Ægir’s Bride Ch. 07

The woman sighed and she could see tears beginning to gather, "No, my dear. It is not a matter of what I want, but what you need. What you need to hear. That is what matters most now."

That forced smile made Kirsty want to argue some more, but the woman just turned and waved to Mikael. "I'm borrowing her for a bit," she yelled with finality.

Then she turned and wrapped her arm about Kirsty's waist and drew her towards the greenhouse in silence. It was a short walk, less than a minute. But once they were there, the woman paused. Her hands ran along the wooden frame of the doorway. Kirsty would have sworn it was almost as if the woman were caressing a lover.

And when she finally did turn back to face her, those green eyes swam in tears. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Can you believe it is almost as old as Bjorn? But he built it to last." She shook her head as she turned the handle and held open the door, "Join me for a cup tea, please."

Kirsty nodded her head and stepped inside the doorway. And into another world. It was warmer. Much warmer. Sweltering almost. Which was surprising given how late in the autumn it was, how cold it was outside. But in here it was spring, almost summer. And it smelled of it too. The exotic blend of flowers and herbs almost made her head swim they were so intoxicating.

She paused just inside the doorway as the older woman came and held out her hand, "Give me your coat, sweetie. You will never need it in here. No matter how cold it gets out there, it will always warm in here. Freezing cold on the outside and warm inside, just like the man, who built it," her voice cracked and Kirsty saw her brush a couple of tears away with the back of her hand as she took her coat.

She hung it on a hook by the door, took off her own and placed it on another above it. She motioned towards the far back corner where a wicker chair, loveseat and table sat. Kirsty nodded and silently took a seat on the chair. The woman did not join her immediately but busied herself in the other corner where a small refrigerator and kettle were.

Kirsty looked around as Petrine made tea. The place was big, bigger than it looked. Bigger even than her bedroom. It was full too. Brimming with tables and shelves. More plants that she had ever seen except at a garden center. There was a small tree in one corner that looked like it still had a couple of oranges hanging from its branches. Of course, there were other edible plants too. Tomatoes, peppers and strawberries. A whole shelf of them in fact in various stages of development.

"Fresh strawberries...all year round," the woman wore a bitter-sweet smile as she held out a steaming cup. Kirsty took with a smile of thanks. "It is herbal, my own blend, not your English milk stuff. I hope you don't mind. I will remember to bring some down from the house for you," she smiled as she moved a laptop over and curled up on the love seat.

Kirsty sipped her tea. It was a delicious. Mint and chamomile she recognized but there were other herbs as well that she could place place. The woman sipped hers as well. Kirsty did not disturb her as she looked around this place, lost in her memories and thoughts it seemed. The silence might have made some people uncomfortable, but Kirsty waited. Though she did not know for what...she waited.

It truly was beautiful. Quiet. Warm. Petrine was right, she could not feel so much as even the tiniest draft. So many flowers too. The shelves on the other wall contained roses, lilies, tulips and so many others; some she recognized, but many she did not. She smiled as she saw the tiny white flowers that he had passed to her that first day, barely moments after he had drawn her through that turnstile.

"White lace, Orlaya grandiflora," Petrine smiled at her as she brought the cup to her lips and sipped. "He picked them himself you know," she shook her head. "My eldest son may carry Lars's name, but in most ways he is more like the father, who raised him than the one whose name he bears."

Kirsty swallowed a sip of her tea. It was the opening she had been looking for to ask the question that had been burning in her mind. But did she have the courage?

The warm chuckle made her look up as she pondered it, "Go ahead. Ask. Better yet, I'll save you the embarrassment and just answer. I don't. We don't. Not for certain anyway." The older woman took a slow sip of her own tea, perhaps allowing that titbit to sink in.

Kirsty frowned, "But? Then how? Why?" she stammered even though she knew she made no sense.

Petrine laughed, the first genuine one that she had heard from the woman that day. It broke the tension. "Sometimes it is easy. You can see how much like his father Mikael looks. And one day I will pull out my photo album. There are not many pictures mind you...mostly when I would go with them on a trip. Our kind of family vacations...holidays. You will see then that Bjorn is the spitting image of his father."

She shook her head and that wistful look was back. She took another drink, but this time Kirsty thought it was perhaps to fortify herself for whatever was to come. "Stig. It is his story I need to tell you now, sweetheart. His...mine...and his sons...the one of his body and the other of his heart."

She paused for a long moment. Kirsty could see the tears gathering, she thought about stopping the woman, trying once more to persuade her that this was not necessary. But something told her it was...for both of them.

"You are in love with my baby already." It was not a question. "I'm not surprised. Between his daddy's drop dead good looks and my heart, like I said, some are easy to love. And I know that he loves you just as much," she shrugged, "Maybe even more. But I did not come here to talk about easy roads."

She raised the cup once more and smiled around its brim, "I see too that you have found a bit of common ground with Mikael." The smile she gave her then was genuine, "And I want to thank you for the miracles you are already working with my little hellion. But I knew you would, knew you could not resist her any more than the rest of us can."

She sighed heavily, "Just remember as wonderful a friend and father as he is, that man bears scars. But that is not my story to tell. I have faith that one day...maybe not right away, but one day, he will tell it to you himself. Be patient with him. And every now and then push his buttons," she giggled. "That one not only looks like his father, he acts like the man too. And trust me two things I know...you will never find a more loyal friend."

She winked and shifted on the soft floral cushions of the love seat just a bit, "And just when they get comfortable, think they have you, think they know it all, that is when you push their buttons." The woman's giggles reminded her more of Roz, her ribald friend from work, than a mother-in-law just then, "Just make damned sure you are ready for the consequences."

Her face changed once more. Darkened as she spoke again, "But it is my eldest that I want to talk to you. You asked earlier how I know, how any of us do. The honest truth is with that one...I honestly do not know. I am never sure." When she brought the cup to her lips this time, Kirsty could see that her knuckles were almost white.

"I was seven months pregnant with him when..." Her voice cracked and she finally lost the battle to hold back the tears. "When Lars was...when Njörður, the Norse god of the sea, wind, fish, and wealth claimed his price."

"It was the first time I truly understood how tough this life is. It was especially hard as he was the youngest. The baby."

The woman smiled and looked off again as she spoke, "Oh, that man. He was even more of a jokester than Bjorn. He could make me laugh no fucking matter how angry I was. And they used that too. He was the one they always sent to calm me down when I started breaking dishes."

Kirsty felt hot tears stinging her own eyes. She could hear the love in the woman's voice as she spoke of the man. And Kirsty could not even imagine what it would feel like...did not want to even think about it. Especially him, her jokester. Silence reigned once more as the women drank tea. One lost in the past, the other staring into the gaping uncertainty of the future.

"So when Sven was born...well, I am never completely sure if we all did not just see what we wanted to, more than what was there." Petrine wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Damn it, I should have been smart enough to bring Kleenex for this one," she chuckled.

"As the eldest, it was Stig though who felt it was his responsibility to take Sven under his wings. They are so fucking much alike in that way too. Always taking on more responsibility than it is theirs to bear alone."

She smiled as she continued, "Sometimes when I look at Sven...just certain expressions. I see Stig in him as much as I do Bjorn." She burst out laughing then, "Although I did my damnedest to make sure my first child was not his."

"Oh, yes, I see the idea has occurred to you too. I thought it might have. Despite what I told you that first day, yes, yes, I played favorites. Back then honestly it was mostly Lars that I called to my bed...as often as I could anyway. Maybe that is the other reason we all just assumed that Sven is his son," she shrugged.

"You see I was still angry with Andreas. He was the bait...just as Sven was with you," she chuckled again. "Someone really needs to teach you a poker face. Although maybe not until you have played a round or two of strip poker with my sons."

Kirsty felt her face burn as she sputtered tea out through her nose, "Oh please! Not you too. At least, let there be frankness between us. You have three husbands. I had four. If we were one of those frigid bitches that didn't enjoy sex, we would be in a whole world of hurt." Petrine joined her in tea spewing laughter then. "Quite literally actually."

When they finally managed to stop laughing there were tears of a different kind in their eyes. Kirsty looked at her, "I am sorry. It is just that...well," she stammered and fumbled until she finally managed to force the words out. "It is just that I was never close to my own mother. We never really talked about..."

"Sex, dear. Nasty, raw, wild and sometimes oh-so fucking sweet sex. It is all right, most people don't. Hell, my sons like burying not just their heads but their whole fucking body in the sand when it comes to Mama and it." She shook her head and giggled like a teen once more, "If they only knew. But back to you...and your sex life."

"Yes, I was the one to convince Bjorn not to use his photo on the website. The boyee..." The owman stuttered over the word, then paused and began again. "My youngest son would have attracted way too much attention and not necessarily the right kind either."

"And I would bet my bottom dollar...if I can still find one laying around here somewhere...that if it had been his picture on that profile, you would not have responded back, would you?" Petrine studied until Kirsty shifted uncomfortably on the chair.

It was difficult to admit as she blushed, bit her bottom lip and nodded, "Probably not."

"I thought as much. And I admit...that was the tiniest bit of it with his father too. But try this one for size, sweetheart, Bjorn's too good looks with Sven's cold devil may care attitude. Intimidating? Hell, yeah. I thought Stig was the most arrogant, self-centered, egotistical, misogynistic...am I missing any here?" she laughed.

"As for Olaf, that man always knew me too well. Got under my skin. So next to Lars's easy-going..."

"Happy," Kirsty blushed.

Petrine raised her eyebrows, "Oh do tell?"

"I nicknamed them all. That first night in the cabin. Over dinner. I gave them all nicknames," she admitted shyly.

The woman frowned, "Of course, Happy could only be Bjorn. But now you have me really curious. What is Mikael's?"

"Grumpy," the color spread from her cheeks down her neck into her jumper.

Petrine nodded her head and then frowned, "Doc, Sneezy, Bashful, oh what are the others' names? For the life of me, I cannot figure out who Sven might be."

"Dopey and Sleepy...and no, none of them fit," Kirsty wrung her hands in her lap. "Atlas...Sven's is Atlas."

She smiled and nodded, "Yes, yes, he is. Just like Stig was. You understand then...as the eldest, they always felt as if it is all on them. As if the whole damned business, this place, the family, sometimes I think the whole fucking world would fall apart without them. But trust me, it doesn't. I learned that the hard way. Which brings me back to the story."

"Like I said, I played favorites. Lars...then Olaf. Andreas, of course, once Sven was born and I had come to terms with my life here enough to forgive the man. You know why he...they...choose me? Back in the days before the Internet made things so much easier." Kirsty shook her head.

"Because no one would miss me." This laugh was darker. "I was a hippie, a child of the sixties. My parents raised me on a commune...free love and everything. Sometimes I was not even sure who my mother and father were since everyone just sort of claimed all the children as their own. That was the good part. Sometimes I think..."

She breathed deeply and smiled back at Kirsty, "Sometimes I think old women ramble...will do anything to avoid the real truth. The story I need to tell you. To make a very long story short, when the commune closed in the early seventies, my parents went their separate ways. My mother needed her drugs more than she did a troublesome teenage girl. Social services sent me to live with my grandparents on their farm in East Texas."

"I was in my first year of college when a fire destroyed the farm and killed them both." She paused and brought the cup to her lips although Kirsty guessed it was as empty as her own by then. "I had nothing then. Nothing and no one. Nowhere to call home."

"I sold the land to the first person that offered to buy it. I went to the post office and got my first passport. Then with the money from selling the land, I bought a ticket...one-way...to your homeland. And for two years, I wandered Europe. England, France, Spain, Italy, Germany. I made Amsterdam when I met Andreas." Once more Kirsty saw that wistful and wondered about the rest of this woman's story. The things she was not saying.

"I got so drunk one night that I did what I never had. I told him the whole story. The poor orphan wondering the world looking for home. He decided then that this was to be my home. That he and his brothers were to be my family."

The tears were streaming down her cheeks as she spoke, "And as much as I despised that man for that those first couple of years, I can never thank him enough. The rest of this story gets kind of rough, sweetheart. Hard for you to hear. And even harder for me to tell you. But one thing I want to make sure I say now...in case I forget. Never...no matter the pain...never have I regretted that decision. And I pray you never do yours either."

Kirsty had no idea what was to come...what could possibly be more difficult than this woman's tale so far. And she was not sure she wanted to know...but something once more told her that she needed to.

***

Rachel looked across at the younger woman. She tried her damnedest to force a smile, but knew that she failed miserably. "Let me get us another cup of tea. For the life of me, I wish I knew where that old man hides the vodka. We could both use some right about now," she joked as she stood and took Kirsty's cup.

Her hands trembled and it had absolutely nothing to do with the occasional stiffness in her joints first thing in the morning. She could tell through the opaque glass roof that the sun was already beginning to fall in the sky. She did not worry about dinner. She was certain that Olaf would see to that.

She chuckled lightly at all the crazy ideas that young woman had back then about being their slave, forced to cook, clean and wait upon four men...to serve their every need. Just like Snow White and her seven dwarves, she thought as she cherished the confidence that the younger woman had shared. She hoped there would be more...many more.

Oh to be that young woman again. To love them as she should have. And not allowed such silly notions to cloud her thinking. Because the truth she had soon learned was they more than pulled their own weight around the house...when they were there. Chores were always shared...and if anyone waited on, serviced anyone, it was them serving her. She smiled, although some of their needs were definitely worth serving.

The kettle began to hum and she poured the tea. She had avoided the crux of this matter for too long. The story would get no easier. She lifted the cups and carried them back to where her new daughter sat and she was already beginning to think of her as that. She offered Kirsty one with that same weak smile before she settled herself back on her writing settee with the other.

"Yes, I did what I warned you not to. I played favorites. As much as I could get away with anyway. But overtime, even Stig and I came to an uneasy truce. Not completely unlike what you have with Mikael. I grew up. I saw past the arrogance to the weight of all those responsibilities. In the end, I stopped play mind games. So when Mikael was older and I decided I want another baby, I made sure that..."

Petrine looked at her and smiled, "Let's just say I made absolutely sure that the odds were even. That any of the three of my husbands might be Bjorn's father."

Rachel wanted to laugh at the way her new daughter's face turned an almost perfect shade of pink then. She was very tempted to confirm the girl's thoughts, but she had delayed this story long enough. She would allay some of the woman's concerns about those things another day.

"What I am about to tell you now, my youngest son does not know. When he was a child, we thought it would be too much of a burden. So we all agreed not to tell him. I am hoping you will keep that confidence." She sighed as she continued, "But I will not ask you to lie to him either. Just please if you do feel you must tell him, please consult us."

Kirsty frowned for a long moment, but nodded her head at last. "When Bjorn was born..." She felt the knot tightening in her throat. Almost thirty years and she still could not say the words? She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through the pain.

Pain that sometimes still felt like it was sucking her under, that she was drowning as surely as Lars had when he was swept away in that storm. The two suddenly melded together and she drew her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and began to rock back and forth.

"Petrine, are you all right? We don't have to talk about it if it upsets you this much," the tender voice broke through the waves like a lifeline.

"No, Kirsty, maybe it is long past time I did." She forced her eyes open but still had trouble focusing on the younger woman's face. She wiped the tears away as she exhaled and plunged into those icy waters of her own freewill this time. "I hemorrhaged. Bled out. I don't remember much of what happened after they showed me his son. Just the look on the midwife's face and how fucking white Stig's got."

Rachel knew that if she closed her eyes she could see his face again, maybe even hear those words. "Almost fifteen years I had been their wife then. Two sons...losing Lars...and never once had that man shown me any real emotion." She chuckled, "Well, unless you count lust."

She recognized the empathy in her daughter's eyes and smiled, "And we both know that is not enough, that we want and need so much more. Even though, I had that more with Andreas and with Olaf. Some part of me always needed to break through his icy waters too. To touch more than simply the man's body. I know you understand that feeling...know it with both Mikael and Sven." Kirsty only nodded her head and blushed.