet, and the smell of burning logs in faraway fireplaces familiar. Yet something was different, and it made the hair on Nick's arms stand on end. An energy unlike any other he'd felt since that powerful ceremony at the lake that had banished his cousin last year had just flowed across the forest. He was sure of it.

The frantic yelling of the tonttu in an ancient Norse dialect drew his attention to the dark woods. The little men emerged one-by-one, but because they were all jabbering at once, Nick could hardly understand any of what they were trying to say. Between the thirteen of them, he caught 'impossible,' 'unexpected,' and 'toilet brush,' although that last one he may have misunderstood.

"Stop!" Nick yelled, throwing up his hands to get the gnomes' attention. But as they quieted down, a double-ping sounded from his pocket.

Pulling out his cell phone, Nick checked the text message. It was from Ronja, and as they had previously agreed for this circumstance, it was short and to the point: They're back.