I was sleeping better since Neil had come to see me. Although I wasn’t sure if Neil had something to do with that or if my runs did. Now that the weather was warmer and the day light hours were longer, I’d taken to running every day after work, running extra-long on weekends. Turned out Gunnar was a runner too and sometimes he would join me. We were actually becoming friends. We’d get into these long theological debates that would last hours and even though we could get so mad at each other, neither of us would stay that way.
Still, despite my extra hard run that day, here I was on my roof again, staring up at the few stars I could see in the sky with all the light pollution. I sighed.
“God,” I said, “I miss him.”
“We know you do.” I smiled at the musical voice as Rizoel stepped up next to me. He put an arm around my shoulders and I leaned my head on one of his. He tucked me under his wing and I cried.
“It hurts,” I said, “But I’m glad I don’t feel any different. I miss him so much Rizoel.” I shook with silent sobs and he gave my shoulders a squeeze.
“Shhh.” He soothed, “Come now, what would Alaric think of all of this?” he asked.
“He wouldn’t want to see me cry.” I said and wiped my tears.
“He would want you to be happy. No?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
We stood like that for a long time. Mutely staring out into the rest of the city.
“Don’t close yourself off to happiness Gracelyn.” He said.
“Okay.” I whispered.
“He wouldn’t want that.” Rizoel spoke with a conviction that startled me.
“Okay.” I said, a little stronger.
“It’s coming,” he said and pulled away, “Just be patient, and when it finds you, don’t be afraid to let it in.” He smiled sadly and fingered a lock of my hair.
“I miss that too.” I laughed, “And I promise to watch out for it, and when it shows up I’ll do my best to be happy.”
“Just be patient a little longer.” He said, and opened his wings with a snap, launching himself into the sky with a few strong beats.
Now that was something to behold.
Chapter 44
Another week passed since my visit from Rizoel, and I did my best to keep my eye out for happiness and let it in when I saw it, I was smiling more, sleeping a little better, but still. My heart felt like a weighted stone in my chest. Life just wasn’t nor wouldn’t be the same for me without Alaric in it, and if I said that that was okay, I would be a total freaking liar because it so wasn’t.
I was in my fifth week of life without the love of my life in it and having another sleepless night. I skipped the roof. I just wasn’t in the mood for a potential drop in from any celestial beings. I guess it was just my luck, as I wandered Central Park that Karael was the pushiest of my three new protectors and didn’t really give a shit what I wanted. He dropped from the sky and landed noiselessly in the grass beside me. I near came out of my skin.
“Jesus Christ Karael!” I cried and he rose from his crouch and laughed.
“I’ll tell him you said so.” He held out his arms for a hug. I gave it to him, even though I was none too pleased at the moment.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said sourly and sent up a little prayer of apology for my outburst. Karael smiled.
“How are you doing?” he asked me.
“I’m not.” I retorted and took up my stroll again. He walked beside me.
“Talk to me Gracelyn.” He said gravely. I looked over at him and blurted,
“Should you even be here?” I asked.
“Yes.” He said.
“What if somebody sees you?” I asked, and he gave an unconcerned shrug. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.
“I don’t look like I’m talking to myself do I?” I asked, suddenly tired and then frustrated that I hadn’t been tired before to have avoided all of this. Ugh, I was an emotional mess tonight, all over the map. Karael laughed.
“No, you look like you’re walking with a handsome man in a brown trench coat.” He smiled.
“I thought angels weren’t supposed to be egotistical.” I said, needling him on purpose. He stopped me and turned me to face him.
“What’s going on Gracie?” he asked and at the familiar shortening of my name I kind of wilted a little.
“I miss him.” I said simply, and expected him to say that they did too but he didn’t.
“I know. I hate to see you this way.” I looked up. His warm honey colored eyes radiated warmth.
“Thanks.” I said.
“You’re welcome.” We continued walking, he held my hand.
“My patience is slipping.” I confessed.
“I know.” He said.
“That really why you’re here?” I asked. “To give me a pep talk?”
“No. I thought I would just go for a walk in the park and wanted a pretty little human to hold my hand, I thought you fit the bill.” I grinned and shook my head.
“You always such a flirt?” I asked. He simply shrugged.
“You seem lonely lately, I thought I would keep you company.” He swung my hand a little.
“I’m not lonely,” I protested facing him, and he drew up short, very little room between us.
He looked deep in my eyes and I held my breath without realizing it. He bent and placed his lips against mine, I put both of my hands against his chest and with everything I had shoved him away.
“What the Hell is your problem!?” I cried. He had this huge grin on his face.
“Had to see.” He said.
“Karael, I belong to Alaric, whatever they did, wherever he is, Heaven or Hell or still in between, I. Belong. To. Him.” I stabbed a finger into his chest to punctuate each word.
“That’s our girl Gracelyn,” he smiled.
“What are you talking about!?” I demanded.
“I can’t say. I have a message from Raphael, ‘Just be patient a little bit longer,’ Remember what Rizoel said.”
“Yeah, keep an eye out for some happiness.” I said miserably.
“And don’t forget to let it in.” he said.
“I’m trying.” I said.
“You’re doing well.” He said, and smiled.
“Thanks I guess.”
“Hey. We love you too.” He said, and then he was gone. I didn’t even blink, just one second there and the next just blinked out of existence.
I sighed and looked up through the trees. Ugh.
Chapter 45
Six weeks, no Alaric and I was seriously running on emotional fumes. I didn’t even think my heart beat anymore it was so heavy. I got into the waiting town car and was being whisked to Gunnar’s swanky hotel.
I was supposed to be one of the guests of honor at some black tie gala event along with Jared. It was being thrown by Gunnar and apparently a metric ton of potential investors and potential donations were to be had. He’d reached out to a whole lot of rich folks in Sweden, Denmark and Norway to come to New York and look at our discoveries, which originated in their homelands but were found upon a distant shore. Sheer marketing genius.
He had managed to have this thing put together in just six weeks, the museum had been chaos when I’d left at closing in preparation and I had to say I was impressed by what was being done. He had spent the better part of an afternoon convincing me to allow his team of stylists to make me presentable.
I was trying to grow my hair out again, and it was in that awful in between phase where little if anything could be done with it. It was ugly and hopeless and though I was okay with taking the walk of shame on a daily but with as much time, effort and money as Gunnar had spent on doing this for the project, I had knuckled under on this request with very little arm twisting.
I sort of wished I had resisted a little more when I got to his suite. He was on the phone speaking in his native tongue when Maximillian let me in the door. A veritable army of people standing to the side talking in hushed tones. They all turned expectantly
towards me when the door opened and I stepped inside.
I gave a little wave to Gunnar not wishing to interrupt his call and he nodded to me, lowering the phone enough to say to the group of people, “That’s her.” Before resuming his call.
That did it. It was like a feeding frenzy, my purse was taken, just gone, before I even knew it had been whisked off my shoulder, someone was untying my shoes and another whisking away my hoodie. Gunnar winked at me and disappeared into the next room, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.
I was going to kill him.
The men and women wasted no time. I was waxed, plucked and filed inside two hours, and sitting in the hair stylist’s chair in front of a mirror, the man was fussing over my hair, mussing it and teasing it one direction then another.
“I think we should go lighter.” He clapped his hands, my eyes widened.
“You’re not dying my hair.” I said.
“Don’t worry honey you’re going to look fabulous, you want to look fabulous don’t you?” he asked. I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again and shut it again. Tears burned my eyes and my throat had grown thick with them. Alaric loved my hair, said it had reminded him of the grain fields of his homeland.
“Gunnar!” I screamed. He was in the room like a shot, took one look at my tear stained face and went scary with the flip pf a switch.
“Who has done this?” he asked. Everyone took a step back from me like I was radioactive or something.
“He wants to dye my hair.” I whimpered and Gunnar’s expression went from anger to confusion. Everyone visibly relaxed.
“I do not…” he started, but I interrupted.
“Alaric loves my hair.” I said and his expression smoothed out from confused into the familiar lines of pity. It just sort of snapped into place for me. It became real all of a sudden, I was never going to see Alaric again. He was gone, really gone.
I sat there gasping like a landed fish and clutched at the scale from his armor. Gunnar came forward.
“Gracelyn?” he asked.
“Oh my God.” I said in horror.
“Gracelyn no…”
“Oh my God!” the tears poured out faster.
I heard someone say, “Oh no, somebody please get this bitch a paper bag or something,” but I was in the grip of a full blown panic attack. My chest was tight and my heart hammered in a frenzied staccato. My breath sawed in and out of my lungs, I just couldn’t breathe anymore. Finally I managed to eke out,
“He’s really gone, I’m never going to see him again.” I think it was the first time I had said the words aloud and actually believed them.
Gunnar knelt down in front of the chair and took my hands in his, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs while I cried. He spoke soothingly to me in a language I didn’t know. Occasionally he would say something to one of the people around us in English. A glass of water appeared and he pressed it between my shaking hands and helped me to drink. It slid down my throat, refreshing. We stayed like that until I felt calmer.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I said and sniffed. One of the female makeup artists smoothed my hair back from my face and wiped away tears with a cool damp cloth.
“I will let them get you ready then.” He said softly, then turned, scary Volund back in place on a skinny man wearing too much make up.
“You would call a woman in the throes of grief over her lost love a bitch?” he asked, the man stuttered holding up his hands as if to ward off a blow. Everyone shrank back.
“You are fired. Get out.” Gunnar’s voice was low, the man just went for the door without a word. He turned on the stylist.
“No dye.” He bit out and the stylist raised both his hands palm out in surrender and nodded vigorously. Gunnar left the room, when the bedroom door clicked shut behind him there was a collective sigh of relief.
“Okay Hon, let’s get you fixed up.” The makeup artist was kindly and dabbed at my face a little more. The hair stylist sighed and looked at me in the mirror over my head.
“I’m sorry darlin’”, he said, “Let’s see what we can do, forget fabulous, let’s go glamorous.” He smiled a little sadly and I gave him a tremulous smile in return.
Chapter 46
Hollowed out and just plain numb was how I’d felt as they’d worked on the rest of me. Now as I stood in front of the full length mirror I looked, well, flawless and sophisticated. My hair had been expertly fashioned into what appeared to be a French twist despite how short it was, the man was kind of a miracle worker on that front. A line of white rhinestones rode where the hair tucked under courtesy of some blinged out hair pins.
The gown was a rich light bronze color and spangled with glittering rhinestones along the one shoulder and across the chest down to the opposite side’s ribs, more swept out from the hip along the asymmetrical hemline which was shorter on one side and floor length on the same side as the shoulder strap. It was a beautiful dress, and almost the same color as my hair, which was to say that if stars had fallen to earth on a wheat field, then I was wearing it. My feet were in a pair of bronze satin heels that matched the dress to perfection.
My makeup was subtle and made my eyes seem larger than they actually were. The blue standing out in startling relief. I turned around one more time and took it in. I looked like some whole other girl. Not Gracelyn Adams, historical artifact nerd, more like Gracelyn Adams, secret celebrity or something. Gunnar stepped into the room adjusting the bow tie on his tux and froze just inside the door way. His face splitting into a huge grin.
“Well, do I clean up nicely?” I asked.
“If you did not belong to my ancestor, heart, body, mind and soul, I would pursue you all over again.” He said quietly. I swallowed hard and blushed furiously.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” I said.
“You do that.” He held out his arm and I took it.
“You look lovely Gracelyn.” He murmured.
“Thank you.” I cast my eyes to the floor and gripped the scale in my hand. No one was taking it. They could pry it from my cold dead hands, so Gunnar had compromised with me, and had called in a jeweler. It now hung on a thicker, shorter rose gold chain which went round my wrist. It allowed me to hold the scale in my hand so I was okay with that. He promised we’d put it back on a necklace after the event. He’d even had the jump soldered to ensure the scale would never slip off.
“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his arm. I slid my arm through his and hugged his arm. He patted my hand with a smile and we left the suite, and the hotel.
When we pulled up to wait in the line of cars letting people off in front of the museum he was watching me. I was taken in by the wide red carpet gracing the museum steps. Flash bulbs were going off in the crowd like heat lightning through the clouds. It was a lot bigger, a lot more grandiose than I had realized, I suddenly became nervous.
“Don’t.” he said.
“Don’t what?” I asked.
“Don’t do that, don’t be nervous. The way you look tonight, you rival and eclipse them all.” He crossed his arms, a sure sign he was not to be argued with. I smiled.
“This isn’t my usual thing Gunnar. I’m a scientist and historian I don’t… Oh my God is that Alexander Skarsgard?” I couldn’t believe it. Gunnar laughed.
“As I said, you will be fine.”
We pulled up to the curb and the door opened, I was blinded by the dazzling lights as Gunnar got out of the limo and held out a hand for me. I took it gratefully, a little unsteady in heels higher than I was used to wearing and stood straight.
Questions were being shouted from every direction and I was admittedly overwhelmed. A microphone was shoved into Gunnar’s face.
“Mr.Volund! Who’s your girlfriend!?” Gunnar smiled his charming smile and laughed.
“This is Gracelyn Adams, she is not my girlfriend but rather a colleague. She is responsible for many of the restoration and preservation efforts being undertaken on the artifa
cts inside.” His voice was rich and deep and carried easily for the cameras.
“So you’re not involved?” a microphone was thrust in front of my mouth.
“No.” I said softly and kept my mouth shut. I was going on the old adage that you never had to unsay anything that you didn’t say in the first place. Gunnar patted my hand and smiling, and moved us forward through the gossip magazine vultures. I was glad for his size, it made things easier.
We ascended the steps to the top and were ushered through the front doors and up the grand marble staircase to the left. We stepped into one of the museum’s upstairs spaces that had been cleared out for the event. Several of the artifact finds and masterfully crafted replicas stood in well-lit cases and roped off areas. There were tables, scattered throughout the room, draped in cloths to make them look like Viking shields, silver domes at the center of each to replicate the shields boss, all polished to a high silver shine, reflecting the candle light from the tea lights placed around them.
It should have looked cheesy or ridiculous but everything was so finely made it looked strong and elegant instead. The hanging light fixtures had been replaced with chandeliers of antler and bone, the lights emanating from them a replica of firelight both in intensity and movement. The chairs around the tables looked like they had been covered in skins and furs, and the whole thing looked as if modern day and the tenth century had collided in one room. This was the spectacular result. Music played, and it was ancient, haunting and beautiful. People milled about in small groups talking and laughing, drinks in hand, looking at varying displays. I looked up at Gunnar and my heart swelled with happiness and I let it in.
“Thank you.” I breathed.
He said, “Do not thank me, this is your child Gracelyn. Your find, which you have spent the last four years lovingly restoring. Go enjoy it.” He smiled and let go of my arm. I walked across the marble floors and went immediately to my beloved’s sword in its case. A tableau to one side with photographs and explanations about its origins and the discoveries made surrounding it. There was even a picture of me, long braid hanging over my shoulder as I smiled at the camera, sitting at my work bench, sword on its stand beside me, dirt and other detritus flaked off beneath it across my work surface.
Heaven, Hell & the Love In Between Page 17
