by Sandra Hill
Just then Torolf came back and stammered out, "Faðir." His face was white and his hands were shaking. "Faðir," he repeated.
"What is it? What happened?"
Torolf, who appeared to be speechless, waved a hand in the air to indicate everyone was okay. "You will not believe this. I have found a most unusual display… shipbuilding… longship building."
Magnus shoved his son aside and looked ahead of him to where a very tall man wearing Viking attire stood staring at him, mouth agape with shock. He had an adze in one hand and a chisel in the other, which he proceeded to drop, just before shouting, "Magnus!"
And Magnus, in turn, shouted, "Rolf!" Then the two Viking men rushed toward each other and embraced warmly.
They both had long, blondish-brown hair and whiskey-colored eyes. The similarities were uncanny. It must be Magnus's long-lost brother, Geirolf.
It was the shock of a lifetime for all of them, but especially for Angela, who was already having trouble accepting the reality of time travel. Now she was faced with two time travelers meeting in the far distant future, by chance.
Or was it chance?
Lotsa catching up with two thousand-year-old men…
When they'd had time to recover from the initial shock, introductions were made all around. Magnus had his arm looped over his brother's shoulder, not about to let him get away again.
"You know all my children, Rolf. Torolf, Kirsten, Storvald, Dagny, Njal, Jogeir, Hamr, Kolbein." As each of them stepped up, Rolf shook their hands in the modern tradition, or hugged them warmly.
"And the little one?"
"Ah, that is Lida. She came to us after you left."
Rolf raised an eyebrow at that news, but luckily he did not make jest of his brother, as was his usual wont.
"Angela, come here, dearling; I would have you meet my little brother, Rolf, whom I have told you so much about."
"Li-little?" Rolf sputtered. Magnus was just slightly taller than Rolf, and a little bulkier, but Rolf was the youngest brother, so Magnus always delighted in giving him that appellation.
Rolf turned his attention to Angela then, and his eyes widened with appreciation.
"This is Angela Abruzzi. My… uh, friend."
He saw Angela flinch at his naming her his friend. What did she want him to say? Lover? He thought not.
"Angela and her grandmother have offered me and my family great hospitality these many weeks at the Blue Dragon, her family vineyard."
"You are living at a vineyard… here in California? But… but how did you get here? I mean, did you come from the Norselands direct to California?"
"Ha! I wish that were so. Nay, we came by way of Vinland and Hollywood."
"You have been in Hollywood? You? I cannot credit such a thing."
"Why? Think you that just because you are prettier than me I would not be material for Hollywood? On the contrary. I have been invited to be an act-whore in a move-he, but I declined."
Rolf's mouth was slack-jawed with disbelief.
"But that is a story for another day. You will notice that Madrene and Ragnor are not with us. They stayed behind in Vestfold. Madrene wed recently. She and her husband run my farmstead. Ragnor is taking my place at Father's court."
Rolf nodded, but he was clearly confused.
"You know our parents died last year?"
Rolf nodded again, solemly.
"Who are all these smiling people behind you?" Magnus asked.
"Bloody hell! How could I have forgotten?" He extended an arm, and a tall woman with auburn hair and beautiful green eyes stepped forward into his embrace. Both Rolf and this woman, along with the workers in his large tent, were wearing Viking attire. "This is my wife, Profess-whore Merry-Death Ericsson. She teaches at a college."
"A wife? You finally wed, eh? Didst have to travel across time to find a female who had not heard of your reputation?" he teased, and reached out to give Merry-Death a big hug.
"It is so good to meet you, Magnus. Rolf talks about you all the time. Is it true that you have… Well, we can save that for another time." She hugged him back in genuine welcome.
"And this boyling is my son, Foster," Rolf said with much pride, lifting high in the air a little boy of about five years. "And that little mite chasing after your Lida is our Rose. She is almost three years old."
Rose and Lida were indeed having a grand time running around in circles. Personally he thought his Lida, though younger, was the faster, but then she had her new, light moccasins on, which probably gave her an advantage, and Rose was wearing a long gown with an open-sided apron in the Norse style.
People were gathering about, watching with interest the reunion of the two brothers. Mayhap it was not such a good idea to garner that kind of attention. So he and Rolf walked to the back of his exhibit, where the rudimentary frame of a longship had been erected. Angela and Merry-Death followed them with Lida and Rose in hand. They were chatting softly.
"What are you doing here? Do you live in California?"
Rolf shook his head. "Nay, I live on the other side of the country… in Maine. I operate a Viking village called Rosestead, where the people do everything we did back in Vestfold… and in the old ways, too, which is ridiculous, really. I would much rather use a drill and electric sander, but people like to see me expend all that energy doing everything by hand." Rolf rolled his eyes at Magnus, a silent message that the old ways were not really so old to them. "We raise our own animals, weave our own cloth, make soap, design jewelry, even build longboats. Rosestead is open to tourists six months of the year. That is why I am here at this culture festival. Our appearance here brings us publicity, and therefore we attract more tourists."
"And you make money doing this?"
"Yea, we do. Mostly the village was financed in the beginning by my selling my armrings." He looked pointedly at Magnus's armrings and those on Torolf.
"Do you have any idea how much those things are worth here? More than seventy-five thousand dollars."
"Really?" Magnus said without much interest. "Dost know how much just one gold coin from our time is worth? Close to the same amount. These people are barmy here, if you ask me. They call my coins antiques."
Rolf narrowed his eyes at him. "Just how many of those gold coins do you have with you?"
Magnus just grinned.
His brother laughed. "You ever were the thrifty one, Magnus… always saving for bad weather."
"Whatever," Magnus replied, not about to rise to his brother's jibes.
Rolf laughed even more at his use of that modern word.
"We are quite a pair, are we not?" Magnus said, hugging his brother once again. "Two thousand-year-old men meeting by happenstance in a field a world away from home." But then he thought of something and pulled away in alarm. "Rolf, I cannot believe that I did not ask earlier, but what of Jorund? You know, he left after you and never returned."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Yea, Jorund is living in Texas with his wife, Maggie, his two adopted daughters, and his son, Eric. In fact, he would have been here this weekend, except that Maggie is big with child. I mean, really big. They expect twins."
Magnus knew how devastated Jorund had been when he'd lost his own twin daughters to famine several years back. It was good to know that he had gone on with life.
"Does Jorund run a Viking village in Tax-us, as you do in Maine?"
Rolf shook his head, and his eyes twinkled merrily. "Nay, he teaches demented people how to lose fat and gain muscle."
That was the most incredulous thing Magnus had heard all day. Jorund was—or had been—a warrior of great word-fame. And now he worked with demented people?
He and Rolf glanced at each other and shared a smile.
"You and I and our families will go to Texas and surprise Jorund with your presence here in this land," Rolf suggested. "He will be so pleased."
"Magnus," Angela said, coming up to his side. "Would you like to invite your brother and his fa
mily to stay with us at the Blue Dragon tonight? They plan to exhibit here again tomorrow. It would give you a chance to catch up some more. I can call ahead to Grandma. You know she would love the company."
"Yea, that is a good idea, sweetling." He looked toward Rolf, who nodded his agreement. Then he kissed Angela on the top of the head and said, "Thank you," before she walked off to make her call.
When he turned back, Rolf was watching him with clear amusement. "And who exactly is Angela?"
"The reason for my being here," he answered truthfully. And that was all he could say for now.
Leaving on a jet plane…
Angela was at the airport, seeing Magnus and his family off with Rolf and his family. They were all going to San Antonio, where they planned to surprise the third brother, Jorund, and his wife, who was about to give birth to twins.
"I still don't see why you won't come with us," Magnus said to her.
"This is your family," she told him for about the twentieth time since yesterday, when he'd been reunited with Rolf.
"You are my family, too," he insisted.
She shook her head. "No, I'm not, but please let's not rehash that conversation now, Magnus. I want you to go and have a good time." She couldn't explain to Magnus how hard it would be for her to be there with his family and not be able to explain how she fit in… or didn't fit in. She was too old-fashioned to settle for "lover." Furthermore, with her yearnings for her own child and Magnus's firm refusal to have another, Angela was afraid she would burst out weeping if Jorund's wife Maggie gave birth while they were there. She had so many emotions she was holding inside.
"You will be here when I come back?" Magnus asked.
"Of course." Maybe.
"I will return in one week… plenty of time before harvest," he assured her, but she wondered if he wasn't trying to reassure himself, as well.
"Don't worry about the vineyards, or the harvest. Everything is under control, now that Gunther is behind bars." Besides, they had gotten along without him before. They would do so again. It would be a lot harder, of course, but they would survive. They would have to, because they could no longer depend on Magnus now that he had other alternatives provided by his family. Would he move to Maine—or Texas—or would he choose to stay here in California? Angela honestly did not know, and that was scary in itself.
"I feel this big empty space growing betwixt us. I do not want to leave if things will be different when I come back."
"Things will be the same." Things will never be the same. Never. She shoved him forward to the boarding line. She'd already said her good-byes to everyone else, including a tearful hug from Lida, who kept saying, "Bye-bye La-La, bye-bye La-La."
Magnus gave her a final kiss, and she hugged him hard… harder than she probably should have. But this might be the last time. No, she couldn't think like that. She had to hold herself together till Magnus was on the plane. Just a little bit longer.
"I love you, Angela."
"I love you, too, Magnus. Always."
She could see that Magnus was torn. Excitement over his first plane ride and seeing his other brother conflicted with his unease over leaving her. The least she could do for him was to pretend she was happy he was going. She waved her hand gaily and threw him a kiss just before he went into the corridor leading to the aircraft. A short time later, she watched as his plane took off.
Like a zombie Angela walked through the airport, willing herself to be brave. It was only when she was in her car in the parking lot that she broke down. Loud sobs and huge tears. She cried for the wonderful weeks she had shared with Magnus, and she cried for the future she could no longer conceive of having with him.
He didn't know it yet, but things had changed. She had not lied to him the previous week, but now she knew better.
She was pregnant.
Chapter Seventeen
Loneliest guy in the crowd…
It was utter chaos at Jorund's home in San Antonio, Tax-us, with six adults, one semiadult—that being Torolf—and thirteen children, all under one roof.
There were people everywhere… not just his huge family, but Rolf's and Jorund's, as well. Plus, demented people that Jorund taught at his exercising business showed up at the oddest times, including a woman who thought she was a chicken—not just any chicken, but a Kentucky Fried chicken—and a three-hundred-pound fellow with glittering garb who claimed to be a long-dead singer named Elvis. Since Elvis was a Norse name, meaning sage, he tried not to be too harsh with him, but try getting back to sleep in the middle of the night on the living room sofa after hearing someone screech in your ear, "You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog."
Then there was the fact that Jorund's wife, Maggie, had gone into labor the night they arrived… probably from the shock of their unexpected appearance. She'd given birth ten hours later to twin boys, Magnus and Mikkel, whom they'd given the nicking names of Mack and Mike, which was utterly ridiculous, though he was honored, of course.
It had been great fun to surprise the spit out of Jorund, and it was even more fun reminiscing with his brothers all this week, but in the midst of it all Magnus was miserable. He missed Angela desperately, and he missed the vineyard, and he missed the hard work it entailed. It might not be farming, but he had come to enjoy toiling in the vineyards. He even missed the grapes. Mostly he missed Angela. But every time he called, he felt Angela slipping farther and farther away. Even worse, she hadn't come to the phone at all yesterday or today. Grandma Rose had not answered directly when he asked where she was.
He suspected that Angela was avoiding him, and he did not know why. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He knew why. They hadn't really resolved their problems since the night he'd told her that he did not want to have any more children, even with her. That had been two long weeks ago. An aeon.
It was past midnight, and all the children were abed, including the new babes. He was sitting on a lounging chair near the pool in Jorund's backyard, knowing he would be unable to sleep once again, especially if Elvis showed up. If he did, mayhap he would have the odd fellow teach him how to play his guitar. Besides that, Elvis had taken to making them fried peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches, which he was developing a taste for.
Just then his two brothers walked up and sat down in the chairs next to him. They both had bottles of beer in their hands and they handed a spare one to him. Uh-oh. I sense a gang-up here.
"What is the problem, Magnus?" Rolf asked.
"Everyone can see how unhappy you are," Jorund added.
"Of course I am unhappy. I have the world's worst headache from being confined indoors during the past two days of rain with my nine children—not to mention your children—and crying newborn babes."
"You adore those children of yours," Rolf charged.
"Adore is too strong a word. Did you hear that Lida said a whole string of words today? She said, 'I lub you, Fa-Fa.' And she was talking to me."
"We heard, we heard," Jorund said with a smile. "About a hundred times now you have told us."
"What are you two doing here at this time of night, bedeviling me? You should be in your beds a-slumber, or keeping your wives happy. Need you some advice on how to do that? The latter, I mean."
His brothers just grinned at him.
"Methinks I should go home on the morrow," he said of a sudden. And for some reason, having said it, he felt a world of heaviness lift from his shoulders.
"And where is home, Magnus?" asked Jorund, who always was the more serious one. "Back to Vestfold?"
"Nay, back to California, and the Blue Dragon."
"And Angela?" Rolf offered.
That was the crux of the matter. Wherever Angela was would be home to him, he realized in an instant.
He was a thickheaded lack-wit not to have realized that before. Nodding slowly in response to Rolf's question, he asked, "Dost really think we have a choice… to stay or go back?" He and his brothers had discussed this issue over and over the past few days. They were convinced
that there was a choice, and once they had made theirs, there was no going back.
"I repeat my first question: What is the problem, Magnus?" Rolf persisted.
"I do not know if I can have a future here."
"Why the bloody hell not? Do you love her?" Jorund was ever the one to get at the heart of a matter.
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
"Do you want to stay here in the future?" Rolf was crossing his eyes at him as if he were being deliberately stubborn in not seeing the answer.
"I think so. Yes. Yes, I do. I worry betimes about Ragnor and Madrene, and I would miss them sorely, even that shrewish Madrene, but they are well able to take care of themselves."
"Then what is the freakin' problem?" Rolf pretended to tear at his own hair.
"The free-can problem, my brother, is that I have nine children here in Ah-mare-ee-ca… tagging along behind me, attached to my sides like burrs, hanging around my neck. Then two more back in the Norselands. I do not want any more children."
"Aaah," said Jorund. "And Angela does."
He nodded. "Yea, she does. Leastways, one. But knowing her, it would not stop there. My seed is virile, and she is voracious. I told her I would be willing to wed with her, but no more children. She told me to do something obscene to myself." He threw his hands in the air in a hopeless gesture. "That is the problem."
Jorund looked at Rolf, and Rolf looked at Jorund, and they both burst out laughing.
"Vor… voracious… the man has a voracious female, and he is complaining. Oh, holy Thor, that is the most mirthful thing I have heard in ages." 'Twas Jorund speaking. The half-brain!
"Willing… you told her you were willing… oh, I wish I had been there. Merry-Death would have slapped me witless for such a remark." Rolf was still laughing. "And exactly what obscene thing did she tell you to do?" Rolf was even more of a half-brain.