by Sandra Hill
Before she went to sleep, she realized there was one thing she had to do first.
I have to call Ragnor and tell him our baby is gone.
Goodbye, baby …
“There’s a phone call for you.”
Ragnor sat up so abruptly in the bed that his head swam and his eyes blurred. But then, that was probably due to the excessive amount of mead he’d imbibed the night before.
He turned toward the doorway where his new stepmother, Angela, stood staring at him with amusement. There was a mean streak in some females that gave them enjoyment on seeing men suffer from the alehead.
“It’s Alison,” she said, handing a cordless tell-a-fone to him.
“Oh.” He took the tell-a-fone from her, meanwhile glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Noon! Holy Thor, he had never slept this late.
Angela gave him a little wave and closed the door after her.
“Alison, where are you? I should have gone with you. I realized that as soon as you left. Are you back in Coronado?” He was blathering, and he was not sure why. Perhaps he sensed something bad about to happen, but that was a ridiculous notion.
“I’m home. And, no, you shouldn’t have come with me, and I don’t want you blaming yourself, do you hear me?”
Ragnor’s skin prickled all over and not from the effects of his foolish overdrinking. Alison’s voice was soft, as if she’d been weeping. Something must have happened. Blame? For what? “What is it, dearling?”
“I lost the baby.”
“What baby?” His fuzzy brain appeared to have shut down.
“Our baby.”
“Where did you lose it?” He still wasn’t comprehending what she said.
“Oh, Ragnor, I had a miscarriage this morning.”
A low groan of agony emerged from his throat afore he had a chance to catch it. “I am so sorry.” And he was. Truly, until that moment, he had not realized how much he wanted the babe. And, dammit, it was his fault. He should have gone with her. He might have been able to prevent this from happening.
“Me, too.” She was definitely weeping now.
“Are you all right? Are you in a hospitium?”
“No. I’m home. And I’m all right physically. Mentally … emotionally … it will take me a few days to accustom myself to not being pregnant anymore.”
“I’ll come back right away.”
“No!” she said in a panic. “Don’t come back … not right away. Spend this time with your family. I’m thinking about going to visit my father for a few days.”
She was lying, Ragnor sensed. Her father had not known of the pregnancy. She wouldn’t want him to know now.
“I’m coming home,” he insisted.
She said nothing, probably because she was holding in her sobs.
“Wait for me, heartling. Please.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The Vikings are coming … and coming … and coming …
Alison was awakened late that afternoon by a loud knocking on her door. She’d taken a sleeping pill after talking with Ragnor and probably hadn’t heard the initial knocks.
Groggily she made her way to the door, peeked out through the peephole, then groaned. “Ragnor! I told you not to come,” she said, even as she opened the door and he stormed in, taking her immediately into his arms.
She’d told him that she didn’t need him here, that she was all right, but she realized now as he held her tight against him, making soothing noises against her hair, that she did in fact need him. She broke down, sobbing against his neck, wetting his T-shirt.
“I am sorry, dearling. I should have been here with you. But I will make it better now.”
“Ragnor, you can’t bring this baby back.”
“I know I cannot bring the babe back, but we will make it through this ordeal together. And we will make other babes, that I promise you.”
“You don’t want children,” she blubbered out between sobs.
“Yea, I do. With you, leastways. But mayhap you will not want children with me now that you have a chance to join those Liberty Teams.”
“I can’t think about any of that now.”
“I know, I know.” He sat down in the rocking chair and arranged her on his lap, rocking gently. “Like a small, wounded animal you are. My heart nigh breaks for you … for us, actually.”
“Where do you want this stuff?” It was his brother Torolf speaking from the open doorway. He’d carried up two pieces of luggage and a white ice-cooler chest. To Alison, he winked and said, “Nice negligee, sweetheart.”
“Huh?” She wore a floral-printed flannel nightgown that covered her from neck to wrists to ankles. “Drop dead,” she told Torolf, seeming to recall that it wasn’t the first time she’d said that to him.
“I think she likes me,” Torolf told Ragnor. “Best you watch your back, brother. She might be making a move on me.”
“When aliens land in Coronado.”
“One of them already did.” Torolf looked pointedly at Ragnor.
Oh, yeah, Ragnor is a regular Mork. What does that make me? Mindy? Yikes, I must be going into shock. “Were you two always like this together?” Alison asked.
“Always,” they both said, grinning at each other.
Meanwhile, Torolf made himself at home, carrying the ice chest into the kitchen, where she heard the refrigerator door open.
“They insisted on coming with me on the airplane,” Ragnor told her in an apologetic tone.
“They?” she practically squealed.
His face turned red with embarrassment. “Really, twenty-seven years old and my family can still reduce me to a bumbling youthling, unable to say them nay.”
“Don’t feel bad. My father and brothers do the same to me. So, who exactly came with you?”
“My father, Angela, Torolf, and Kirsten. My uncles Rolf and Jorund and their families stayed behind to tend the younger children. Otherwise they would have come, too.”
“Good Lord!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“What’s in the ice chest?”
“Angela contends that pasta is the comfort food you need to recover. She brought all the ingredients with her, along with a few leftovers from the feast. A few? Hah! We could feed an army.”
“And your father? And Kirsten?”
“Kirsten drove to her office in Lost-Angel-Less, but she will come here tonight. My father is down in the front yard giving Lillian advice on soil and plantings. Last I heard, they were discussing the merits of cow shit over goat shit.”
“You do have a way with words. Where are they all staying?”
He ducked his head sheepishly.
“Here?” She tried not to sound too alarmed.
“Angela said a woman needs family around her at a time like this.”
She smiled at him, wiping her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her nightgown, which was god-awful ugly, as Torolf had implied. “I told you not to come, you big lout.”
“I did not heed you, lout that I am.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Coming.”
He laughed. “What a contrary wench you are!”
Just then, another visitor arrived. “Who the hell are all these people?”
“ ’Tis your brother,” he informed her, as if she didn’t already know. “No one else bellows like he does.”
Of course, Alison started wailing again, and soon she was in Ian’s arms, telling him about the lost baby. She could tell that Ian was conflicted over whether to be angry over the pregnancy or sympathetic over the loss. The latter won out. He kept patting her back as he held her, saying things like, “Shhhh, Allie. There will be other babies. Shhh.”
After that, Ian kept glancing from Ragnor to Torolf with confusion. Uh-oh! This could mean bigtime trouble with the U.S. Navy. We need to come up with a game plan before we divulge the deception that took place right under his nose. Luckily, the two brothers had had the foresight to shave their heads
before leaving Blue Dragon. Since Torolf’s hair had been growing out during his absence, it would have been clear that he was blond. “Which of you is which?” Ian’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“I’m Torolf,” they both said at the same time.
Which caused Ian’s eyes to narrow even more.
Then Torolf said, with a straight face yet, “I’m the one who graduated into teams. This is my brother Ragnor. He’s thinking about joining the next SEAL class.”
“I am?” Ragnor said.
“Good thing I won’t be there,” Ian said. “I’m not sure I could take another Magnusson goofball.”
Alison felt as if she were in the middle of an old Laurel and Hardy skit. But at least the brothers’ antics kept her mind off her loss.
But that wasn’t the end of the farce that had become her life. Alison had forgotten to tell Ian not to tell anyone about the miscarriage, so, once returning to his home, he called their father.
By nightfall, her father arrived, too, with Ian in tow. Laurel and Hardy meet Abbott and Costello. Unbelievable! Looking as if he were in shock, her father, in full uniform, came immediately into her bedroom where she was resting, and sat down on the side of the bed. “Ahhh, Pooh Bear!” was all he said. And she, of course, started wailing some more. This strong military man, who had probably fought dozens of battles with a stony face, wept unabashedly with his only daughter.
Later, everyone—his family, her family, Lillian and Dr. Feingold—sat outside eating platefuls of pasta with marinara sauce, which Ragnor described to her as “white-wormlike food covered with a red-bloodlike sauce,” warm Italian bread, and salads which Ragnor described as platefuls of weeds with raspberry vinaigrette dressing, sipping at the fine wines his father had brought along.
To her surprise, Ragnor’s family mixed exceedingly well with her father and Ian, despite their vast differences. Who knew that her father had an interest in ancient methods of warfare? Ragnor, who supposedly had been a famous warrior at one time, talked at length on the subject, which kept her father enthralled. Ian still studied Ragnor and Torolf suspiciously.
The evening progressed, and now Ragnor was in Alison’s bedroom, where she had been ordered to rest by one of the Navy’s top physicians, whom the admiral had insisted come to the house for a second evaluation. She’d eaten a small amount of food and was leaning back on the pillows. Ragnor half reclined next to her on his own set of pillows.
“Do all these people bother you?” he asked, twining his fingers with hers. “If so, I will order them to leave.”
“No, it was sweet of them to come. And, actually, it was the best thing for me today. I needed to get my mind off the … baby.” Her voice cracked on that last word.
He squeezed her hand.
“Everyone keeps saying that bad things happen for a reason, even though we don’t understand it at the time. I can’t see any reason for this,” she said.
“Well, you never would have wished for it to happen, but it does give you more options for the future. Like the Liberty Teams.”
She nodded. “You, too. I know that you felt compelled to ask for an assignment close to Coronado because of the baby. Now you can go wherever you want. Even back to your own time.”
“So, you believe in time-travel now?” He chuckled.
“No, I can’t say that I do. I try not to think about it at all. I choose to think you and your family are all just a little bit eccentric.”
He laughed. “Time-traveler. Eccentric. Same thing. But tell me this, sweetling, would you not miss me if I returned to my time?”
She pulled her fingers from his grasp and rolled over on her side to face him. Caressing his face with her fingertips, as if to memorize him, she said, “I would miss you desperately.”
“Good,” he said, “because I am going nowhere.”
“For now,” she emphasized.
“For now,” he agreed.
It was not the answer they both needed, but it would give them time to unravel the tangles of their separate lives. She hoped.
Taking a break …
Ragnor had been at Blue Dragon for the past three weeks. Alone. Well, as alone as any man could be when surrounded by the most bothersome, meddlesome family in the world.
“Why don’t you just go back to her if you’re so miserable,” Torolf asked him.
“Because Alison and I agreed to spend one month apart so that any decisions we make about the future will be based on logic and not emotion.”
“And whose half-brain idea was that?”
Ragnor blushed. “Hers. But I agreed. I fear that Alison will limit her career choices because she feels obligated to me. In essence, I am giving her a choice.”
“You are pathetic!”
That pretty much summed up his own thinking, as well.
At times, Ragnor was miserable, but mostly he was excited about embarking on a new life here in Ah-mare-ee-ca. His father had arranged for his false birthing papers. Ragnor had taken driving lessons and now possessed a paper that said he was entitled to drive a moving vehicle. It turned out his arm rings were worth a fortune, so he sold one and used only a small portion of the funds to purchase himself a new Jeep Cherokee. Torolf had tried to talk him into a Corvette, which he called a single guy’s badass toy, but Ragnor had told him he didn’t feel single.
To which Torolf had repeated, “You are pathetic.”
His father had hired him a tutor, and between the tutor and the computer he was still mastering, Ragnor was learning so much, he could hardly keep up with his spinning mind. In fact, Ragnor had become enthralled with computers—not just what they could do, but how they worked, and their potential for the future. The two computers he’d bought—a PC and a laptop—along with scanners, printers, and various related devices, had cost him as much as a longship in the old days. He wasn’t certain yet, but he felt drawn toward a career that would combine his military background, all that he had learned in BUD/S, and computers.
On the other hand, if it would help him in his pursuit and holding of Alison, mayhap the combination could be computers and medicine.
Then, too, he had to decide whether he wanted to be a SEAL, like Torolf. If so, he would have to do the whole torturous program all over again, starting in about five months, assuming he was accepted.
Last week, Torolf and Cage had gone off with their new team to Louisiana, where a special military training camp to counter terrorism had been set up in the swamplands. Ragnor and his father planned to fly down there tomorrow on a two-day trip to observe the goings-on. Perchance Ragnor would be closer to a decision by the time he returned, when his one month would be up.
In this mish-mash that had become his life, there was only one certainty, and that was Alison. She was his lodestone.
But that lodestone shattered for him two days later when Torolf told him something alarming. The entrance requirements for the new Liberty Teams had just been announced. One of them was that members must be unmarried and willing to sign a promise not to wed for at least two years.
After much agonizing over this new information, Ragnor knew what he must do. He must give up Alison. He would sacrifice his dream of a lifetime with her, in order for her to fulfill her own dreams. It would be his gift to her. But she must never know.
It was the only way.
Breaking up is hard to do …
Alison fidgeted nervously, waiting for Ragnor to arrive.
It had been one month since they’d seen each other … one month too long. She had been the one to suggest a separation, but she’d also been the one to regret it the moment he was gone.
He’d called last night to say he was driving to Coronado today and would be here by late afternoon. His voice had sounded rather cool on the phone, but then he was probably still uncomfortable with modern telephones.
She’d changed her clothes three times and finally settled on a short jeans skirt, tank top, and sandals. She added a spritz of Dream cologne, some mousse to fluff out her h
air, and a light covering of makeup. Just then, looking out her window, she saw a Jeep pull into the driveway. Forgetting pride, she ran out the door, down the steps, and into his arms.
At first, Ragnor seemed startled by her effusive welcome, but then he hugged her back, hard.
She kissed his face and neck and ears and mouth so enthusiastically that Ragnor finally pulled away, laughing. “What is this all about?”
“You stayed away too long.”
“You ordered me to stay away this long.”
“Did you have to listen to me?”
He laughed some more and began to walk her toward the house, his arm over her shoulder. A tiny prickling of apprehension swept over her. Ragnor wasn’t being cold, but he wasn’t being hot either, and that was unlike him.
She knew for sure that something was wrong when he didn’t immediately take her into the bedroom to make love. That was what she’d expected. It was what she wanted.
“What’s up, Ragnor?” She stiffened her body with pride and put some distance between them in her living room. “I thought we’d be going at it like Energizer bunnies by now.”
“We need to talk.” His eyes shifted, looking everywhere except at her.
The fact that he hadn’t said, “We need to talk first was a glaring omission to her. “So talk,” she said icily.
“Have you been offered a place on the Liberty Teams?”
Huh? That was not the question she had expected from him. Do you love me? Will you marry me? Can we make another baby? Those had been her expectations, foolish girl that she was.
“Yes.”
“Have you accepted?”
“I haven’t given them an official answer yet.”
His shoulders sagged, and he let out an exhale of … what? Disappointment?
“I think you should accept,” he told her then.
She cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out what was going on. “Why?”
“It’s what you’ve always dreamed of. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. To be on the first of the Liberty Teams … well, you will be making history.”
