Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 13

'Feel more comfortable,' it was something that had definitely not been his priority during their time together. Maybe it should have been. They had just told her what her future held, what their way of life was like. She must have been frightened, full of questions.

And what had he done? Slapped cuffs on her, cut off the only clothes she wore, run his knife all over her body, cut her, tasted her blood and edged her until she went crazy out of her mind before he finally gave her the orgasm her body needed. And he wondered why his wife had left him? He was a jerk...which was why this would never work either. Not between them anyway, not with him, not what he wanted deep inside, what he would not even admit to himself.

He shook himself, there was no use thinking about things that could never be. Better to focus upon what was, "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing much really. Just that you had been married before. That you had a little girl that lived with you." Those big expressive eyes searched his face, seemed to plead with him, "Honestly, Bjorn meant no harm. He said that you would tell me what you wanted me to know when the time was right."

Mikael flexed his fingers again, "Yeah, well, he should have listened to his own words and kept his damned mouth shut."

She came to her knees. Between her height and the raised bed they were almost eye to eye, her hands fisted on her hips, "Yeah, well, we were just talking. Conversation. You know what that is? It was not like we did a whole lot of talking when..."

He loved the way that her cheeks could flame almost as red as her hair. His arm went about her waist and drew her fully against his body. He was hard in an instant, "Conversation takes two, sweetheart. I don't remember you being able to put two syllables together at all. In fact, if I remember correctly the only words in your vocabulary were 'no' and 'YES,' his emphasis on that words had those cheeks flaming even more.

He was not sure what would have happened then as the deep cough from the doorway behind him interrupted them. "Sorry to 'disturb' you, but we are docked. So unless you want Mama in this cabin that smells of sex, we need to get her on deck."

Mikael wanted to knock the dark scowl off his brother's face, shove his smug words down his throat one at a time. But he knew that his baby brother was right. Their mother would not wait to meet this woman, their wife. He sighed, he hoped this went better than the first meeting with Greta. He nodded as he released the woman.

Bjorn reached out to her with a smile and took her hand. Damn, his brother, he even brought it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, "I can't wait for you to meet Mama. She is going to love you."

Mikael stepped aside as his brother drew the woman off the bed and down the hall. He followed slowly. He had no choice. His mother would read too much into his absence if he was not there too. But his brother's words ate at him... "going to love you." Petrine had never really liked Greta. Oh, the tried, but he could tell. Maybe that should have told him something?

Not that it mattered now. The past was the past. The problem was, as he watched his brother beam as he presented his wife to their mother, the future was just as bleak. Locked on the outside, looking in. Pushed to the side with their wife too. Stuck in the middle...again.

***

Kirsty was still fuming as Bjorn led her onto the deck. How dare he? How dare Mikael judge Bjorn for trying to put her more at ease when all he had done was...

She did not have time to finish the thought as the small party that Sven was greeting came into full view. She did not know what she expected Petrine to look like. But this was not it.

This was no frail elderly woman, weathered and beaten by the rough life of farming, fishing, raising three boys and loving four men. Yes, her hair was grey...more silver than anything. But it was long, hanging half way down her back in a feathery, layered style. Though her face showed fine lines and wrinkles, it glowed with health and a beauty that came as much from within.

As they came closer she saw that the woman's still svelte figure could have graced a Paris runway or the cover of a magazine. Kirsty was tall for a woman, but this one was eye to eye with her, perhaps even an inch or two taller. And her shoulders were definitely not stooped. Her high cheekbones framed her full mouth as she smiled.

If Kirsty had been a bit intimidated by the way that her sons spoke of this woman's strength, wisdom and courage to manage their lifestyle and love them and their fathers, she was even more so now that she realized what a beauty their mother was. She dropped her head and bit her lower lip as she considered her own full-figure, plus-sized body covered in freckles and topped with a head of wild ginger hair.

Then there were arms wrapping about her once more. These ones were not thick and brawny though. But they were strong nonetheless as the woman drew her into an embrace. She rocked her from side to side, "Your pictures do not do you justice. You are more beautiful than we thought."

Kirsty blushed and struggled a bit in the woman's arms. She was not used to such displays of emotions. The most she had ever gotten from her own mother was a limp sideways embrace and a quick brush on her cheek that did not even leave stains from her bright red lipstick. This woman was full of surprises, but how could Petrine possibly think she was 'beautiful.'

But then she was being handed off to another set of burly arms. She stared up at the man. His face too was lined and weathered, perhaps quite a bit older than the woman even. But he too was still strong, full of life and from the lines about his eyes...laughter. Olaf was anything but an 'old' man sat out to pasture, waiting to die. She stared, tried to place those features, remember which of the brothers claimed this man.

Then she remembered Mikael's words...my father and mother. Yes, yes, she could clearly see the resemblance. But so too could she see pieces of this man in Bjorn and even in Sven. Once more she was left to wonder...how did they know.

Then she was at the end of the line. A small head with light brown curls greeted her. Monika, she remembered the little girl's name. She reached out to her, but the child jerked back as if she had been scalded. Kirsty frowned as she watched Mikael try to draw his daughter into his protective embrace. But the child pulled away from him too. And Kirsty saw the pain of that rejection in his face.

She frowned even deeper as the little girl squealed and turned her back on them all, rocking slowly back and forth as she reached out to touch the edge of the boat. She shook her head. This was all new to the child. Meeting this woman that would be her new 'mother.' That was what she was to be, was it not? There were still so many unanswered questions.

And Monika was one of them. She watched as Mikael bent down, tried to talk to his child, but again she pulled away from him. Seemed not to hear anything he said. Her frown deepened. How many single mothers had she worked with over the years? Had she not seen their struggles as they fought to give their child all that he needed? Was it really any different with this man? Yes, he had family to help, but the responsibility for his daughter's happiness still rested fully on his shoulders.

She sighed as she watched them, father and daughter. She thought of her own father. He might not have been the tenderest of men, but he had done his best. She had always been closer to him than to her mother. But then too when she had needed him...to stand up for her when she wanted to try acting rather than go to uni...when she had wanted to play football instead of take piano lessons...well, he had never been any better at standing up to Nancy Dickens than she was.

"Just give her some time and space," said the kindly voice. She turned to look up at the man, who would be the child's grandfather.

She nodded and smiled shyly, "Yes, I work with...I worked with children back home." She caught herself quickly, that life was gone. How significant a simple tense of verbs could be? Those words had been hard to say. Like hitting the send button on emails that would change your whole future. Like drawing a line under one chapter of her life before beginning a new.

He nodded and smiled, "Yes, we know. And we are hoping that you will help us too."

She shook her head as she tried to understand what the man was saying, but then that bubbly woman was assailing her with more questions and a seemingly endless stream of conversation about the trip, her sons, the Holding. Her mind could not comprehend half it.

She turned slightly and looked over her shoulder as he knelt there still trying to speak with the child, who just watched her hand run along the smooth wood. Something shifted inside of her. For the first time, she saw this man. Really saw him. Understood the pain. In his own way, he was locked inside his own world...every bit as much as she was coming to fear that the beautiful little girl was in hers.

Then she shook herself, reminding herself that she was not a doctor, not qualified to diagnose anyone. She had spent so many years working with special needs children, with autism, that she was probably just imagining. Reading things into 'normal' behavior for a shy child. Still that little voice whispered loudly...'they need you.'