Winterfrost by Michelle Houts Page A

Pedersen told her. “Wanted to be sure all is well with your folks away.”
    “Oh, thank you so much. Yes, we are fine. We’re doing great!” Bettina tried to sound convincing.
    “I’m glad to hear that.” Mr. Pedersen sighed. “We, uh, we were here yesterday. And we couldn’t find anyone.”
    Bettina took a deep breath. She didn’t like to lie, but she saw no other way out.
    “Yesterday? Oh, we went sledding all day! You know, this winterfrost is so beautiful, we simply had to be out in it,” she explained.
    “Oh, I agree with that! I spent a good deal of time outdoors myself yesterday. Walked through the forest, and it was breathtaking out there,” Mr. Pedersen said.
    He didn’t mention that he’d called her name just before she entered Gammel’s house. Bettina sighed with relief. Perhaps that would be her last lie.
    Mrs. Pedersen was a petite woman, younger than Mor, with no children of her own yet. But she adored baby Pia. Mrs. Pedersen tried to see past Bettina.
    “Where is the baby?” she asked.
    “Pia?” Bettina tried not to stammer. “Pia’s sleeping right now.”
    Mrs. Pedersen frowned. “Still sleeping? It’s nearly eight o’clock. Are you sure she’s all right, Bettina?”
    “Oh, no,” Bettina explained. “I mean yes, she’s all right. But no, she’s not
still
sleeping. She’s napping. Again. That little girl was up at five in the morning, all bright-eyed and ready to play. So, we got up very early, had our breakfast, fed the animals, and she’s back to napping now. She’s sleeping cozy in her —”
    Bettina stopped midsentence. She knew the pram where Pia usually napped was right behind her in the kitchen, next to the patio doors where she’d left it after she’d discovered it empty.
    “. . . bed,” Bettina finished quickly.
    “Oh, that’s too bad.” Lisa Pedersen sighed. “I was hoping to hold her awhile. Is she walking yet?”
    “Almost.” Bettina smiled, ever the proud sister. “I planned to teach her to walk before Mormor gets here, but . . .”
    Now it was Bettina’s turn to sigh.
But I can’t teach her to walk if I don’t know where she is
, she thought.
    “. . . but she has a mind of her own, I’ll tell you,” she said instead. “She’ll walk when she’s good and ready!”
    The Pedersens laughed along with Bettina at Pia’s stubborn streak.
    Then there was a moment of awkward silence. A long moment in which Bettina wasn’t sure what to say next and the Pedersens seemed reluctant to end their brief visit.
    Suddenly the teakettle hissed. It started out low but quickly grew to a piercing wail. Bettina let out a long breath.
    “There’s my water for tea,” she stated matter-of-factly. Both Bettina and her neighbors were well aware that Mor would have invited them in for tea.
    Again, uncomfortable silence. Except for the teakettle, whose call was becoming more urgent with each passing second.
    “Well, then, we’d best be on our way,” Mr. Pedersen said. “You tend to the kettle — though do be careful.”
    “Yes, dear, please be careful. And if you need anything at all, you know where we are,” Mrs. Pedersen added, still talking even as she walked backward out of the wood room and into the barnyard. “Anything.”
    Bettina assured her neighbors that she would call if necessary, closed the door, and took the screaming kettle from the stove. She realized that she probably should have said something about the kettle waking Pia, but she hadn’t thought of that. She wondered if the Pedersens had.
    She made a cup of tea and honey, and from the kitchen window she watched Mr. and Mrs. Pedersen making their way back to their farm. She took a small sip of tea. It was too hot to drink.
    As much as she’d wanted the Pedersens gone, Bettina wished them back again. The silent kitchen, the entire house, felt empty. Empty like the pram that stood there before her, a painful reminder of all that had gone wrong in such a short time. Gammel had promised to find