CHAPTER ELEVEN
The fears that play across Isabella’s face wrenched Galvin’s heart. He only hoped the agitation didn’t change to disbelief or worse yet, disgust when he finished telling her the truth about him and his family.
“Okay.” She sat up, her eyes never leaving his. “So, who are you? Or should I ask what are you? A mass murderer?”
Anxiety filled Galvin and the prepared speech he’d put together on his way over to Isabella’s grew wings and flew from his mind like a deranged falcon. How could he explain without coming across insane?
The mortals of this time period believed the gods of old were legends. Those humans who did hold the ancient beliefs were rushed to what people called a psychiatrist. Some of their practitioners, in their infinite wisdom, considered the treatment of such an individual a phenomenal way to expand their name in the world they shared with their peers. Too many patients ended up being institutionalized while their so called doctors plied them with drugs for their delusions and then wrote papers for the medical community to absorb.
Now, he needed to convince the woman he was in love with of the reality of such a world. There were moments, such as this, when being a deity held no advantages. No longer able to still his restlessness Galvin moved from the bed in order to have space to pace.
“I know you’re going to find what I have to say difficult to believe.” He paused and raked his fingers through his hair.
Isabella sat on the edge of the bed watching, her fingers clutching and releasing the sheet, her eyes round with misgiving.
Galvin dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hands in his. They were clammy with moisture, betraying her anxiousness. He kissed each hand thinking how fragile they felt in his.
“Dearest, I’m not of this world.” There. He’d said it.
A puzzled smile played across her lips. The urge to claim them with his almost overcame him.
“Not of this world. What are you saying? Are you from outer space? Don’t tell me you’re a Martian and you and your people have invaded earth.” The idea caused her to giggle.
“Oh, if only my situation could be explained in such a manner. You would probably find aliens more believable.” Galvin stroked one soft cheek, which created visions of rose petals in his mind. “My history is far more difficult for the people of your world to believe.”
Then again, maybe not for all. Isabella and her friends attempted to summons an immortal the night they did the dance and said their chant in the park. Inspired by this memory he decided to remind her of what she wished for that starlit evening.
“Do you recall the night you and your friends decided immortals were the answer to your problem of finding the right man?”
“How did you know that?” Isabella wrenched her hands from his grasp. “Who told you about a night of drunk partying with my friends?”
He could feel her frantic search to recall who she’d shared the details of that incident.
“You know one of my friends don’t you.” The dark eyes narrowed and the glare she shot in his direction reminded Galvin of a tiger, ready to pounce on its prey.
“No. I do not know your friends. I know of them because of that night.” He paused to let his mind decide how to proceed. “Remember the lightning bolt that came down even though the skies were clear?”
“Diane. I’m going to fucking kill, Diane. This is her idea of funny and you’re as sick as she is to go along with her twisted sense of humor. Both of you can kiss my ass.” Isabella jumped off the bed and ran over to an antique dresser in the corner. She pulled on a drawer with such effort it landed on the floor, spilling the contents.
“Damn. See what you made me do.”
Right. Totally his fault her temper created havoc and a mess for them to deal with. Galvin repressed the urge to laugh. He didn’t think that would help his situation and bent down to help her put the items back. Their fingers reached for the same garment and touched. If anyone asked, he would have sworn a jolt of electricity passed between them.
She snatched her hand back and he continued to talk as if nothing occurred, but in his soul of souls, he knew something did. They’d connected on another level.
“As I was saying, the lightning bolt almost hit you.” He admired the bit of red lace he held in his hands. The flimsy material reminded him of the barely there underwear she wore that night in the elevator. The frilly item disappeared when Isabella grabbed the panties away and threw the dab of fabric on top of the pile she thrown into the drawer.
“I believe you made a statement to your friends about standing a better chance of being struck by lightning than meeting an immortal.” He pushed her aside when she tried to pick up the cumbersome item from the floor to insert back into the dresser. “I’m here to affirm you appear to have had better luck meeting an immortal than being hit by lightning.” He finished the task and looked over at Isabella. The opening and closing of her mouth reminded him of the clichéd fish out of water gasping for breath.
“You see after my father hurled the bolt of lightning toward your feet, he then decided I should enter the mortal realm and encounter your acquaintance.” By the powers, how easy he fell back into the formal speech patterns of Asgard annoyed him. “Thor thought my long term exposure to humans would rid me of seeking a mortal wife.”
“Your…your father?” Isabella wouldn’t be too pleased to know her skin now matched that of Mr. Albino, as she called the station owner.
“Yes. My father is Thor, the Nordic Thunder God. He is of the world your people refer to as mythology. My mother is the goddess Sif. She dabbles in fertility, but I believe you mortals delight in her problems with Loki, the Lord of Tricks, when he cut off her beautiful hair.” The changing emotions as he talked flitted across Isabella’s face…shock…fear…disbelief and now anger. “Believe me that little incident put what you would call ‘a damper on their friendship’.”
“Yeah, right. You should give up on the weather job and focus on your true calling, Galvin. The world could use another Stephen King. Your tales are almost as good as his.”
“You doubt me?” He knew to convince her of the truth would take effort, for her mind had closed to the possibility that what he told her was real.
“No, of course not. Then again, my size twelve ass fits into a pair of size two jeans. You believe that, don’t you?” Laugher exploded from her perfect lips and tears streamed down her face as she cradled her sides with her arms.
Annoyance put a defensive edge in his voice. “I can prove what I say is true.”
Isabella believed she’d fallen asleep when she got home and was dreaming. This dream contained not only hot sex with the man who stole her heart, but also a weird confession as to his real identity. Of course, the fact the man in her dream turned out to be a pathological liar probably centered on her need to put a stumbling block in the way of her growing feelings for him.
The only way she could accept what was happening here would be if she were dreaming, not really on her way to some mythological world with a guy who claimed to be a Nordic god. Her mind just wasn’t ready to buy into that reality.
Yep, her mother would love to hear about this one. She could hear the conversation now. You see, Ma, I’ve never fallen for any of the guys you’ve tried to hook me up with because I fill my nights with a Nordic god traveling into the heavens.
“Be careful.” Galvin caught her before she fell when her heel caught in the crack between the blue and green on the rainbow bridge he assured her led to his home. They were off to meet his parents. According to Galvin they had to cross over Bifrost, the rainbow bridge he declared was the only way to access Asgard, the citadel of the gods.
Yeah, right.
When he’d asked her if she’d heard of Asgard, she’d drawn a blank. The mention of Valhalla jiggled a small memory from the mythology she loved in English classes back in her high school and college days. Still, as much as she enjoyed the studies she really didn’t have a very good rec
ollection of what was covered and that’s what made this dream so odd. Everything she pictured far exceeded the small memories she was able to bring forth.
Before them, a city came into view. Large mansions dominated the valley that spread out below. “Beautiful,” she gasped and hugged herself in disbelief at witnessing such beauty.
“The large one on the right,” Galvin pointed to an imposing structure that dwarfed the others in comparison, “is Valhalla, where Odin, my father’s father resides.”
“Impressive.” Hell, if she was going to deal with weird dreams they may as well be good ones and this place dwarfed anything she’d seen in the Hamptons. She couldn’t envision any of those places having what appeared to be rows of spears on the roof.
“First we will go to Bilskirnir where my mother and father reside. I think you will like my mother.”
Great. He thought she’d like his mother, but didn’t voice the same about his father. What was he, an ogre?
“Here we are.” Galvin came to a halt in front of a huge palace.
“Well, I think the Queen of England would be impressed by this place.” Isabella eyes took in the multi-leveled building decked out in gold trim. The special effects in this dream were a little on the over-kill side. She flinched when a flash of lightning lit the sky over the house and the loud booms of thunder shook the ground under her feet.
“Yes. Odin, my grandfather has said there are five hundred rooms here, but even so Bilskirnir is small compared to the halls of Valhalla where he lives.”
“Nothing like outdoing the neighbors, even in the citadel of the gods,” Isabella said as she thought of the competition in grandiose homes between some of the celebrities and billionaires on Earth.
“Come.” They entered through the huge, ornate doorway and proceeded down a long hall.
“Lord Galvin, how good to see you again,” greeted a stick man.
“Thank you, Thialfi. Can you tell me where I may find my parents?”
“Your mother is in her sitting room doing needlepoint and your father is out in the skies practicing with Mjollnir.” Stick Man bowed and faded back through the open door from which he’d appeared.
“Mjollnir?” Galvin didn’t mention that name before. “Is that another one of your relatives?”
“No. Mjollnir is my father’s hammer. That’s explains why there was so much lightning when we arrived. I should have suspected.” He saw Isabella’s puzzled frown.
“Thor uses his hammer to create lightning. Less tiring than directing it with his hands, which he does occasionally. Come let us find my mother.”
The hike to locate Galvin’s mother must have been at least a mile. Isabella regretted her shoe selection by the time they entered a richly furnished room. If she’d known they’d be walking for miles she would have opted for flats.
Various shades of gold and white assaulted her eyes, even down to the woman seated by the window in a flowing white gown with hair the color of pure gold.
Intent on the hoop stretched with material in her hands, Galvin’s mother didn’t look up. Isabella stood mesmerized watching the needle flow in out of the fabric, pushed and pulled by the elegant, slender fingers.
“Mother.”
Startled by Galvin’s voice, Sif looked up from her work. “Galvin.”
The needlepoint dropped on the table beside her. Delight reflected in her face as she came forward to greet her son. Her expression turned to confusion when she saw Isabella standing beside him. “Who do we have here?”
“This is Isabella Girardi, Mother. I have told you of her.”
Sif extended her hands with the grace of a queen, or would that be goddess, Isabella wondered as the golden woman grasped her hot, sweaty palms in her cool, dry ones.
“Isabella, I am delighted to meet you. I have heard of you and your family from Galvin and from Loki.”
All right. I can understand Galvin telling his mother about me, but why the other guy? I recall something in the history books about them being on the outs after he played a mean trick on her. And Galvin also mentioned something about their strained relationship.
“Nice to meet you, too.” She felt as awkward as teenager meeting the parents of her first real love. What did one say to a goddess…hey, your son is great in bed. No, if she kept telling herself this was a dream, it didn’t matter what she said. Okay, don’t think I can keep going with the dream idea.
“You have traveled a long way, my dears. Come, you must join me for tea.” Sif clapped her hands and Stick Man materialized at the door. “Thialfi, would you be kind enough to have tea sent in for us.”
“Yes, Goddess.” The thin man bowed and took flight, reminding Isabella of a dragonfly. All he needed to complete the effect was a pair of wings sticking out of his back.
“Loki shared with me your family came from the land over which Zeus rules.” Sif patted a spot on the white love seat on which she perched where Isabella assumed she wanted her to sit. Galvin selected a gold and white stripped chair, obviously designed for a much larger person because the size was so out of proportion to the other furniture in the room.
The servant retuned with a cart bearing a bone china tea set and a stack of delicious looking goodies. Isabella’s mouth watered as he plated what looked like scones and éclairs dripping with chocolate frosting. He poured three cups of tea and handed them out and set a plate of baked goods by each person.
“Tell me more about your family.” Ignoring her dessert, Sif placed her delicate china teacup on the table in front of the love seat and faced Isabella.
Where to begin? Galvin’s mother didn’t appear to be someone whose only focus in life was to get one of her children married and have them get on with expanding the family tree. The goddess wouldn’t appreciate her son being involved with someone who came across as out to snare her precious boy. No, she didn’t want reveal too much information about Angela. Her mother’s determination to have her daughter married would terrify the mother of any male, no matter in what realm they lived.
She also couldn’t tell the elegant woman sitting next to her about her cross-dressing, gay brother since she was unclear on how Nordic deities handled that little matter. Gino would appreciate the tasteful décor of the room where they sipped on exotic tea and nibbled on tiny pastries. Though he would probably find Sif’s taste in clothes expensive, but non-stylish. Isabella couldn’t envision him in the flowing toga style dress the older woman wore. Now that she thought of his secret, she’d never imagined him in yards of billowing pink chiffon, either.
No, she’d not even shared these tidbits about her family with Galvin. It would probably be better to disclose information of this sort to him first. Wait and see where things went between them. If their relationship got to the point of permanent she’d have to fess up, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. For now I’m going to keep telling myself this is a dream so what I say or don’t say, really won’t matter. Who am I kidding? The dream idea is done.
Sif’s perfect, unlined brow furrowed slightly while she waited politely for Isabella to speak.
“I come from your average Italian-American family. My parents are both first generation Americans who met when they were very young and produced me and my brother. They came from large families and have lots of brothers and sisters, who in turn have produced lots of children of their own. A family get together with my family is more like a party…a very loud party.” God, she sounded like the voice over on a documentary.
“How lovely.” Sif’s eyes appeared to have glazed over.
“Mother, you can relate if you compare it to one of Odin’s events at Valhalla.” Galvin sat quietly sipping his tea and listening.
“I see. Yes, that could get very noisy.” Understanding illuminated the already glowing skin. “I also believe you have a grandmother who enjoys Ride of the Valkyrie.”
How in hell did she find out about Nonna? She and Galvin never discussed her family. “Well, yes. The rest of the family finds it
a little strange; her favorite piece of music is by a German composer about Nordic gods since she’s so adamant everything else in her life be Italian.” Then again, most of what Nonna did, Isabella found odd.
“That is also one of my favorites.” Sif’s guileless blue eyes met Isabella’s. “This makes me feel a connection with one member of your family.”
Wonderful. Just what she needed. The mother of the man of her dreams making a connection with her loony grandmother. The two of them huddled in a corner at family functions would be a hoot.
“I have yet to meet Isabella’s family, Mother. Let us get through that formality before you start making plans to become acquainted.” Galvin winked at Isabella in a show of support.
“Tell me about your father.” The queenly woman continued her probe, but she hit on a subject that was safe.
Other than herself, Isabella considered her father the only sane one in the family. “My father’s a great man. A good husband.” His adoring glances at Angela flashed though her mind. “He’s also a great father.” She would never be able to repay him for all the battles he headed off between her and her mother. “And—”
Loud voices from the hall interrupted her train of thought.
“Thor has returned.” Sif sprang from her seat and rushed through the door toward the increasing sound of men talking.
“How lovely you look, my dear.” A deep male voice vibrated off the walls.
The murmur of Sif’s soft response could be heard, but not loud enough to decipher the words.
“Our youngest son has honored us with a visit.” The rumble moved closer to the room in which she and Galvin sat. Relief flooded her heart when he vacated the chair where he lounged and took the place his mother vacated, beside her on the love seat.
“Everything will be fine.” Galvin brushed her lips with his and took her hand. “Remember, it is as you mortals like to say, his bark is worse than his bite.”
Isabella nodded to let him know she understood what he tried to tell her. They both rose to their feet when the approaching voices entered the room.
Nordic Heat Page 14