by Kris Tualla
Kyle copied his position. “Like this?”
“Yes. Good. Now, bend your knees a little. The faster you go, the more bounce you need to be ready for.”
She looked startled. “How fast am I going to go?”
“Not very, don’t worry,” he assured her. “Once I reach the bottom, use your poles to push off. Like this.”
Tor glided down the slope and skied in a semi circle to face her. He called out, “Your turn.”
“I can’t turn like you did,” she called back.
“I’m going to catch you.” He motioned to her. “Come on.”
What he could see of Kyle’s expression was the definition of determination. She dug her poles into the snow in front of her and gave herself a heroic shove.
Crouched over her skis, poles tucked under her arms, Kyle looked like a comedic slow-motion pro. Tor reached for her when she got close enough and grabbed her waist to slow her down.
“Well done, Lieutenant!”
Kyle laughed, clearly delighted. “Do you grab all of your students around the waist?”
“Only the cute ones,” he teased. “But truthfully, you’ve moved several lessons ahead already.”
“Can we do it again?” she bubbled. “But from farther up?”
“Yes—after I show you how to slow down.” Tor moved the tips of his skis together. “This is called a snowplow for obvious reasons. Next time do this when you reach the bottom, and see if you can stop yourself.”
“Got it.” Kyle glided to the bottom of the slope and started side-stepping up.
Tor followed, surprised by this version of Kyle Solberg. She was playful. Almost childlike in her enthusiasm.
He liked it.
A lot.
“That’s far enough,” he said when she was twice as high as before. “Now back away from the center of the run.”
She did.
“Angle your skis toward me once I get down there.”
“Okay.”
“Look at me, Kyle.”
Wide eyes peered up at him through green glass that stole their color. “Yes?”
“The angle will be steeper because you’re higher up,” he cautioned. “You’ll be going faster. Don’t forget to snowplow at the bottom.”
She gave her head a little shake. “I won’t.”
Tor resettled his goggles and skied to the bottom of the hill, once again turning around to face her. “Are you ready?”
Kyle called down, “When do I learn how to turn?”
He laughed. “Next time. First get down here safely.”
Kyle adjusted her goggles, planted her poles and pushed. She picked up speed as she descended.
“Snowplow!”
Kyle struggled to angle her skis.
“SNOWPLOW!”
She can’t do it.
Tor skied directly into her path to grab her.
She slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground, and landing on top of him.
With a wide grin, she reached up and lifted her goggles. “That was amazing!”
Tor removed his goggles as well. “Are you all right?”
“I’m perfect! Did I hurt you?”
Tor was lying on his back in the snow, skis and poles askew, with a beautiful woman lying on top of him. There was only one response worth making.
Tor grabbed the sides of Kyle’s head and pulled her into his kiss.
Chapter
Nine
Kyle stared down at the prostrate man. “Why did you do that?”
“To see if you’d kiss me back.”
And I did.
She struggled to extricate herself from the captain, the skis, the poles, and her deep embarrassment until she was finally free of the tangle and sitting in the snow beside him.
“I didn’t mean to,” she objected. “I just got caught up in the moment.”
Tor sat up without visible effort. “So did I. You were so happy and excited. You were glowing.”
She frowned, knowing the tightness in her cheeks had nothing to do with the cold air. “So you would’ve just kissed anyone at that moment.”
“Kyle,” he said softly. “What do you think?”
She huffed. “Does it matter, Captain Hansen?”
He laughed at that. “Can I be honest with you?”
She raised her arms a little and then punched her fists into the snow on either side of her. “Why do you always ask me that? Yes! Yes—be honest with me!”
“All right.” He rested his hands on his knees. “You are an intriguing woman, and I’m very attracted to you.”
All of the queries Marguerite and her friends threw at her slammed into Kyle’s chest. “I’m engaged.”
It sounded feeble, even to her.
“So you say.”
Say?
“I am!” she snapped. “You need to remember that!”
“Maybe you need to remember.” Tor pointed at her with one brow lifted in accusation. “You kissed me back.”
“I didn’t mean to. Especially since…” She stopped.
His eyes narrowed. “Since what?”
If he wanted honesty, she was going to give it to him.
In spades.
“Especially since every unmarried female in the camp is sniffing after you—and even some of the married ones, too. They drool when you walk by. They flirt and pose and smile and—ugh! It’s disgusting.”
Tor’s crooked grin proved he’d noticed.
“Look at you—gloating over it!” Kyle punched the snow again. “The last thing I want to be is another one of your conquests. Another notch on your headboard.”
“Conquests?” The smile disappeared and Tor looked puzzled. “What do you think of me?”
“I think of you as a man, obviously. One the ladies call the Nordic God. One who has opportunities galore laid at his feet. Or in his bed.” Kyle fought the lump in her throat that her own words prompted. “Who wouldn’t take advantage of all of that?”
Tor glared at her, his expression thunderous.
The truth hurts, doesn’t it.
He uttered one angry word. “Me.”
Kyle’s jaw dropped, incredulous. “Come on, Captain. Do you really expect me to believe that you’ve been celibate since you arrived here? Be honest.”
Tor gave her the tiniest shake of his head. “No. I haven’t been celibate since I arrived here.”
Kyle felt a pain in her chest. “I knew it.”
“I have been celibate since last March.” His bright blue gaze pinned hers. “Eight months before arriving here.”
Kyle felt a different kind of pain. She couldn’t muster any words at the moment.
“I am almost thirty-one years old, Kyle.” His voice was low and steady, making his words that much more intense. “I am not a randy little boy looking to dock in any available port. I’ve explored enough. I’m done with that.”
Her voice was very small. “Oh.”
“The next woman I take to my bed will be my wife.”
“So you’re not…”
“Exactly.”
Kyle felt the chill of the snow seeping through her clothes. “I guess we’re done for the day.”
“I guess we are.”
A scowling Tor unstrapped her skis first, and then his own. Kyle scrambled to her feet and brushed the snow off her damp trousers and ski coat. She was way too embarrassed to say anything just yet, but she knew she owed Tor a sincere apology.
She offered it once they were in the jeep and the motor was running.
“I really am sorry,” she reiterated. “I made an assumption, and that wasn’t fair.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He sighed. “What makes me angry is that you thought so little of me.”
“I’m sorry.” Kyle’s lips twisted. “But you did kiss me.”
“And you kissed me back.”
Stop reminding me.
“That was wrong of me. It wasn’t fair to Erik.”
*****
Please don’t t
alk about him.
That was Tor’s own fault. He pushed her on the kissing incident.
“I don’t know Erik,” he said carefully. “But I don’t think you should marry him until you’re certain he can make you happy.”
Kyle stared at him. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing,” he back-peddled, thinking quickly.
I’m not planning to take his place.
“But we are in a unique situation, you and I. Thrown closely together for an unknown length of time. And we’ve become friends. Haven’t we?”
Kyle nodded soberly.
“I can’t make plans with anyone—least of all you,” he continued, making it up as he spoke. “And you already have plans with someone else.”
“I do.”
“So what if we shared an affectionate friendship?” he suggested, wondering of such a thing was even possible.
She looked skeptical. “How affectionate, exactly.”
“The occasional hug. Maybe a kiss now and again. Just… comforting each other.” That actually sounded nice. “Be a safe harbor for each other in this world gone mad.”
“But no docking in anyone’s port.” One side of Kyle’s mouth lifted. “Right?”
Tor chuckled. “Right.”
Kyle chewed her lip. “I’d have to think about it.”
Another thought occurred to him. “Maybe you could be my protection. Against all the sniffing, flirting, and posing.”
Now she looked startled. “You mean kiss and hug in public so people think we’re connected?”
Tor put up his hands. “Only if you’re agreeable.”
He could practically see the gears turning in her mind.
“As a favor.” She chewed her lip again. “I could probably go along with that more readily than the other thing.”
“Think about it. In the meantime, I do have another favor to ask. One that relates to your job.”
“Ask me while we drive back.” Kyle backed up and turned toward camp. “I’m freezing.”
After he heard the German soldiers’ esoteric conversation, Tor hadn’t been able to get their words out of his mind. He’d made a transcript from memory, just in case he found out more. But even though he snuck back several times after that night, he never caught anyone discussing any plans again.
Three weeks had passed since he overheard the man say six more weeks and Tor figured his luck was running out.
Tor waited until they were halfway to the supply depot to turn in Kyle’s borrowed skis before he said, “I need you to tell Jones that I speak German.”
Kyle slid the jeep to a stop, nearly killing the engine before she clutched, and turned to stare at him. “You do?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened as her brows lowered. “Why does he need to know?”
“Because I overheard some of the prisoners talking.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Three weeks?” she yelped. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Because they were being cryptic and the information was vague.” He twisted in his seat to look at her. “I snuck back at night four or five times since then, but wasn’t able to hear any more. But they said something about six weeks.”
“Three weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
Kyle shifted into first gear and turned the jeep toward Headquarters. “We’re going now.”
“I thought you were freezing.”
“It’s always overheated in there,” she replied without looking at him. “I’ll be fine.”
*****
They waited over half an hour to see the Major General who, because it was a Sunday, was catching up on correspondence and wasn’t accepting any appointments. By then Tor’s clothes were dry and both he and Kyle had shed all of their outer ski clothing.
“The General will give you ten minutes,” the uniformed soldier at the desk said when Tor and Kyle were summoned to enter the office. “Make it brief.”
Jones scribbled quickly on a paper in front of him and seemed irritated at the interruption as Kyle and Tor approached his desk. He asked, “How can I help you, Lieutenant?” without looking up.
“Captain Hansen has something important to tell you, Sir.”
The general’s head popped up and he fixed his gaze on Kyle. “Yes?”
“He wants you to know that he speaks German and he overheard two POWs making plans.”
Jones looked at Tor. “What sort of plans.”
Tor almost answered instead of waiting for Kyle to translate the question but caught himself. Barely.
“Tell him this is what I heard.”
She did.
“The first man said six more weeks,” Tor began. “The second man asked why so long?”
When the general didn’t respond, Tor continued quoting. “He said his contact is slow to answer.”
Kyle translated.
“Then the second man asked, are we sure we can trust him? And he said, what choice do we have?”
Major General Jones stared at Tor for a moment before barking, “Anything else?”
Tor kept his eyes on the general. “Tell him that was three weeks ago, so whatever they were planning is three weeks from now.”
Jones nodded. “Thank you. I’ll talk to my advisors.”
Tor glanced at Kyle. “Is that all?”
She addressed the general. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Tor wanted to say something else, but he couldn’t think of what. So he saluted, turned on his heel, and followed Kyle from the office.
“That was disappointing.”
She handed him his coat, speaking flatly. “I’d say so.”
Frustrated, Tor wrapped his scarf around his neck and demanded, “Well do you think he’ll do anything?”
Kyle glanced toward the secretary who watched them curiously, and Tor immediately understood her reserve.
“I’m sorry,” he said calmly and lifted his shoulders in and exaggerated shrug. “We’ll talk outside.”
Kyle gave him a tight-lipped smile and addressed the secretary. “Thank you for getting us in.”
“You’re welcome.” The man pointed at Tor with his chin. “Those Norwegians get worked up don’t they?”
Kyle looked up at Tor, who struggled not to react to her translation.
“Let’s just call it stubborn,” she answered.
“You’re Norwegian, too,” Tor reminded her.
Kyle smiled sweetly. “But he wasn’t talking about me, was he?”
*****
After the disappointing audience with Major General Jones, Tor was determined to find out more about what the German prisoners were planning. That night he dressed in his white ski clothes and turned his reversible parka inside out so he would blend in with the snow. He also decided to wear his small emergency snowshoes so he wouldn’t sink in the snow but would be able to move quickly if needed.
Under a faint crescent moon he walked slowly toward the POW enclosure, stopping often so he didn’t draw attention if his movement was visible.
When he reached the far side of the fence, at the edge of the camp, he squatted behind a rock and waited.
An hour passed.
He shifted his body to a different position.
Another hour passed.
Tor faced the camp, watching for anyone approaching the enclosure as much as listening for conversation on the still and frigid night.
After a third hour, he was too cold and stiff to remain any longer. He stood slowly and retraced his path away from his hiding spot.
Voices ahead of him made him stop. He stepped behind a tree that didn’t completely conceal him and stood absolutely still.
The voices were female.
What were women doing out here this late at night?
He slid a little to his left so he could see the barbed-wire-topped fence. There was movement inside the enclosure.
Three dark-clothed f
igures stepped up to the fence from the outside. Whoever they were, they hadn’t been issued the white camouflage kit.
Or they’re too stupid to know to wear it.
A huddle of figures appeared on the inside of the fence. Tor couldn’t hear words from this far away, but snippets of definite conversation wafted to him on the frozen air. Something small was being exchanged through the spaces in the chained fence.
After a quarter of an hour at the most, the three females turned back and silently traipsed through the knee-high snow toward the camp.
Tor watched the huddle of prisoners split into three separate bodies who headed in three different directions.
In case one gets caught.
That was a common tactic.
Tor eased himself from his second hiding place and began his own slow return, his mind full of questions.
Did the three women have anything to do with the first conversation he’d heard?
If so, what?
And if not, was there another plot at hand?
The worst thing about witnessing what he had was that he couldn’t identify any one of the people involved—on either side.
And I’m not running to Jones with another half-baked story, that’s for certain.
His only option seemed to be discovering who these three women were. They were part of the camp, obviously. But which part? Kyle told him there were two hundred and some-odd women stationed at Camp Hale.
How could he ever pick three obscure needles out of such a large haystack?
Chapter
Ten
January 13, 1944
In order to build camaraderie, at least that was the official explanation, the officer in charge of education and information decided that Tor should give a Norwegian Culture lecture.
“We have soldiers here from Norway, Denmark, and Sweden,” he told Kyle. “It’s interesting to our American soldiers to learn about our Scandinavian brother-in-arms.”
“Can’t Tokle do it?” Tor grumbled.
Kyle asked. Tor heard the answer, but waited for her to translate. “Apparently, he already did. But you’re new since then and so are the recruits.”