The landing was anything but smooth: the plane shuddered and hopped down the runway, tires squealing like banshees. The high-pitched metallic sound reminded me of my brother’s accident—of what he would have heard in those final moments. I closed my eyes, which just made things worse. Time stretched out so it felt like an hour before we ground to a halt. My ears were ringing, my breath shallow. I unclenched one hand from the armrest and the other from Grandpa’s leg.
“Thanks for letting go,” he said. “I couldn’t feel my toes anymore.”
I was slipping into a strange state of jittery confusion. Grandpa’s words echoed around me and I couldn’t hear anything else. The other passengers moved in slow motion, pulling their luggage from the upper compartments, putting on their winter jackets.
I slowly sucked in some air, then let it out through my nostrils. That seemed to help. I did it again, swallowed, and my ears popped, releasing a flood of muttering and rustling sounds. People were moving at a normal speed. I stared out the window.
It was still dark. We had pulled up beside a rather odd-looking building that could have been mistaken for a large, modern church. It was called the Leifur Eiríksson Airport.
“Are you coming?” Grandpa asked. “Or you gonna take the plane home again?”
“I—I’m coming.” I gathered enough of my wits to grab my handbag and get my jacket from the upper compartment. The jacket was still folded carefully and I was glad to see there weren’t any wrinkles in it. I made my wobbly way towards the front of the plane, tagging along behind Michael and Sarah.
The stewardess said good-bye to us and Grandpa told her some joke in Icelandic that made her laugh and blush. He was still a charmer, even though he was older than the hills. I glanced in the cockpit and saw the co-pilot wiping sweat off his forehead. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who thought it had been a rough landing.
Grandpa, done with his flirting, led us down the ramp and along the entrance tunnel. We were among the last people off the plane, so it seemed like the place was deserted.
“Did you go through a growth spurt, Michael?” I asked. He was about half a head taller than Sarah and me. “I thought we were all the same height.”
Michael puffed out his chest, proud as a peacock. “It’s the tall tales Grandpa’s been telling—they finally had an effect on me.”
“Tall tales? Is that what you think they are?” Grandpa, who was a full head taller than Michael, reached down and messed up Michael’s hair, grinning like crazy. “Why you ungrateful little ingrate. If you weren’t my own flesh and blood, I’d give you—”
We stepped into the terminal. Grandpa stopped, grimaced and turned pale, dropping his shoulder bag to the floor. “Uh . . . uhhnn . . .” he moaned. He rubbed at his chest and began tottering like he was about to fall.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. We gathered around, trying to keep him steady. I grabbed his hand. It was cold as a chunk of ice. Sarah and Michael held either arm. The remaining few passengers jostled by us, heading for an escalator. A young woman stopped momentarily to see if she could help, but Grandpa just waved her away. She walked on, glancing over her shoulder at us.
Grandpa’s lips were set in a tight line, his face ashen. He was trying to speak. He blinked slowly.
“Afi,” Sarah whispered. “Afi.”
His eyes momentarily closed and I thought he would pass out, then blood came back into his cheeks and he shook his head. He knocked three times on the wood wall. “No . . . nothing’s wrong,” he whispered, hoarsely, “just . . . just the land spirits saying hello.” He inhaled. “Iceland knows when one of its own comes home. It’s been too many years. That last trip was with your grandmother, on her birthday.”
“What was all the knocking for?” Michael asked.
“To get on the good side of the spirits and the Huldu Folk.”
I shared a glance with Michael and Sarah. A do-you-think-he’s-going-crazy glance.
“Don’t look so worried,” Grandpa said. He laughed as he regained his color. “It’s an old habit, nothing more.” He sucked in a few more deep breaths. A minute later he gently pushed us away. “I don’t want to stand too close to you kids, your silliness might infect me.” He was definitely back to his old self.
He picked up his shoulder bag, led us through customs and over to our luggage. Despite our protests he carried his own suitcase, marching straight out the front doors of the airport. I slung my backpack over one shoulder, Angie and Michael grabbed their own bags, and we struggled to keep up.
Outside, the only light came from streetlamps scattered throughout the nearly empty parking lot. Oversized snowflakes drifted like moths down to the ground, covering the waiting taxis and buses. I zipped up my jacket. Sarah did the same with her parka, which was so thick and puffy she looked like a gray marshmallow. I was glad I had Thinsulate in mine. I still appeared slim but I’d stay warm. At least I hoped I would.
“What time is it?” Michael asked.
Grandpa made a big production of checking his watch. “It’s about eleven in the morning. The sun should be out at noon.”
“Noon!” I exclaimed. “How long does it stick around?”
“Till two in the afternoon.” Grandpa held out his hand. He caught a snowflake, watched it melt in his palm. “Enjoy the sun while it’s here because it won’t be out at all in Hvammstangi.”
“It’ll be dark all the time?” Sarah asked. She and Michael had the same surprised look on their faces. They could have been mistaken for identical twins.
“Near enough to dark.” Grandpa grinned, his eyes glittering. He’d obviously been waiting for this moment for a long time. “I guess I should have told you a bit more about Iceland before bringing you here. I’m getting forgetful in my old age.”
What kind of crazy holiday had I signed up for?
At least it looked like the right season. Snow glistened from the surrounding pavement and buildings. A Christmas tree, lit by multicolored lights, stood near the front of the airport.
It would be kind of weird not to have my parents around on Christmas day. And to be celebrating hours before them. Mom had given me some gift money, which I planned to spend on an Icelandic sweater. For the first time it dawned on me that they would be on their own Christmas morning. I wouldn’t be waking up and walking down the stairs to see what was under the tree. Mom and Dad would be alone, with both of their children gone.
I felt my eyes water.
“The snow will melt in a day or two,” Grandpa predicted. “Then it’ll start to rain.”
“Rain?” Michael asked. “Is this gonna be a wet Christmas?”
“It’s the warm water currents that keep ol’ Iceland heated up. Did I mention the wind’ll probably blow most of the time too?”
More good news, I thought. Was there no end to the surprises?
Grandpa waved his hand and a taxi pulled up. Soon we were heading to Reykjavík, the capital. The sky had grown brighter, though I had yet to see the familiar sun. We sped down the road, Sarah and Michael pointing when we spotted the ocean. The rocky land was a bleak and almost sinister picture, with mountains looming in the distance. “It’s so barren,” I whispered. “It’s like winter on the moon.”
“NASA used to practice moon landings in Iceland,” Sarah explained. She was sitting in the middle seat, squished between Michael and me. “It was formed by volcanoes and continental drift. Even the ice ages couldn’t put a stop to the volcanoes.”
“When did you get so smart?” Michael poked her in the ribs. “You weren’t smart a few days ago. Even a few seconds ago.”
Sarah held up a travel booklet, then used it as a shield against further attacks. “It’s all in here.”
“If we have time,” Grandpa said from the front seat, “I’ll take you to the largest volcano, Mount Hekla. In the Middle Ages they believed it was one of the vents of hell itself.”
“Sounds like a hot place to go,” I quipped.
“Please, Angie, I can only handle one smart mouth at a time,” Grandpa said, pointing towards Michael. The twins laughed in unison.
We passed a few cottages and larger homes, then crossed a bridge, turned a corner, and there was Reykjavík neatly laid out before us. The city looked small and tidy, like we’d stumbled on a fairy-tale town.
We drove through the outskirts, gawking at the tall houses. Some were light blue, others gray, even red. We bumped down various narrow streets and passed a number of giant churches with tall, bell-shaped spires.
“Exactly where are we going, Gramps?” Michael asked.
“To the bus depot. Thordy will be waiting for us in Hvammstangi. I’m sure he’ll be glad to have some company. He’s probably been pretty lonely since his wife died.”
“What did she die from?” I asked. “Mom just told me she’d passed away, but didn’t say what from.”
Grandpa turned to face the three of us. We leaned closer. “It’s really quite sad. Two summers ago Kristjanna didn’t come back from an evening walk. The home croft has some really rough land up on the plateau. When I was a kid we’d lose at least one sheep a year to the cliffs. Thordy went out looking for her and was gone for days. The family and the local constable organized a search party and scoured the area. The hired man finally discovered Thordy in a cave, far back in the mountains, with his wife cradled in his arms. She was dead and he was completely distraught, moaning and rocking her as if she was just sleeping. No one knows what killed Kristjanna. There was no sign of an aneurysm or anything like that, just one tiny wound behind her left ear.”
“The poor woman,” Sarah said. “And poor Thordy, too.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Is he doing alright now?”
“He sounded okay on the phone. But that’s part of the reason why we’re staying there,” Grandpa explained. “To keep him company.”
The cab pulled to a stop in front of a rectangular, two-story building: the bus depot. People in long coats walked around. Other younger people were wearing backpacks. No one seemed to be in much of a hurry. The sky was still dark.
Grandpa paid the driver and we began lugging our luggage to the depot. I was happy I’d managed to jam all my belongings into my leather backpack. Both Sarah and Michael had their gear stuffed into two large canvas travel bags. They looked like something the military would use. Or a hockey team.
“Just wait here,” Grandpa said. “I’ll pick up the tickets. You can stare at the pond across the way.”