Fated to the Viking Lord

"You look like shit," she said to me.

I laughed and kissed her cheek.

"I know. I've had the worst day. And I need you right now. Can I stay overnight?" I asked.

"Of course, Lucille. You're always welcome here. We're family. Sylvain is inside right now making you a croque madame. I know you, and I know you probably haven't eaten since whatever it was that happened to you occurred. So come on in and get settled. Sylvain will grab your bags out of the car later. I have a bottle of wine in the fridge for us and the kids are all asleep!"

Daniella took my arm and led me into her home. It was decorated in country chic décor, children's crafts and framed photographs of their wedding. The kinds of things that I wouldn't ever dream of putting in my own house. It felt like home.

We plopped ourselves down on the couch as Sylvain came out with a plate for me, a bottle of wine and two glasses. I thanked him with a hug and a kiss on his cheek - something I don't think I had done for him since their wedding. I gave him another thank you and kiss on the cheek just for good measure.

Then I poured my heart out to my sister.

She pulled me into her shoulder, and I snuggled up to her on their couch while I regaled my tale of how I had become nothing but a weapon for powerful men who would throw me away when they were done with me. And then I told her about Luke doing just that while I was steamrolling another woman in a court of law.

She listened attentively while I talked, cried and talked some more.

But there was a problem with Daniella. Because after a glass of two of wine, she wants to solve your problems herself.

Now, she is a mom of four who has never lived anywhere else but her hometown, so her idea of a solution is usually something that she has seen in a Hallmark movie. She is a fierce Québécoise, like the rest of my family, but I think the furthest she has been away from home is Ottawa.

Her solutions always make me laugh. They always put me in a better mood. But I usually don't ever act on them. Most of the time, they're bonkers.

The problem tonight is that Sylvain was being his attentive, diligent and dutiful self. Once he had brought my bags back in, he went and got us another bottle of wine. And then because Daniella didn't work at the furniture store tomorrow and had the day off, he gave us a third bottle before he headed to bed himself.

If he wasn't such a good and loving husband to my sister, we wouldn't be anywhere near as drunk as we were. Good men are in short supply. Unfortunately for my sister, she married one of them.

One thing about working on a winery though; he did bring us excellent wines.

But Daniella and I had now split three bottles of wine between us, and we were well and truly gone. She was two years older than me, and had turned forty-one in the spring. I was thirty-nine, and lived with a douche canoe. The result is that neither one of us were heavy partiers, and that much booze meant that we were well and truly wasted, and our decision-making skills were currently pickled in Québec's finest chardonnay.

"So, let me get this straight," said Daniella. "You railroad this chick in court. You publicly out her and humiliate her. No offence, you're a great lawyer, I've always been jealous of your success, but you can be a heartless bitch when you want to be. And then you come home and find Luke fucking a chick half your age, and like, what... 40 years younger than him?"

"Yeah. Pretty much," I responded.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"I have no idea. I want to quit my job. I want to leave him. I want to leave Montréal. But everything I've built for myself is there, I answered.

"Girl, fuck him. Fuck la grande ville. You need to get yourself pampered and put together. You aren't thinking straight. You know what you need?" Daniella asked me.

"What do I need?"

"You need to go to one of those Scandinavian spas that I see popping up all over the Laurentians. The ones where some woman named Olga cracks your back into place and you can sweat out all your troubles in a sauna. I know they're expensive as Hell, but Lucille I've seen your salary and I know you can afford it. No offence or anything, I love that you're my rich little sister who dotes upon your nieces and nephew."

I laughed. She was absolutely right. And the idea sounded great to my drunken self. Then she went one step further.

"Hey sis, do you have your passport on you?"

"Yeah," I responded.

"Well, why don't you just go TO Scandinavia and go to a spa there? I mean, money isn't an object, and it's not like you can go back to your job, now that everyone knows you're the boss's has-been. Again, no offence. But like, I know slut shaming is a thing. Nobody in Norway is going to know."

I loved that my sister had absolutely no filter. She was always a blast at Christmas dinner whenever Luke wanted to be prim and proper. I never appreciated her candor like I did in that moment. What's more, I was just drunk enough to do it.

Daniella grabbed my pink Gucci bag and pulled out my tablet. Before I knew what was happening, she was looking at flights from Québec City to Europe. More surprising was the fact that I was as excited as she was. We looked at Scandinavian spas in Norway, Sweden and Finland. We looked at flights to Oslo, Stockholm and Helsinki. But Daniella was a spendthrift.

I knew money was tight for her and Sylvain. It's why I always doted upon their children. I had always wanted to put away a bit for their education too, but never seemed to find the time. Likewise, Luke was dead set against the idea. He was a bootstraps kind of guy. A typical English-Canadian Tory. The kind of person that would have shot my French-Canadian ancestors for not swearing an oath to a British King. That should have been a sign. In my drunken state, I made a note to revisit the idea of opening an account and filling it with some money so that her kids could go to school.

My daydreaming was interrupted by a shriek from Daniella.

"I'VE FOUND THE ANSWER TO YOUR PROBLEMS, SIS!" she loudly proclaimed in a voice that I was certain would wake up not only Sylvain and the kids, but half the bloody town as well.

"Look at this. Fly into Helsinki tonight. Cab will pick you up on arrival and take you to... some place that I cannot pronounce. Anyway, it's a five-night package in an inn that has been around since the fifteenth century! It includes massages, sauna, meals, wine and oh Jesus they even make their own chocolate!"

I laughed at that last part. Daniella, myself and my younger sister Julianne were all suckers for chocolate.

Honestly, it sounded like a great deal. I was still seething mad at my idiot of a boss and partner. I wanted to go a thousand years and never see him again. I was filled with just enough self-loathing and just drunk enough that I gave Daniella my credit card.

As she tapped away on her tablet, entering my information, I rested my head on her shoulder.

"I love you, you know," I told her.

"I love you too baby sis. And trust me. In a week when you come back here, you're going to thank me that you're finally listening to my ideas."

I smiled and put my arm around her.

"You're probably going to have a killer headache tomorrow though. I sure as fuck will," she added.

I laughed at that. I was wine drunk, and given that we had just booked me on a flight leaving in a few hours, I would say that she was also correct about that too.

"I'll drive you into Québec City tomorrow, Lucille."

"You don't have to, Daniella. I know you've got stuff to take care of here."

"Oh, nonsense. I want to give my sister a hug before she sets off to see the world. Sylvain can get the kids ready for school. Besides, I'm off anyway."

I was shocked that she could trust a man to do all that for her kids. But then it slowly dawned on me that he loved her and his family. She had put on weight, and he was more dedicated to her than ever. I had never had that. I made Luke his coffee and breakfast in the morning because I was still just an employee to him. Fuck.

"You're lucky to have Sylvain, you know," I told her.

"I know. It hasn't always been easy, but my life is better with him and the kids in it," she added.

She kissed my forehead, and we both drifted off on the couch.

After what felt like only five minutes, but what Sylvain (and the clock on the wall) assured me was actually six hours, I was woken up by a phrase that had never propelled me out of my sleep.

"KIDS, GET YOUR SHOES ON, THE BUS IS COMING!"

Waking up, Daniella was still on the couch beside me, her face an unflattering mix of hungover and yesterday's clothing. I could only imagine how I looked.

"HEY AUNTIE LUCILLE! BYE AUNTIE LUCILLE!" Two of my nieces both ran past me and out the door to catch their bus as Sylvain ushered the other two into the foyer to get their shoes on. Before he left with the kids, he turned to me and smiled.

"Thanks for stopping in Lucille. You're always welcome here." I told him that he was an amazing brother-in-law, and that I didn't tell him that enough. He simply smiled to me and then he disappeared out the front door with my remaining niece and nephew in tow.

I slowly stood up from the couch, waking Daniella.

"Oh god. Remind me to only drink that much if your next boyfriend is as big a shit stain as Luke," she lamented.

I laughed at the absurdity of her comment before grabbing my bag.

"I'm going to grab a shower," I told her.

"Sure thing, sis. Make it quick, you leave at ten this morning for Finland!" she reminded me.

"Ugh. Right. Okay."

I looked through my bag and saw that I had stuffed in a motely assortment of panties, socks, a few blouses and a scarf that I could swear I had given away in 2011. There was a single sweater, and a pair of gym socks that had been in the bag since my last (and also first) attempt at going to the gym. What I did not see was a pair of pants. I was NOT wearing my pencil skirt onto a plane.

"Uh, sis, can I borrow a pair of pants?"

She looked at me and flashed me a devilish grin.

"Sure Lucille, but they're not exactly fine fashion."

I made my way through her cozy living room and into the main bathroom, starting up her shower. Sylvain and the kids were gone for the day, so I simply closed the door and started undressing.

Daniella rapped three times on the door before opening and tossing a pair of black stretchy pants onto the counter.

"You look like you haven't been hitting the gym all that much. Join the club sister! These stretchy pants look just fine for me and will probably do you just fine on the trip."

I thanked her before she closed the door, and started my quick shower.

When I was done, I threw on a blouse that was half-way presentable and my sister's pants. She was right, they were exceptionally comfortable, even if I didn't exactly have the body for them. I had way too much meat on my thighs, and still didn't have all that much of a butt to fill out the back. Whatever, I was getting on a plane. It's not like I was looking to meet Mr. Right in Scandinavia. This was about getting my head screwed back on straight.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Daniella had on a pair of workout pants and a cardigan that I had given her last Christmas. It matched her auburn hair and was a very modern and flattering shape. She took my hand in hers.

"Ready?" she asked me.

"As ready as I am ever going to be," I told her, with as much confidence as I could muster.

And with that, we both strapped into my car to head to the airport.

"Just for your information sis, I fully intend on driving your little expensive electric car around for the next week while you're getting massaged in Finland."

I chuckled at her candor.

"Absolutely. Who knows, when I come back, I might just let you have it," I told her jokingly.

She played along, and we spent the forty-five-minute drive joking with one another and sharing gossip. I was being serious though. I was going to start sharing my wealth more with Daniella and Julianne. They needed me. Moreover, I needed them.

Daniella told me that one of our high school classmates was now the mayor, and another had opened a small bookstore in town. Her and Julianne had been going to a book club. Julianne and her husband were thinking of planting some apple trees on their country house, located a few minutes from Daniella's place, and selling cider on the side.

A few days ago, I would have scoffed at the idea of such a small-town endeavour. However, right now the idea sounded positively delectable. I asked her to pick up a bottle or two for me.

Before I even knew it, we had arrived at Québec City's airport. We found some electric vehicle parking, and made our way into the terminal.

As I checked in at the counter, I realized that I only had a single carry-on bag. I was absolutely travelling light.

Daniella walked me to security before wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Don't worry little sis. Don't fret about your job or Luke when you're gone, okay. Just think about you, and what YOU want. And remember, when you get back, if you want to crash with Sylvain and I, or even Julianne and Pierre, we're always here for you. We love you."

I hugged my sister tightly. I had been the one that moved away to do everything I ever wanted, and yet I had missed out on so much.

"Thank you for everything, Daniella. When I'm back in a week, let's go plant some trees with Julianne and see if she won't make us some cider. Love you, and I'll email you as soon as I land."

We smiled one last smile at one another, and then I made my way through security and into the terminal.

I felt a lot better than I had the day before, even with my colossal hangover. Honestly, I had forgotten that yes, while both my sisters were a lot folksier and more down-home that I was, they were still my best friends, and the people in the world I loved the most. That very much included Luke, who the more I thought about it, I don't think had ever loved me.

Lost in my thoughts, I boarded my plane and sat down, totally unaware to the journey that I was about to embark upon.

Chapter III: Arrival in the North

I hate flying. I usually only travel for work, and I always take the train. Sure, it takes three hours to get to Ottawa from Montréal, but the only issue that trains have is that they're late. Planes occasionally fall out of the sky. Into the ocean. Or they explode. That scares me.

So, I gripped the armrests the entire way to Helsinki. The young couple next to me - probably off on their honeymoon or something - couldn't be bothered to look at the frightened woman sitting next to them.

Sadly, it gave me ample time to reflect on my (drunken) decision to accept the advice of my (also drunken) sister.

The result is that seven hours later, I was landing in Helsinki, having wasted exactly fourteen hours of my day due to the time difference. It was night as we were landing, and the bright lights of the airport and its surrounding hotels called to my plane as we descended through the clouds like a moth towards a flame.

Despite the time difference, I was positively wired. I mean, as wired as a thirty-nine-year-old who spent a few hours on a plane can be. Now that we were no longer in the air and there was no longer a risk of my plane plummeting into the ocean.

Remembering that I had only a single bag, and that there was a cab waiting for me, I rushed off the plane and through departures. There were relatively few non-citizens arriving on a Friday evening, and the line-up at customs was short. Upon obtaining my travellers visa, I headed through the airport towards the exit where there were a line-up of cabs waiting.

Virtually all the cars waiting were some derivatives of grey or black. However, at the back of the line of cars stood a woman. She was dressed in black pants and a bulky red sweater, with a beret style hat. She was holding a sign that said "Lafontaine" on it.

"That must be me," I said to myself, silently hoping that no other French-Canadians with the name Lafontaine were waiting at Helsinki that day.

As I approached, I saw that the woman leaning against the side of the car was probably older than me. She looked to be around fifty, and like me, was a little thicker in the waist and thighs. The black pants were the exact same material as the borrowed pants I was wearing. Her sweater contained an impressive bust as well, and instantly made me feel at ease. If the hotel and spa employed people like this, I wouldn't be out of place. One of my worries was that it would be all young and attractive people walking around. The last thing I needed after being cheated on and after having a professional crisis was to also feel self-conscious about my body.

The woman must have caught me looking at her, and immediately asked me a question.

"Är du Lucille?" she asked.

"Uh, sorry, I don't speak Finnish," I answered, in English.

"Well, lucky for you, that was Swedish. Our spa is a Swedish spa. It's one of the languages here in Finland. You'll get used to hearing it, but we all speak English pretty well too," she told me confidently.

Despite living and working in French Canada, Luke refused to learn a single word of French. He was a successful partner as an Anglo-Canadian. That mentality ported over to our relationship, and I had lived with him for fifteen years in English, without him so much as greeting me in French once. Many English-Canadians treat French as a conquered people. He was one of them.

"So, you're our resident for the next week?" she asked me.

"I guess I am. I am assuming you're with the spa?"

"That's correct. My name is Inga, I'm the cook and sometimes the cleaner. Today, I guess I'm also the driver."

"Wow, it must not be a very big spa then if you're doing multiple jobs?" I asked.

"It's big enough. The owner, Kristófer, handles a lot. He keeps the sauna running, and the hot spring, and he does all the baking. He also offers massages and mead-tasting to our premium clients."

I nodded along, silently hoping that this guy was also older like Inga. The last thing I needed right now was some young guy massaging me while I was trying to get over yesterday's heartbreak.

"So, why am I your only customer this week?" I asked, suddenly wondering if this spa was going to be sketchy.

Inga quickly responded.

"Well, most people in Scandinavia take most of the month of December off. Right before Christmas, we see ten to twelve clients a day for a massage or a dip in the hot spring. But right now, it's mid-October. There is not much going on. Kids are still in school, and people are just settling into autumn. We were going to use the time to stack some firewood and make sure the forest was ready for the winter."

I nodded along. Of course, I would pick the most inopportune time to come to a Finnish spa. Well, Swedish. Whatever.

"So, tell me why you speak Swedish if we're in Finland," I prodded.

"Finland was a part of Sweden for more than a thousand years. The spa's owner, Kristófer, has been here since before Finland was an independent country."

That did not make sense to me. I was an excellent lawyer, and my background before going to law school was political science. I knew that Finland had been independent for well over a century. Either Kristófer was going to be a fossil, or she was exaggerating. In any case, at least he wouldn't be a young blond hunk. I was not sure I could take that right now.

I settled into the back seat of the comfortable and sensible sedan, my trusty pink Gucci bag beside me.

Inga drove us out of the city, and along a highway.

We drove in silence, and I admired the scenery. Despite it being dark outside, the highway was well lit. Until it wasn't. We drove along a highway called the E12, until we turned off onto a smaller road. Then after driving along that road for what seemed like an hour, we turned off the main road onto a gravel road beside some rocky outcroppings.