Finding Sovereignty: Book 2: Reidar & Kirsten (The Hansen Series - Martin & Dagny and Reidar & Kirsten)

by Kris Tualla

  The voices dissolved into wisps and the meager display ended.

  Reid rolled on his side.

  He wondered why Kirsten was opposed to marriage. Perhaps because the prospects were slim, considering that the able men in this country had been at war with England for so many years. America’s population was a slapdash conglomeration of immigrants from Europe. Did her parents hope for her to marry a Dane or a Norseman? That might be the real reason she was sent overseas, not to escape the officially declared war.

  There are damn few of us here to choose from, he mused.

  Kirsten was obviously a willful woman. Reid didn’t know her age, but judging by her speech he now thought she was probably in her twenties. He assumed she was reasonably attractive, but until the bandages were removed he couldn’t know for certain.

  He prayed that when the bandages were removed that he would be able to know. The prospect of being blind worried him mightily; he had no idea how he would manage if that proved to be his fate. At this point, he planned to rejoin an army regiment and continue his career, but a sightless soldier was a useless soldier.

  This was a path of consideration that was certain to take him nowhere good. Reid heaved a deep sigh, turned to his other side, and tried to bore himself to sleep.

  *****

  Kirsten opened her bedroom door slowly. She left her chamber and snuck past her parents’ room, assured by her father’s sonorous rumbles and her mother’s soft counterpoint that they both slept soundly. She descended the carpeted staircase in the dark, her way lit only by thin slices of moonlight through the windows.

  This wasn’t a challenge. Kirsten was born in this huge house and could find her way flawlessly with her eyes closed. She tried that sometimes to amuse herself.

  Single children did not have ready playmates.

  She knew where she was heading, but hadn’t actually acknowledged her destination. She felt a bit like a moth flying toward a flame. The dangers lurking in the firelight compelled her to approach nonetheless.

  This evening when she heard him call out for George, she hurried to the parlor afraid that something had happened. She wasn’t prepared for his transformation. Clean and shaved, his full lips proved soft and expressive. A strong jaw dominated the bottom half of his face. His hair was still plaited, though it was coming loose. Her father’s shirt was a bit too small and the fabric hugged his chest. The snug breeches rode low on his hips and were nearly indecent.

  Kirsten’s heart thumped very disconcertingly at the sight. And at its recollection.

  Enough.

  When she reached the open parlor door, she stopped and listened. Reid’s breathing was steady. In the dim light she could see that he was lying on his back, and wondered why he didn’t snore.

  “Kirsten?” he whispered.

  The soft sibilant sound sent lightning through her frame. For a moment she thought to flee. Or remain still and silent until he fell asleep. But if she did either, she had to wonder why she came to his door in the first place.

  “Did I wake you?” she whispered back, knowing that she had not.

  “No, I can’t sleep.” He sat up and swung his feet to the floor, his right leg held straighter than his left. “I’m glad for the company.”

  Kirsten stepped closer. She had no slippers on and wore only her nightgown. Her hair was loose, hanging freely over her shoulders. If anyone in the household caught her in this man’s presence in such a state of dishabille, the scandal would ruin her.

  Well that’s a thought.

  But Reid’s eyes were bandaged. He couldn’t see her lacy cotton gown, her carelessly wanton hair, or her bare feet. As far as he knew, she was wrapped up like a sausage.

  “Did you hear me, or smell me?” she asked, taking her seat beside his cot.

  He huffed a quiet chuckle. “Both. I hoped I wasn’t imagining it.”

  “What’s keeping you awake?” she asked, intentionally directing the conversation away from her own restless state. “Are you in much pain?”

  Reid faced her. The thick white bandage over his eyes made him eerily odd-looking in the darkened room. “The pain is there, yes. But it seems that I have been sleeping quite a lot of late. I cannot convince my mind or my body to continue at this point.”

  “I’d offer you a book,” Kirsten teased. “But then I’d have to stay up and read it to you.”

  Reid smiled at her jest. “The clock struck twice not long ago. What has destroyed your slumber?”

  What indeed. “I behaved badly this evening. My situation weighs on me,” she confessed.

  “What situation is that?” he asked gently.

  Kirsten hummed a sad sigh. “My parents want me to marry, and they keep parading me in front of men they find suitable.”

  Reid spread his hands. “That’s not an unusual practice. Why does it distress you so?”

  “Let me ask you a question,” she deflected. “Why is it so important for a woman to marry?”

  Reid tilted his head. “So she’s taken care of, I suppose.”

  “Then it’s a financial arrangement,” she observed.

  “Most often,” he conceded. “Marriage hopes for an heir to assure the passage of wealth, lands and titles. In exchange, the woman’s needs are seen to for her lifetime.”

  “Under perfect circumstances,” Kirsten amended.

  His shoulders lifted and fell. “Yes, under perfect circumstances.”

  She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “You can’t see this yet,” she began.

  Reid’s chin lifted when she said yet, as if to recoil from the opposite possibility. Kirsten caught her breath, then continued.

  “This house is enormous. My parents are very wealthy.” For a beat she wondered if she was revealing too much. And yet her point could not be made unless she finished. “And I am an only child.”

  “Ah. I see,” Reid murmured.

  “I will never need to worry about money for the rest of my life.”

  That statement was most definitely too revealing. Kirsten leaned back away from him, as if by doing so she could pull back the words. Something about talking to this stranger, who couldn’t see her, made her feel safer than she probably should.

  She was sitting here nearly naked, after all. That wasn’t wise.

  Reid was quiet. Kirsten girded herself for his next words, expecting the man’s response to be in some way either cajoling or chastising.

  “Tell me about Norway.”

  For a moment she didn’t understand his request. “What?”

  “I heard you say you were sent to Denmark and Norway in 1776,” he said. “I’ve never been there. What’s it like?”

  Kirsten’s mind scrambled past the responses she expected from him; through the pain where his question dragged her; and toward a carefully crafted answer.

  “You heard me?” she stalled.

  His lips twisted in contrition. “I could hear the dinner conversation from here.”

  Kirsten gasped at the newest split in their conversation. Her cheeks were set afire. “Oh! I’m so embarrassed!”

  Reid put up a hand as if to stop her. “Don’t be. I haven’t laughed that hard in—well—I cannot recall how long.”

  She was tossed off-balance yet again. She had never met a man so completely confounding. “My rude behavior made you laugh. I don’t know how to respond to that.”

  Reid began to snigger. “Every time you called him a different name, I laughed harder. That’s why I called for George. I was afraid I might wet myself.”

  Judging by the sudden twist of Reid’s head, he had just divulged more than he intended. “Forgive me, Kirsten. That was quite crass.”

  She gave him a smile he couldn’t see and laid her hand over his. “Whether for good or bad, it would seem we bring out the honesty in each other.”

  “It’s because we cannot look each other in the eye, I think,” he theorized. “To me you are only a spice-scented apparition with a warm touch and delightful voice. It’
s easy to be bluntly honest under those circumstances.”

  That was another shocking consideration. “You don’t know what I look like…”

  He sobered. “I do not. I can’t even judge your age.”

  “I’m twenty-six,” she stated before she had time to think better of it.

  “And I’m thirty-one,” he replied. “I have been at war since just before I turned twenty-three.”

  “Were you educated?” she asked, suddenly curious to know more about the man.

  “Harvard. I studied engineering and architecture like my father. He went to Oxford.”

  Another surprise. “In England?”

  Reid’s chin lifted again. “Is there another one?”

  “No, I—I don’t believe so,” she stammered, feeling another blush blooming and glad he couldn’t see it.

  “That was before he came to America. He came here to build things,” Reid explained. “As for myself, King George’s repeated abuses in Massachusetts redirected my path.”

  “What will you do after the war is over?” she asked softly.

  “If I’m not blind?” he qualified in a sardonic tone.

  She shook her head, another useless response like the smile. “You won’t be. The doctor was quite confident.”

  Reid heaved a sigh which Kirsten recognized as resolve. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Some days I feel like we’ll be fighting forever.”

  For some reason she ached to raise his hopes. “Might you work with your father?” she suggested.

  He shook his head, a useful response in her case. “I think I’ll leave that to one of my brothers. I’ve lost interest.”

  “How many brothers do you have?” she probed.

  “Three. And three sisters. All younger than me,” he answered with a grin. “My father made good use of his training—he was always expanding the house.”

  Understanding dawned as bright as a summer day. “Did any of you make it to Norway?”

  “No. My mother said she offered to take me when I refused to be born, but six more children and the war changed that.”

  Kirsten slapped her forehead at his continuing stream of odd statements. “You refused to be born? What does that mean?”

  Reid laughed. “Apparently she was trying to push me out, but until she promised to teach me Norse, and perhaps take me to Norway, I wouldn’t budge.”

  Kirsten was fascinated. “And when she did?”

  “I practically jumped out, or so she claims. Som du vet, holdt hun en av sine løfter!” As you know, she kept one of her promises!

  “Reid Hansen, you are certainly one of the most unexpected men I have ever met,” she declared. “I cannot imagine what you will say next.”

  “Tell me about Norway,” he repeated. “I really want to know.”

  CHAPTER TFOUR

  He heard the creak of her chair as Kirsten shifted in her seat. “It’s beautiful. Spectacular. Unlike anyplace I have seen on this continent,” she responded after a pause.

  Reid marked her hesitation and wondered what she wasn’t saying. “Describe it so I can see it,” he prompted.

  “Well… First of all, the coastline is very jagged with outcroppings of rocks and inlets everywhere,” she said slowly.

  “Those are the fjords?” he asked.

  “Oh no, the fjords are wide as ten rivers or more and go inland for miles. They are unimaginably deep, and fill the valleys between huge mountains which are so steep they go nearly straight up.”

  She shifted in her seat again. Reid could hear the wonder in her voice.

  “The water in the fjords can be as smooth as glass, and reflect the peaks so the sight is doubly beautiful.”

  Reid smiled. “Did you see any glaciers?”

  “Oh, yes. Many. They are very rugged and surprisingly blue in color. In fact, the water in the rivers which flow from them is blue like a winter sky and very dense. You cannot see through it.”

  “I’ve never seen water that color,” Reid said. “It sounds beautiful, but it’s so hard to imagine.”

  “My—no. Nev—never mind,” Kirsten stammered.

  “Tell me,” Reid urged.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she demurred.

  Reid gave an exaggerated sigh. “Have we not become friends? Perhaps I misunderstood your intentions,” he said with a one-shoulder shrug and turned his face away.

  “Don’t say that. That isn’t fair,” she chided. “I would like to think we are friends.”

  “Then tell me,” he challenged, facing her again.

  She gave an exaggerated sigh which mimicked his perfectly. “When the bandages come off, you will see my eyes. I was told they are the same color as the glacier water.”

  Reid gave a long, slow nod. “Now I will recognize you when I finally see you.”

  Kirsten scoffed. “I am so relieved, since my voice and my scent would never have led you to that recognition.”

  Reid laughed softly. “Tell me what Christiania is like.”

  Her chair creaked again as she repositioned herself. “Most notably there is a large medieval fortress, called Akershus Festning, built on top of a cliff which overlooks the innermost point of that fjord,” she began.

  Reid nodded. “I have been told it has protected the city for nearly eight-hundred years.”

  “Then you know that the port is just below it?” she asked.

  “That’s what my parents said.” Reid laid back on the cot, his strength still not recovered. “How big is the city?”

  Kirsten seemed to be thinking about her answer. “Eight or nine thousand, I believe.”

  “Philadelphia has about thirty thousand,” Reid observed, surprised by the comparison. He always assumed Christiania was larger. “So a third of the size at best.”

  “That sounds right,” Kirsten concurred.

  “What are the people like?”

  There came another noticeable pause. “I spent my time in the company of my mother’s family. My mother’s brother has residences in both Christiania in Norway and København in Denmark.”

  “He must be wealthy as well,” Reid responded. It wasn’t a question.

  Kirsten’s answers went from effusive to cryptic in that one moment. “Yes. He is.”

  Reid cocked his head. “You don’t like him.”

  “Not very much, no.”

  “And the rest of the family?” he fished.

  “We didn’t get along.”

  “But you were there for three years, even so.”

  “I stayed as long as I could stand it. Then I came home.” She shifted her weight again. “I’m afraid I’m getting sleepy.”

  Reid heard nothing of sleep in her tone. It was obvious to him that she wanted to avoid telling him anything more about her elusive uncle and cousins. While he wondered what secrets she kept, they were not any of his business. He was going to leave her as soon as he was sufficiently recovered and rejoin the Continental Army.

  That realization poked him in a very uncomfortable way.

  “I won’t keep you if you need to go,” he said.

  She didn’t get off the chair.

  “The doctor should be visiting tomorrow to check on your recuperation,” she said after a space of silence.

  “I hope he is pleased with what he finds,” Reid commented. “Will he look at my eyes, do you think?”

  Her voice held a bit of question. “I expect so.”

  He rolled his head on the pillow. “It’s very disorienting, not being able to see.”

  “I can only imagine,” she whispered.

  Reid held out his hand. Kirsten laid her palm in his. He pulled her hand to his lips and gave it a lingering kiss. “Thank you for visiting me tonight. Your nursing skills are exemplary.”

  “You’re welcome, Captain Hansen.” She retrieved her hand and stood. “I do hope you are able to sleep now.”

  “My wish for you as well.”

  He listened for her footsteps as she padded across the carpet and ascen
ded the wooden stairs. Her bedroom door quietly clicked. The ticking clock in the corner chimed three times.

  September 7, 1781

  Doctor Jackson Haralson introduced himself to Reid, then moved right into the reason for his visit without further pleasantries. He must be a very busy man.

  “How is your head?”

  Reid sat sideways on his cot, having finished breakfast only a quarter hour earlier. “It still hurts. Though less than yesterday when I first became aware of my surroundings.”

  “Good. Take off your breeches, will you? I want to examine your leg.”

  Horace had thankfully remained in the room after escorting the doctor in and closing the parlor door. He now came to Reid’s aid, pulling off the breeches as Reid lay back on the cot. The doctor cut through the bandage on Reid’s right thigh and peeled it away.

  “Hm. Yes. Good.”

  “Doctor?” Reid prompted.

  “No infection. Healing as expected. I’ll take the stitches out in another week.” Reid heard the hollow sounds of rummaging in a leather satchel. “In the meantime, keep the leg straight. If you tear the wound open, you run the risk of infection and will likely lose the limb.”

  “I understand.” This man did not believe in sugar-coating his words, that much was clear.

  I’ll be here another week. Reid wasn’t certain how he felt about that, but there wasn’t anything to be done. He did enjoy having two legs, after all.

  “Can I walk on it before then?” he asked.

  “As long as you don’t bend it. I recommend a cane.” The doctor applied himself to re-bandaging Reid’s thigh without any further comment.

  “Close the drapes, will you?” he asked when he finished. “I want to look at his eyes and the daylight will be too bright for him.”

  Reid’s pulse surged. This was the moment he both hoped for and dreaded. He listened as Horace pulled the heavy fabric over the windows, and wondered how he would react if he saw nothing when his eyes were freed from their constriction.

  Doctor Haralson cut away the bandages as he had done on Reid’s leg. “Don’t open your eyes until I tell you to,” he instructed.