It snowed again last night. Julia Jensen watched the snow come down all night in the glow of the streetlights. She couldn’t sleep, thinking about her first day tomorrow as a teacher at Bayview Community School in Mahone Bay. Will the road be cleared? Will the kids give her a hard time?
A text comes through early in the morning saying that classes are cancelled. Relieved, Julia spends the day preparing and goes to bed early.
This time, it is the full snow moon that shines brightly in the night sky.
“You’re early, Miss Jensen.” The receptionist gives Julia a big smile. “You must be excited!”
“I am,” replies Julia, with a smile.
“Your classroom is the second door. The children will be here shortly. Most of them arrive by bus.”
“Oh, okay.”
She watches through the classroom window, looking out for the bus.
The moon is still out over the bay, but fading fast.
“Hello, there,” a friendly voice says. It’s a woman about the same age as Julia with reading glasses on the tip of her nose. “I’m Mary, and you must be Julia. Welcome to our little group of teachers. I heard you are from Vancouver Island?”
“I am. Just moved here for the job.”
“Wonderful.” Mary points at the moon, “Snow moon. Beauty! I saw a fox in my garden this morning, just sitting there, staring at the moon.”
“Really? What time was that?”
“Dawn, so…six? Why do you ask?” Mary smiles inquisitively.
“I was looking at the moon, too. It’s an odd feeling.” Julia turns away, not wanting to share any more of her thoughts and feelings on the first day.
“I live on the peninsula, and heard a loon all night. It certainly was a strange night.”
Yes, Julia had heard the loon cry, too. So full of yearning.
“So.” Mary claps her hands together. “Do you have an action plan for your first day?”
“I did; however, I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to ask them to write a poem, free style, about something they’ve seen in nature. Perhaps we’ll get a few moon stories.”
“Wonderful idea. It will give you a good feel of the kids as individuals. I wish you good luck, and I’ll see you at recess.”
“Thank you.”
How kind of Mary to reach out. Julia feels much better now.
There’s still a bit of full moon left in the sky now. She wonders, if the fox was looking at the moon in that way, does it mean that it was also searching for answers? Does the moon at night make the fox stir in the same way?
A few days later, she reads and rereads a beautiful poem written by a ten-year-old boy:
This morning, I woke up too soon.
Through my window I saw a big bright moon,
And up from the pond, I heard the call of the loon.
“What does it mean?” I asked Ma.
“It will be spring soon.”
“But he sounds so sad?”
“Yes, that is the yearning call, my lad.”
I will have to ask my dad.
My dad will soon return to the bay.
Ma tells me it will be on Sunday.
I will ask him if he saw the full moon,
And if that made him long to be home soon.
My dad promised to show me the Viking rock at low tide.
We will just be out for a ‘ride.’
The rock is supposed to be a secret,
Sitting somewhere in the Mahone Bay inlet.
Only a few days more,
Before my dad comes to shore.
Bjorn Thorsten
Julia has tears in her eyes. What a truly beautiful, touching poem. This boy is such a sensitive person, already so grown up. She hopes his dad will truly spend some time with him. It seems the boy yearns to be with his father. At this age, it’s so vital that parents spend time with their children.
Five boys and eight girls fill her small classroom. Some are bright-eyed and ready to take instructions; others, not so much.
“Wonderful poems from all of you. I’ve given you all an A+ for effort. I won’t read any of them out loud because they are so special to you. If, however, you would like to share your poem with the class, we have an hour to do so. Who would like to share?”
Julia hopes that Bjorn will read his poem out loud. She would like to hear the words come out of his mouth. But he doesn’t. The bright, blue-eyed youngster is clearly too shy to speak in public. That’s all right.
“How was your first week?” the principal inquires.
“Wonderful. These kids are special. Very special. I feel honoured to be their teacher. They wrote such beautiful poems; in particular, Bjorn Thorsten.”
“Bjorn? Oh, really? I’m surprised, given all the hardship at home. Poor kid, too young to lose a mother.”
Julia frowns, “I am so sorry to hear that. When did it happen?”
“Only a few months ago. The granny is living with them now. Harald is away on his fishing boat. He’s gone for weeks at a time.”
“I had the impression, from his poem, that his mom is still around?”
“Mm…it happens. The boy is still in denial.”
Julia holds her head. “Oh, how awful.”
“They are tough, the Thorstens. Stronger and more courageous than the rest of us. He’ll survive, don’t worry. We’re a tight-knit community here, Julia. Especially the fishing folks, they’re all good people.” The principal smiles. “All honesty and generosity.”
“How did she die?”
“Breast cancer. Didn’t catch it in time. We’re linked into healthcare now, and, well, I hope women are more aware of the need to get tested on a regular basis.”
On the following Sunday, Julia takes her dog for a long walk along the Dynamite trail. Despite the hefty amount of snow, she’s still finding it fun to hear the crunching sound of snow under her feet. No matter how cold or how bleak it may look to an outsider, it is still a beautiful day to her.
The next Monday, she notices a big smile on Bjorn Thorsten’s face. His dad must have come home, finally. She asks him after class.
“We went to see the rock!” he says, bright-eyed. “Carved by the Vikings!”
“By boat?”
“No, by car, but we had to walk through the snow for a bit.”
“What does it look like then, this carving?”
“It’s a warrior killing a dragon. It is so cool. My dad says it’s a legend. What’s a legend?”
Julia feels herself smiling, “Well, it’s a story from the past. It could be true; it could be false. We will never know. But I think if there are dragons involved, it is probably a tale; you know, like a fairy tale. But it could be that it is a secret message, too.”
“Oh, that would be cool. My dad thinks that the rock is sign that someone important was buried there.”
“How big is this rock?”
“Oh, very big. Bigger than my dad! But not taller.”
“You know what,” Julia smiles at him. “I think it’s great that you and your dad went to see it. That is very special.”
“I won’t tell you where it is, Miss Jensen.”
“I won’t ask you either, Bjorn,” she smiles back. “Don’t you worry about it. Do you want to see a picture of a real Viking ship?”
She shows him a photograph of the Oseberg ship in Norway.
“Oh, cool!”
She prints out the photograph, and watches Bjorn as he skips to the bus that afternoon holding the printout.
A few months later, on the day of spring equinox, Julia takes her dog for a long walk on the beach at low tide, and, as if planned by the universe all along, comes face to face with the remarkable Viking rock. She stands still for a while, dumbstruck. Her fingers then trace the serpent, the tree, the birds, and the warriors.
After reading Bjorn’s poem, she had found the online blog that talks about the rune stone. It hasn’t been recognized by any archeologist yet. Most experts are skeptical. But to her, it feels real. There is something here. The carving is a tremendous effort in the middle of nowhere. Something must have happened here. Something important enough to leave a mark on the land. She looks around and up at the embankment that is too steep to climb. There is absolutely no one around to ask, not even a house in sight. It certainly is a chilling thought that perhaps there is a burial site here.
She studies the engraving. It is a cruel scene, almost too cruel for a boy of Bjorn’s age. It’s one thing to read a comic book or watch an animated movie, but it is entirely another thing to see this. If ever deemed to be the real thing, the rock carving carries historical meaning, a message to this new world. But why would the Vikings want to leave behind a picture of such a murderous scene? What is the message? What is the connection between the legend and this land so far away from Norse traditions? It is certainly a big puzzle to solve, and not material for her class.
Whistling for her dog, she walks on, still absorbing what she just saw. She wonders what importance Bjorn’s father gives to it. Does he know more? It would be worthwhile to ask at the parent-teacher meeting. Or maybe gently allude to it. From past experience in the legal field, she’s very good at reading people’s faces.
Harald Thorsten sits across from Julia a week later, reading her report on his son Bjorn. Overall, he’s working hard and doing well. Math is his weakest point.
“Your son is a joy to have, Mister Thorsten.”
“It’s Harald.” He looks up at her, unsmiling. “Call me ‘Harald’ or ‘Harry,’ but not ‘mister.’”
Julia feels her heart pumping. Behind that beard is a tanned, weathered face with steel blue eyes and, if not for the stern look on his face, she’d swear there’s the real deal sitting in front of her. A man of the sea, a real Viking himself. And coming down here tonight on his precious turn-around time must feel like a complete waste of time.
“I am not a ‘mister’ by any means,” he adds.
She breaks into a warm smile. “Harald, then.”
“So,” he returns the report to her. “He’s okay, then?”
“Just his numbers. He’s struggling a bit with his multiplication tables. He needs more practice.”
Harald puts both hands on her desk, calloused hands that are twice the size of hers, and looks at her with intensity. “Listen, Miss Jensen, we’re not into that stuff; Bjorn will soon come with me on the boat and learn the trade. There’s a growing fish stock out there, and we have many good years to come. I even think it will be a better life for him than it is for me now. We are fishermen, generation to generation.”
“How old were you before you started going out on the boat full time?”
“Fourteen. I stopped going to school then.” He removes his hands from her desk, letting them rest in his lap now, more relaxed, “It’s different around these parts, miss. Fishing is our livelihood.”
Julia bites her lip. Would he not know that school is mandatory until the age of sixteen? Or is there a secret code amongst fishing folks? Is going out on the boat, learning a trade, considered home schooling around here? She’ll need to understand more before she opens her mouth again. She clearly stepped on Harald Thorsten’s feelings.
“Is there anything else, then?” He starts to get up.
“Eh…well, I enjoyed his poem.”
“Poem?”
She brings out the poem.
He reads it and walks over to the window, reading it again. “Can I keep it?”
“Of course.” And then she adds, “The poem is remarkable. He is very bright, your son.”
“Aye, he is that. Smarter than his old man.”
Now is her chance to mention the rock, she feels. “He also told me that you took him to see that Viking rock in the bay.”
Harald’s expression turns into panic. “That’s supposed to be a secret.”
“Don’t worry. He told me in confidence. He was so excited, he felt he needed to share. I showed him a photo of the vessel they found in Norway.”
“Yeah, I saw it. It’s hanging in his room. Thanks.”
“I have to tell you something else.”
“What’s that?” He leans over.
She tells him about her walk on the beach. It astonishes him that she bumped into the rune stone. It makes him laugh, to her relief.
“I have so many questions now. I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about it.”
He gets up, pushing the chair out and then towering above her, almost as big as the rune stone itself. From what Bjorn has told her, this man is most certainly a rock to lean on. And there’s an aura of old-fashioned decency about him, too.
“I don’t have much time,” he says. “But thank you for Bjorn’s report.”
Three days later, a Category 3 windstorm blows in from the north-northwest cutting power to the cabin where Julia is staying. She grabs her coat and takes the dog down the lane to inspect the access road, looping around and up the other lane. However, as she comes around the last corner, there’s a strong smell of smoke coming from the direction of the cabin.
She stops in her tracks. A big tree has brought the power line down and onto the cabin, and the cabin is smouldering!
She puts her dog in the car and dials 911. Soon, a power line truck followed by a fire truck arrive with full sirens on. But the little cabin is lit like a matchbox. Julia knows that nothing can be done.
She watches the crews work hard to save the little structure. In vain.
Sitting in her car, the dog in the back, Julia considers her options.
Then, one of the firefighters signals her to lower her window. He removes his hood. It’s Harald, Bjorn’s father.
“Miss Jensen, I thought I recognized you.”
“Harald.”
“The road is clear to Mahone Bay. I’ve got my pick-up here.” He points at the red pick-up. “I’m done here. Follow me to my house. We live on Borgels Point Road in Chester Basin. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, I do,” she says a little shaken by his proposal. “But I could find a hotel.”
“Forget it. No one has power around here. I have a generator. You can stay with us until this clears up.” He points up at the sky.
Then he smiles. “I’ll ask my mother to put the kettle on.”
