by Kris Tualla
“Oh?” Sveyn looked mildly interested.
“Of course I can’t keep it. I’ll take it back tomorrow.” She reached into the front pocket of her jeans. “But I thought you might want to see it again.”
Hollis set Sveyn’s family’s Nordic ring on the counter.
Sveyn’s eyes widened, and he slid onto one of the barstools. Stacking one fist on the other, he rested his chin on top and stared at the ring. “I never expected to see this again.”
His words were distorted a bit by the pressure on his chin, prompting Hollis to wonder again if he could feel his own body. But that was a question for another time.
She dragged the second barstool around to the end of the counter, enabling her to watch him as she ate. “When was the last time you saw it?”
“The first part of the fourteenth century.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “Remember the man I told you about who would not speak to me for twenty-seven years?”
Hollis poured herself a glass of sauvignon blanc. “Yes. Did he have the ring?”
“He did.”
“So he was related to your family?”
Sveyn lifted his head and looked as if he was about to explain something, but then changed his mind. “Yes. He was a direct descendant of my father. The ring was intended to pass to the oldest son and heir in each generation.”
“So by the time you manifested to that man, the ring had been passed on for three hundred years? That must have made you happy.” While the concept was simple, its three century success was impressive. “Tell me about him.”
Sveyn flashed a wry grin. “Harald was the oldest of four brothers. He was a difficult man, to put it in simplest terms. And, he was unusually stubborn—and for a Norseman to claim that, you must understand the designation is significant.”
Hollis chuckled. “And for twenty-seven years, you witnessed this stubbornness at close range.”
“Now that presents another part of my existence.” Sveyn straightened on the stool. “It seems that the longer I am with someone, the farther I am able to move away from them.”
Interesting. “So after twenty-seven years—”
“I could be anywhere on the grounds of the stronghold and, on occasion, go outside the wall.”
Hollis took a bite of the lemon-sauced grilled salmon and sipped her citrusy wine; the pairing was delightful. “You said he died of the plague in the fourteenth century? You mean the Black Death, I assume.”
“Yes.” Sveyn shook his head. “But before we talk about that, I want to tell you what happened to the ring.”
She nodded, intrigued. “Yes, please.”
“As I said, Harald was difficult. A fact that his youngest brother, Petter-Edvard, was well aware of. Petter was his chamberlain, and therefore subject to the man’s whims.”
“Because as chamberlain, it was Petter’s duty to manage the estate.” Hollis speared a large chunk of roasted broccoli and bit into it. Delicious.
“Yes. But the brothers fought and Petter decided to leave Arendal. But before he did, he did the strangest thing.” Sveyn wagged his head and pointed at the ring. “He took this ring from Harald’s chamber and showed it to his young son, Rydar, who was but ten years old at the time.”
“Okay…”
“He told the boy, this ring would be his one day.”
Hollis frowned. “How could that be? Petter had three older brothers.”
“As was tradition, brother number two became a priest. Brother number three was a soldier, and he was killed fighting in the Crusades.”
“So after Harald, Petter was the only brother left. Did Harald have sons?”
Sveyn waved his hand. “Two. But you are taking me away from my story.”
“Sorry. Go on.” Hollis focused on Sveyn and took another drink of the sauvignon blanc.
“After Petter showed Rydar the ring, he removed the end of the mantle in his chamber and hid the ring inside.”
“What? Then how—”
“You are the most impatient woman!” Sveyn groused. “Just listen.”
Feeling her cheeks flush, Hollis dipped her chin in acquiescence, her lips pressed in a tight line.
“Petter hid the ring and some papers inside the mantle, then put it back together. A week later, Petter sailed for Greenland with his wife, two youngest daughters, and Rydar.”
Hollis held her lips together with her teeth, though it was killing her not to talk.
“About fifteen years later, a plague—the one called the Black Death—started its spread through Europe. Harald was stricken and he died.”
“And you moved on.” Hollis thought that was safe to say that much without incurring the Viking’s irritation.
“Yes. And my next manifestation was the one which only lasted five hours.”
Hollis sucked a breath. “Rydar?”
Sveyn nodded. “That was my most unusual experience. I was still in Hansen Hall, and I recognized Rydar even though he was thirty years of age by then. But I felt…unsteady. As if I did not have much time.”
“You did have a purpose that time, didn’t you?” Hollis got goosebumps. “To lead him to the ring.”
Sveyn held his hands out in front of him, his fingers tight with tension. “It was the middle of the night. Somehow—and do not ask me how—I was able to wake him. I led him to Harald’s chamber, and showed him runes to explain what had happened.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No. I am not certain if he even saw me.” Sveyn’s hands dropped onto the counter. “And I was gone before morning.”
“You never knew if he found the ring, then? Not until now.” Another wave of goosebumps shivered over Hollis’s skin.
“It is obvious that someone found the ring. I hope it was Rydar.” Sveyn wagged his head. “From what I heard, life in the Greenland settlement grew harder with each passing year. And with plague sweeping away more than half of the Norse population, Norway could no longer send supply ships.”
“I hope it was Rydar, too.” Hollis ate the last bite of salmon, wishing there was a way to know for certain, yet certain that there was not. “Where did you go next?”
“Scotland, about thirty years later. That was another unusual experience.” Sveyn chuckled. “Two men, identical twins. And both of them could see me.”
Hollis laughed. “Were you tethered to both?”
Sveyn’s eyes rounded under one lifted brow. “I was.”
She clapped one hand over her mouth. “How did that work out?”
Sveyn laughed as well. “Let me just say that I was quite dizzy when I left.”
Hollis stood and put her empty plates in the sink, before picking up the ring. “Do you want me to leave it out all night?”
“No,” Sveyn said softly, his levity now dissipated. “I am satisfied.”
“If you are sure.”
“I am.” Sveyn reached out a hand. “But thank you so much, for bringing it to me.”
Hollis held her hand over his, her fingers trembling. Dare she try touching him again? She lowered her palm until their hands should be touching.
Sveyn curled his long fingers around her hand. Her skin tingled—like a faint electrical current ran over it.
“Do you feel that?” she whispered, lifting her gaze to his.
His pupils were dilated so far that his irises were thin blue rings.
He swallowed visibly. “I do.”
Chapter Nine
Friday
September 11
Hollis waited outside the ticket booths at the Desert Botanical Garden, wearing the blue denim skirt and pink cotton blouse which she had messaged Chad to look for. Far from ready for this date, her nerves were running jittery after these last two days.
Researching the legend of the velsignelse av gudene—Blessing of the Gods, as the Nordic icon turned out to be called—kept her busy most of the day.
Researching beings caught between life and death was much less fruitful. Those explanations and stories were all over
the map, both figuratively and literally, and no helpful advice popped up on any search engine.
All she knew now was what she experienced. And, unless they were both imagining it, she and Sveyn could feel each other. Barely, true, but something was there.
Hollis sighed and pulled her thoughts back to the matter at hand.
She fanned herself with a Botanical Garden map, and her gaze swept back and forth behind her sunglasses, searching for a man of twenty-nine, six feet tall, and with dark brown hair,
Sveyn promised to stay out of her sight as much as possible on this, her first date in months. Hollis was going to put forth her best effort to enjoy Chad’s company, and not think about the Viking who would always be less than thirty feet away.
“Hollis?”
She turned toward the masculine voice, and fell into a pair of green eyes the color of new pine needles.
Stop it.
“Chad?” She pulled her sunglasses off and tucked them in her purse.
He put one manicured hand on her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “You look lovely. Shall we go in?”
That was an encouraging greeting. Hollis smiled and nodded. “I’m really looking forward to our evening.”
Chad grinned down at her. “And you should. It’ll be epic.”
*****
Epic was not the term Hollis would have used.
Back in her condo, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the couch. “And so, yet another evening of not-finding-love is achieved.”
Sveyn squatted in front of her, grinning. “I seldom meet anyone who finds himself so fascinating.”
“Well somebody’s got to, I guess. Lord knows, I didn’t.” Hollis blew an exasperated sigh.
“If I am to be honest, I do not believe that man could say one thing that he learned about you.” Sveyn’s grin faded. “He only talked, he never listened.”
“Listened to what?” Hollis huffed. “He never asked a question. And when I did manage to wedge a comment in, he never acknowledged what I said.”
“He certainly did not treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
Hollis stared at the apparition, her mood dimmed even further. “I’m going to put my pajamas on.”
She pushed herself up from the couch and walked down the hall to her bedroom. Closing the door behind her was symbolic, since Sveyn remained true to his word and had never followed her into her bedroom or bathroom.
Dressed in a pair of knit pants and the event t-shirt from last weekend, Hollis turned the thermostat down as she walked back into the living room. Her unhappy mood demanded hot chocolate in spite of the warm Phoenix evening.
Sveyn had moved to the couch and watched her as she stuck the big Stevie-worthy cup of water in the microwave and punched in a minute and a half. When she first used the appliance, he was skeptical. And though he could not feel temperatures, he was fascinated when steam rose from her cup after such a short period of time in its possession.
“The world is changing faster,” he observed. “I have missed seventy years, but the progress feels like seventy decades.”
Hollis agreed. “Working in museums, I can tell you that the items which our guests find most fascinating are ones which their grandparents used.”
The microwave dinged. Hollis retrieved the cup and spooned in the chocolate mix.
“Are you going to add those little white things?” Sveyn asked.
“Marshmallows? Sure. Why not.” I deserve them.
Hollis carried the oversized mug to the couch. She sat next to Sveyn, and tucked her bare feet under her.
“Did men act like Chad in your day?”
Sveyn laughed. “There are always men like Chad.”
“And women like me, I suppose.” Hollis blew on the chocolate. “Always finding the wrong man.”
Sveyn looked sideways at her. “I believe you will find the right man.”
“And how will I know him when I find him?” Hollis sipped the chocolate and watched Sveyn over the rim of the cup. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say, but was curious how he would answer.
“You will know by his questions.”
Her brow wrinkled. “His questions? What do you mean?”
Sveyn turned his body to face her. “Where are you from?”
“Milwaukee, originally.”
“Did you live there all your life?”
“Except for the year I worked in Chicago. That was right before I moved to Phoenix.”
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
Hollis’s mouth began to twitch. “No. I’m an only child.”
Sveyn smiled. “Do you look like your mother, or your father?”
Hollis laughed. “I understand. The right man will want to get to know about me.”
Sveyn nodded. “Now answer my question.”
“More like my father, I think.” Hollis combed her free hand through her hair. “But the red is a throwback to some ancestor, I’m afraid.”
“There are many with red hair in the Nordic countries.”
Hollis lifted the mug in salute. “And with a Scottish name like McKenna, I’m bound to be Viking spawn.”
Sveyn chuckled. “This is why I like you. And now I have solved the mystery.”
“Do you like me?” Hollis asked. She wanted to hear it again.
“Very much,” Sveyn answered. “I seldom manifest to women, and the few times I did they were frightened. You walked directly to me and greeted me. You were not afraid.”
“That’s because I thought you were real.” Hollis winked and drank her chocolate.
Sveyn sobered. “I am real, Hollis.”
His words speared her heart. “I’m sorry, Sveyn. I didn’t mean… I meant…” What did she mean?
“Corporeal?”
“Yes. That. I’m sorry.”
“So you do believe my story? About how I came to be here and in this condition?” he pressed.
“I have to,” she admitted. “You knew about the Blessing of the Gods—and you were right. I had never heard of such a thing, so you can’t be my imagination.”
Sveyn shrugged. “You might have read it somewhere and then forgot.”
Hollis shook her head. “No, it’s far too interesting a legend. And the object itself is so uniquely made. I would remember.”
The Viking looked relieved. “I am glad. I want you to believe me.”
Hollis tilted her head. “You are from Arendal and you lived there all of your life.”
Sveyn swept a hand over his body from his chest toward his feet. “Until this thing happened to me, yes.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
He smiled. “I had one older brother, and three younger sisters.” Then he leaned closer to her, pinning her gaze with his mischievous one. “And—I look exactly like my mother.”
Saturday
September 12
Hollis stood in the same spot outside the Botanical Gardens ticket booths as yesterday, this time waiting for George. George was a five-foot-nine thirty-three-year-old with thinning light-brown hair. Today Hollis wore red cropped jeans and a white blouse, and once again used a Botanical Garden map to fan herself.
She hoped that George didn’t expect a late night on the town with her. Sveyn kept her up talking until nearly four in the morning, and while she thoroughly enjoyed his company, she did need her sleep.
Hollis stifled a yawn as she spied a man looking like George’s photo walking toward her. He had a rose in his hand.
One step up from yesterday.
“Hollis?” he smiled and held out the rose. “I’m George.”
She accepted the flower, smiling in return. “It’s nice to meet you on this hot evening, George.”
He tipped his head. “You’re from the Midwest.”
Hollis was impressed. “Which word tipped you off?”
“The way you said hot had a distinctive twang. I’m guessing Minneapolis? Or Chicago?”
She laughed. “Close. Mi
lwaukee.”
George dipped his head in acknowledgement. “What brought you to Phoenix? Besides this very lovely, and very warm, weather of course.”
Hollis watched him closely as she answered to see if his hazel eyes glazed over. “My work. I’m a collections manager at the Arizona History and Cultural Center.”
“Ah, the one just down the road.” George turned toward the ticket booth. “Let’s get our tickets and continue our discovery in a more enticing setting.”
Discovery? That’s right. “You’re a lawyer.”
George grinned at her. “Guilty.”
*****
George was a vast improvement over Mr. Not-so-epic. Charming, polite, and amusing, he kept Hollis out later than she intended, but that was her own fault. She could have stopped the date at any time. She just didn’t want to.
Sveyn kept his distance at first, staying in back of her and stepping behind large botanical objects when she turned to face him. But when Hollis and George sat down at the Garden’s outdoor café to get a snack, Sveyn claimed one of the chairs at their table.
“Go away.” Hollis whispered.
He shook his head. “No. This one has promise, but you are asking the wrong questions.”
“You think that my showing interest in his job, and asking about his cases, is wrong?” Hollis lifted her hair off her neck and leaned a little to catch a breeze.
“Yes.” The Viking’s eyes shifted and he looked past her. “He is coming. Ask him the questions I suggest.”
“Here you are, Madame, your turkey sandwich with extra bacon, and salt-and-vinegar chips.” George grinned as he set her basket in front of her.
Hollis returned his smile. “Thank you, George.”
George sat in the same chair Sveyn was in. Hollis reached out a hand to stop him but Sveyn was quicker. He rolled sideways off the chair and onto his hands and knees.
“This happens to me every time,” he grumbled as he stood up.
Hollis retracted her hand, biting her tongue to keep from laughing.
“What’s wrong?” George froze, looking puzzled.
“Nothing. I thought—” When no idea came to her, Hollis just shook her head. “Never mind. Your sandwich looks delicious, too.”
