by Kris Tualla
When she looked out the window, Tor was gone.
December 1, 1944
Fargo, North Dakota
Kyle saw her mother and father waiting inside the Fargo terminal. She thought she’d cried enough tears in the last twenty-four hours to have run out of them but clearly she was mistaken. She ran to her parents and was enveloped in their dual embrace.
She couldn’t speak for several minutes. She felt safe in their presence and knew that, even if they were disappointed in her, that their love for her wasn’t shaken.
“Is he gone?” her mother asked.
Kyle nodded. “Before dawn this morning.”
Her father looked concerned. “How are you feeling?”
Kyle tried to smile but failed. “I’m fine, Pappa.”
“You sure?”
Kyle wiped her eyes. “It was hard, Pappa. Saying goodbye.”
“Well, I wish we could have met him.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”
Kyle curled up on the back seat of her parent’s car and let herself relax. For the first time in three weeks she wasn’t responsible for anything at all. She fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep during the three-hour ride to Viking and didn’t awaken until her father shook her gently.
She sat up. The windows of her childhood home glowed their welcome. Her mother opened the front door and went inside while her father helped her out of the car.
“Be careful, it’s slippery.”
Kyle accepted his hand even though she didn’t need it. “I’ve been living in snow, Pappa. I’ll be fine.”
“Well if you fall now, you’re falling for two.”
His logic was impeccable.
December 5, 1944
Camp Patrick Henry, Virginia
Tor’s legs cramped as he stepped down from the bus at midday on their fifth day of travel. The weather in Virginia was cold, but it was a lot warmer than Colorado.
Camp Patrick Henry served primarily as a troop staging ground and, according to the sign at its entrance, operated under the control of the Hampton Roads Port of Embarkation.
Torger nudged him. “That’s where we catch the boat.”
Tor waited for his duffel bag to be unloaded. All of the ski equipment was being handled separately from the soldiers’ personal things and they wouldn’t see it again until Italy.
“Where do we go now?”
Torger shrugged. “Follow the line.”
Tor trudged after the other men from his bus. They were directed to a huge barracks with dozens of bunks.
“Enlisted men to the right, officers to the left,” a corporal repeated over and over.
The room on the left had only cots, no bunks. Tor and Torger dropped their duffel bags on two of them, then Tor began a series of ski stretches to relieve the stiffness in his legs.
As he crossed his legs and reached for the floor he asked Torger, “Do you think there is a telephone I could use?”
The ski jumper grinned. “Want to call the little ball-and-chain?”
Tor wagged his head at the stupid joke. “No, I want to call my wife. Let her know we made it here.”
After lunch, Tor went in search of a phone and was directed to the telephone center in Area Two. Torger went with him as an excuse to explore.
“Rec Hall Number Three, Theater Number Four, Last Chance Nite Club,” Torger read the signs as they passed the buildings. He smacked Tor’s arm. “This place is gonna be fun!”
Tor turned a corner. “The telephone center’s down this way.”
For reasons he understood completely, the recreation options held no interest for him. Without Kyle at his side, the world seemed to have lost vibrancy.
Inside the center, Tor gave the operator Kyle’s parents’ phone number and then sat in a booth and listened on a handset while the call was placed.
The phone on the other end rang four times before a man answered with, “Ja?”
“Mister Solberg?” Tor ventured.
“Ja. Who is this?”
“It’s Tor Hansen, sir.” Should I have said I’m your son-in-law? “Is Kyle available?”
“Tor—oh! Yes!” The voice moved away from the handset. “Get Kyle! It’s her husband!”
The voice moved back into range. “This is Ole Solberg speaking. I’m your father-in-law.”
“Jeg er beæret over å møte deg, sir.” I am honored to meet you, sir.
There was click on the line as another phone was picked up.
Tor kept going anyway. “Jeg vet det er sent, men kan jeg ha din datters hånd i ekteskap?” I know it’s late, but may I have your daughter’s hand in marriage?
“Tor?” Kyle’s voice sounded like churchbells.
Tor smiled. “Hello, my darling.”
“Yes,” Ole said vehemently. “Yes, you may.”
“Tusen takk, Ole.”
“I’ll hang up now. God bless you both.” Another click signaled Ole’s exit from the conversation.
“Are you at Camp Patrick Henry?” Kyle asked.
“Yes, we arrived today. I’m not sure when we sail, but it should be within the week. How are you?”
“Better, hearing your voice.”
“Did you have any trouble getting home?”
“No, the weather was fine, thank goodness. But it’s been snowing for the last three days.”
Tor wiped a tear. “I miss you, Kyle.”
“Not more than I miss you. I pray for you every time I think of you.” She laughed a little. “So by now your guardian angel is probably very tired of hearing from me.”
Tor refused to face the possibility that danced around the edge of his thoughts. “Keep praying my love. And I’ll keep praying for you and our boy.”
“Thank you for giving him to me, Tor.” She sniffed. “I know I said that before, but I really mean it.”
“Thank you for accepting him. I don’t think he was an accident.”
“No. He’s a blessing from God.”
A timer pinged. “I have to hang up now. I love you, Kyle. I’ll try to call again before we leave.”
“I love—”
The line went silent.
Chapter
Thirty Seven
December 10, 1944
Viking, Minnesota
The church service was focused on the many lives lost in Pearl Harbor three years ago. Kyle remembered it clearly. It was the act of aggression that drew America into the war and subsequently changed every single one of her citizens’ worlds.
Getting dressed for the day had been a challenge. Now that she was four-and-a-half months along, none of her clothes fit. Kyle and her mother had spent the last six days at the sewing machine: expanding waistbands on skirts, opening pleats on slacks, adding vents and elastic wherever possible.
Her sweaters still fit, of course. But she was going to need a new wardrobe soon.
Kyle knew Erik and his wife Ingrid would be at the service, so she selfishly wanted to look sharp. She tried on several combinations of the altered items until she settled on a navy blue skirt, white blouse, and a cardigan in a traditional Nordic pattern.
“You look absolutely beautiful, Kyle,” her mother gushed as Kyle donned her warm wool army coat. “It seems your condition suits you.”
“About that…” Kyle went out the front door and climbed into the back seat of the car that her father had been running and warming up for the last fifteen minutes. She waited to continue until her mother was settled in the passenger seat and her father started driving.
“I want you both to know that I plan to be honest about everything that’s happened to me in the last five months,” she began. “But I just might fudge a little on the timing…”
Her father met her eyes in the rear view mirror. “Timing?”
Kyle’s face tightened and her pulse beat in her ears. “I don’t want to bring any more shame on you than I already have.”
Her mother twisted around and looked her in the eye. “Answer me one question. Honestly.”
&n
bsp; Kyle nodded apprehensively.
“Who took your virginity?”
Kyle’s eyes widened. “Mamma!”
Now her mother’s face scarleted. “I just need to know. Was it Erik?”
Kyle could not believe they were having this conversation, especially in front of her father.
“No, Mamma. I swear to you.” Kyle screwed up her courage to verbalize the answer. “Tor was my first, and my only.”
Her mother’s relief was clear. “All right, then.”
She turned back around and heaved a big sigh.
Her father’s kind eyes met hers in the mirror again. “That’s a relief to us both, Kyle. And you aren’t the first couple to jump ahead of the preacher, especially in wartime.”
His eyes moved back to the snowy country road in front of them. “It’s nobody’s damned business when things happened. Only that you are married to the one man who could be father of your baby.”
“Thank you, Pappa.” Kyle knew he meant it because he swore on a Sunday. “But just so we keep our stories straight, please follow my lead.”
“Will do, sweetie.”
“What have you two told people so far?”
Her mother and father exchanged guilty looks.
“Nothing, actually,” her mother admitted. “After we got your letter we decided to wait and talk to you before saying anything.”
“So no one knows I’m back?” That would actually work in her favor.
Especially with Erik.
Her mother turned around again. Her expression was apologetic. “No, honey. I’m sorry.”
Kyle smiled. “Don’t be! This will be perfect.”
*****
Kyle stood in the narthex of the Viking Lutheran Church—now that she had Tor’s opinion of her town’s name in her head the ironic church title did make her grin—greeting longtime friends and neighbors. Flanked by her parents, Kyle repeated her story.
“His name is Tor Hansen and he’s a captain in the Norwegian army. He was the officer I was translating for. After Erik broke our engagement, Tor proposed. I received an honorable discharge because of the baby.”
Karster Olsen, Erik’s dad, pinned Kyle’s father with a skeptical stare. “Have you met him, Ole?”
“Sadly no,” her father answered. “But we did speak on the phone when he asked for my permission to marry Kyle.”
She smiled.
God bless you, Pappa.
“I’m afraid there wasn’t any break in their training for a trip back, Karster,” Kyle added. “The Tenth Mountain Division—Tor’s division—has already left for Italy.”
Do not cry.
Erik appeared in the edge of her vision. Kyle turned to look at him. Ingrid cowered by his side as if afraid Kyle might jump her, claws unsheathed.
“Erik! Ingrid!” Kyle flashed the couple a huge smile. Her eyes dropped to Ingrid’s waist to see if they might have jumped ahead of the preacher as well, but saw no sign that they had. “I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you two.”
“Hello, Kyle.” Erik pulled Ingrid forward. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Yep. Got here six days ago. I waited until my husband shipped out before leaving Camp Hale.”
Erik startled. “Husband?”
“Yes. After you dumped me, Tor proposed.” Kyle rested her hands under her belly to accentuate her condition. “Turns out he’s very strong…”
“You’re having a baby? Already?” Erik glanced at Ingrid, whose face flushed alarmingly.
“Not until well into the spring.” Kyle patted her little bulge. “But my husband is six-foot-six, so this little fellow is already growing like a weed.”
Judging by Erik’s uncomfortable expression, her words had the exact effect she hoped they would. “So what about you two? Starting a family soon?”
“Uh…”
“Don’t worry.” Kyle gave Ingrid a reassuring flip of her wrist. “Not everyone conceives so quickly.”
“Are you going to live here?” Ingrid’s tone made it sound like that was the worst possible scenario.
Kyle’s plans solidified in an instant. “Oh, no. I’m planning on living in Minneapolis and attending the University of Minnesota.”
“But you’re having a baby…” Ingrid looked confused.
“I have the G.I. Bill. That pays my living expenses for a year and my tuition.” Kyle gave a little shrug. “Hopefully the war will be over by then and I can join my husband.”
Erik looked at her like he was seeing her clearly for the very first time. “I was wondering why I never heard from you.”
Kyle spread her hands. “My marriage was a whirlwind. Tor’s training stepped up. And I taught him English so he could go to Italy with his division. It just didn’t seem important.”
Kyle’s mom touched her arm. “We need to go in. The service is about to start.”
Kyle offered one last smile before turning away from Erik and Ingrid. She walked into the church with her head high and her dignity completely intact.
December 10, 1944
Camp Patrick Henry, Virginia
Once again Tor sat in the telephone center listening to Kyle’s phone ring.
“Hello?” It was her mother.
“Hello, Kylli. This is Tor. Can I speak to Kyle?”
Tor heard a crackle in the line. Based on their last call it seemed that the need to be brief was understood.
“Tor? I’m so glad to hear from you!”
Tor experienced the same surge of emotion as last time when he heard his wife’s voice. “Are you well?”
“Never better.” She chuckled. “In fact I’m growing out of my clothes. What about you?”
Tor smiled.
My boy is big and strong.
“I’ve been so bored here that the days seem twice as long,” he admitted. “But we are finally boarding the ship tomorrow—the SS Argentina—and sailing for Naples, Italy.”
“I hope the voyage goes well. When will you arrive?”
“They said in a week-and-a-half if the weather is good.”
“I’ll keep praying for you.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m sure I can write to you at least once when I get there.”
“Do what you can, my love. But stay safe first of all.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I went to church today. Now everyone in Viking knows you proposed after Erik dumped me and we’re already having a baby.”
Tor laughed. “I see you left out a few unnecessary details.”
He heard the smile in his wife’s voice. “To quote my father, it’s none of their damned business.”
“I expect your parents are happy to have you there.”
“Yep. But I already filed for my G.I. benefits and I’m moving to Minneapolis in January. I’m enrolling in the University of Minnesota.”
Tor knew this was her hope. “What will you study?”
“I’ll start with basic requirements. When the war’s over you and I can decide if I continue or we move to Norway.”
Tor honestly didn’t know which path he’d choose. Luckily, that decision was months away at the very least.
“I love you so much, Kyle. And I’m very proud of you.”
“I love you, Tor, more than I ever imagined I could.”
“No matter what happens, I want you to remember that you are the most important thing in my life. Marrying you made me whole.”
“I feel the same way.”
The timer beeped.
“God be with you, Tor.”
“And with you, my beloved wife.”
The line went dead.
December 22, 1944
Naples, Italy
The SS Argentina edged slowly into its slot at the Port of Naples. Tor had never been so glad to see anything in his life as he was to spot the Italian coastline rising out of the horizon.
Their crossing wasn’t considered rough, apparently, but the constant rocking and rolling of the ship made him queasy
. Only lying on his back on the too-short bunks or standing in the wind gave him relief.
Now that his feet would be on solid ground again, Tor was looking forward to enjoying big Italian meals without his belly arguing with him.
Lots of them.
According to their briefing during the voyage, the Eighty-sixth Infantry was heading three hundred and seventy five miles north to Bagni di Lucca. That meant the nine hundred men on this mission would hike twenty-five miles a day until they got there.
“Thankfully there should be supply trucks doing the heavy lifting,” their colonel explained. “But we can’t risk a caravan of twenty buses attracting German attention, even if we could get a hold of ‘em.”
Then he grinned at the gathered soldiers. “But the scenery is absolutely beautiful, if that’s any consolation.”
Tor looked at the city of Naples from the deck of the shop. It was big enough and busy enough that he should be able to find a post office and mail a letter to Kyle before his platoon hiked out the next day.
Torger appeared next to him. “Ready to get off this bucket?”
Tor patted his midsection. “More than you know.”
The men went below deck and joined the other troops. They shouldered their duffels and sat on the bottom bunks, waiting for their units to be called to the loading deck to disembark.
Torger’s was called before Tor’s was. “See you up top, old man!”
Tor gave him a lazy salute. Once the men were in public, saluting was forbidden. They didn’t want the enemy to be able to tell by watching who the high-ranking officers were, thereby turning them into targets.
When Tor’s platoon was finally called a half hour later, he gladly made his way through the crowd to the open loading bay. He gave his name to the guards who were checking the soldiers’ names off as they exited, and walked across the swaying steel mesh gangway to the solid ground of the pier.
He wondered what people would think if he kissed the ground.
Tor smiled inwardly at that mental image and followed the line of soldiers to the end of the pier. Strangely, the ground still felt like it was moving.