Battles Abroad: The Norsemen's War: Book Two - Tor & Kyle (The Hansen Series 2)

by Kris Tualla

  “Does he really love me?” she asked the dark and perpetually coal-smoke-hazed sky.

  If he did, wouldn’t he be trying to convince her to return to him? Talk about the great life they were going to share when she did?

  She had so many things she wanted to say to him that she left the mess hall after dinner to try and sort them out. She didn’t want to react in anger, but she had to let him know she was hurt.

  Kyle wondered for the hundredth time whether Erik was jealous of her. Coming late in his parents’ marriage, thirty-two-year-old Erik was their only child and the sole support of his aging parents. For that reason he was exempt from the draft. However, he was free to enlist if he chose to.

  There was no way he could make that choice.

  Kyle knew it. She understood it. Erik knew it as well; but that didn’t mean he didn’t resent his inability to fight for his country.

  Or resent Kyle for enlisting in the WAC.

  Maybe he actually was jealous of Tor Hansen. But why? Kyle had purposely been very vague in describing the captain and kept her mention of him minimal in her letters.

  She turned toward the women’s barracks and walked away from the hilarity inside the mess hall. She wouldn’t sleep until she wrote the letter, so she might as well get on with it.

  *****

  Warmed by the aquavit and camaraderie of the shared laughter, Tor eventually left the mess hall and went in search of Kyle. Something was bothering the lieutenant during supper and he wanted to make sure she was all right.

  She wasn’t in sight, so he walked toward her barracks. As he got closer he saw a single figure walking ahead of him.

  “Lieutenant Solberg.”

  She stopped and turned around. “Yes, Sir?”

  Tor closed the gap between them. “Is there something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m just feeling a little homesick. I’m going to write Erik a letter.”

  The fiancée.

  “If you’re sure that’s all?”

  Her smile was joyless and resolute. “I’m sure.”

  If he was a betting man, then he’d bet Kyle just lied to him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He wanted to pat her shoulder but retrained the urge. “Happy Christmas, Kyle.”

  Her eyes widened when he called her by her first name. “Happy Christmas to you, too.”

  Tor turned around and walked away, heading nowhere in particular and wondering if he had just made a mistake.

  Since arriving at Camp Hale more than a month ago, other than Torger he’d restricted himself to conversations either with his translator or conversations where she was present. He’d spoken to her more than he’d talked to any one person in months.

  He realized that he considered her a friend.

  Did she feel the same way?

  Tor heard men’s voices. He looked up in his wandering and realized he was near the POW enclosure. He stepped behind a shed and listened, breathing softly and closing his eyes so he could concentrate.

  “Six more weeks.”

  “Why so long?”

  “He says his contact is slow to answer.”

  “Are we sure we can trust him?”

  “What choice do we have?”

  “None, I guess.”

  The voices disappeared with the crunch of boots in snow. Tor’s pulse surged. Were the Germans talking about escape? If so, he had six weeks to try and discover more—even though he had no idea how to go about it.

  He could report what he heard to Major General Jones, but he’d need Kyle to go with him and he didn’t want to involve her if he could avoid it. The German prisoners had already threatened and insulted her in words no gentleman would ever use—much like Dale Maple in the bar. Tor was determined to protect her from any further encounters.

  No. I’ll wait. Keep my ears open.

  And he wouldn’t tell anyone he spoke fluent German until he needed to.

  January 3, 1944

  Kyle snuggled into her woolen coat as she waited to pick up Tor in the covered jeep at the bottom of the lift. The mittens and scarf her mother knit and sent to her were thick and warm and kept her from freezing while she sat.

  She mailed her letter to Erik the day after Christmas and she received his rather harsh reply yesterday. All day today Kyle had been consumed by his words echoing in her head, and wondered what she should do next.

  Should I ask Tor what he thinks?

  Ever since he called her Kyle instead of Lieutenant, she allowed herself to think of him as Tor. They were becoming friends, after all, not only colleagues. Six weeks of constant conversation couldn’t help but push them in that direction.

  The captain’s scowl as he climbed into the jeep and slammed the door shouted that her concerns needed to wait for a better time.

  “Did everyone live?” Her tone held no trace of amusement.

  “Barely.”

  Kyle started the engine and shifted into reverse.

  Tor was silent as they drove to headquarters. When she parked he asked, “Why are we here?”

  “The general wants to meet with some of the instructors.” Kyle shut off the engine. “He didn’t say why.”

  She removed her scarf and mittens and started to open the door when Tor grabbed her hand to stop her. “Is it bad news?”

  She frowned a little. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Because you haven’t been the same person since Christmas.” Tor leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

  Kyle’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure. But can we talk about it later? Not now.”

  “Are you ill?”

  “No.”

  “Has someone mistreated you?” he pressed, his face a mask of concern.

  She hesitated. “No one in Colorado has.”

  “Ah.” His expression eased. “Erik.”

  “Later, Captain,” she snapped. “We have business to attend to. Sir.”

  Tor seemed pleased at her outburst, for some reason. His blue eyes held a puckish glint. “Yes, Lieutenant. We certainly do.”

  He opened his door.

  Two dozen ski instructors, including Torger Tokle, waited around the huge table in the headquarters’ conference room. The room was overheated, as usual, and Kyle shrugged out of her coat.

  Tor grabbed it and folded it over his forearm.

  “I can—”

  “Shh.” Tor pointed to the front of the room.

  Major General Jones strode to the head of the conference table.

  Tor leaned down to her, his eyes focused on the general. “Should I tell him his fly’s open or do you want to?”

  Kyle’s horrified glance dropped to the area in question, then snapped up to the general’s face. She fought the urge to laugh.

  “Be quiet,” she warned. “I have to listen to him.”

  “But everyone assembled here can see his unmentionables.” Tor paused. “On the other hand, thank God he’s wearing some.”

  Kyle glared up at Tor, her lips unfortunately twitching. “Stop it. I mean it.”

  “Lieutenant Solberg, is there a problem?” General Jones was staring at her.

  Her face flamed. Tor disguised a snicker as a serious throat clearing. If the general wasn’t watching her she’d jam an elbow deep into his belly.

  “No, sir. Captain Hansen was correcting my grammar.”

  The general nodded, his irritation clear. “I’ve called you men here today to get a reading on how well our soldiers are progressing in their training.”

  Kyle struggled to keep up with the explanations and discussions so Tor wouldn’t fall behind. Thankfully he behaved and listened without comment until he was asked a direct question.

  Kyle translated his response: “Half of their men will be ready next month. The other half still need a lot more work.”

  The general nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Your fly is still open.”

  Jones’s brows lifted and he looked at Kyle. “Yes?”

>   She bit her tongue so she wouldn’t laugh.

  I’m really going to kill him.

  “He says you’re welcome, Sir.”

  *****

  “What the hell was that about?” Kyle stomped around the jeep and threw the door open. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

  “Not at all. You saw it for yourself—the general’s fly was gaping open.” Tor opened his door and dropped into his seat. “And I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

  Kyle slammed her door and glared at him. She looked more alive than she had in a week. “I don’t swear. Or I didn’t. But your behavior was intolerable.”

  Tor faced her. “This is the first time you’ve been honest with me since Christmas. It was worth it.”

  Kyle stuck her tongue out at him. “Sir.”

  Tor laughed. “I deserved that.”

  “More than,” she muttered and started the engine.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” he said suddenly. “Somewhere we can talk privately.”

  Kyle looked at her watch, not sure how she felt about that suggestion.

  “We have two full hours until dinner,” Tor pointed out. “Where should we go?”

  The lieutenant was clearly making up her mind whether or not to agree. “No. We have one hour and fifty minutes.”

  Tor gave her a kind smile. “Then we better hurry.”

  *****

  Kyle and Tor sat on piles of cleared snow alongside the driveway into the camp.

  “Were these signs here the night we arrived?” he asked.

  Kyle looked at the two caricatures of Adolf Hitler on the wooden boards. One was a fist labeled Camp Hale knocking the Fuhrer backwards into Japan’s Hideki Tojo.

  The other declared, “We’ve got a date with this sonofabitch. Let’s be on time!”

  “Yeah. They’ve been here since I got here.”

  “That’s probably why Jones’s meeting with the instructors,” Tor suggested. “Is the Tenth Division’s activation date set?”

  “I don’t know,” Kyle answered truthfully.

  The pair sat quietly for a moment and then both of them spoke at once.

  “You go first,” Kyle urged. She still wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to say.

  Tor flashed a wry smile. “I was going to ask you why you’ve been in such a funk lately.”

  “Oh.” How should she describe it? “I guess the easiest explanation is that no one back in Viking seems to understand why I’m here.”

  Tor looked pensive. “Your parents?”

  “My mother sends me socks and chocolate, convinced that my situation here is the same as if I was in Europe.” Kyle flipped back the cuff of her gloves and rubbed her chilled nose with the heel of her hand. “But at the same time she moans about the fact that I can’t just up and go home.”

  “You could have gone home for Christmas if you wanted to,” he reminded her. “Is she upset because you chose to stay here?”

  “She doesn’t know I had a choice,” Kyle confessed. “It would have been cruel to tell her.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Why is it so hard for people to understand that I want to experience more of the world before I lock myself on the farm?”

  Tor’s brows flew upward. “Lock yourself? That’s a very strong statement,”

  “I didn’t mean locked like a prisoner,” she deflected. “I just couldn’t think of the right word.”

  “Freud would disagree.”

  Kyle threw a gloveful of snow at him. “You’re impossible.”

  Tor chuckled and brushed the snow from the front of his coat. “So what did Erik send you for Christmas?”

  Kyle sighed. “A card.”

  Tor looked surprised. “That’s all?”

  “Well, he signed it love, Erik,” she said sarcastically. “What else could I possibly want?”

  Tor’s mouth worked like he was chewing up words instead of spitting them out.

  “Oh just say it!” she huffed.

  “Can I be honest?”

  “You better be,” she declared. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if you ever lied to me.”

  A shadow crossed his face and his gaze dropped.

  “What?” she demanded.

  Tor put up his hands and seemed to change gears.

  “It’s nothing. Just that…” He looked at her again. “If you were my fiancée, I’d want you to be content with the life I could give you.”

  Her heart skipped. “And if I wasn’t content?”

  “Then I’m not the man for you.”

  Chapter

  Seven

  “Come out with us tonight,” Marguerite urged. “You need to get your mind off that hick up north.”

  “He’s not a hick,” Kyle grumbled. “He’s a farmer. He owns his family’s farm.”

  “Whatever you say.” Marguerite turned away from their shared makeup mirror. “But he obviously doesn’t realize what a catch you are. Maybe you should meet someone who does.”

  Flo was waiting for Marguerite, perched impatiently on the foot of her bed. She twiddled the cigarette Kyle forbade her to light in the room and giggled.

  “What?” Kyle’s glance bounced between Flo and Frances, who sat at the foot of Kyle’s bed.

  Frances shrugged, her expression mischievous. “We all wonder if you already have.”

  “Me?” Kyle scoffed. “Of course. That’s why I’m engaged!”

  “To a hick,” Marguerite countered through pursed lips. She capped her lipstick and looked at Kyle again. “But you spend an awful lot of time with the Norse God.”

  “Oh, please.” Kyle looked at the three women, appalled. “Is that what you call him?”

  “We’re not blind,” Flo stated. “And I don’t think you are either.”

  Kyle felt her cheeks redden. “Yes. He’s a very handsome man, I’ll give you that.”

  Marguerite swung around in her chair to face Kyle. “And?”

  Kyle figured she knew what Marguerite was asking but still replied with, “And what?”

  “And is he making advances?”

  Kyle actually had to stop and think about that. Marguerite’s question made her suddenly question every conversation she’d had with the captain.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” Flo asked. “Because you don’t look sure.”

  Florence wagged a pointed finger at her. “He decked that Maple guy when he harassed you last time we went out together.”

  Kyle waved the finger away. “He’s a gentleman. He’d have done that for anyone.”

  “Maybe…” Marguerite said slowly. “Or maybe not.”

  Kyle scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?” Marguerite pressed.

  “Because I was needed here,” Kyle deflected.

  “Needed by the N.G.” Flo giggled again and leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. “That’s shorthand for Norse God.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle mimicked her tone. “I got that.”

  “So N.G. one, hick zero.” Marguerite grinned. “But if the captain doesn’t do it for you—”

  “Can I have him?” Frances blurted.

  Flo reached over and smacked Frances on the knee. “What about Fred?”

  Frances blushed. “He’s a sexy flirtation. Same as Luddy and Gerry.”

  Kyle noticed Marguerite stiffen. Her roommate’s expression hardened.

  “Gerry is serious about me,” Marguerite stated. “And I’m just as serious about him.”

  Flo looked at Marguerite like she was a child. “I’m sure you are, sweetie.”

  Marguerite scowled. “Don’t talk to me in that tone. When the war’s over we’re going to get married.”

  Kyle looked at Marguerite. “Why are you waiting?”

  “He’s not free to—I mean his situation is—complicated,” she stammered.

  “Oh no,” Kyle moaned. “Is he married?”

  “No!” Margueri
te paused as though the thought was a new one. “I don’t think so.”

  “Let’s be honest, girls.” Flo sat up straighter. “We’re all engaging in a little wartime fun for now, aren’t we?”

  Frances nodded resignedly.

  Marguerite looked like she could strangle Flo.

  “It’s romantic and fun and it gives all parties involved a diversion from what’s going on in the rest of the world.” Flo patted Marguerite’s arm. “And who knows. It could turn out to be true love in the end.”

  “It is,” Marguerite insisted. “I love him and he loves me. I have the notes to prove it.”

  Frances scooted forward so her feet hit the floor beside Kyle’s bed and she could see Marguerite clearly. “He wrote I love you in one of his notes?”

  “He did.” Marguerite lifted her chin. “And I wrote back that I loved him, too.”

  Why were they passing notes?

  Is this high school?

  “Has he said it to your face?” Kyle asked.

  “Not yet.” Marguerite drew a deep breath. “But I know he will.”

  Kyle made up her mind on the spot. “If you’re meeting your guys tonight, then I’d rather stay home. No point in being a seventh wheel.”

  “Oh we’re not,” Frances blurted. “So do come.”

  “Are they on duty?” Kyle asked. “All three of them?”

  The trio of nurses glanced at each other looking a little like trapped cats.

  “To be honest…” Flo began. “They’re more like pen pals at the moment.”

  “Pen pals?” Kyle was gobsmacked by the claim. “Have you actually met them?”

  “Of course we have!” Marguerite snipped. “I’d never tell a man I loved him if I hadn’t actually spoken to him face to face.”

  “So come with us,” Flo urged, deflecting the direction of the conversation. “It’ll do the N.G. good to show him you’re not waiting for him.”

  “I’m not waiting for him,” Kyle insisted. “I’m engaged.”

  “To a hick,” Marguerite repeated.

  Kyle’s irritation bubbled up and spilled over. “He may be a hick in your eyes, Marguerite, but he’s my hick. And he’s real, and we’re engaged.”

  “Our guys are real, too!” Frances stated hotly. “It’s just that our futures aren’t settled.”