‘What? What do you mean, no wedding?’ I am out of breath, clutching my knees as I try and drag in big cold breaths, having driven the dogs as fast as I could from the farm to the hotel. ‘I’ve got the rings. Here!’ I hold the little box high, one hand still grasping my knee.
‘See for yourself.’ Lars is pointing out of the glass conservatory at the back of the hotel. Slowly I straighten up. The room itself is lit with candles, but there is no music playing, just a stillness to it all. In front of the window, banked with snow, surrounded by candles in lanterns throwing out flickering orange light, Pru is crying quietly in Mika’s arms.
‘A landslide, after the storm.’ Lars gestures to where the outside ice bar once stood, the igloo with green and purple lights, like a Northern Lights nightclub, where people could drink shots from ice glasses. Now it’s just a pile of snow, with fallen poles and power cables sticking out of it. ‘Thankfully, no one was in there,’ he says. ‘Everyone is safe.’ He glances at the brides. ‘If heartbroken.’
‘But surely the wedding can go ahead?’ I say. ‘There must be a way.’
He raises his shoulders and shrugs sadly. ‘Sometimes Cupid can be cruel,’ and I’m wondering if he’s talking about the wedding couple, or me and him, or the one that got away. ‘Without power we cannot run the kitchen. We cannot serve the wedding meal. Such a shame when it has been planned with such meticulous detail and love.’
‘But there must be something that can be done!’ I say, not believing it could all have been in vain. ‘Everyone that matters is here. That’s what a wedding is all about. Telling people how you feel about each other.’
He slowly shrugs again. ‘We will have to close the hotel altogether if we cannot get any power back. We don’t have hot water or heating.’
‘Well then, make fires. Do it the natural way. Fire is our best friend.’ I can hear my own voice, but hardly recognise myself. Me, who only a week ago wouldn’t have dreamt of not having central heating at the touch of a button, or being able to ping a microwave meal.
‘Our chef cannot work like that. He’s packed up his knives and gone back to civilisation, as he calls it.’
‘Where?’
‘Denmark. Everything runs like clockwork in Denmark, apparently.’
‘But here . . . this place, it’s about working with nature. Feeling alive!’ I hear myself again. A week ago I would have loved the idea of Denmark. Who am I and where is the old Halley?
I look at the wedding couple.
‘Please, Lars, there must be something that can be done.’
‘Sometimes you just can’t plan these things, no matter how hard you try.’ He looks at me again, as if finally realising the truth of his words.
‘I agree,’ I say quietly. ‘You might be right about fate, but I think sometimes fate has ideas for us other than the ones we actually want.’ I smile, and he gives me a resigned smile in return.
‘I hope so,’ he says. ‘My grandmother was never wrong.’
And I nod, hoping with all my heart that he’s right and that he gets his wish. But sometimes we don’t know what we’re wishing for until we find it. And right now, I can’t help but realise, I’m wishing I didn’t have to leave. But this is it: wedding or no wedding, I’ve completed the job, and now my time here is done. I’m going to be leaving, and suddenly I’m going to miss snowy Lapland very, very much, and one person in particular.
I look down at the box in my hand. The least I can do is deliver it in person. As I walk towards the brides, Mika turns to look at me.
‘You’ve probably heard, there isn’t going to be a wedding any more,’ she says, Pru still folded into her arms, gently sobbing.
I nod. ‘I did hear. I’m so sorry. But just because there’s no ceremony and no meal, it doesn’t mean to say these rings are any less important. They have everything you wanted to say to each other on them. They were made with love, and that’s what matters.’ I hold the box out, and Pru raises her head. ‘Love is what makes us who we are, no matter where life takes us,’ I say, and then hug the pair of them. ‘Enjoy it while you have it, and make the most of every day.’
‘Thank you,’ they both say, and Pru takes the box and opens it. She picks up one of the rings and looks at Mika.
‘I love you,’ she says, and slides the ring onto Mika’s finger. Then Mika takes the other ring and looks at Pru.
‘And I love you,’ she says, putting the ring on.
‘And you’re quite right, that really is all that matters,’ says a voice behind me. I spin round to see Pru’s mother standing there. ‘I realised it the night we sat under the stars by the fire at the Sami village. Finding love and being happy really is the most important thing. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get my head around the idea. It’s only when you lose love that you realise how special it is. Hang onto it tightly . . . and ignore the ones who don’t agree!’
The two brides break into wide smiles. This may not have been the ceremony they were planning, but it’s looking pretty much perfect to me.
I turn and move away from the family as they all hug each other. I have to get ready to leave. But before I do, I send a message to the office: Delivery made. Then I hold the phone to my lips for a moment, knowing that my time here is done.
I slip out the door while Lars is popping champagne and handing it round, and if he sees me leave, he knows that looking back isn’t the answer. He keeps looking forward and I’m glad. I will always love Lars’s optimism, his belief that something special is waiting for him just around the corner. Because he’s right: you never know what is round the corner.
I rejoin the dogs and pat each of them and thank them for their patience. Then I untie them, release the brake and head back to Björn’s cabin to return the dogs and to finally pick up my bag and leave.
Back at the farm, I put the dogs into the pen, check they have straw and water, give them some food I find in a store shed and thank them again. Then I go into the farmhouse, where the fire has warmed the place up nicely. I pull off my hat and gloves. There are some candles on the table and I light them and dot them around the room.
My phone pings into life. It’s my travel documents from the office. My next job. I’m to take an antique typewriter to Los Angeles for a well-known screenwriter. Not Australia, Los Angeles! Number seven on our bucket list. Let’s hope I don’t lose that one and have to track it down. I smile to myself.
I look down at my travel log, but I don’t open it. I slide my little booklet inside its pages, then raise it to my lips, close my eyes briefly and place a kiss on it before putting it back in my bag and zipping it up. Everything I needed to say is in there and safe. I don’t need to reread it. It’s part of my past, but it is in the past. Right now, I need to think about the future.
My phone pings again. It’s Sara, my sister. A date for an interview for the job she sent me. It’s on Monday, as soon as I get back. You’d think she’d have enough to do looking after her three boys without organising me as well. But I don’t think any of my family will stop trying until they have me home and settled.
I stand and look out of the window, taking off my coat so I feel the warmth when I leave. Another of Björn’s lessons. I pick up a soft blanket from the settee and pull it around me like a shawl. It smells of Björn. I breathe in deeply, then close my eyes again, remembering his kiss, and the promise in it. I can almost hear his voice too, as if he’s really here. ‘Hike, hike!’ he’s shouting jubilantly.
I can see his smiling face with my eyes closed, standing proudly at the back of the dog team. I can see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the freckles over his nose and cheeks. His face pink from the wind and sun, the stubble around his chin glistening with frosty flakes.
‘Hike!’ I hear again, and this time it seems even more real. And then a thundering noise, like . . . like a herd of running reindeer! My eyes ping open and there, coming over the hill, is the herd, and behind the herd is Björn. Alongside the sled comes a snowmobile driven by Elsá. She must have come out to meet him. She’s smiling just as jubilantly as the herd start to spread out on the hillside of their new home, coming to a final rest, and on the back of the snowmobile is their dad, beaming widely too.
They stood up! I want to shout, and find myself jumping up and down with joy. The reindeer stood up! They’re home! My stomach does somersaults, and shooting stars fly joyfully through me. We did it! The reindeer are home! I feel lit up, like all the joy has suddenly come rushing back into my life at once, and I dash to the door, step into my boots and run through the deep, thick snow towards Björn.
‘You’re home! You made it!’ I beam, and I can’t help myself, I hug him really tight as he brings the dogs to a standstill, not wanting to let him go. He pulls me close to him and stands me in front of him on the sled as he brings it round to the front of the house and towards the pens there to reunite the dogs with the others. Then we stand by the corral fence and watch the reindeer taking in their new surroundings.
Finally Björn goes to find them some feed, just to make them feel really at home, and his father helps pour it out, maybe for the last time, I think with a pang as the three of them pat the reindeer and look around with satisfied wide smiles. The three of them, a family, and there is just something about this place that feels like home.