Melt (15 page)

For Asa, the courage to act came almost entirely from Gudny, that happy child who deserved to live. It was for Gudny she felt compelled to do this.

She gathered a small bundle of belongings from her house. She took only necessities. She stared for several minutes at her family’s wooden cross above the hearth. It symbolized a link to her Norse ancestors and to the homeland she had never seen. And never would see. This land, this Greenland, was her homeland. Not Iceland where her grandparents had been born. Iceland was nothing to her. Nor Norway, even further removed in time and space. Why did these people have such a strong bond with a place they had never been? Why did they even call themselves Norsemen? Every one of them was born here in Greenland. They were all Greenlanders, and it was the only place any of them had ever known.

She left the cross where it was. Likewise, she left behind her Bible and her book of Icelandic sagas. In those three choices, she reluctantly turned away from her family, her religion and her history.

She dressed herself and Gudny in their Skræling garments. She felt guilty for leaving and fearful of where she was going. She couldn’t be sure the Skrælings, if she found them, would even allow her to live with them. They might kill her or chase her away. Then what would she do? Come back here and endure the scorn of her kinsmen? She tried not to let these fears overwhelm her resolve. Her short stay with the Skrælings had shown her a possibility, one apparently too far-fetched for her kinsmen to consider.

She met the others in the center of the village where they had gathered in a huddle of disapproval.

Olaf, once their best hunter, leaned on a crutch, standing on his one leg next to his fifteen-year-old son Grif. His wife had died last year in childbirth and he and Grif lived alone now. It seemed every household was bereft and in mourning. Old Gest, crazy fool, glared at Asa wordlessly as if she were the Devil himself.

“You cannot do this,” Asvald told her sternly.

“Let her go,” one of the women said. “She’s bewitched.”

“She doesn’t pray anymore,” Hild accused. “Those heathens did something to her.”

Gudny clung to Asa’s leg, frightened and confused.

After an uncomfortable two minutes of deliberation, Asvald took Asa’s hand and said, “I will not stop you. God protect you.”

“No!” Hild cried, rushing in to snatch Gudny, pressing her roughly into her garments. “Go if you must,” she spat at Asa, “but don’t sacrifice the child.”

“She’s mine and she’s coming with me,” Asa said firmly, dismayed that Gudny was now in tears.

“Lock her up!” Hild demanded. “She’s lost her mind.”

Asvald approached Hild and pulled Gudny from her, saying, “Let the child go. Her mother has the right.”

Hild released her hold on Gudny and lowered her head between slumped, defeated shoulders. Asvald handed Gudny over to Asa, his expression grim and cold. Unlike last year when the others had departed on their quest to reach Brattahlid, these people had no prayers for Asa. She didn’t blame them, nor did she begrudge them their opinions. She wasn’t sure herself she was doing the right thing.

Asa nodded wordlessly toward her friends and turned to go.

“Wait,” called a deep voice.

She turned back to see Olaf grab his son by the shoulders. He shook the boy, his face a tableau of despair, then clasped him to his chest. Without a word, he turned Grif around to face Asa and pushed him toward her. The boy looked bewildered, turning to his father for an explanation. Olaf jerked his head firmly toward Asa and said, “Go!”

Several gasps of disbelief arose from the group.

“No, Papa!” the boy protested.

Olaf’s upper lip quivered through his heavy yellow beard, but his eyes remained stern. “Keep me in your heart. Go now.”

Asa felt her eyes sting with approaching tears. She reached an arm toward Grif, whose moist blue eyes, set deep in a hairless face, were wide with fear. He walked into her embrace, then the three of them set off in a northerly direction toward the land of the Skræling, not knowing what fate awaited them.

Chapter Fifteen

Kelly stood outside Jordan’s tent with a mug in each hand. “Jordan,” she called quietly.

“Come in,” came the immediate reply.

She pushed aside the flap with her foot and entered the tent. Jordan sat at her computer, her back to the entrance, typing rapidly. She wore the same turtleneck T-shirt as earlier over navy blue sweatpants, a pair of thick socks on her feet. Kelly approached and set the cup down on the desk. On the screen was a wavy, grid-like pattern of red lines.

Jordan glanced at the cup, removed her glasses and looked up to meet Kelly’s eyes.

“You?” she said, surprised.

“Sorry I startled you.”

“Uh, no, you didn’t. Actually, you did. I thought it was one of the others.” She ran her hand through her hair and picked up the mug, tasting the tea. “Rooibos. You remembered?”

“Sure.”

Jordan smiled gently.

“Are you very busy?” Kelly asked, looking again at the odd shapes on the computer screen.

“Routine stuff. Feeding data into this modeling program. It creates a 3-D image of the glacier. Each day we take measurements, plug them in, and once enough data points are collected, it can simulate the movement of the glacier over the course of the summer. Check this out.”

Kelly watched over Jordan’s shoulder as she clicked a button and the grid lines moved like a flowing river for a few seconds, then abruptly stopped.

“By the end of the summer,” Jordan said, “it’ll go on a lot longer, of course. Isn’t it cool?”

“Yes,” Kelly agreed. “Jordan, I was hoping you might have time to talk.”

Jordan gulped down a serious swallow of tea before answering. “It’s getting late, but a few minutes…”

Kelly pulled a chair closer and sat down. It was nice just to be sitting here, just the two of them, after so long. It took Kelly back many years to those coveted minutes in Jordan’s office at the end of the school day, when she would listen raptly to whatever Jordan wanted to talk about. Even her random complaints had found a grateful audience in Kelly. It didn’t matter what she talked about. It only mattered that Kelly was allowed into the private company of her loved one, if only on campus. Jordan’s secret life beyond the university grounds had remained frustratingly unknown to Kelly. Back then, she had imagined that it was a fascinating world of interesting people and stimulating activity, but she had eventually come to understand that it was more likely spent quietly at home with a couple of cats and a stack of science journals.

“I’m happy to see you again,” Kelly said sincerely. “You look great. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” Jordan answered vaguely. “How about you?”

“I’m good.”

“How’s your mother?”

“Her health isn’t so great. Heart disease. High blood pressure. I don’t see her much. She’s still with my sister in Portland.”

Jordan nodded and took another leisurely drink from her cup. “So you’re a photographer. That’s terrific.”

“I love it!”

“You always took great photos. I told you at the time you should pursue photography seriously, not just as a hobby. But you stubbornly clung to meteorology, trying to please me.”

Kelly nodded. “I did everything I could to please you. I was a silly girl, wasn’t I?”

Jordan regarded her with pleasure. “Yes. But charmingly so. You’re not a silly girl anymore, are you?”

Kelly laughed shortly. “I hope not. It’s embarrassing to think about it…now. I must have seemed like a homeless puppy. You were so kind to me. Anybody else would have told me to get lost.”

Jordan’s slight smile looked oddly sad. But it was short-lived. She brightened and said, “I told you you’d outgrow it, didn’t I? You’d look back and say to yourself, Oh, hell, what was I thinking?” Jordan slapped her palm against her forehead. “But it’s very common to have a crush on a teacher. Nothing to be embarrassed about. You survived and went on to have more mature relationships…one assumes.”

Although her manner was friendly, Kelly believed Jordan was holding herself at a distance, as she always had. She didn’t seem at all relaxed. Kelly had so often yearned to break through Jordan’s barriers, to peel her back layer by layer until she could touch her exposed heart.

“I’ve had a few relationships,” Kelly confirmed. “I don’t know if they were more mature or not.” She laughed self-consciously.

She wanted to talk about her feelings and, more importantly, Jordan’s. But it was too soon for that, she knew, after such a long separation. It was a strange situation. She felt both like they had just met and like they had known one another intimately forever.

“I can’t believe you’ve been right there in Boulder for six years!” Kelly shook her head. “Did you ever think of contacting me after you came back?”

Jordan looked momentarily confused. “No, I didn’t think about it. I assumed you had moved on, had a full life.” She looked apologetic. “There wouldn’t have been much point. No place for me in your life anymore.”

“Oh, no, I disagree! We could get together now and then. Talk and enjoy one another’s company. On a more equal footing. As friends.”

Jordan shook her head. “Kelly, I was your mentor. People always leave their mentors behind. And it’s okay. It’s expected. It’s one of the classic rites of passage.”

“But I didn’t leave you. You left me.”

“I know, but you would have left me in time. Besides, I’m speaking figuratively. You left me in the sense that you outgrew your fantasies about me. Once you grow up and find your own way, mentors have nothing left to offer you, not even friendship. Least of all friendship, really, because they were never real people to you. They were an ideal. So when you’ve matured, they’re nothing but a disappointment because you once thought they were perfect.”

“I never thought of you as perfect.”

Jordan was clearly surprised. “You didn’t?”

“No. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody like that, to be honest.”

“But I remember you saying that I was your role model, that you thought I was the most admirable woman you’d ever known.”

“All true. I admired you so much. I still do. But it wasn’t a blind admiration. You have shortcomings like everybody else. You hide them well, but if a person is looking closely, she can see your weaknesses.”

Jordan cocked her head, curious. “So you loved me in spite of my flaws?”

Kelly shook her head. “I loved you
because
of them. People don’t like perfection, Jordan. They may admire it, but they don’t identify with it, so it doesn’t move them. That’s one of the things you learn in photography. Look for the imperfections and bring them to the fore. That’s where the interest lies. That’s where you can touch someone’s heart.”

Jordan looked thoughtful. “You seem so mature,” she said wistfully. “In any case, you have clearly outgrown your need for a mentor.”

“I don’t remember you ever saying whether or not you had a mentor.”

Jordan hesitated, looking like she was trying to decide how to answer. Kelly had seen this response many times before. Whenever she asked a personal question, no matter how innocuous, Jordan always took her time answering, as if she were considering whether or not it was worth the risk. Kelly assumed this intense need for privacy had been ingrained in her during adolescence. She had grown up in a conservative, intolerant family. Her acceptance among them had required that she keep her emerging lesbianism a secret. One of the most fundamental truths about her had been abhorrent to everyone she knew. Later, as an adult, she had come out of the closet, but she never seemed to have overcome her self-protective evasiveness.

“Yes, I had a mentor,” she finally replied. “My professor and advisor at Cornell, Alonzo Marquette. He was a brilliant scientist. As a student, my goal in life was to be just like him, to pattern my career after his and hope to accomplish just a fraction of what he had done for environmental studies.” Jordan looked distracted. “He took me under his wing and I’ll be forever grateful for the extra attention.”

“Cornell? I thought you did your graduate studies at the University of Chicago.”

“Yes, that’s right. I started at Cornell and finished at Chicago.” Jordan crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, fixing a relaxed gaze on Kelly. “So you’re happy working as a photographer. Tell me what you love about it?”

* * *

Kelly was setting her mug down to consider her response. Jordan was relieved to move off the subject of herself. This whole situation was nerve-wracking with Kelly showing up here so unexpectedly. Even worse, here she was dredging up the sore old topic of Professor Marquette and, by extension, his beautiful and passionate wife. That was not something Jordan wanted to talk about. Or even think about. That disastrous chapter of her life was long over. She wished it could be forgotten. Actually, she wished it had never happened. There was no way it could be forgotten. After nearly twenty years, the memories had barely dulled at all.

She could still bring to mind the pale, translucent skin of Teresa’s shoulder, a blue vein trailing down across the curve of her breast. Lying beside her, Jordan had often traced that vein with her forefinger while Teresa lay on her back, her body’s heat waning after lovemaking. Teresa Marquette had been forty-three, nearly twice her age, a buxom brunette. Her husband called her Terry. Though Jordan didn’t know it at the time, their marriage was full of resentment, discord, perhaps even hatred, at least on the part of Teresa, a woman possessed and driven by a bitterness Jordan couldn’t guess at until years after.

From their first meeting, Jordan had found Mrs. Marquette sexy in an intoxicating, carnal way, but it had never crossed her mind that the attraction could be mutual or that anything would ever happen between them. She never suspected that Mrs. Marquette had begun to take an interest in her husband’s favorite graduate student, the brainy young lesbian he was molding in his image. Until one day when she came by their house to deliver a set of student papers she’d graded and Professor Marquette was not at home.