Ægir's Wife Ch. 12

"But I can't promise no more accidents," she teased Oscar. The very first time that he had held Anna, she had peed through her diaper onto his custom made suit. Not to be outdone by her younger sister, Elsa had projectile vomited onto another one the next day. Olaf had brought the man jeans and an old chambray shirt.

"That's fine. For my girls, I'll buy a whole new wardrobe," he smiled. He took her father's hand in his, "I'm going to get some more wine. Give you a chance to talk to your daughter alone."

Her father squeezed his partner's hand, "Don't be long."

Her throat tightened at the look of real love that flowed between the men. Her new friend Sigurd had shared his favorite book, Nothing Done In Love, with her. It was a treatise on love by some New Age guru in California.

At first, she and Petrine had been reluctant to share their family's history with the new priest. Though they both suspected that the rumors of their unusual lifestyle had already reached the man, it was he who first broached the subject with them. He had done so by sharing that book, which extolled love in all its forms. He had told them that the author had died recently of cancer, but her daughter and her two husbands were carrying on her work.

The ice was broken, and the new priest was taken into their confidence, including her father's homosexuality. The young priest had restored some of Rachel's tattered faith in Christianity with his inclusivity. The church was changing, especially here. Perhaps too slowly but it was something.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Kirsty," her father looked down at the table.

"Dad, say whatever you need to. You know that I am just glad you are happy at last."

He looked up, and she saw tears glistening in his deep green eyes, "What did I ever do to deserve a daughter like you?"

"You put up with a selfish barracuda for almost three decades," she laughed.

"Your mother is what I want to talk to you about, Kirsty."

Her face tightened. The memories of their last encounter with the woman were still fresh in her mind. Old hurts and new brought tears to her eyes. "What is it, Dad? What has she done now?"

He inhaled deeply. She saw tears gathering in his eyes. "I don't know how to say this, dear. But your mother is dying. Stage four breast cancer."

Kirsty's heart stopped. Of all the things that she had expected her father to say, this was not among them. Her parents were not young people. Both of them in their early sixties. But she had not thought she would face their deaths, not for many years yet. "Why didn't she call? Write? Say anything? Does she hate me, my way of life that much?"

He shook his head, "No, not at all. Your mother is afraid. She doesn't think you'll want to see her. Doesn't believe that you'll forgive her. But, please, for your sake, even more than hers, see her. Take the children. Say good-bye. Find your closure."

His fingers played idlly on the rim of the glass; when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and his eyes remained lowered. "She's different. I'm not going to excuse any of the things she did or say. I can't. But we all make mistakes. Please, tell me you'll at least think about it."

Her hands trembled as she reached for a full glass of something that had been abandoned on the table. She hoped, whatever it was, it was strong. She brought it to her lips to discover water. Not what she needed or wanted, but taking a couple of sips gave her time to gather her scattered thoughts and slow the pounding of her heart.

She was strong. A shieldmaiden. Freyja's daughter. Hadn't she found the courage to forgive Sven and begin again? Hadn't she brought forgiveness and hope to Petrine? Hadn't she faced down her deepest fears when she stood toe-to-toe with the world's most famous supermodel, knowing that she possessed something that that woman never would - their love?

Yes. And she could and would face this, too. Her father was right. She owed it to herself and to her daughter's to break whatever curse hung between them. Forgiving Nancy Dickens was for their sake and her own, more than the woman who had born her. Besides, she knew that they would be by her side. Her husbands. And together, this family could and would face whatever the future or the past held.

"I'll take the girls. We'll go with them on the next trip."

"When is that?"

She frowned, "Is it that bad, Dad? Is she that close to death?"

He only nodded and squeezed her hand, "You know what they say, doctors make the worst patients. Your mother ignored the signs until it was too late. The sooner, the better, dear. She and I made our peace before we left. It wasn't easy, but in some ways, I feel sorry for her. She was as trapped by societal expectations as we were. Maybe more so."

She swallowed down the bitterness and pain as Oscar came back to the table. It was the first time she had seen the man subdued, "You told her?"

Her father nodded as tears spilled down his cheek. His hand reached over and squeezed hers, "You have built a new life and family here. I am proud of you. Of the strong woman, you have become. And I know that this will only make you stronger."

Her eyes were filled with tears. Her throat so tight she was not sure she could breathe. Then she felt strong hands on her shoulders. "May I have this dance?" She turned and stared into the silvery depths of the man who was her best friend and confidant through it all.

***

Mikael held his wife close as the slow, sweet, country ballad began to drift around them. Her head rested trustingly on his shoulders as tears raced down her cheeks. They would speak later about whatever her father said that bothered her, but they had planned this moment with their mother for weeks. Each of them had selected a song that expressed their undying love to Kirsty.

"Every long lost dream led me to where you are, and others who broke my heart they were like northern stars pointing me on my way into your loving arms. This much I know it's true that god blessed the broken road that led me straight to you," he hummed against the soft skin of her forehead.

As the song faded, his lips covered her. The kiss was slow, sweet, and salty with her tears. As perfect as she was. "Jeg elsker deg, lilla gumman. You are everything I need but never knew I wanted. And yes, every day, I bless the broken road that led me to you. Whatever comes, whatever lies ahead, nothing can ever change that."

There were tears in his own eyes as the tempo changed, and his baby brother tapped him on the shoulder, "My turn."

Mikael stole one more brief kiss before passing her into the arms of the man who had dragged him kicking and screaming to this moment, his Fate and theirs. He would always owe his little brother for that. And his mother, too.

He smiled to see his parents swaying slowly to whatever song played. It did not seem to matter to them which style or even the words. All that mattered this day was that they held one another.

Sven laboriously made his way to stand next to him. Mikael refused to pity the man. He might never walk well enough to captain Ægir's Captive again, but as a result, he had gained something far more precious -- time with their wife. It was a trade he would have gladly made.

He reached into his pocket and drew out the thick chain. His throat tightened as he held out his hand to his older brother.

***

Sven shook his head. He could not believe what his brother held in his hand. "What? How?" he mumbled as he reached out and took the white gold necklace from Mikael's hand. It was incredibly challenging to remain on his feet; to balance his weight against the arm pad as he reached out to take the offering.

"Monika," his brother answered. "She found it. She was walking with Georgia along the shore one day and picked it up. I found her playing with it. And I knew."

He nodded, unable to force words past the tightness in his throat. He had to focus. He still was not steady on these damned sticks, but it had been vital to him that he stand for this even if he was not in much shape for dancing.

Now, this. It threatened to bring him to his knees. What did he do? They had not discussed it. And one thing he knew, in their new world, making decisions together was important.

"Today is Mama and Papa's, but maybe tonight? Bjorn and I thought it might be time we all committed to the woman."

Sven shook his head as he noticed two more charms added to the length of rope, dagger, flogger, and music note. They were simple, ancient Norse runes of Joy and Gift with identical birthstones. "How long have you had this?"

"Before they released you from the hospital," he replied simply.

Sven nodded as the impact of it all hit him. The song was coming to an end. He must concentrate entirely on the next three minutes and forty-one seconds, perhaps the longest and certainly the most important in his life. His chance to publically declare his love to his wife. Something that now seemed surprisingly easy.

***

Tears continued to cascade like a waterfall down her face. Kirsty was sure that not even the water-proof mascara could withstand this deluge. But somewhere along the way, along that broken road to this moment this Adonis, this man had chosen her.

Chosen her? The tears streamed more quickly. A man like this. Greta had been right; Bjorn did belong on the cover of a magazine. Or at least one of Raquel's novels. She would have to speak with Petrine about that later. It seemed such a shame. Then again, she was not sure she wanted to share him with the world.

"I know that it might sound more than a little crazy, but I believe I knew I loved you before I met you. I think I dreamed you into life. I knew I loved you before I met you. I have been waiting all my life," his voice was as smooth and beautiful as the man himself or his love that by some miracle had drawn him to her.

They had survived. They had withstood the worst. Just the two of them, alone and adrift in a sea of modernity that threatened to swallow them whole. But they had made. They had come out on the other side, stronger and more in love than before.

The fact that this man truly had waited, saved himself for her, would forever humble her. That he had seen past her dress size and insecurities to the woman that she would become, the shieldmaiden and daughter of Freyja.

"I love you," they giggled. That both had spoken their feelings at the same moment, said it all.

"Thank you, Bjorn. Thank you for choosing me, for loving me when I did not love myself. For helping me see myself as you see me," she caressed his tears away from his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss away the last of them.

But if she thought this day could not get any more perfect, then she was wrong. Bjorn brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and repeated the action to the palm. Then he tugged gently, pulling her to the edge of the makeshift dance floor.

Sven stood there. She knew how much effort went into that single action. As many strides as he had made, this was still incredibly difficult for him. But he had done it - for her.

Their eyes met. Bjorn's deep green. Sven's icy blue. Some unspoken exchange. As if Bjorn weighed it all, once more deciding if this man, his brother, could be entrusted with his most precious treasure. With a simple nod, the crux was passed. Bjorn placed her hand on his brother's shoulder and stepped away.

Leaving just the two of them as the soft melody began. It was Kirsty's knees that almost gave out as the words started to fill the silent room and her heart.

"If I never wake up in the morning, would she ever doubt the way I feel about her in my heart? If tomorrow never comes, will she know how much I loved her? Did I try in every way to show her every day that she's my only one? And if my time on earth were through and she must face this world without me is the love I gave her in the past gonna be enough to last? If tomorrow never comes..."

She was blubbering. She knew it. But she could not stop. Those words hit too close to home. How close she had come to losing this man. The one that had first drawn her to them. The one who had taken her elbow, brought her through that turnstile in Tilbury that dreary October day, and into a new life. A new family.

The words of that song were made more precious because they were the public declaration of all the private moments that they had shared over the past few months. This man had become indispensable to her. From changing diapers to his knowledge of fishing that kept them afloat to his rope, even his discipline. One day she really ought to get around to telling him that standing naked in the corner no longer was punishment.

She might have stumbled, toppled them both then, if not for Bjorn and Mikael surrounding her from behind, holding her up. Helping them to finish what Sven had begun as the prophetic nature of the next words broke her.

"'Cause I've lost loved ones in my life who never knew how much I loved them. Now I live with the regret that my true feelings for them never were revealed."

Yes, it was time to go back — time for closure. Whether her father was right and death had changed her mother or not, it did not matter. Love was something that was hers to give. The goddesses' blessing. It was not something that had to be earned. And it was the final gift and offering that she could bring to the woman who had given birth to her.

And with these men, her men, her husbands, friends, and lovers surrounding her, she knew that she had that strength. That power within her to forgive. Just as they had found the strength to forgive one another and to build a new life...together.

"I love you all," she blubbered as they all embraced. Unashamed. Proud of who and what they were. And the world or this tiny corner of it, be damned.

***

Roz stood in the shadows. Her arms wrapped tightly about her Rubenesque body. She hated herself at the moment. She should be happy for her friend. She was happy for Kirsty. But she was also jealous. The green-eyed monster had firm control of her heart and mind.

Her friend had found her happiness, her place in this world. She, on the other hand, was alone, adrift, without any real purpose. Even the job that had once meant so much to her had soured. He had made sure of that. Her husband. Ex-husband. Lord James Arthur George DeWinter. Dr. DeWinter at the hospital where they had both worked for almost twenty years.

She might be the new head of the Physical and Occupational Therapy Department, but James was the Chief Executive. Not only was her ex-husband her boss, but their vitriolic divorce had become the source of gossip among the staff. Most of it was inaccurate, if not libelous. Both their reputations had suffered but hers especially.

Fifteen years of marriage. Years of fertility treatments and IVF. Too many miscarriages for her to think about.

Of course, there had been good, too. At least in the beginning. James' intellect had challenged her as no one's ever had. He had taken her as his protégé as much as his lover: the theatre, the opera, the symphony, book clubs, even a philosophy club.

She had been young, barely twenty when they first met. He was older, more than a decade older. He had gone to all the 'right' schools, a veritable list of the poshest institutions of learning in England, names that everyone knew. The best classical education that his parents the Dukes and Duchess could buy. He had traveled, too.

She had too many stars in her eyes to see the truth back then. She was his great creation, a Pygmalion social experiment. With her working-class and West Indian background, James had set out to remake her into the perfect neo-Liberal chef-d'oeuvre, magnum opus, pièce de résistance. The fact that she knew those words, let alone could pronounce each one correctly attested to his success.

And for a time, it had been worth it. They had been happy. Not just the artistic interests, their careers, or the fancy holidays to exotic locations either, but their sex life too. It had been adventurous, to say the least. They had explored it all, wife-swapping, BDSM, and poly.

But ultimately, it had been her inability to give James a son and heir that had undermined it all. She wrapped her arms tighter about her as if to ward off a chill that was not in keeping with the sunny summer day. Those memories were still too painful for closer examination.

She knew that, like her friend, she should move on. Begin her life again somewhere fresh and new. She could too. At least modestly anyway. Despite the rumors of her gold-digging, Roz had walked away from fifteen years of marriage with nothing more than the North London home they had bought as a couple and a very modest settlement. No alimony. Not even a slice of his pension. Certainly nothing of his family's substantial and centuries old wealth.

But she had had to fight, fight nasty, for even that. A fight that had drained her, broken her. A fight that still had repercussions in her career.

Her eyes drifted to the young couple that swayed unspeaking to the music. She could see that Georgia held herself stiffly in the handsome young man's arms. He looked vaguely familiar. Of course, his resemblance to Bjorn was striking.

Oh, yes, now she remembered. The cousin that worked with them on the boat. He had been there the day that she had said goodbye to Kirsty. It did not take her new degree in counseling and psychology to recognize that he had a deeper interest in the young woman in his arms.

She sighed; he could join the line. Something in Georgia called to her. It had from that first day they had taken Monika to the park while Bjorn and Kirsty worked out their differences. But what was it?

Roz knew that she was demi-sexual; for her, the attraction was not physical but always emotional. She had once thought herself sapiosexual. That had been what had first attracted her to James, of course, his great intellect. But he had soured her on that as she came to realize there was a difference between education and intelligence.

No, for her, the attraction was always friendship. She had barely concealed her affection for Kirsty. But first, she had been involved with Raj; then she had disappeared for months, only to reappear with 'pretty boy' as she secretly called Bjorn. Of course, the joke was on her. Her friend had taken poly to a level that not even Roz had dared. Reverse-harem. And oh, what a harem that girl had. She stood no chance there.

Yes, there was an undercurrent of sexual attraction to Georgia. And the girl definitely brought out her Domme side. But she was reluctant to go there. She was not sure whether her new friend was truly submissive or the victim of oppressive abuse that had conditioned her responses. So, unless it was a matter of Georigia's safety, Roz kept that side of her personality firmly under control.

Of course, the other possibility was that it was a maternal inclination. Certainly, the younger woman was of an age. She sighed and closed that door, too. But she could not deny the likelihood that the draw between them was some recompense for her secret sins.

But whatever it was, she had not lied to her protégé. Georgia coming to live with her was more of a blessing to her than it was to the girl herself. That house held too many memories. Bad and good. And unfortunately, her new studies were forcing her to face herself in ways she never had, ways she was not confident she was ready for. Long hours alone did that to you as you grew older.

No, she should use this brief reprieve to figure out what her future held. What and where she belonged now. Because she knew where she no longer fit, she just could not imagine a place where someone like her did.

***