by Cris Anson
The boy lifted his head, looked at him squinty-eyed.
“Yeah, I know,” Rolf said, “you’re not supposed to say ‘shit’. But sometimes, nothing else quite fits.”
“Yeah,” the boy echoed. “Shit.”
A bark of a laugh escaped Rolf before he could catch it. “Tell you what. You want to punch something? How about you try to smack your fists in my palms? It won’t be easy, ’cause I can move around like a butterfly.”
Fantine had followed Rolf, a few paces behind, concerned that his frustration would lead to a problem. She didn’t know him well enough to know how he dealt with his pain, although it staggered her to realize she wished she did. She wished she knew more, much more about him.
When she saw him try to defuse the boy’s anger, her heart stuttered. He really had grown up. He was giving of himself to others without, it seemed, even thinking about it. A bigger piece of her cautious heart fell in love with him.
She watched while Rolf moved his arms, palms out, up, down, sideways, dancing away then stalking forward, absorbing the kid’s blows without wincing.
At last the kid wound down.
“Feel better now?” Rolf asked, an arm on the boy’s shoulder.
“Yeah. You some kind of psychologist or something?”
Rolf shrugged. “Something. See, what you’re learning is, it’s better to get rid of your anger where it won’t hurt somebody else. You’re mad at the world, at the doctors, probably even at your mom for getting sick. And that made you mad at yourself. But if you showed your mom your anger, it would make you feel worse.”
“Yeah. And make her feel worse too.”
“Right.” Rolf ruffled the boy’s wheat-colored hair. “I’ve got to get back to ICU. It’s almost time for them to let me see my grandmother again.”
“I-I hope she gets well,” the kid offered.
“And your mom too. Bye, buddy.”
The lump in Fantine’s throat stayed there when Rolf turned on his heel and saw her standing nearby, hand over her heart and a tear tracking down her cheek.
“Rolf.” She opened her arms to him.
“I don’t know what made me stick my nose in his business,” he said gruffly. ”Let’s go see Nonie.”
“Rolf,” she said again, snaking her arm around his waist.
He slung an arm around her shoulder as they began to make their way back to ICU. “You were very good with him,” she said. “And with Kevin too. You’d make a good counselor.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Me? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Hey, it’s okay for guys to have feelings. You couldn’t have been so good with them if you didn’t have sensitivity and empathy deep inside. I like what I’m seeing in you.”
* * * * *
It was way past lunch, but neither had a thought for hunger pangs. Rolf was back at Nonie’s side, stroking her arm, whispering to her, touching her cheek with his lips. All at once a cacophony erupted on the other side of the ICU, noises a lot louder and more ominous than when Pearce triggered a beep on one of Nonie’s machines. Nurses rushed in, one pushing a crash cart and who knew what-all else.
Someone began tugging on his arm. “Sorry, everybody out of ICU right now.”
“I’ll be right back, Nonie. You just keep getting better.”
As he slipped out of the ICU, more and more medical personnel crowded into the space. A couple of white-coated bodies spilled over toward the other beds, apparently checking on the remaining patients.
Suddenly more alarms went off and some of the staff turned to the new emergency. To Rolf’s eye, it looked like the new crisis was at Nonie’s bedside.
“No!” He plastered himself against the window, palms flat on the glass, on the outside looking in through a crack in the blinds as more staff charged through the doors and converged around Nonie’s bed. “Nonie! No!”
“I’m sorry, sir, you and your friend will have to move. The entire ICU area is closed until further notice.”
Ignoring the orderly, Rolf kept his eyes glued to the scene, fingers curled as if to scratch holes in the glass to see better. “Nonie! No! You can’t die! No!”
The man grabbed him by the shoulder and began tugging him backward. “Sir—”
“No, wait!” Rolf shrugged off the man’s grip. “That was my grandmother’s alarm that went off. Please, I need to know if she’s all right.”
“We’ll let you know as soon as they stabilize her. Please, sir, come with me.”
“No! You don’t understand! I just found her, I can’t lose her!”
“You’ll help her more by staying out of the way.”
“I won’t be in the way, I’ll just stay right by the window—”
Another man, taller and huskier than the orderly, appeared at Rolf’s other side. He placed a strong restraining grip on Rolf’s biceps. “Calm down, sir. Believe me, they know what they’re doing. You’re not doing anyone any good by carrying on. Come now. Let them do their job without being distracted.”
“Nonie,” he whispered. But he knew they were right. He had to get a grip. Still half fighting them, he allowed them to wrestle him into a private room a fair distance from ICU. A room where loved ones were probably taken to hear news that would drastically change their lives.
Rolf couldn’t even pace. He stood in the middle, looking blankly at walls painted a cheery yellow that failed to cheer, at a tweed loveseat and a few padded chairs, at a low table filled with dog-eared magazines of uncertain vintage.
“No,” he whispered. “She can’t be dying.”
He shook off a hand that had gently touched his arm. Fantine’s, he realized. But right now he needed to be alone so he could get a grip. So she wouldn’t see his emotions, his tears.
“I just found her,” he yelled out into the close, prisonlike room. “Dammit, I just found a grandmother I never knew I had and you’re taking her away from me? How can you be so cruel?” He sank to his knees. He didn’t know how to pray, all he could do was think the words.
I know I didn’t deserve to find a sweet old lady like her as a grandmother. I’ve been a bastard all my life, cared for nothing, no one but myself. But if you let her live, God, I’ll—I’ll—damn. What can I offer you? I have nothing. I am nothing.
Shit! If you’re punishing Nonie because it’s a way to strike back at me, don’t do it, damn you, don’t take it out on her! Strike me down. Make my hair fall out. Hell, make my dick fall off. I’ve already used it as much as most guys do in a lifetime. If that’s what it takes, do it.
No. I’m looking at it all wrong. Maybe she doesn’t want me in her life. Like my mom, like Grandpa Knut and Grandma Ingrid didn’t. Maybe she wants to die so she doesn’t have to deal with me after she learned what a fuck-up I am. Damn, why did you send her into my life if she’s only going to abandon me too?
He stayed on his knees a long time, head bowed, tears streaking his cheeks. Fantine’s heart ached for him. She loved Nonie too, but she’d at least had the woman’s love and guidance for thirty-eight years. She wanted to go to Rolf, to embrace him, to take his pain for her own, but he’d closed himself off, built a wall.
And she was outside it.
Chapter Fourteen
“Soren? It’s Magnus. Where are you? Sounds like you’re talking inside an empty box. You’re echoing all over hell’s half acre.”
“I’m in the truck. Crystal and I are heading up to—” Hell, how did he refer to Rosalie Dwyer? “To Nonie’s place. You know, Rolf’s grandmother? Apparently she took a bad tumble down some steps and has been unconscious for over twenty-four hours now, so we’re going up to give them moral support. They’ve been in and out of the Intensive Care Unit almost all that time.”
“Shit. Tell Rolf I’m sorry as hell about that. He sure was excited to find her. Guess we don’t need to add to his problems. Maybe he shouldn’t hear my news just yet. It isn’t exactly hearts and flowers.”
Soren pulled over to the side of the road. He knew it was aga
inst the law to talk on a cell phone while driving, but he’d been hell-bent to get to his younger brother’s side as quickly as possible. But this sounded more than merely ominous, so he opted for the better part of valor instead of an accident. Putting the truck in park, he said, “What did you find?”
“She’s sick, Soren. I didn’t recognize her at first. Thin as a fishing line, looking older than Grandma Thorvald did in her eighties. There’s hardly anything left of my memories of her in what I saw. She could barely stand up and still she was waiting tables. I saw red, Soren. I wanted to beat the shit out of that damn boss of hers because he was giving her flak for taking time out to talk to me.”
Soren closed his eyes. Magnus had a great hold on his temper, but when it blew, you knew it was bad.
“You’re sure it was her?”
He could hear Magnus’ snort through four thousand miles of air. “Damn sure. First thing she looks at me, her knees go weak and she plops down on one of the counter stools. Then calls me by my full name. Magnus Haaken Thorvald.”
“Mom,” Soren breathed, swallowing hard. “You found her. You actually found our mother out in the back of beyond in Alaska.”
“Yeah. Without a doubt it’s her. I didn’t even ask how she got where she was. I took her out of there and told the guy she was taking a sick day. We went back to her cabin—Jesus, I won’t tell you how she was living. It made Rolf’s place look like a four-star hotel.” Soren heard the disgust, the outrage in Magnus’ voice. Then it hardened.
“I want to get her looked over in the nearest hospital—if there is such a thing outside Anchorage itself. The pilot’s checking out options for me. Juneau’s probably too far. Maybe Kodiak. Anyway. It took me so long to get here that I’m not sure she’d be up to two or three plane transfers, so I’ve decided to charter an air rescue service. Kat wanted to fly up to help, but I told her to wait until she gets stabilized. Then we’ll decide the next step.”
“Hell of a mess,” Soren agreed. “Why the devil didn’t she contact any of us all these years? It couldn’t be memory loss, because she recognized you. Did it sound like she was surprised to remember you?”
“Hell no, she just said it as though my walking in was the answer to a prayer. And maybe it was. I’m not going to grill her on anything yet. She’s way too fragile. I think it’s enough for now that she knows I’m here.”
“Thank God you are.”
“I’ll check back with you tomorrow. You hold Rolf’s hand for the time being.”
“Yeah. You’re right. He doesn’t need to worry about Mom as well as Nonie.”
They disconnected and Soren turned blindly to Crystal. Her arms were open and tears filmed her eyes. “The worst is over,” she whispered. “Just keep that thought in mind. We have her now and we’ll never let her go.”
* * * * *
Fantine heard someone behind her clear a throat. She’d finally gotten Rolf to accept her comfort, the way you cautiously, an inch at a time, gentle a wild animal to your touch. He was still kneeling on the floor and she knelt behind him with her arms around him, her cheek pressed to the back of his neck, her hands crossed over his chest. She could feel an occasional shudder come up from the depths of his being, but he was silent now.
She turned. “Yes? Is this about Rosalie Dwyer?”
It was Nurse Leon, smiling. He held out a hand, helped her to her feet.
“Sir?” He offered a hand to Rolf as well but Rolf stayed immobile.
“We’ve stabilized her for now. I won’t lie to you, it was touch and go there for a while, but she’s holding her own and resting comfortably. Come see for yourself.”
Rolf rocked back on his heels, his expression not unlike that of a little boy who had just been told that yes, his older brothers were wrong, there really was a Santa Claus. “She—she’s not—”
He gulped, obviously reluctant to voice what both of them had feared. “Nonie?”
“Yes, sir. She’s been through quite a lot in the past hour and needs absolute peace and quiet. She’s heavily sedated, but she’s breathing without a ventilator. Come on. You can see her for just a minute.”
Rolf stood up like a newborn colt trying to get his spindly legs under him for the first time. “Nonie’s okay? Really and truly?”
Beaming, Nurse Leon nodded vigorously.
Staggering a bit, Rolf turned to Fantine, who unabashedly let him see the tears of gratitude in her own eyes. “Fantine.” He surged into her, grabbing her in a bear hug and lifting her clear off the scuffed linoleum floor. “She’s alive!”
Fantine did her best to hang onto him as he spun her around in the small room. She bit back a smile to see Leon dance out of the way of her flying feet as she took another turn.
“Let’s go, folks, I need to get back to my station.”
“Oh. Right.” Rolf set Fantine on her feet but kept a tight hold around her shoulders, dragging her in his wake. As he approached the nurses’ station, he accosted every nurse they came across and grabbing each one’s head with his free hand, gave them a big smooching kiss, leaving smiles all around.
“Thank you,” with each kiss. “Thank you.”
“You have to be absolutely quiet,” Leon cautioned. “Don’t say anything, don’t touch her. I just want you to see for yourself that she’s breathing and that her color is good.”
Eagerly he followed the nurse inside, Fantine trailing behind and holding his hand. She could see the shallow rise and fall of Nonie’s chest under the white sheet. Her expression looked peaceful, as though she’d seen her beloved Michael in the tunnel of white light and he told her it wasn’t her time yet. Fantine hoped they’d have many more years with Nonie before she joined her husband in the hereafter.
Clenching Fantine’s hand almost tight enough to cut off circulation, Rolf stood next to her and she felt the slight tremors go through him. They’d almost lost her.
Thank God for modern medicine!
Reluctantly they followed Leon as he motioned them back outside. Fantine smiled when Rolf blew the old woman a kiss. If anyone could wake that Sleeping Beauty with a kiss, it would be Rolf, she knew.
As she walked out the door into the waiting area, she stopped short. A smile instantly suffused her. Soren and Crystal stood before them. She reached for the shorter woman’s outstretched hands.
Rolf stood rooted to the spot, looking stunned. “Soren? What are you doing here?”
Soren grabbed his neck in a football-player’s hug, slapping him on the back with his free hand. “We thought you’d need your family’s support at a time like this. We’re here for the duration, Crystal and me. We brought bedrolls and food and we’ll camp out, either here or in Nonie’s backyard, wherever you need us. You want us to do anything, you name it, you got it. You guys don’t have to endure this alone. Understand?”
“Family.” Rolf almost whispered the word. His lower lip trembled.
His hand groped out in Fantine’s direction. She took it, hauling Crystal with her. The four of them stood in a circle, holding each other within the warmth of family for a precious few seconds.
“Hey,” Soren said, breaking the solemnity of the moment. “I bet you haven’t eaten much today. How about a Thor’s Hammer Reuben special? We’ll probably have to find a table somewhere, because you know how sloppy they are to eat.”
“Jesus, Sor. You think of everything.” His voice broke.
“You’re my brother, Rolf. It’s what family does.” He nudged Rolf into motion. “C’mon. I’m hungry just thinking about Chef’s creations.”
Fantine could see Rolf’s Adam’s apple bob up and down, as he tried to swallow enough to speak. “Yeah. Family.”
“Let’s eat,” Fantine said, giving Rolf time to regain his equilibrium.
* * * * *
“Who are you?” the grizzled man standing on the front porch of Nonie’s home growled out.
Standing in the doorway, Soren eyed the flat gaze, the pugnacious stance. Cop, he thought instantly. The cast on
his wrist detracted not one whit from his threatening manner.
“Soren Thorvald.” He thrust out his hand. “You must be Judd. Rolf and Fantine told me about how you’re helping them. Please. Come in.”
Without moving a muscle, he restated his question. “Who is Soren Thorvald?”
“I’m Rolf’s brother. Well, half brother, I suppose.”
“Half brother, huh? Let me guess. Somehow related to Miss Rosalie?”
“Grandson. But it hasn’t been confirmed yet. Look, if she hasn’t said anything to you, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it under—what?”
Judd’s face had taken on a thoughtful cast, as though he was sifting through information and making connections. He nodded a few times in response to his inner deliberations then said, “Let’s go inside and talk.”
Soren stepped aside for Judd to enter.
“Hi there,” Crystal said, tucking a dust cloth into her jeans pocket. To Soren she looked adorable, her dark curls tied up in a flowered bandanna, face smudged with dirt, loose-fitting T-shirt not totally hiding her luscious rack.
“This is Judd Matheson, honey. This is my fiancée, Crystal D’Angelo.”
“Oh, the retired police captain,” she said. “I hope it’s all right that we’re cleaning up this mess. Rolf said you’d finished taking photos and prints and whatnot. We didn’t think Fantine and Rolf should have to deal with all this and worry about Nonie too. Can I get you something to drink? There’s iced tea in the fridge.”
Judd smiled. One simply couldn’t not smile when confronted with Crystal’s guileless charm.
“No thanks. I’m just checking things out. You know, sort of a neighborhood watch. I saw your truck pull in and noticed it had out-of-state plates.”
“And you ran them?” Soren said, not quite snidely.
“Didn’t have to. I eyeballed you both when you got here and made some assumptions. I gave you some time to get into what you were planning.”
“I guess we pass muster?”
Judd grinned then, a full-fledged sun-out-of-the-clouds hit. “Miss Rosalie could do worse in the friend department.” He gazed around. “I think we’d all feel more comfortable in the kitchen, don’t you?”