Like clockwork, I feel hot tears behind my eyes and I take in a sharp, shaking breath trying to ward them off. I don’t want to cry in front of Noora. I feel like I can’t let myself be vulnerable in front of her.
I get out of the car, the air even colder here, but bracingly fresh, peppered with the smell of pine and woodsmoke. There are only four other cars in the parking lot.
“I guess it’s not very busy right now,” I observe, walking somewhat unsteadily over to Noora, holding my hand out for my suitcase.
“Shoulder season,” she says, keeping the suitcase away. “We only have one guest at the moment. You relax, Eero will take care of your bag.”
I’m about to ask who Eero is when the door to the hotel opens and a tall, robust man with a long gray beard appears in the frame. For a moment I swear I’m staring at my dad, except this man looks older, and somehow crueler. I know that’s an odd thing to glean from someone’s looks, but it’s all in his eyes. Once again, my vibe radar is going off the rails.
He walks over to us and gives me a wide smile, taking the suitcase from Noora. He’s wearing a reindeer fur vest over a snowsuit, and a white and red knitted cap that stands tall on his head, ear flaps hanging by his cheeks. At least he seems more appropriately dressed.
“Nice to meet you, Hanna,” he says in a deep voice. “I’m Eero. I was a good friend of your father’s. We are so glad you are here.”
I can only muster a half-smile. I know I might seem rude and stand-offish, but I just can’t shake the weird feeling.
He exchanges a look with Noora that I can’t read, and they head toward the hotel.
“As you know, the premise of the hotel is that guests can stay in little wilderness cabins in the woods and by the lake, all perfectly placed for watching the northern lights,” Noora says as we walk down the path to the hotel entrance. “But we figured it would be better if you stayed in one of the rooms in the main lodge here. That way you won’t feel so alone. I imagine with your jet lag and your grief, all of this must feel quite confusing by now.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “Tomorrow morning I’ll give you a tour. For now, you rest.”
Suddenly I’m too tired to protest. Eero opens the door and leads us into the hotel, the air smelling of butter, cinnamon, and cardamom, my stomach rumbling in response. The lobby is wonderfully rustic with the log cabin walls, woven tapestries and paintings, numerous chandeliers made of reindeer and moose antlers hanging from the ceiling with flickering candles in them. I know that was one hundred percent the aesthetic choice of my father.
I look around and catch a glance of a dining room, lounge and kitchen before they lead me upstairs to my room, located down a narrow hallway.
Eero opens the door and places my bag beside the bed. I step inside, quickly taking it in. The room is simple, with birch walls and fur curtains, though it smells just like Noora’s car.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Noora says to me as they start to leave.
“Wait,” I spin around, and she pauses in the doorway. “It’s only three in the afternoon. Where are you going?”
“You need your sleep,” Eero says, not answering my question at all.
Then he closes the door.
I stare at it for a moment, part of me almost expecting it to lock from the outside. But, of course, it doesn’t.
I walk over to the window and peer outside. I’m looking right onto the parking lot which gives me a bit of comfort for some reason. Even though they seem hell-bent on me going to sleep right now, I’m grateful they put me in here instead of out in the forest. I already feel thoroughly creeped out, and for no reason at all.
I decide to lie down on the bed to test it out. It’s a queen and quite firm, but my body immediately relaxes into it.
I should unpack and then maybe find Noora, see if I can get something to eat. Text Michelle and Jenny and my mom and let them know I…
But the thought starts to drift away.
My eyes close.
* * *
* * *
My eyes open.
Darkness.
Complete and total darkness.
For a moment I think I’m dead, then I see a green light above me blink on and off and I realize it’s a smoke detector.
I fumble for my phone and it’s in my pocket. I’m still wearing my damn coat.
I bring it out and turn it on. The time is ten p.m., the light bright, making me wince, and the photo I have of my father and me as the screen wallpaper makes me want to burst into tears.