by Kris Tualla
Tor sighed. “When?”
And that was how he found himself standing in front of a pair of microphones at a podium in the Rec Center the next night after supper.
His own sixteen trainees were present because he commanded them to be. There was nothing worse than throwing a lecture and no one showing up.
Frank Collins was also there with about a dozen members of the more skilled half of their shared platoon. And to Tor’s surprise at least twenty other soldiers wandered in—including Torger Tokle.
“Why are you here?” he asked the ski-jumper.
“Moral support.” Tokle grinned. “Don’t be boring.”
Boring?
At that moment, Tor changed his mind about what he’d talk about.
He leaned over and said to Kyle, “Let me know if I go too fast for you. I just changed my speech. I’m not following the notes.”
Concern furrowed her brow. “What are you going to do?”
“Educate,” he replied. “Isn’t that the point?”
“How—”
Tor stepped up to one of the microphones and started talking. “How many of you know what is happening in Norway with regards to the war?”
Kyle spoke into the second mike. “Our speaker tonight is Captain Tor Hansen of the Norwegian Army. Captain Hansen qualified for the nineteen-forty Olympics in downhill skiing. He is at Camp Hale as an adjunct and ski expert.”
She paused and waited for the polite applause.
Tor nodded his acknowledgement. “Okay. Now that the formality is done, repeat my question.”
When she did, the soldiers in the audience looked at each other as if wondering who might answer that.
When no one did, Tor flashed a grim smile. “Well let me tell you.”
For the next quarter hour, Tor explained how the neutral Norway was subdued by five simultaneous German attacks on her major port cities and occupied the country in a matter of hours. He told them that King Haakon the Seventh escaped to England along with his son, Crown Prince Olav, and the government ministers.
“The best part, they were smart enough to bring the gold reserves with them.” Tor smiled. “Norway has the best-funded resistance of all the occupied countries.”
Encouraged by the attention he was being paid, Tor shifted to the traitorous Minister-President Vidkun Quisling. He explained how his own younger brother had been arrested and sent to a labor camp in the Arctic Circle.
“These men were teachers!” Tor nearly shouted. “They weren’t trained for the dangerous work. And they were housed in cardboard-walled huts. In the Arctic.”
“Is he still there?” a soldier called out.
Tor waited for Kyle’s translation then answered, “No. The attempts to subdue the teachers failed and they were all sent home before the harshest part of winter set in. They were considered national heroes.”
Tor turned to Kyle. “Ask if they have any other questions.”
She did.
“Is he in the army, too?”
“He’s a member of the Military Organization, Milorg for short,” Tor explained. “He’s an officer in the resistance.”
“What did your brother teach?”
Tor slid his gaze to Kyle. “What difference does that make?”
“I don’t know.” She tried to look unfazed. “Was it science?”
“Secondary school chemistry.”
Kyle translated his answer.
“Why didn’t Norway fight back when they were invaded?”
Tor felt his national pride surge. “Because we were neutral, jackass. We weren’t prepared.”
Kyle left out the jackass part.
“But after that,” the jackass pressed.
Tor was getting irritated. “What the hell do you think resistance is? Playing patty-cake with the Nazis?”
Kyle hesitated. “He said… that the resistance is… effective against the Nazis.”
Tor looked at his translator. “What are you doing?”
“You can’t say those things.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not polite.”
“Polite?” Tor resisted pointing at the jackass, one of the random soldiers attending that night. “He’s an idiot.”
Kyle glanced at the offending soldier. “Even if he is.”
Tor turned back to look at his audience. Several were smirking. He’d bet they knew Kyle was softening his answers; they had to hear the tone of his voice even if they didn’t understand his words.
“What does effective mean?” Clearly the jackass was not going to let go. “How many Nazis has your brother killed?”
Okay, buddy. You want to play bait the Norseman?
Here goes.
“More than you, I guarantee it dumbass.”
Kyle forced a smile. “He’s not sure.”
“But he has killed Nazis, right?”
Tor nodded. “Oh, sure. At least five before breakfast every morning.”
Kyle glared at him. “Yes. But the Captain doesn’t have an exact number.”
Tor noticed that Torger Tokle’s shoulders were shaking and he had his hand in front of his face.
“In fact…”
Kyle groaned. “Don’t.”
Tor grinned at her. “In fact, he built bombs and rigged them to blow up desks when the Nazi bastards opened the drawers.”
Kyle’s glare grew more intense. “Why are you doing this?”
“Translate it,” Tor said. “That part is completely true.”
“No…”
Tor put his hand on his heart. “Swear to God. I was in Bergen when one blew up. Now translate all of that.”
She did.
The soldiers whooped their approval.
All except for Private Jackass. “I don’t believe that. That’s story’s ridiculous.”
Tor stepped out from behind the podium.
“Don’t, Tor,” Kyle warned. “Remember where you are.”
Tor looked back and smiled at her. “I know.”
He sauntered toward the private, who nervously straightened in his chair. “What are you doing?”
“I’m giving you an education,” Tor said calmly.
Kyle translated that from the podium.
The private made a face. “By making up shit?”
“No.” Tor kept his tone cool and his half-smile in place. “By showing you how to act toward someone who has more brains in his trousers than in his head.”
Torger laughed so hard at that he fell off his chair.
The soldiers’ attention bounced from Tor to Kyle to Torger and back.
“What’d he say?” several asked.
Kyle sputtered, “By—by showing the, um, private how to, uh, act…”
“How to act?” Jackass squeaked. “What the hell?”
Encouraging laughter erupted around Tor. He wasn’t ready to let this go. Not by a long shot.
He leaned over the now-cowering private. “You, sir, are an ignorant ass. If I was your commanding officer I’d house you with the mules so you’d feel right at home.”
The entire audience turned their heads back toward Kyle, expectant and eager.
She shook her head. “I—I can’t.”
Torger climbed to his feet. “But I can!”
Chairs clanked and rumbled as everyone present spun around to face the instructor in the back of the room.
Torger translated word for word.
The room exploded.
*****
“I think that went well.”
Kyle stopped walking and threw her arms out to the side. “Are you serious?”
Tor stopped as well and looked back at her. “It was educational. That was the point, right?”
She clapped her hands on her head. “You’re impossible!”
“Not only that, but it was entertaining as well.” Tor pointed a finger at her. “You have to admit it.”
“Entertaining for you, sure.” Kyle was so angry she was afraid she’d cry. “But what about m
e?”
Tor took a step toward her. “You?”
“Did you ever, even for one tiny little moment, stop to think about the position you put me in?” Kyle’s body shook with rage.
“You mean translating?”
“Yes, translating, you thick Nordic ox!” She threw her hands wide again. “How can you expect me to stand there and repeat all those insulting things?”
Tor looked half confused, half contrite. “But they aren’t your words. They’re mine.”
“But they’re coming out of my mouth! Ugh!” Kyle stomped past Tor and marched angrily toward her barracks.
“Kyle, wait.”
She jammed her hands in her coat pockets. “Leave me alone.”
He didn’t. She heard his boots crunching through the snow behind her.
When his words reached her they were gentle. “I’ve never had a translator before.”
“Have you ever had a brain before?” she grumbled.
He sighed. “I guess I deserve that.”
“Yes, you most certainly do.” Kyle stopped about five yards from her barracks—close enough for the light to show Tor’s face, but far enough from the door that their heated conversation wouldn’t draw attention.
She turned to look at him. “You owe me an apology. A big one. Sir.”
The handsome planes of Tor’s face were sculpted in shadow by the light over the barracks’s door. In his somber mood he looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. And that made him even more attractive.
Kyle felt a dangerous rush of warmth toward the errant officer.
Keep your head on straight, Lieutenant.
“I’m waiting.”
Tor took a step closer. “You’re right.”
She lifted her chin. “Go on.”
“Never, not even for one tiny little moment, did I stop to think about the position I put you in.”
Her brows plunged. “Are you mocking me?”
“No, not at all.” He crossed his heart. “I’m very, very sorry, Kyle. And I ask you to forgive my behavior.” He wagged his head slowly. “I was being just as big a jackass as that private.”
Kyle drew a deep breath. “Well. Maybe.”
“Maybe what?” Tor tilted his head. “Maybe you’ll forgive me?”
“No. Maybe you were as big a jackass.” She lifted one shoulder in a partial shrug. “Maybe not quite. He did start it.”
Tor took another step closer. “Am I forgiven?”
“That depends.” Kyle crossed her arms. “Do you promise not to do ever it again?”
The captain hesitated. “I’m not sure…”
Her mood, which had been lifting, dropped again. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean there are times when I just need to say what’s on my mind.” He looked sincerely apologetic. “Every man does, Kyle. It’s part of what makes us men. We can’t always dance around ugly situations with pretty words.”
Damn it.
He’s right.
“I understand that,” she offered. “But when that happens, can you please give me something else to say? I feel like an idiot scrambling for appropriate words when people are waiting and staring at me.”
Tor nodded. “That’s fair. Of course.”
“In that case, I forgive you. But just tell me one thing.” She closed the remaining gap between them. “The exploding desks? Was that really true?”
Tor smiled crookedly. “Completely. My brother was asked to use his chemistry knowledge to create a bomb, and then figure out a way to detonate it by opening or closing the center drawer.”
“Huh.” Kyle shivered a little.
“You’re cold.”
She nodded. “You know how you feel after something intense happens. Sort of drained.”
Tor wrapped his arms around her and she let him. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling protected and cared for—not at all what she’d felt a quarter hour before.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she murmured.
“And I don’t want to fight with you either.” He sighed and she felt his chest expand and shrink against hers. “There is the one thing, though.”
“Hm?” She closed her eyes and relaxed in his grip. “What?”
“Making up.”
She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him. “Like this?”
“No.” His gloved fingers slipped under her chin and tilted it upward so she was looking into his eyes. “Like this.”
Tor’s lips claimed hers. The kiss was soft and exploring to begin with. When she responded, it deepened. His tongue moved with hers in a sensuous waltz, one which swept her outside of herself.
Erik had never kissed her like this.
Kyle couldn’t open her eyes at first when Tor ended the kiss. But when she heard someone giggle, they flew open.
“Congratulations, Second Lieutenant Solberg.” The voice was her roommate’s.
A beaming Marguerite passed them on her way into the barracks. “Well done.”
Tor grinned down at her. “Two birds killed with one delicious kiss.”
For a split second, Kyle wondered if Tor kissed her just because he knew there would be a witness. “Is anyone else coming?”
He looked around. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Good.”
This time, she kissed him.
Chapter
Eleven
Kyle threw her coat on her bed along with her scarf and gloves and sat on the wooden desk chair in front of the desk that she and Marguerite shared. As she opened the drawer to get out paper and pen, the refrain what are you doing played over and over in her head.
“I’m writing to Erik,” she said aloud. “The man I love. The man I’m going to marry.”
I am going to marry him.
When my enlistment ends.
Thirteen more months.
Kyle drew a steadying breath and shoved Tor and his decadent kisses out of her mind. She closed her eyes and thought about Erik’s farm instead.
She pictured herself walking through his front door. The living room was on her right—she saw a cozy fire burning and smiled. The dining room was on the left and filled with Erik’s grandmother’s big Victorian table and chairs. The kitchen was beyond that, clean and bright with a little wooden table under the window. The bedrooms were upstairs.
And there was Erik, coming in from his labors and removing his boots and coat in the mudroom. His dark mop of hair was perpetually falling forward in the most charming way. His blue eyes were darker than Tor’s—stop it—and Kyle hoped their children would inherit Erik’s blue, not her gray-green.
Erik’s smile was slow to come and more than a little shy. It took him three months of casual conversations after the Lutheran church services before he got up the nerve to ask her on a date. But he took her out to dinner every week after that.
After a year, they began talking about their future, and the next Christmas he made it official with a small diamond ring that belonged to his father’s mother.
Kyle opened her eyes and looked at her naked finger. She knew how much that ring meant to the Olsen family so she purposely left it behind when she joined the WAC. Erik was angry when she told him, saying that all the soldiers would think she was unattached.
“I’ll tell them I’m engaged, Erik,” she repeated every time he mentioned it. “I just can’t risk anything happening to it.”
When she got to basic training, she was glad she made that choice. She would’ve needed to remove the ring and leave in her kit everyday, and if it didn’t get stolen, it easily could have gotten lost.
She wrote him and told him that.
He wrote back and said that if she hadn’t enlisted, she wouldn’t need to worry about it.
Oh, Erik.
Kyle stared at the blank paper in front of her. What should she write to him about tonight?
The culture lecture. And the questions Tor was asked. And his answers. And how hard it was for her to translate and b
e civil at the same time. And how angry she was.
With a resigned sigh, Kyle knew she couldn’t write all that. In the first place, she kept the Norwegian captain out of her letters whenever possible. After writing about him when he first arrived, Erik’s reply was blatantly jealous.
That was completely understandable. And he hadn’t even seen the man.
Stop it.
Kyle also had to refrain from including too much about any negative experiences she might have because Erik wasn’t at all sympathetic. He used those as opportunities to remind her that she chose to enlist and move away.
And so a letter just about the culture lecture, including what Tor said about Norway’s occupation, would have to do. Kyle pulled the end off the cartridge pen, put the date in the top right hand corner and wrote Dear Erik.
Tor’s words flooded her brain: Can I be completely honest with you?
Kyle laid the pen down.
January 14, 1944
Tor needed to talk to his sixteen trainees so he told Kyle she needed to come with him to the base of the mountain. She stood next to him near the T-bar lift and the soldiers stood in a half-circle in front of them. She translated his words efficiently, and he didn’t throw any surprises at her this morning.
“Men,” Tor began. “We have just one week left until the ski tests which will determine whether you are accepted into the Tenth Division.”
“What if we don’t pass?” Kossin asked.
Tor shrugged. “Then you get to see my smiling face six days out of seven for another eight weeks.”
The men groaned.
Kyle snickered.
Tor ignored that. “Today we go to into the high peaks. We’ll be at thirteen thousand feet elevation. And you know that the weather there means we might be in the clouds, so let’s get going while it’s still clear.”
He turned to Kyle. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled faintly. “I’ll see you when you’re done.”
She saluted him and then headed back to the parked jeep. Tor watched her go, wondering how she was feeling about him this morning.
He honestly hadn’t noticed that anyone was approaching last night when he kissed her. He just really wanted to kiss her. Needed to.
The fact that Marguerite saw them together was a happy coincidence. Tor figured his assumed romance with his translator would spread through the WAC ranks fairly quickly, and then he would stop being a target for every lonely woman in the camp.