Page 94 of The Caged Viking

Kirstin sighed. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to be drowning in family so soon, but maybe it was for the best. The less she was able to think, the less miserable she would be. Or so she told herself.

By that evening, all…every single one…of her half-brothers and sisters were there. Even Jogeir. Actually all eleven of her siblings were halfies because her father had had so many wives and concubines, though thankfully not all at the same time; so, while they all had the same father, there were numerous mothers, most or all of whom had died or run off when they realized there were so many children to care for. Except for Angela. By the time they’d arrived in modern day California, her father had turned monogamist. No more extra wives or mistresses. Angela would never have stood for that, and hopefully her father no longer had the inclination to spread his virility.

Kirstin took a long shower, one of the things she’d missed most while in the past. She blow-dried her hair and pulled the long hair back into a ponytail. No make-up. Just some lip gloss and mascara to her blonde eyelashes. After that, she dressed in beige yoga pants and a multi-colored sweater which had been left here from a previous visit.

Finally, she was ready to brave the assault of her family. And it was an assault of sorts, a well-intended but almost overwhelming barrage of hugs, cries, laughs, questions, opinions, and enough food to feed a Viking army. It wasn’t just Angela who’d been busy in the kitchen, but her half-sister Marie, the professional chef-in-training at some culinary school in Colorado, shared the stove. Marie must have hopped a plane as soon as her father called. Same was no doubt true of Dagny who’d come from FBI headquarters in Virginia. And now she sat talking to Torolf and Hamr, who’d come up from San Diego to welcome her home, along with Madrene, Ian, and Njal.

She’d already described her time-travel “adventure” twice now, but then she had to repeat it again for those who arrived via later flights: Kolbein, a priest from his parish in Florida, Lida, who was from New York City, and Jogeir, who’d come, not from his home in Iceland, but Chicago, where he’d been attending an international farm conference. Storvald was particularly interested to find out that it was the arm rings he’d made for Kirstin that proved to be a time-travel device.

Kolbein, of course, disagreed, and said it was God’s doing, not some particular object, like a boat wreck, or lightning, or a piece of jewelry.

Kirstin wanted to ask Kolbein if that meant that God did not want her to be with Hauk, but she’d yet to discuss the emotional entanglements of her trip.

Her father walked up to where they were all sitting around the dining room table and passed around bottles of beer and glasses of wine before commenting, “So, did she tell you she got married?”

Everyone turned to look at Kirstin.

“No, she failed to mention that,” Lida said.

“He must have been really hot. Bet he was Hollywood good-looking. Was he good looking?” Dagny asked.

“Like some kind of Viking god, I’ll bet,” Marie added, nodding her agreement at Dagny.

“Bet the sex was spectacular,” Madrene remarked.

“Madrene!” her father rebuked. “Betimes you go too far.”

Madrene just shrugged and grinned.

“And did she tell you she was married by an archbishop in the Saxon church?” Marie asked, coming in with a tray of cheeses and crackers.

Kolbein looked at Kirstin steadily and said, “Well, that settles it then.”

Kirstin wasn’t sure what Kolbein meant, and she wasn’t about to ask. Not now, anyhow, in front of everyone.

Eventually, everyone who lived in the state left, each of them giving their opinion or advice. Despite her long sleep of the night before, Kirstin felt totally depleted…exhausted mentally and physically. All those who lived out of state stayed overnight. They were all in the living room, chatting, while her father streamed his favorite Vikings episodes, with the volume turned off.

But Kirstin didn’t think she could talk anymore. She was about to sneak off when Dagny caught up with her and asked, “Do you still have that drawing I did for you when you described the man you saw in your dreams?”

Her question surprised Kirstin because she had totally forgotten that day when Dagny did a drawing for Kirstin based only on the dream image. “I think I do.” She went up to her bedroom and pulled out a dresser drawer. Yes, there it was, at the bottom, under some underwear. When she went back to the dining room, where Dagny had laid out her sketch pads and charcoal, she put the rendering on the table.

“Well?” Dagny asked. “Does it look like him?”

Kirstin looked down, and her heart skipped a beat. “It does, and it doesn’t,” she said. “His cheeks are wider, but the bones are more sculpted in the Nordic fashion. The lips are wrong. Hauk’s lips are fuller, and they should have a slight grin on them. The eyes…hmm, I’m not sure what’s off. He has what I call talking eyes. When they look at you, you know exactly what he is feeling.”

Dagny went to work, her fingers working deftly, following some more tweaks that Kirstin suggested. It took several tries, making corrections according to Kirstin’s memories, before she was finished. When Dagny lifted up the final product, Kirstin just nodded, unable to speak at first over the lump in her throat. Finally, she said, “It’s almost perfect.”

“Good! Be careful in framing it. The charcoal could smudge if it’s not done professionally.”

Kirstin felt an odd sadness at Dagny’s suggestion. It was as if her sister was assuming she would never see Hauk again and would want to have some memento. But wasn’t that a given? Why would Kirstin even harbor a different opinion? She was home where she was supposed to be.

Wasn’t she?

* * *

The road to recovery is a bumpy one…

Life goes on, and so did Hauk.