JOURNEY TO THE MIDNIGHT SUN
James Sheldon
LOVE CONQUERS ALL
Book 1 of 3
Chapter 10
The weather turned on the following night and forbade the lovers if only temporarily from chasing their dream of a horse drawn sleigh. When the snow and wind ended three days later, however, what with their new reality being that of extended time, it was only natural for Laureal to put first things first according to the desires of her heart. Thus seeking to reshuffle their plans, she proved her determination equal to John’s even though their focuses were not one and the same. Nor were their means of approaching their objectives the same. Nevertheless, both were of a nature that bound them to getting their way. A nearly impossible situation to be sure. And yet, we all know what they say about challenges. So without further ado, let us return to our hero and heroine, and let the chips fall where they may.
John Summerfield stood clean shaven in buckskin pants and the better of his two shirts. His shirt, a white cotton tunic reserved for formalities, had long sleeves with a partial down button front and richly embroidered chest panels. And being specially tailored to the Seeker, his bride thought her groom appeared particularly handsome in it.
Laureal Emerson wore a great crown of golden braids upon her head, wreathed in tiny maroon leaves of ripened wintergreen, laced with the white feathers of the snowy owl. Her simple wedding dress, made of the finest doeskin, was white as snow. Her dress and crown, being custom tailored with love, went hand in hand with her radiant countenance, all of which had such an effect on her groom that, her image, standing there before him, would forever be the most beautiful in all his many memories.
Gazing solemnly into his bride’s eyes, John extended his hands with his large steel knife laid flat across his palms.
“Thank you, Darling,” speaking lowly as she accepted his knife for all to see. The meaning being that, in the event the warrior fall, his widow would give their firstborn son the symbolic knife, entrusted to his mother by his father on the night of their union. It was the warrior way and, under normal circumstances, the knife would become an heirloom passed from generation to generation. As things stood, Laureal would give the knife back to John for the time being, as he presently had no way to replace it and would need it for his mission.
Having accepted John’s knife, it was Laureal’s turn. With trusting countenance, she extended her hands palms up and presented him with her small stone knife. The symbolism being that she was bringing the skills and knowledge of her clan into their marriage. John would entrust the heirloom back into Laureal’s care after the ceremony, even as they would share all their possessions from that day forth.
The thick walls of the longhouse muzzled the wind while, holding hands, bride and groom turned to the Matriarch who then recited a passage reaching so far back in time, as to be of unknown origin:
“Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not envy,
it does not boast, it is not arrogant or rude. Love
it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it
keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not
delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
Love always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.”
Turning face-to-face before the hearth, John took Laureal’s hands in his. And here again, John and Laureal knew not the origins of their vows but only that they had been passed down by oral traditions reaching many centuries into the past. The lexicon had changed somewhat but the meaning remained the same.
“I, John Summerfield,” holding his bride in his eyes, “take you, Laureal Emerson, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forth, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
“I, Laureal Emerson,” beaming, “take you, John Summerfield, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forth, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
John and Laureal shared their first kiss as husband and wife, a picture of youth and all its promise, backlit by the glowing hearth.
Jessie leaned and whispered to her mother, “To overcome such a start…they have been given something truly rare.”
Emma nodded, “They’re going to rebuild our family,” and wiping a tear, “stronger than before.”
Clasping and rubbing his hands together, John spoke to Laureal under his breath, “Now for the good part.”
“Oh,” somewhat confused, “what would that be?”
“The food!”
“Oh! You!” biting her lip, leaning into him with a pained smile.
The wedding feast, laid out on the long table, centered around a spit-roasted boar. Not a big two-hundred pound behemoth but a young succulent boar of about seventy pounds before dressing. Basted with a mix of herbs and maple syrup, it had been slow-cooked until the meat was ready to fall off the bone. A little further down the table there rose a delicious aroma from a large clay-fired pot, a steaming stew something like potato soup made from vegetables of the wood, a mix of roots and tubers spiced with herbs. Also on the table, laid out on a wood platter, rainbow trout from the river. Not smoked like dry picnic food but fresh baked in a stone oven. And there was wild rice with herbs in a clay-fired bowl. And in a bowl woven from reeds, walnuts. And in another woven bowl, baked hazelnuts and beechnuts. And finally, freshly picked wintergreen berries in an oak bowl. For drink, two clay pitchers of water, easily refilled. And finally, an oak vase of blueberry wine, semi-sweet, intense and deep, not for drinking in quantity but to be sipped like a desert, although not for the bride and groom. By Kasskatchen tradition, anything that could alter the bride and groom’s natural state was forbidden on their wedding day.
Had the wedding taken place in the hunting season at the clan’s summer home, there would have been extended family like Emma’s younger sister’s family, Mia’s brother’s family, and Jessie’s in-laws. For although nowhere near as numerous as they had once been, the clan still came together in the rich hunting grounds of the north every summer to cooperate in hunts of forest caribou and woodland buffalo. At season’s end they returned to their homes to the southeast, Laureal’s family being the exception. Long being the strongest of the families, they had managed to hold on to a significant swath of territory on the far western reach of the realm. Nowhere near the strength they had once been, their reputation nonetheless lived on as a people willing to defend their territory without compromise.
Presently at table, the surviving family members were as follows. The newlyweds, John and Laureal; the Matriarch, Emma; Jessie, Emma’s daughter and Laureal’s mother; Cody, Jessie’s youngest and Laureal’s little brother; Mia, Emma’s nephew’s widow, and Mia’s two young children, the twins Noah and Sophie. Well behaved were the twins because, in their world, their survival depended on it.
To begin the feast, Emma rose and raised her glass for a toast, “John, Laureal, you had a big project to complete and you got it done in good order. Then, while you were still set up for it, you used your giant to drag whole dead trees here and, as a result, we have firewood for two winters. John, you and Cody hunted and brought game meat to smoke and dry. We scraped and stored hides, that we may have them later to make clothes and blankets. Laureal, you and your mother and Mia went from glade to glade, digging roots and tubers, and caches of seeds and nuts. What we did not store whole, we dried at the hearth and ground into cereal. Noah and Sophie helped me. We took the canoes to the backwaters and harvested wild rice. We did whatever needed to be done. Everyone did their part. No one complained. The weather turned against us. At times we did not agree on how to proceed. A few times, as is perfectly normal, young lovers became annoyed with one another, but you always showed up, you always worked hard, and we got done what needed to be done. Now we are ready for winter. Our food stocks are good. The longhouse is well chinked.” And pausing to restrain her emotions, “You have given me hope for the future of our family.”
In the silence that followed, John’s sincerity gave his voice a certain softness, “Thank you, Emma. It’s been like you said, a team effort.”
“Yes it has,” Laureal seconded. “Thank you, grandma.”
Emma next turned to Jessie, “Daughter, would you like to say a few words?”
Standing, Jessie turned to the newlyweds. “John, Laureal, with the freedom entrusted to you, you could have taken a very different path. You could have taken the path of self-gratification and burned past your opportunity to find true happiness in your hearts. But you kept to the hard path, and by that path, you earned your heart’s reward.”
“Thank you, mom. I’m glad we remained faithful to your wishes.”
“I’m glad too, sweetie,” gazing fondly at her daughter.
“It wasn’t easy,” spoken like a daughter that shares pretty much everything with her mom. And upon further thought, she quickly added, “I didn’t mean that to sound like I was having to fend John off…I was as bad as he was.”
John put his head down in his hands as if looking for a place to hide.
“We don’t need to know the details,” Emma interjected, laughing to herself. Then turning to the groom, “John, would you like to say a few words?”
Lifting his head, John stood up and, abandoning his planned speech, spoke off the cuff, “Laureal and I have been very fortunate…we have all of you. Any success we've had is because of you. So thank you, truly, for all you have done.”
Then turning to his beloved, “Laureal, thank you for being who you are. I am so very happy to know we will spend our life together. I love you, sweetheart. I love you with all my heart.”
Trying to keep the tears from escaping, Laureal gazed up into John’s eyes, “I love you too, John. So very much!” And rising from her seat, “That day in the woods, when you put me on Ellie, I saw something in you, something that…well, I can’t find words to explain, except to say I knew that with you was where I truly wanted to be.”
“Can we eat now?” asked Cody, his tone being of humble impatience.
“Yes, Cody, we can eat,” John replied, chuckling.
John carved the hog. Laureal and Mia filled and delivered steaming cups of soup. Jessie took the platter of trout and doled out helpings around the table. Cody filled their water cups. And in short order, as the food fueled them, the joy of the occasion inspired them and, sipping wine, they found themselves engaged in animated conversation. Emma told a family story involving a bear in which no one got hurt but there were plenty of antics from all, including the bear.
Afterwards, and still laughing along with everyone, the bride spoke loudly, her face aglow, “John and I have a bear story!”
“We’ve heard it,” said Cody.
“No, you haven’t,” Laureal rebutted, “not the best part.”
“Laureal,” John beseeched, as if to ask her not to tell.
“Darling, there’s no need to be embarrassed.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Oh come on,” pleadingly. “Let me tell them.”
“No.”
“Darling…it was only a cub, freshly weaned from its Mother,” and with an irresistible smile, “We’re all family now.”
Under assault from numerous entreaties, John sighed in resignation, “Oh—all right.”
“From the beginning,” Emma ordered with a grin.
Laureal shot John a reassuring smile. Then, speaking to everyone, she told about their second “special day off,” a micro-vacation in which she and John had canoed the little river to its confluence with the big river.
“The weather was perfect that day, but it was cold early that morning when we set out. John had thin wool underlayers beneath his buckskins. He paddled strong all the way there, and, by late morning, when we reached the confluence, he was all sweaty. So he went to take his underlayers off. I said I wouldn’t look, but, he wouldn’t trust me.”
“I trusted her not to look,” John interjected, “but she had an ornery look in her eyes, like she might steal my pants and run off down the beach or something.”
Offering neither denial or confirmation, Laureal simply continued, “We were on the beach across from the sandbar island, and…
John interrupted, “She has that look in her eye, right now!”
With “that look” in her eye, Laureal continued, “We were on the beach at the confluence. John set out walking up the hill there. Not the big wooded hill, but the grassy knoll that flattens out on its top. He was going to get out of his underlayers up there, out of sight. I waited by the canoe. So, I’m standing there looking across the water to the big sandbar island on the confluence where we planned to picnic. It was so beautiful,” drifting back in her mind, “not a cloud in the sky. The sun warmed the sand. And all around us, the water was sparkling.”
Dreamily, she turned to John, “Darling, that was such a day. One of the best days of my life,” and she fell silent.
“What happened next?” Mia implored.
“I can’t tell.”
“You have to tell now!” Cody exclaimed.
“I’m sorry. It’s hysterical, but, it’s between John and I.”
Cody turned to the groom, “John, will you tell?”
“Definitely not.”
“Well heck!”
John saved face with a story about a mother deer and her fawns, “I was scolded by a young mother deer once. She came right to my camp. She knew I was there. She came there looking for me, and as soon as she saw me she started in on me, read me the riot act I tell you - she was just out-and-out screaming at me.”
“No way!” cried Cody, staring at John in disbelief.
“I’m telling the truth! It really happened…just like that. One of the craziest things I ever saw.”
“What had you done to upset her so?” Emma asked.
“Well,” John began, “I just happened to have some time on my hands when I spotted this young doe on a hill. The hill was sharply pronounced and mostly covered in prairie grass except its top where it had a crown of trees. Fifty yards from the base of the hill lay a heavily wooded ravine. I was downwind of the doe. She had her fawns nearby, a pair of them. Twins,” glancing at Noah and Sophie. “They had to be her first. She was very young and inexperienced. She’d found herself a choice patch of grass on that hilltop. Under the eve of the trees, she was in the shade and breeze, away from the bugs. She must have been very hungry, as small as she was to be nursing a pair of fawns. Anyway, while she ate I crept up on her carefully. Every time she lifted her head to look around, I would freeze. Didn’t matter if I had one foot off the ground, I froze and did not move until she returned to eating. Little by little, I inched up on her with my spear at the ready. Then, when I had closed the distance between us to less than thirty feet, a bluebird landed on a sapling between us and sounded the alarm. That little bird was really carrying on, ‘Run missus deer! You are in deadly danger! Run!’”
Aware that Noah and Sophie had become infatuated, John focused his dark eyes on them, “Now, missus deer certainly did hear that little bird’s warning all right. She lifted her head and looked right at me, but I was frozen in place like a tree. And all the while that little bluebird was doing all it could to save the young mother deer’s life! ‘That’s him! Right there! Can’t you see him! Oh my gosh, you’re looking right at him! Run missus dear! Run!’ But being so young, missus dear did not understand the dangers of the world. She was tired and, that shade and breeze with no bugs to bite her, it felt so good! And all that lush green grass, and she was oh so hungry! She just thrust her nose back down in all that wonderful deliciousness. And as soon as she did, I took another step towards her…slowly! Ever so slow and quiet! Then, after another step, that bluebird flew away because I’d gotten close enough to wring its little tattletale neck.
“Now, there wasn’t even ten paces between that deer and I. But just then the matriarch of the deer herd came up the hill. She had heard the bluebird’s warnings. And she saw me! So, being old and wise, she veered and came up on the opposite side of the young mother deer. She got right beside her and tried to get her to move off, ‘Move your tail, missy! Move!’ But the young deer would not listen to her elder, ‘No!’ said she, insolently, ‘I’m hungry and here’s all this delicious grass. My children have worn me out, and here I’ve found all this wonderful food, and shade and breeze. So, I’m not going anywhere!’”
Now while the matriarch and young mother deer were arguing, I inched closer and closer. The matriarch saw my every step, and finally, knowing that she had others in her herd that depended on her, well, she gave up hope on the young doe and trotted off. Now, at last, I was so close that, with one quick step, I could thrust my spear into the young doe’s heart!”
John fell silent, fearing he may have taken things too far, such was the look in Sophie’s eyes.
“Don’t stop now!” Cody plead, “Tell us about the kill!”
“John,” said Laureal, looking up into his eyes, “tell us what happened.”
“Well, I wasn’t starving. In fact, I had more food than I needed. So I just looked at that deer and said, ‘You really should be more careful.’ She jumped straight up in the air six feet! She then bolted down the hill. Her fawns were some distance off and, seeing her run, they bolted also. All three went down into the wooded ravine.” I returned to my camp, and later that same day that young mother dear came and gave me a piece of her mind!”
Laureal searched John’s eyes, “Is that a true story?”
“Yes, it is. It happened just exactly as I told it,” replied John in all earnest, and in fact it was true.
“I believe you,” nestling against him like an affectionate cat, her contented expression suggesting that something in his story had special meaning to her.
“John, tell us another story,” Jessie beseeched. “We’ve heard all our own stories, but your stories are new.”
“I can’t think of any stories I haven’t told you,” visibly searching his memory.
“Tell about the time you were trimming Ellie’s feet and you fell under her,” Laureal suggested, “you haven’t told that one.”
“Oh…yeah. Well, you’ve all seen me taking care of Ellie’s hooves, lifting them up, holding them between my legs, cleaning them out, checking them, and trimming them if needed. Well I was needing to trim her one day and I saw this branch that looked like a three-legged stool. So I thought to myself, ‘That would make a good hoof stand. I could cut it and notch it, then I could set Ellie’s hoof on it, and it’d be easier for me to trim her.’ So I got my hatchet and bucksaw and soon I had me a tripod hoof stand. I started with Ellie’s front left hoof. She helped me lift it up and put it on the stand. So I’m trimming away and, somehow, I got my foot caught in the legs of the stand and fell underneath Ellie. The hoof stand toppled off to the side. I lay flat on my back looking up at Ellie, and she was looking down at me. She was holding her hoof up with nowhere to put it because my head was in the way. She had her neck turned to the side so she could get a visual on me, not turned a lot though, I guess because she would have lost her balance. Anyway, she ever so carefully lowered her hoof, all the while keeping an eye on me until her huge foot came down gently beside my head. I crawled out from under her and got up. I didn’t know what to say. I was so impressed, all I knew to say was, ‘Thank you, Ellie.’ No more had I said it then she brought her mussel over and put it on my heart. She rested it there for a moment before returning to her previous stance, ready to continue with the trimming.”
“It was the Great Spirit,” Laureal said knowingly, looking round the table.
“It sure was,” Jessie seconded. Then speaking directly to John, “The Great Spirit touched your heart though your horse. He can do that. He can come in a sunrise. He can come in the eyes of a newborn child. He came through your horse to knock on the door of your heart.”
Smiling at John, Laureal nodded as if to say, “You see, I told you so.”
John only smiled. He knew they thought him to be on some kind of vision-quest but he didn’t give much weight to the idea. As a Seeker, his mission was to find the data trove, that the world be lifted to a better place by way of the advancements contained therein. It was the hope of all believers. John could see them in his mind’s eye, just a stone’s toss across the untold miles, parading through the dusty ruins of old LA. He could almost hear their cheers as he rode out into the desert. And as their hopeful voices faded, it struck him how, back then, he could never have imagined where his quest would take him. And coming back to his new family, he could not help but notice Emma. She was gazing at him, a knowing look in her eye.
Presently, Mia told a story that her Father had told when she was a child, a legend about a race of people that lived in an oceanside realm at the top of the world. As utterly unbelievable as it sounded, the “snow people” lived in houses made of snow. Of course everyone, including Mia, laughed in the knowledge that, outside of a child, not even the most gullible adult would actually believe that there were people who lived in houses made of snow.
Emma then told how her great-grandmother and great-grandfather met, not by the traditional way of arranged marriage but by divine plan. The pair had fallen in love during a feud between their two clans. It was a story of hardship and victory through the power of love. A story the family never grew tired of hearing, but were always warmed in their hearts.
Meanwhile the bride, with her head on her husband’s shoulder, slid her hand to the inside of his thigh, about halfway to the knee. As she did, she turned her face up to him and smiled warmly into his eyes.
With love and desire on his lips, the groom leaned and whispered in his wife’s ear, “I’m ready if you are.”
Laureal nodded, and John lifted his eyes to the family. “If we may be excused, we will retire to our cabin now.”
“Yes, of course,” said Emma, rising from her seat, as did everyone.
Jessie, who had recently returned from stepping outside momentarily with Mia to light candles and stoke the hearth in the wedding hut, hugged her daughter tight, “I’m so happy for you!”
“Thank you, mom! Thank you for all you’ve done!” Then turning to the family, “Thank you. You’ve made this the best day of my life!”
Emma stepped forward and hugged Laureal, “None of us has done more to make this day what it is than you and John, dear. You’ve earned this.”
“Thank you, grandma.”
“Don’t worry about Ellie tonight or in the morning, John,” said Cody. “I’ll make sure she has plenty hay and water.”
“Thank you, Cody,” clasping hands with the boy, knowing he would take good care of his other girl. And in fact Ellie was in good shape, there in the shelter of the wall with the dogs. John and Cody had brought hay across the river using the canoes. Good hay, for although cut and dried late, it came from excellent quality fall grass that yet had good nutrition in it.
As the family members spoke, they shuffled slowly, randomly towards the heavy door of the longhouse where they would see the bride and groom off on their short walk to the honeymoon cabin.
A billow of snow came gliding in as John opened the big door. And looking into the night, all could see how the courtyard very nearly appeared a snow globe, what with the snow glancing off the newly built wall to float all about. A snow globe complete with courtyard and handsome wedding hut, lacking only its bride and groom.
As the newlyweds crossed the courtyard, the family looked on from the deck of the longhouse. Halfway to the wedding hut, the groom picked the bride up in his arms. Then, at the stoop of the wedding hut, for reasons unknown even to him, he turned to the family one last time. Perhaps to say a silent thank you, perhaps to become part of an oral tradition; a story of lovers told at the hearth, of the lovely picture they had made with the snow gently swirling around them. He in his buckskins and embroidered cotton tunic, she in her simple white wedding gown, a crown of golden braids upon her head, wreathed in tiny maroon leaves laced with white feathers.
In the next moment, John turned to the door. Laureal turned the latch with her free hand. The door opened, the groom carried the bride across the threshold and, the warm light of the hearth enveloped them.
