by Kris Tualla
“Yes.”
Teigen smiled and set the bowl on the tray. “Don’t you remember my promise? I told you I would always protect you.”
She remembered, but she thought his words were rhetorical, not literal.
“I’m not a man who goes back on his word.” Teigen lifted her hand to his lips as kissed it. “Get some rest.”
He stood and carried the tray from the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
November 3, 1943
Ålesund, Norway
Because the Shetland Bus network recruited Norwegian fishermen to sail between the British Shetland Islands and the west coast of Norway right under the Germans’ noses, anything appearing too military or showy would be suspect, leading to stop-and-search maneuvers.
The two-masted sixty-foot fishing boat waiting for them—a Møre Cutter from Ålesund—was as unremarkable as was to be expected. But Møre Cutters were supposed to be the strongest and best-fitted vessels for the rough weather common in the North Sea.
“Nobody would notice this bucket,” Teigen muttered. He hoped the thing was more seaworthy that she looked.
“What?” Selby hobbled next to him at about fifty percent under her own power.
“Nothing. Can you manage the gangway or should I carry you?” When she looked up the incline and didn’t answer right away, Teigen swooped her up in his arms. “Here we go.”
Thankfully the inside of the boat was in considerably better shape than the outside.
“Keeps them from looking at us too sharply.” The Norse captain winked and worked very hard not to look at Selby. “Let’s get the lady settled in. There’s a hidden cabin we get through in the galley.”
Teigen shifted Selby in his arms. “The galley?”
“It’s labeled Cold Storage. In case we get stopped.” The captain beckoned. “Follow me.”
When Teigen set her on her feet inside her little cabin, Selby looked around the space. “Mirror?”
Up to now, Teigen had refused her repeated request. “You’ll look worse before you look better,” he told her yet again, thankful the tiny cabin lacked that bit of vanity. “There’s no reason to upset yourself needlessly.”
Selby shuffled to the bed and sat. “He wouldn’t look.”
“The captain?” Teigen was getting pretty good at intuiting what Selby’s clipped sentences meant. “Don’t worry about that. Just keep healing.”
She might have glared at him. Hard to tell with her eyes still swollen. “I’m going to find my cabin, then find out about bringing your meals down here.”
Selby flipped an irritated hand in his direction before she curled on the bunk.
Teigen’s same-sized cabin was next door. He was sharing it with a man his same age who was escaping Norway to go to America and live with relatives. That man had already claimed the bottom bunk, so Teigen tossed his satchel on the top bunk and went in search of the captain and the galley.
“Three hundred and sixty miles,” the captain answered Teigen’s query. “I’ll crank up her seventy-horsepower engine, and if we get good winds we should land in Lerwick late tomorrow afternoon.”
The tonk-tonk-tonk of the semi-diesel engine had already begun. Teigen excused himself and went below to tell Selby what he discovered, but she was sleeping.
As the boat began to move away from the dock and sway with the coastal swells, Teigen went to his own cabin and climbed to the upper bunk to rest. This past week of worrying about and taking care of Selby had drained him and he was looking forward to doing very little for the next thirty hours.
What strange turns his life had taken over the last eighteen months: the dissolution of his engagement, his arrest, surviving the Arctic labor camp, joining a traveling acting troupe, becoming a Milorg officer, taking charge of a half-Jewish teenaged refugee, making Nazi desks explode, and now escorting the woman he loved to a British island to recover from a severe public beating.
He would never have predicted any of that even in his most incredible imaginings.
Teigen didn’t know what to expect from their coming months in Shetland exile, but he was pretty sure that both Selby’s appearance and his relationship with her were not going to be the same when they returned to Norway.
Whether that was good or bad he could only wait and see.
Chapter
Thirty Four
November 4, 1943
Lerwick, Shetland Islands
Selby was a bit more steady on her feet the next afternoon when Teigen came to collect her and escort her off the ship. She was glad he grabbed her Arctic fox coat when they made their escape. Even though the coat was far too showy for their humble surroundings, above all else it was warm. She appreciated that quality most of all when she climbed to the deck and sleet hit her battered face.
She looped her arm through Teigen’s and held up the coat’s thick fur collar to protect herself.
People stared at her. She was used to getting attention, but for a much different reason than today. She tried to tuck herself out of sight behind Teigen’s arm. Besides avoiding notice, it kept the icy rain from stinging her eyes.
At least she could see out of them now. During the last two days the swelling had dramatically decreased even if the tenderness had not.
Teigen led her slowly, allowing the other passengers to disembark first, before leading her carefully down the gangway.
“Do you know where we go?” she asked. Her jaw still ached, but she decided to stop sounding like a simpleton and form more complete sentences.
“We’re all being met by a Scotsman named James Adie,” Teigen spoke over her head as he looked around.
They walked forward, following the straggling group of refugees down the pier as Teigen continued, “He and his Norwegian wife built a refugee center here in a herring factory.”
A man of middle height with bushy auburn hair approached the group. He was accompanied by a blonde woman of the same stature, and she was the one who addressed the Norwegians in their own language.
“I am Helga Adie. Welcome to Lerwick and to freedom,” she said in a voice that carried surprisingly well. “My husband James and I will see to your needs and get you on your continued way as soon as possible.”
Her roaming gaze landed on Selby, then quickly moved away. Selby thought she was blushing, judging by the tightening of her skin.
“Please follow us.”
The walk to the herring factory was only two blocks but it left Selby panting and sweating. Teigen hadn’t offered to carry her and she wondered if he was unconcerned, or if he knew she would have refused.
It was bad enough to look like she did. She didn’t need helpless invalid added to her list of odd qualities.
“You’re a proud woman, Selby Hovland,” Teigen murmured in her ear. “But don’t push yourself too hard.”
Selby tightened her grip on his arm but said nothing.
Once inside the repurposed building, each person was assigned to a curtained area in either the men’s dorm or the women’s. But when Selby and Teigen reached the front of the line, she was given different instructions.
Helga Adie smiled at her kindly. “Miss Sunde, your room is on the second floor, in our medical wing.”
That was a relief. She’d be with others who also weren’t in their best form. “Thank you.”
“She’ll need help,” Teigen said quietly.
Helga motioned to a stout woman in a white nurse’s uniform. “Erin will help you. She knows a little Norse, but will call me if you run into trouble.”
Selby did her best to smile, but was afraid all she did was grimace. “Thank you.”
As she walked away from Teigen, Selby felt an unexpected surge of panic. This was the first moment since the beating that he wasn’t going to be near her, and the thought of being alone terrified her.
She grabbed Erin’s sturdy arm. “Can he come?”
“He?” The nurse turned around to look at Teigen who was intently watching them. Then she turned b
ack to Selby and shook her head. “I’m sorry. Women’s ward, yes?”
Selby tried to slow her breathing and told herself she was being ridiculous. “Yes. Of course.”
You are going to be fine.
“I—I can’t climb the stairs.”
Erin smiled and pointed to an elevator. “All sick people use.”
A quarter of an hour later, Selby was settled into her own curtained space in the medical ward. Erin said that a doctor would come examine her, and she should rest.
Selby lay down on the firm cot and then curled on her right side—she couldn’t put pressure on her cracked left ribs. She stared blankly at the white linen curtain, wondering why she panicked.
Because Teigen makes me feel safe.
He promised to protect her and he was doing a fine and uncomplaining job of it. Maybe if she had trusted him enough and asked him to go wait for the explosion with her, she wouldn’t be in this situation now.
Or maybe he would have been beaten and arrested.
She must have dozed because the doctor’s greeting startled her. Selby sat up slowly, glad to see Helga Adie at the man’s side.
“I’m Doctor McKean and my Norse is getting better,” he began with a grin. “But I always have Lady Adie with me in case I get confused. You are Selby Sunde?”
“That’s my stage name. My real name is Selby Hovland.”
“Stage name?”
“I’m—well I was,”—she would think about that later—“lead actress in the Royal Shakespearean Acting Troupe. All of the troupe members are Milorg.”
“I see.” Dr. McKean swept a pointed finger from her head to her feet. “And how did this happen?”
“I was publicly beaten by a vengeful Nazi lieutenant.”
With Helga’s help, Selby told her story with enough detail that the doctor understood. With his stethoscope and gentle hands, he examined every injury she sustained until he was familiar with the extent of her damages.
“You are a lucky woman,” he said. “All we can do for you now is make you rest, take fluids, and eat as much as you’re able with your jaw so painful.”
Selby wanted to check Teigen’s claim. “How long will I be here?”
“Eight weeks.” Dr. McKean looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Not a day less, and maybe several more.”
“Where will you go then?” Helga asked.
That was an odd question. “Back to Norway, of course. Why do you ask?”
“Most of the people who make it this far are headed toward safety,” Helga replied. “Yet you plan to return to the occupation?”
Selby lifted her chin. “I’m a soldier. A Milorg lieutenant. I’m at war, and I don’t have a choice.”
December 24, 1943
During the last seven weeks of Selby’s convalescence, Teigen spent all available hours with her. He went to the second floor and either sat with her in the hall, or escorted her down to the first floor for a short walk.
On the few days that the weather on this small northern island cooperated he walked outside with her. With Selby bundled warmly in the fox fur and draped in a scarf, they explored shops together along the narrow streets or watched the activity on the pier from a distance.
Over time her bruises faded and her eyes looked like her eyes again; thick brown lashes surrounding the purest pale blue Teigen had ever seen. Her hair had grown an inch since the incident—which is how they both agreed to refer to the vicious beating—and now brushed her cheekbones in a way the shorter cut hadn’t.
Karolina didn’t think to pack any of Selby’s cosmetics in the rush to get her out of harm’s way, and even through Selby groused about that on a regular basis, Teigen told her repeatedly that she had never been more beautiful.
Three weeks ago Selby had stared intently at her reflection in the mirror Teigen eventually provided. “My nose isn’t straight.”
“It’s still swollen,” he countered.
Her gaze bounced from the mirror to him and back. “I don’t look the same.”
Teigen leaned over and looked closely. “I can see what you’re talking about.”
Selby looked stricken. “So I’m not imagining it?”
“I’m afraid not.”
She stared at the mirror again and tried pushing on her nose. When she winced, Teigen told her to stop.
“Leave it alone, Sel. If it heals with a little angle to it that only adds character to your face.”
“So I’m a character actress now?” She let the mirror fall to her lap.
“We should talk about that.” Teigen reached over and took the mirror from her grip. He set it on the table beside her bed, as far from her as he could.
Selby’s brows gathered above the offending feature. “About what?”
“Acting. And the troupe.” Teigen leaned back in his seat. “What are your thoughts?”
“I’m going back, of course,” she declared. “There’s no doubt about that.”
“As whom?” he prodded. “As Selby Sunde the blonde bombshell—even though everyone now knows that’s not what you look like?”
Selby stared at him, her expression sober. “You think I should return as mousey Selby Hovland with the crooked nose?”
Teigen laughed at that. “Good God, woman. You are the furthest thing from mousey!”
Selby made a pffft sound. “Don’t try to swell my ego.”
“I’m not!” Teigen continued to chuckle. “I’m serious, Sel. You possess a true and natural beauty.”
Selby crossed her arms and glared at him. “So what do you suggest?”
Teigen had actually given this matter quite a bit of thought.
“First of all, I suggest you return as Selby Sunde, because that name is known. You don’t want to lose that draw. Besides, you’re probably even more famous since the incident.”
Her expression didn’t change. “And?”
“And secondly, ditch the wigs and appear in public the way you look now.”
Selby’s hand moved to her hair. “And let my hair grow?”
Teigen shook his head. “No. Keep it short. It suits you.”
She looked skeptical. “Really?”
“Really.” Teigen leaned forward again. “Frame your eyes with some liner and mascara, and get a lipstick in a softer color than that red you always wore.”
He smiled. “You’ll look stunning.”
Selby started to giggle. “Is the big manly high school teacher giving the actress make-up tips?”
Still grinning, Teigen winked at her. “After spending a full year watching you all transform your looks with greasepaint, I might have picked up a thing or two.”
After that conversation, Selby seemed to relax—at least where her next move was concerned. The mirror was still at her bedside, but Teigen noticed it wasn’t moved nearly as often.
*****
It’s Christmas Eve.
Selby combed her hair with her fingers and considered Teigen’s words—as she did every time she looked at her reflection. Her critical examination of her features grew less condemning, and she decided he was right. The short haircut was flattering. And once she could buy make-up again, she’d try his suggestions.
Her nose was, well, her nose. She was stuck with it.
Throughout the whole ordeal Teigen had been her rock. Her honest and kind rock. Her uncomplaining rock. The rock that saved her life.
I wish I had a Christmas gift for him.
Maybe when they returned to Norway. Hopefully she’d get the doctor’s blessing and they could sail on New Year’s Day; but even if she didn’t, she decided it was time to go back.
Her ribs still ached when it was cold and damp, which was every winter’s day on this island, but they didn’t hurt when she breathed normally anymore. And her jaw only pained her if she tried to chew something hard.
Selby wondered how the troupe was faring. Dahl had sent a couple letters to assure her that she wasn’t implicated in the explosion and there was no backlash against the
m. Karolina was doing fine as lead actress, but she wasn’t as beloved by the audiences.
That made Selby feel good in an unflattering sort of way.
Mostly she felt like life was passing her by and she needed to re-board that train.
“That means you’re completely healed, in my book,” Teigen said when she told him.
He held her chair while she sat at a festively adorned table in the warehouse section of the erstwhile herring factory. James and Helga Adie had clearly put a lot of effort into making their temporary Norwegian refugees feel celebratory during their first Christmas in exile.
“I hope Doctor McKean agrees,” Selby muttered. “Even if he doesn’t, I’m leaving as soon as I can.”
“Don’t you mean we are leaving?”
Selby looked up at him, startled by his words. “Yes. We are leaving. Right?”
“Right.” Teigen gave her an odd look. “But you always talk as though it’s only you.”
Do I?
“I don’t mean it that way.”
Teigen flashed a crooked smile. “I’m glad to hear it. Because I’m going back with you.”
Selby stared at the candles in the center of the table. Though she wasn’t aware that she spoke in singular terms, the reason she did was obvious.
“I’ve been alone since I was fifteen,” she murmured. “And I’ll be thirty in March.” She lifted her eyes to Teigen’s. “That’s a long time to only have yourself to think about.”
“That’s true.”
It looked like Teigen was about to say something else but he was interrupted by other Norwegians joining their table.
After brief introductions, the conversation shifted to an exchange of war and occupation stories while their traditional Norwegian Christmas Eve dinner of salted and smoked lamb ribs was served. Every man and woman in this building had a reason to leave their beloved homeland behind, and some of them were truly horrific.
Many refugees had relatives in other countries, but just as many others did not. Those souls, forced into bravery, were headed toward America where they were determined to forge new lives.