Because of Lauren: A Love Story

by Vivi Underwood

  “No, go ahead and go. Hearing your voice has made all the difference. You are good for me, Lauren.”

  “I had a feeling I should call, that you needed me.”

  “Oh, Lauren, there is no one like you.”

  “I love you. I have to go, though. Will you be all right?”

  “I’ll be fine now. Go to your meeting.”

  “Bye, Jonas.”

  “Bye, Lauren. Love you. Thank you for calling.”

  He sat at his desk for a long time. He still could hardly believe he had found someone like Lauren. He hadn’t known there were women out there like her. He was blessed!

  Returning home late that night, he finally settled down to make his call to Utah. He had punched in the first couple of numbers when the thought came to him that this was the wrong way. Lauren should be the one making the arrangements, and the two of them should be together the first time he met her parents. He put the phone away.

  The next morning Jonas made another call unrelated to business. “Mrs. Gustavsen?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Jonas Juul. How are you?”

  “Jonas, how nice. What can I do for you?”

  “You can let me take you to church on Sunday,” he said invitingly, “and join me for an early dinner afterward. And if you wouldn’t mind, you can tell me more about my grandmother.”

  “Oh, how wonderful! Of course, I’ll come.” She laughed softly. “It’s been a long time since a handsome young man invited me to dinner.”

  “Then it’s a date. Give me directions, and I’ll come for you Sunday morning.”

  They finalized arrangements and after chatting a few more minutes, said goodbye. Jonas smiled to himself. Being in church on Sunday would make him feel closer to Lauren, and learning more about his grandmother was becoming very important to him. With Lauren gone, his date with Mrs. Gustavsen would make the day special instead of lonely.

  Saturday, he spent on the island. For the first time, Jonas paid close attention to the rocky, uneven track leading from the dock to the house. It had always been rough, and as a small boy, he often struggled to keep from stumbling. It was time to make the track smoother and wider to protect his and Lauren’s future little ones from falling and getting hurt. He smiled inwardly. He had never pictured children of his own before, yet now he saw them clearly. Funny how loving Lauren changed everything.

  He spent the morning sailing. That usually helped him unwind, but today he missed Lauren. He thought of their last trip together and the expression on her face as they cruised by what had once been her family’s home. The estate was part of her heritage, her connection to this country. He hoped Mrs. Viik understood and made her decision soon.

  He couldn’t keep from smiling as he thought of Lauren snuggled warmly in his arms on the return trip that day and wondering about his past. The girl with a history of unwanted marriage proposals was jealous—and embarrassed about it. It was endearing and sweet.

  That evening, he wandered through the house, looking at it from a new perspective. He made his way to the living room and saw Lauren at the piano all over again. He had wanted to pull her into his arms that evening. Instead, he made do with a gentle touch on her shoulders. And knew he was in love.

  He smiled as he entered his old bedroom. The room was tiny, just right for a small boy, with an alcove that held fitted bunk beds, carved and painted in the Old Norwegian way. Low, built-in shelves still held his old books. It was here bedtime stories were read, where they talked of spiritual things, and where his grandmother had knelt with him in prayer. It had been years since he had thought of those days. Now it seemed like yesterday. He wanted to give his and Lauren’s children those same memories. He pictured them both sitting on the edge of the bed with the children tucked in, teaching them important things and answering their questions. He wanted that for them. He wanted them to be like their mother, to have the kind of faith she had.

  He wandered into the main bedroom. It once belonged to his grandparents. Now he slept there. It was not an elegant suite. The average-sized room, simply but comfortably furnished, seemed just right for a summer home. Someday he would share it with Lauren. He hoped its simplicity would appeal to her.

  His emotions were close to the surface as he pictured their little family enjoying summer days on the island. And he thought of Lauren with her generous and kind nature. How lucky his children would be to have such an amazing, loving mother. It humbled him to know what she was giving up for him.

  He climbed the stairs to the second floor and the three large bedrooms under the eaves. Each room had two large double beds with a dresser in between, but that still left plenty of room on the floor for kids in sleeping bags. He hoped Lauren didn’t mind a houseful for a couple of weeks each summer. It had become a tradition in his family and something they all looked forward to. Next time would be different though. Next time he would finally have someone of his own.

  He didn’t notice the tear escaping until he tasted the salt at the corner of his mouth. He sighed wistfully. He missed her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A beaming Mrs. Gustavsen entered the chapel on Jonas’ arm Sunday morning. With great care, he escorted her to the pew and took a seat beside her, not unaware of the stir his presence caused. He planned on spending many Sunday mornings here. The congregation would get used to seeing him and adjust.

  The members were friendly. In Sunday school class, they welcomed him back and asked about Lauren. After the meetings, an observant missionary sought him out and introduced himself as Elder Jensen. To his surprise, he found Jonas very approachable. After a few minutes of conversation, Elder Jensen asked him if he was interested in having the missionaries meet with him.

  Jonas looked at the young elder and considered a moment. “I leave for the States this week,” he explained. “Could we make it in a couple of weeks?”

  The elder hid his surprise well. Who knew Jonas Juul would be the most cooperative approach of his mission? Last week’s buzz about this man had not gone unnoticed. The elder had made it his business to find out who he was.

  “Of course,” he agreed. They shared contact information, then Elder Jensen motioned for his companion to join them. “This is Elder Dawson. We have been serving together in Bergen for four months,” Elder Jensen explained.

  “Jonas Juul,” said Jonas and shook his hand warmly.

  Elder Jensen mentioned their upcoming meeting.

  “We’ll look forward to it,” said a beaming Elder Dawson.

  “I have very specific questions for you,” Jonas warned them with a smile. “I hope you have the answers.”

  “If we don’t, we’ll find them,” Elder Jensen assured him.

  They shook hands again. “See you in a couple of weeks.”

  Jonas turned around and found Mrs. Gustavsen by his side. “I’m ready to leave,” she announced softly.

  “Excellent. So am I.”

  She took his offered arm gratefully. She was eighty-six and feeling her age a bit today. She would rest at Jonas’ apartment while he got dinner ready. Her face took on a gentle look. How nice to have someone pamper her a little. Jonas was a good boy. Sonja would be proud of him.

  Mrs. Gustavsen’s weariness didn’t escape Jonas. Once at home, he led her down the hall into a pretty, feminine bedroom.

  “Oh, how lovely,” she exclaimed.

  “My mother’s room when she visits,” he explained. He guided her toward the bed. “Dinner won’t take long to prepare, but I thought you might want to rest a little first. May I bring you a light snack?”

  She gave him a sweet smile. “Maybe a biscuit and a glass of juice,” she requested gratefully. “I’ll enjoy my dinner more if I can have a short nap.”

  Very gently, Jonas helped her get settled, then brought the requested snack.

  “Thank you, Jonas. What a kind
man you are.”

  He leaned down and kissed her soft, wrinkled cheek. “Rest now. Dinner will be ready when you wake up.”

  “Where did you learn to cook like this?” asked an astonished Mrs. Gustavsen during dinner.

  Jonas smiled at her very vocal approval. “It started during summers with my grandmother. In stormy weather, we sometimes spent the afternoon in the kitchen, cooking and baking. Now it’s a hobby of mine. I enjoy inviting friends over for a meal occasionally.”

  Mrs. Gustavsen took a last bite of the tender roast beef. “Those big wigs in Portugal had no idea who they were dealing with, did they?” she said complacently. “And that you excel in more than business. This is wonderful, Jonas. My roast beef was never this tender. You have a gift.”

  Evidently, Mrs. Gustavsen stayed on top of the news, thought Jonas, amused. In so many ways she was a remarkable lady.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Dessert is very simple, I’m afraid. Strawberries picked yesterday on the island. They are a little smaller than what the market offers, but just as sweet.”

  He presented a couple of bowlfuls for their enjoyment. “Plain, or with cream and sugar?”

  “Plain, please. I just want to sit and nibble.” She popped the first berry into her mouth. “Delicious!” she proclaimed it.

  “They grow wild on the island.”

  “I remember,” she said softly.

  Jonas looked at her in surprise.

  “I have been to your island, Jonas. Once. When your grandfather found out I was a Church member, he forbade Sonja to invite me again.”

  Her words shocked Jonas into silence. The grandfather he had known was honest and fair. And very wise. This hidden, deep-seated prejudice was inexplicable.

  She patted his hand where it lay on the table. “You mustn’t worry about it, Jonas. It was almost seventy years ago, and many lies were circulating about the Church.”

  “You’d think if my grandfather valued my grandmother enough to marry her, he would have wanted to understand her religion.”

  “Your grandfather was passionate about his country, Jonas, but he was indifferent to religion except where it tied into Norwegian life and culture. He had no use for any other Christian faith, including his wife’s.”

  “How could my grandmother have married him if the Church was so important to her? Didn’t she realize there would be conflicts?”

  “They didn’t discuss it while they were courting. He knew she attended church and never commented on it. It wasn’t until after they were married that he told her he didn’t want her going to ‘that church’ anymore.”

  Seeing the distress on his face, Mrs. Gustavsen patted his hand again. “He was not a bad man, Jonas, just a product of our country’s culture at the time. I believe he would have objected just as strenuously had Sonja been Catholic or even a church-attending Lutheran. Except for his prejudice against the Church, he was extremely good to Sonja,” she insisted.

  Shaking off the feeling of deep disappointment in his grandfather, he said, “I remember them as being very devoted to each other. They enjoyed each other’s company and laughed a lot. I know he loved her.”

  “I believe that, too. And your grandmother loved him. I watched some marriages fall apart because they couldn’t reconcile their religious differences. Your grandmother was determined to have a good marriage even if it meant giving up church attendance. Having been raised by foster parents, and with a mother who visited infrequently, she lacked a sense of belonging. With Armand and their child, she found it. She was a happy woman, Jonas.”

  “That was my impression, too,” he nodded. “Did you see much of each other in the years following her marriage?”

  “We did, without your grandfather’s knowledge. It was one of the few things Sonja kept from him. Five of us who had grown up in the church formed a knitting club, very popular in those days. We took turns meeting in each other’s homes once a month. When it was Sonja’s turn to host, Armand usually made himself scarce. He assumed we were old school friends and Sonja never corrected him. It was a wonderful way for Sonja to still be part of us.”

  “And my grandfather didn’t know?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sure he didn’t, or Sonja would have dropped out of the club.”

  “I’m glad she had her friends from church.” He paused a moment then asked, “Did you know that when I was younger, my grandmother often talked to me of spiritual things?”

  Mrs. Gustavsen’s eyes filled with tears. “When you spent summers with them?”

  Jonas nodded.

  “That does not surprise me. Her faith never wavered.”

  “How old was she when she joined the church?”

  “She was about seven or eight when the family first started attending church, but she wasn’t baptized until she was almost fourteen because she had to get special permission from her mother. It took a few years, but she finally agreed that Sonja could be baptized. She’d been begging and begging for permission and was so thrilled when the news came that her mother had given her approval. That’s when she confided in me about her background. Everyone assumed her foster parents were her birth parents, and she preferred it that way.

  “You were good friends.”

  “Very dear friends,” she agreed.

  “Did you marry outside the Church, too?” Jonas asked.

  “Oh yes. Most of us did in those days. But I was lucky. My husband agreed that I could go to church and even allowed me to bring the children occasionally. Eventually, he started coming with us. He was baptized on our tenth wedding anniversary.”

  “You were lucky!” Jonas agreed. He looked at her and thought of Lauren. She, too, would be marrying outside the Church. But he would never want her to be anything other than who she was. It was her faith that made her so special. How could his grandfather not have known that about his own wife? How he wished his grandmother had confided in him so he could have helped ease her burden. There were so many questions he wanted answers to, and so much he wanted to tell Lauren.

  He eventually rose from the dining table. “Let me help you to the sofa or a more comfortable chair. Your conversation was so absorbing, I completely forgot.”

  “Oh, no. I am very comfortable right here,” she said with a sweet smile. “This chair helps support my back. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Then can I get you anything else? Some herbal tea perhaps?”

  “Nothing, thank you, Jonas. I have enjoyed myself so much, but it’s time for me to go home soon. I mustn’t take up your whole day.”

  “It’s been a pleasure having you,” he assured her, slipping back onto his seat. “Have you been alone a long time?”

  “Three years now,” she replied with a quivering voice. “I still miss him.”

  “Do your children live nearby?”

  “No, they both moved to Salt Lake City many years ago and married there. They worry about me being alone and want me to come and live with them, but this is home.”

  “Does anyone check on you?” he asked, concerned.

  “The State sends someone three times a week. They do light housekeeping and prepare a meal, so I do fine with their help.” She hesitated a moment, and by the expression on her face, sand by the expression one her face, she be struggling with a weighty problem.

  Jonas waited.

  Finally, having made her decision, she said, “Before you take me home, Jonas, there is something I think you should know.”

  Again, he waited.

  “I mentioned Sonja kept very few things from Armand.”

  He nodded.

  “There was one rather important thing he didn’t know.” Her face softened. “Sonja taught your father the gospel from the time he was little. He understood the teachings of the Savior and asked to be baptized.”

  “My father did?” said an astonished
Jonas. “At what age?”

  “He was almost twelve.”

  “And was he baptized?” The surprises just kept coming.

  “Yes, one beautiful fall day. I’ll never forget the beaming face of that young boy as he came out of the waters of baptism. He had been granted his dearest wish.”

  “My father, as well as my grandmother, were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Jonas whispered, stunned, “and I never knew? Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “She might have if she had outlived your grandfather,” suggested Mrs. Gustavsen.

  “I was a grown man when she died. I should have been told.”

  “She must have had her reasons for not doing so,” she said soothingly. “Or it may not have occurred to her. She spent a lifetime keeping her religion quiet.”

  “But why keep it a secret from her grandson?”

  “I don’t have the answer, Jonas, and it is a mystery it won’t do you any good to dwell on,” she said wisely. “The question now is where do you go from here?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. Things were churning inside him, and he knew the one person he wanted to share this with was Lauren. But not by phone. “I think my priority should be to learn all I can about the Church,” he told her, suddenly very glad he’d agreed to meet with the missionaries.

  “Very wise of you,” she approved with a gentle smile. “Your grandmother would be very pleased.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The New York City that greeted Jonas was muggy and crowded and brought back memories of the year he had spent here following business school. He never quite embraced the climate. He preferred the coastal climate of western Norway with its mild winters and cool summers. He still conducted business here, but usually tried to schedule his trips in the spring or fall when possible. He was dressed casually in cool linen slacks, open-necked shirt, and a lightweight sports jacket. Leaning against a post across the street, he kept an eye on the impressive doors adorning Lauren’s building.