by Emily Childs
I don’t know when I fall asleep, but something stirs me. I have the remote in my hand and the T.V. is on.
“Brit.”
Jonas is shaking me, one headphone is out, but his laptop is open. I blink through the fog and sit up.
“Your phone is going crazy.”
I roll over the arm of the couch to the small end table where my phone is bright, but then goes dark again with a missed call. Glancing at the clock, I squint and realize it is just after one in the morning. But when I look at my screen, I’m wide awake.
I’ve missed fifteen calls.
Some from Inez, some from Dad, two from Oscar. Frantically, I fumble to return Inez’s call—when your family calls that many times it usually isn’t good news. Jonas watches me cautiously.
I think of Farfar, my heart cramps and my fingers go numb as I wait for my aunt to pick up.
“Brita,” she answers, but her voice croaks.
“Inez, what’s wrong? What is it? Is it Farfar?”
“No . . . it’s Agnes.” She starts to cry.
My entire body goes numb now. I pounce to my feet, the blanket slides off and curls around my fluffy socks. Jonas is on his feet too.
“What happened?” My hands tremble.
“She’s in the hospital with a bad case of pneumonia, Brit. They have her on oxygen, but she’s . . . having a hard time. Sweetie, we just wanted you to know.”
“I’m coming, right now. I’ll be there soon.”
“Brita . . .”
I don’t wait to listen to Inez protest. I hang up and rush to grab my shoes in my room. Jonas hasn’t said a word, but when I return he has his car keys in hand, is slipping his jacket on, and has me wrapped in his arms in another breath.
I bite against tears, as he presses a kiss to the side of my head. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Agnes.” I hiccup.
At that, he threads his fingers with mine and pulls me to the door. “Come on.”
“Jonas,” I say, ready to protest him driving me all the way home, but when he shoots me a sharp look, I go quiet.
Leaning against the cold window of his car, silent tears plop down my cheeks. Agnes has been sick before, but never to the point Aunt Inez broke down, or admitted her to the hospital. This time is different. I try not to go there, but occasionally those thoughts—you know, the what ifs—bombard my mind and the tears come.
I draw in a rattling breath when I feel Jonas’s hand dig through my folded arms. He links our fingers and glances over at me, his eyes pouring into my very soul. “She’s going to be okay,” he whispers.
I hold tight to his hand, and close my eyes. I draw comfort from his touch. We don’t say much, I don’t trust my voice anyway. Soon enough we again pull back into town. The hospital isn’t busy when Jonas pulls up in the drop-off lane, but a few nurses and staff shuffle in and out on various shifts. Clearing my throat, I turn to him and gather my bag.
“Want me to go with you?”
I trap his face between my palms and give him a swift, wet kiss, but shake my head. “No, I’d better go alone for now.”
“You’ll call me as soon as you know how she is, right?”
I hug him tightly. I love him for caring, not just about me, but my family. Even their hatred for his name doesn’t stop him from caring. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
He waits until I disappear through the only open entrance. Inside, the night nurse directs me to the second floor, and I find Aunt Inez and Karl inside Agnes’s room. I cover my mouth when I see my little cousin sleeping in the bed. She has an oxygen mask over her mouth, her skin pale has a bluish tint, and monitors, beeps, and sounds wail around her.
“Brita,” Inez breathes out. Her eyes are puffy and red as she crosses the room. I hug her tightly, her shoulders shake a bit, before she takes my hand and leads me across the room.
“She’s sleeping now. Her oxygen isn’t quite where they want it to be,” Inez explains, pointing to one of the monitors. “But her cough has died down a bit. They think if she keeps improving she can come home in two days. They just . . . want to monitor her.”
Karl holds Agnes’s little hand and nods whenever Inez explains something. I squeeze my aunt’s shoulders. “She’s going to be okay,” I whisper the same words Jonas just said to me. With a smile, I lean in a little closer. “What would Farfar say?”
Inez breaks into a tearful smile and chuckles. She nods and rests her head on my shoulder. “We’re Vikings.”
Chapter 25
When we are satisfied Agnes is sleeping soundly, I drive home with Karl and Inez. The nurse is insistent, in the kindest way, that the parents get some rest, assuring all of us she will be well looked after. Inez’s shoulders slump over. I know my aunt is drained as she kisses Agnes’s forehead and we quietly creep out of the hospital room.
My dad sits in the kitchen early Saturday morning when I pound down the steps ready to go back and visit Agnes.
“I’m taking the morning shift,” I tell him.
Dad nods, rubbing his face. “That’ll give Inez and Karl a chance to sleep. Oscar is already there. Want my car?”
I shake my head, and hurry to the front door. “I’ve got a ride.” The text message waiting for me on my phone this morning solved all my transportation troubles.
Jonas: Hey, I have something for Agnes. Can we go to the hospital tomorrow?
I take a deep breath and rush outside before my dad can press me. We’re doing this, we said we needed to do this. But now that we’re here, the thought of tearing away the forbidden curtain on Jonas keeps making my fingertips go numb.
Outside, Jonas pulls up to the bench on the sidewalk. He greets me with a quick kiss, and takes my hand.
“Is she any better this morning?”
I shrug. “She’s struggling with keeping her throat clear.”
The drive is somber. When we pull up at the hospital, I stare at the doors. I hate that Agnes is here, alone and afraid, but when Jonas takes my hand, I feel like I can breathe again.
“Ready?”
I nod, but I’m not sure I am. To some walking into a building with your boyfriend is not anything to gawk at, but for us, with the chance of being seen this is a defining moment.
Though spring is blooming, the air feels crisp and damp with the last remnants of winter. I embrace the overheated elevator until my fingers have feeling again. Jonas leads the way down the hallway, only speaking when he complains the nurse in charge of buzzing visitors into the wing takes too long to open the doors.
“There’s Oscar,” I whisper. I see the back of my cousin’s head. He’s on the phone, probably updating his parents.
If Jonas is unsettled, he doesn’t let on. He flashes me a quicksilver grin. “We’re doing this, right?”
I don’t even check to see if Oscar has turned around before I kiss Jonas, slow and sweet. I smile against his mouth and nod. “We’re doing this.”
Agnes is awake in the room, eyes wide and the oxygen mask from last night is gone, replaced by a nose canula. A nurse checks her vitals, while a lady on the respiratory team creeps around her bed holding a strange looking device that reminds me of the suction tube used at dental visits to suck out moisture. Agnes keeps eyeing the woman with a definite fear of the machine.
“Aggie,” I say.
She whips her head around and smiles as best she can. She tilts her head and studies Jonas. I lace my fingers with his. “This is Jonas, he lives across the street.”
“I know,” she says, her voice a rocky rasp. “The bad bakers.”
Heat fills my cheeks, but he chuckles and takes one of the chairs reserved for visitors, I sit next to him. “Well, maybe you won’t think I’m so bad in a second.” Jonas reaches into the giftbag and pulls out a floppy-eared pink bunny.
My heart swells, and I can’t hide my smile, neither can Agnes. She reaches greedily for the stuffed animal, running her fingers over the soft ears.
“I like pink.”
She giggles, but starts coughing each time, bringing the nurse and her suction contraption closer. “We need to clear her out,” the respiratory therapist tells me.
The trouble is, whenever Agnes catches sight of the machine, she winces and clamps her mouth tightly.
I am about to tell her she needs to comply, but Jonas leans forward, tickling her face with the bunny’s ears. “It’s kind of scary, huh.”
“I don’t want her to do it,” Agnes admits in a small voice.
Jonas flops the ears on the rabbit up and down. “Can I tell you a story?”
Agnes nods, coughing more mucous and secretions into her mouth. She needs to swallow desperately, but can’t, or maybe won’t.
“I have an older brother.”
Agnes’s eyes widen, her words hard to understand through the muck in her mouth. “You have an older brother too?”
“Yep, but only by three minutes. Don’t let him fool you—he’s not even bigger than me.”
Both Agnes and I smile.
“Anyway, we had bunk beds when we were kids. And one day, my brother convinced me I could fly. Can you guess what happened? I fell flat on my face and broke my arm. The doctor had to move my arm around a lot, and it hurt. I was so scared, but my dad brought me a little stuffed dog, kind of like this bunny. The dog got a cast just like I did, and I felt like if the dog could do it, I could too.”
Agnes glances at the rabbit he’s bouncing along her arm, then back at the nurse. Her little cheeks are so full of saliva they puff a bit. Every time she coughs a little spills over her lips and it sounds like it is getting harder for her to draw air back in.
“Do you want your bunny to go first?” he asks.
Agnes nods, and Jonas looks to the therapist who smiles. She sticks the tube next to the bunny’s face, never really touches it, but behaves as if the stuffing of the toy is being suctioned and cleaned.
“See, I don’t know about you, but I think the bunny feels a lot better. And I think you’ll feel better if you let your nice nurse clean out some of the icky stuff inside.”
“Will you stay here?” she asks us both.
I brush her sweaty hair off her forehead, and kiss her gently. Agnes coughs, a terrible cough, during the cleaning. Then whimpers as the woman works. Jonas gives my cousin a thumbs up. She squeezes her eyes tight; her little hands grip the folds of her blanket until the procedure is over.
“You did awesome,” the nurse praises.
“Very brave,” says the therapist and begins gathering her supplies.
“See, you’re like Wonder Woman,” Jonas adds.
“Thanks for the bunny,” Agnes sounds clearer. “You’re not so bad.”
Jonas laughs. “You’re not so bad either.”
Agnes focuses on her new toy, hopping the small rabbit along the side of her bed. I tug on Jonas’s arm, drawing him to me, stopping when our lips are near enough to touch. “Have I told you that I think you’re wonderful?”
He laughs softly and kisses me until a throat clears behind us.
Standing in the center is Oscar, a sly, knowing grin on his face, but my stomach sinks when I see Inez behind him and Farfar.
Jonas stands, and I wish I could say I felt better realizing he’s nervous, but I feel more like I might throw up.
“Uh, hi,” I say, dumbly. We drift to the door since I’m unwilling to let Agnes see what is about to happen.
Jonas slides his fingers into mine, his searching gaze finds me, and it takes all my self-control not to dart down the hall and run away for good. My aunt has tears in her eyes, I’m sure she’s heartbroken that I’d do this, bring an enemy to her daughter’s bedside. I’m ready for her to lose control, but like the cunning guy he is, Oscar taps his mother’s shoulder.
“Hey, Ag wants to show you her rabbit that Brit and Jonas gave her.”
I could hug the life out of my cousin, how he strategically added Jonas’s name. Inez’s demeanor shifts. She lifts her glassy eyes to me, there is betrayal there, and something urges me to take a step in front of Jonas. A strange sort of protective instinct overwhelms the need to please my family, and I rather like this new boldness. I love Jonas, and frankly in this moment, I dare someone here to try and tear him down. I feel ready to pounce.
Inez’s mouth is tight, but she pastes a smile on her face before striding into Agnes’s room. Oscar winks at me and claps Jonas on the shoulder before he follows.
Then we are alone. With Farfar.
His eyes grow darker, his mouth is pressed so tightly I hardly see his lips. Leaning heavily on a cane, knuckles white, he steps up to me, as though he’s challenging me.
“You?” he begins, voice a rocky rasp. “Out of anyone, I never thought it would be you who would . . . betray us this way.”
“Farfar, stop,” I say, my voice trembles, and Jonas squeezes my hand, reassuring me that he’s there. “You’re not going to mistreat him, and we’re not going to argue. Not here, not in front of Aggie.”
I’ve won the miniscule battle; I see it in my grandfather’s eyes when he peers into her room. Agnes is a light in this world, and none of us, not even when we’re deliriously angry, would want to dim some of that light for her.
He returns his glare to me, makes a sort of grunt, then staggers angrily in the room.
I slump when he’s gone, grateful Jonas is there to pull me tightly against him. He cups a palm to the side of my face. “I’m in this.”
I adjust, so I can wrap my arms around his waist. “Me too. Even if it’s just us in the end.”
I feel his arms hold me a little tighter. It’s true; I’ll choose Jonas, but I think inside we both don’t want to turn our backs on our families.
I simply have no idea how the Jacobsons and Olsens will ever find common ground.
***
After we get back, Jonas and I sit in his car in front of my house for a long time. His thumb draws circles over the top of my hand; I watch people stroll the sidewalks.
“I think I should go talk to my parents,” Jonas finally says.
I want to be the girl who offers to go with him, but truly I’m terrified. I’ve never spoken to Sig and Elias personally. I open my mouth to say I’ll go with him, but he interrupts.
“It’ll probably be better if I do it alone first.”
I nod, admittedly relieved. “This is crazy,” I say. “I mean, how nervous we are.” I try to laugh but it comes out in more a strangled hiccup.
“A little,” he says softly. “But I’m so tired of hiding this, Brit. I almost don’t care what happens as long as it’s out.”
Smiling, I urge him to face me. Those diverting blue eyes buoy me against what I feel is coming. “Whatever they say, whatever they do, you’ve got me in your corner.”
He kisses me with meaning. When we break away, he closes his eyes. “I love you. Don’t let your family burn the house down before I get the chance to buy those cookies myself.”
I laugh, but it’s only funny because who knows what might happen today. “I’ll do my best.”
Jonas waits for me to disappear into my house. I hurry to my room, grateful the house sounds empty, but as luck would have it, a knock comes not long after.
“Brit.”
I blow out a breath, and open the door to my dad. “Hi.”
“So,” he says, wiggling his cell phone in front of my face. “Oscar sent me a funny text, warning me the world might implode. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Tears swell over my lashes, embarrassing to cry over such a joyful thing as I found a man who treats me like a queen. Doesn’t make sense, but the tears come anyway. My dad lifts a brow and shoves into my room.
“Brita, what is it?” he asks, more deliberately.
“Sit down,” I whisper, and he does.
We stare at each other for long moment before I take a breath, and let it all out. And I mean everything. Starting with dating Axel (skimm
ing a few of the steamier kissing nights in his car), moving on to getting to know Jonas during the Christmas Break, becoming friends back at school, and finally to the night I realized I’d fallen for Jonas Olsen, not his brother.
Dad doesn’t interrupt, he simply listens. When I wipe my eyes and slump onto my bed, he leans over his knees, staring at his hands. “I’m trying to think of the right way to say what I’m thinking.”
“I love Jonas, Dad,” I say. “I’m sorry if that—”
“Don’t apologize,” he says sharply. “Not to me.”
I’m not sure I remember a time when my father stared at me with such ferocity enough to shut me up, but he is now and it’s fascinating.
“Brita, you don’t need to apologize to me because you’ve found a solid guy who treats you well. What else, as your dad, do you think I want for your relationships?”
“Farfar told me I betrayed the family.”
Dad rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. “Listen, kid. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. Some relationships get hard and I made the mistake of giving up when things got hard. You know that Viggo and your grandpa are locked in this hatred for each other. You know they’re not going to be rational, but that means you know what to expect. I wish, I’d done something about the fighting when I was growing up, but we all just played into it. Until you, until Jonas. Now, if you really care about him like you say, then you need to decide if you’re going to give up like me. Because there are going to be voices that will try to pull you apart.”
“You’re vaguely talking about Mom, aren’t you?”
He chuckles. “We didn’t face what you guys are, but I lost sight of what was important. My priorities were misplaced, and when it got hard, I just gave in and didn’t fight. Don’t get me wrong, your mom is happy, and I’m happy. We care about each other still, and we have you. But I have regrets. That’s all I’m saying. The kind of regrets I never want you to live with.”
I hug my knees, glancing out my window as though Jonas will be there. “I know this will infuriate everyone—”
Dad clears his throat.
I smile. “Sorry, almost everyone. But I’m not going to lie anymore, and I’m not going to deny him.”
