The Mountain Lights

Chapter 7

Dany’s jaw dropped when she saw her bedroom. Especially the bed. In the span of a few hours, Matt had made her a bed and cleared out most of the boxes in the room into his outdoor tool shed, which was now extremely small and crowded, but he’d figure out a plan later. He’d made the base and headboard of the bed out of pallets.

When he took down one of the boxes from a stack, he just happened to see rolls of old fairy lights inside that used to be around the Christmas tree when his children were young. He took them out, and weaved them through the pallets. And while she was sleeping, he called - everyone really - to find out who might have a mattress. He made a quick trip over to Jack, who had a queen-size that was almost new.

He’d dug out more thick blankets, and made the bed. The top cover and pillow cases were brown with red, turquoise and biscuit-colored native designs with animals. And when the fairy lights beneath the mattress were switched on, the bed looked enchanting. With the pieces of the pallets he’d cut off, he’d made her a little shelf to put things on. And among his old stuff, he’d found an end table and a lamp.

“I still have to figure out something for your clothes,” Matt said, “I could make you a chest for them. I just need a little more time. There's enough offcuts around here. And I still need to find curtains. I can’t remember in which box I stored them.” He rubbed the back of his head, looked around.

Dany was overjoyed. She bounced, squealed, then leapt onto the bed. Frost dashed into the room and jumped on it with her, tumbled with her in play. Matt chuckled. His heart warmed. Frost licked and licked and she giggled. Eventually she sat up to calm him down, and hugged him, nuzzling her nose in his thick fur.

Then she saw Matt had brought her backpack into the room, and suddenly remembered her books. She gasped. “Uncle Matt! Do you write?”

He furrowed his brow. He hadn’t written in a long time. It probably hasn’t been a year. Then again, he wasn’t so great at keeping time these days, or his head for that matter. “I used to, but it’s been a while. Do you like to read, Dany?”

She jumped off the bed and took out A wrinkle in Time, held it up to him. “Look! This one is mine, and then I have The Girl Who Drank The Moon. But that one’s not here. And I borrowed The Hobbit from the library…” she trailed off, remembering she couldn’t return the books now. And her mother probably wouldn’t either. And now she wouldn’t get to read The Hobbit. She looked at the book in her hand.

Matt studied her. He didn’t write books that were appropriate for children. He enjoyed writing crime novels. As a lawyer, he loved solving puzzles at one time, and it gave him a sort of advantage when writing that specific genre, especially when the characters were involved in criminal court cases.

“My books aren’t really for someone your age, Dany. You can read them when you’re older, but I tell you what. I’ll call Jacob in Anchorage. He has a book store. We were working on getting my books on his shelves once upon a time. I’ll ask him what he has that you might like, and then have him send it over by train. Next time we go there, I’ll take you and you can go choose what you want for yourself. I’ll buy you The Hobbit if you want. And Ahnah probably has books you can borrow, too.”

Or, he thought, he could buy her an e-reader and load it up. That’s an option, maybe for Christmas or for her birthday. When was her birthday again? He’d ask her later. But he wanted her to have paperbacks too. It was always nice to have the feel of a real book between the fingers.

She snatched him into a strong hug. “Thank you so much, Uncle Matt.” He had a feeling she was thanking him for more than the bed and the books.

Dany helped Matt with his work outside, and often took breaks to play with Frost in the snow. When a few flakes started falling again, she held out her tongue. Then she heard people talking inside the cabin and ran back in, saw the sound came from a little white radio that was on the mantel above the fireplace.

“Uncle Matt!” she stuck out her head in the opening in the door, “The radio went on all by itself and there’s a lady talking about the weather.”

Matt chuckled. “What’s she saying?”

It was the VHF radio. People in Harlem communicated with each other over them about all kinds of everyday things. The internet was too unreliable. On most days, there was lots of intermittent chatter, everything from birthday messages to announcements to emergency information. Today was a relatively quiet day.

Dany leaned back into the house to listen. “She says there’s going to be lots of snow tonight and the wind will be really cold. Now she’s copying something.”

Matt laughed. “Go press the red button on the radio and say copy, over.”

“Why?”

“Because then she’d know you understood her. That’s why you say copy. And when you say over, you're telling her she can talk again. Say out when you want to say goodbye.” And now the whole of Harlem will know she’s with him.

Dany ran back in, and stood on the chair next to the fireplace to reach the only red button on the radio. “Hi! I’m Dany and I copy. Uncle Matt copies too!” Then she climbed off, hesitated, then climbed back on. “Oops, bye! I mean, over.”

“Hey Dany! It’s Jack, how ya doin’? Over.”

“Hi Jack! Do I have to keep pressing the red button?”

“Only when you talk. Where’s your uncle? And say over, Dany. Over.”

“He’s working outside. I saw him make charcoal. And he made me a bed! Can you believe that?”

“Say over.”

Dany slapped her forehead. “Over!”

“Yeah, I can believe that. He’s a handy guy. Over.”

“He said he’s going to buy me some books, and maybe Ahnah has some to lend me. I like to read, you know. Over.”

Matt came in, having put away his tools, the charcoal and the wood, before the storm made its official arrival.

“You can come on over tomorrow when you have a chance, Dany, and if the weather allows. And we can see what I can lend you. Over.” Ahnah said.

Dany’s eyes widened and Matt snickered softly, as he started taking off his outer wear, hanging the jacket on the coat stand by the door.

“Ahnah? Are you visiting Jack?”

“No, sweetie. Everyone can hear you over the radio. Say over. Over.”

She chatted on the radio for the next hour with just about anyone who wanted to talk back, while Matt made moose stew with the meat Jack had brought him a while back from his hunting trip with Silla. She finally learned how to use over and out. At first, Dany looked at the stew suspiciously, but when she tasted it, it was all love. It was warm and hearty, and it had potatoes. She hadn't had potatoes since Greta, her nanny. Or stew, for that matter. The fire crackled, they talked while the wind started howling outside.

“Why do the mountains make lights at night?” Dany asked.

Matt smiled. The only lights she could be talking about was the Aurora Borealis. But she was young, and he didn’t want to paint the scientific picture to her, yet. It didn’t seem to him like she’d had much whimsicality in her life. And besides, she was in her native land.

“They’re spirits. The spirits of children that went to heaven, and of our ancestors. They’re playful and happy, that’s why you see the lights moving. They’re dancing.”

“Is grandpa there, too?” she asked eagerly.

“Of course. And his grandpa too.”

“What was grandpa’s name again?”

“Iluak. It means King.”

“What does my name mean?” she asked. “And yours?”

Matt chuckled. “I don’t think Matthias means anything. Not in our culture. I don’t know what Danae means,” he recalled her mother had simply chosen the first random name she found online for her.

“You should give me a new name. A second name,” she beamed.

“Hm.” He thought about it. “Maybe we should call you Ticasuk.”

“What’s that?”

He regarded her. His heart ached for where she’d been, and at the same time having her here made him feel a fullness he hadn’t experienced in ages. It was a pity about the circumstances that led to it, and about the stark possibility that she might not stay with him for very long. Helen could always turn back on her offer. But while she was with him, he wanted to give her all the things she lacked in her life; love and attention that his own children had rejected. “It means one with treasure. Or wise one.”

“I don’t have treasure,” Dany countered.

“Yes, you do. Kindness is treasure.” Matt said.

Dany started reading to Matt from her book, and he eagerly listened.

When she’d gone to bed, promptly at eight-thirty at Matt’s instruction, he remained in the living room for a while longer, contemplating. Then he made a move to his bedroom where he had his laptop on the desk. He booted it up, then opened his last saved document. He skimmed through the story he hadn’t gotten around to finishing, and when he was caught up, he started typing.

In the middle of the night, Dany woke to the quiet. The wind had died down outside. And Frost lay curled up behind her back on the bed. She saw lights moving over the blankets. She propped herself up onto her elbow, frowning, then got out of bed and went over to the window. Frost woke, yawned and jumped off after her. She sat her elbows on the windowsill and cradled her chin, Frost sat beside her on the floor, and they stared out at the dancing spirits in the sky around the mountains.