"Life from the cradle to the grave...” Erik said. “Vigeland was obsessed with that theme."
"Oh, Erik, look at this..."
She'd stopped before an exquisite statue of a little boy stomping his foot, obviously in the middle of a violent temper tantrum. “He looks just like Aaron..."
"Sinnataggen. It means ‘hot-head’ in English. This is one of Vigeland's most popular sculptures. Most everyone sees a little boy they know in him. Mor has always said it's the image of Mags. But I think when you meet him tonight, you'll see he's grown up quite a bit."
Leigh felt a ripple of apprehension run through her at the thought of meeting Erik's family. Of course, they had no idea of their true relationship. They only knew of her as the American woman who'd hosted their son during his year in the states.
"Do you think Mel told Mags about us?” she'd asked. Mel had been writing to Erik's brother for over a year.
"No.” Erik shook his head. “Believe me, if Mags suspected anything, he'd never let me hear the end of it. Come on.” He took her hand and they left the bridge. “In the summer, this is a beautiful rose garden. I'll bring you back here when it is blooming. But then we won't have the park to ourselves. Come! Let me take you to the Labyrinth and the Fountain of Life."
In the gray morning light, Leigh saw a mosaic of black and white granite slabs looming ahead. She wondered if Erik intended to actually take her through the maze. Although she was enjoying the sights of Vigeland Sculpture Park, her nose and lips were numbed by the relentless wind, and her feet felt like blocks of ice even though they were encased in fur-lined leather boots.
"We'll have to go through the Labyrinth another day,” Erik said. “Just hold my hand and I'll take you to the center to see the fountain."
Carefully, they made their way across the huge slabs. “This labyrinth is Vigeland's rather ironic view of the course of life,” Erik said. “Curves, corners, dead ends. I believe he is saying that life is nothing but a puzzle."
They reached the center of the Labyrinth. Erik placed his hands on Leigh's shoulders and turned her to face him. “It is, you know.” His blue eyes were serious. “Life is but a puzzle.” He stared down at her a moment longer and then bent his head to kiss her.
His mouth was warm and wonderfully intoxicating as the icy wind whipped around them and stray snowflakes whispered down from the slate sky. Erik drew away and once again adjusted the wool cap around her ears. “I love you,” he said. Then abruptly, “Well, there's the Fountain of Life. Of course, it's more magnificent when it's working."
It was beautiful even without the water. Fascinated, Leigh gazed at the six bronze males bearing a huge bowl on their shoulders, from which cascades of water would flow when the fountain was working.
"Look at their faces, Erik.” Leigh moved closer. “Look at this poor old man, the pain in his eyes."
He grabbed her hand as if anxious to move on. “Come, let's start over in the northeast corner and follow the cycle of life. I believe there's sixty bronze reliefs in all."
Because of the enervating cold, Leigh and Erik strolled quickly, barely giving more than cursory glances to the beauty of Vigeland's work.
"Frogner Park is a very philosophical place, isn't it?” Leigh said when they reached the spot where they'd begun.
"I guess that is one reason I wanted to bring you here. Being an artist yourself, I knew you would appreciate it.” Erik placed his arm around her and drew her close. “Let's go. I shouldn't think we'll have to wait long for the Holmenkollen tram. Are you hungry?"
"You know me. I'm always hungry."
"Good. I'll treat you to a genuine Norsk lunsj."
Leigh wished the weather had permitted a more leisurely tour through the sculpture park. She wanted to give Vigeland's work the rapt attention it deserved. Well, as Erik had said, maybe next summer. Startled at her unbidden thought, Leigh felt a cold lurch of fear inside her heart. Was she about to make the decision to stay?
* * * *
It was dark and cold in Erik's flat when Leigh awoke in the late afternoon. Their day of touring Oslo had ended abruptly after lunch when they'd exchanged a smoldering glance and decided love was more important than reconstructed Viking ships.
Leigh reached for him, but his side of the bed was empty. She sat up and pulled the luxurious down comforter closer around her. The fire had died to faintly glowing embers. Wrapping the comforter around her naked body, she stepped onto the hardwood floor and shivered at the icy contact. She found the poker near the hearth and prodded the embers, sending tiny orange sparks flying up toward the chimney. Carefully, she nudged another log onto the grate and poked at it until it began to burn.
Satisfied that the fire was beginning to burn steadily, she wandered over to the window to gaze out onto the quiet street. The snow had stopped sometime while they'd been in bed and now the sidewalks and streets glittered in the lamp-light as if they had been sprinkled with star-dust by thousands of magical fairies. But it looked bitterly cold. Leigh shivered and moved back to the fireplace. A key rattled in the lock and Erik came in, his cheeks and nose red and his blond hair windblown. He wore a huge grin and carried an even larger box.
"God aften, Kayleigh, my love. What are you doing standing there in that eiderdown?"
"You mean besides freezing my buns off?” Leigh edged nearer to the fire.
He placed the box on the dining table. “Did you think of turning the thermostat up?” Leigh gave a short laugh and shook her head. “I didn't even think to look for a thermostat. I thought the fireplace was the only source of heat."
Erik grinned. “Kjaereste, this is the city! Of course we have central heating. But no matter. I have something for you. And I promise, you will never be cold again. Here. Open this."
With unconcealed curiosity, Leigh approached the box. “What have you gone and done now?"
"Just open it."
She did and gasped. “Oh God! Erik!"
"It's blue fox.” His eyes twinkled. “Imitation, of course. My conscience would not allow me to buy a real fur ... nor would my wallet. Do you like it? Drop the eiderdown and try it on."
As if in a trance, Leigh let the comforter drop around her as she drew the soft fur jacket from its tissue-lined box. It was gorgeous! She'd never have guessed it wasn't real, either. She slid her bare arms into the sleeves and trembled slightly at the sensation of the cool satin lining against her body. “Mirror! Where's a mirror?"
"Here, behind the toalett door.” He followed her into the bathroom. “You look so sexy with your bare legs showing beneath the coat. It makes me want to make love to you until it kills both of us."
"That will never kill us,” Leigh said, eyeing herself in the full-length mirror and coquettishly pulling the shawl-like collar up around her neck. She turned quickly and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Erik, I love it ... and I love you.” She pulled his head down to hers. Their lips clung for a long moment.
Slowly, she drew away, smiling mischievously. “When did you say we have to leave for your parents?"
A fire leapt in his eyes. He shrugged. “We aren't expected until eight."
Chapter 15
On the drive to the Haukeland's home, Erik went over some last-minute lessons on Norwegian customs. He drove slowly because the streets were icy from the afternoon's snowfall.
"Now, we've got the flowers to give Mor. What else? Oh, there's Skal. Fordamme! I should have had you try aquavit last night. I didn't think of it because I only drink it when I visit home. Hate the poisonous stuff! You see, one of the best ways to impress a Norwegian is to drain your aquavit in one gulp. But I wouldn't recommend trying it without practice."
"So, what do I do?” Leigh asked, brows knitted.
"Just swallow as much as you can and don't worry about what's left in the glass. Whatever you do, don't try and sip it."
"Anything else I should know?” She felt as if she were on her way to a guillotine ... or worse, a dental appointment.
Erik pumpe
d the brakes and brought the Volkswagon to a gentle stop at a traffic signal. He reached over and covered her gloved hand with his own. “You'll do fine,” he said with a smile. “They'll love you ... even if you are an American."
Alarmed, her eyes flew to his. He laughed. “Just kidding, kjareste. Come on, loosen up. It won't be so bad."
Leigh tried to believe him, yet her stomach fluttered with butterflies. Why, suddenly, was it so important for Erik's family to approve of her? Did it really matter? If they ever found out about their true relationship, the point would be moot.
They'd been driving for twenty minutes and were now in the countryside surrounding Oslo. As they climbed into the hills, the condition of the roads worsened. Rounding a sharp curve, Leigh felt the back wheels of the Volkswagon slide on the ice and she stifled a gasp. Erik handled the skid with ease and glanced over at her, smiling. “Don't worry. Almost there."
He turned into the driveway of a wood beige house and parked next to a red Saab. As he switched off the ignition, he looked at the car and said clearly, “Shit."
"What is it?” Leigh asked.
Erik shook his head, a distracted expression on his face. “It looks like everyone else is here already. I just hope we aren't late. Mor is adamant about being on time."
Mor sounds like a tyrant, Leigh thought. She drew back the sleeve of her fur to check her wristwatch. “It's five ‘til eight. Five minutes early."
Her heart thudded as they made their way up the slippery walk. Erik squeezed her arm reassuringly while they waited at the door. A huge gray-haired man opened the door and beamed at them. “Erik! God kveld. Velkommen! Det gleder meg a treffe Dem, Fru Fallon."
Leigh smiled blankly as Erik hugged his father. “Kayleigh doesn't speak Norwegian, Far, as you well know.” He grinned at Leigh. “My father can speak perfect English when he's in the mood."
From another room, Leigh heard a feminine voice speaking in Norwegian. A lovely white-haired woman came into view, wearing a red blouse and a long red and black hostess skirt.
"Erik?"
Erik bent down to receive his mother's light kiss. “Mor, this is Kayleigh."
Immediately, the woman turned to Leigh and smiled regally, holding out her hand. “Good evening, Mrs. Fallon. I'm Grethe."
"God kveld,” Leigh said, hoping her pronunciation wasn't too far off. Erik had spent twenty minutes coaching her on it.
"Ah, so you speak a little Norsk?” Grethe Haukeland smiled, yet Leigh imagined a coolness in her eyes. It was almost as if she'd been assessed by Grethe and found wanting. Was it possible his mother suspected their relationship wasn't what it should be?
"Litte grann Norsk,” Leigh said. A little Norwegian. “In fact, that's about it. Oh, these are for you.” She gave Erik's mother the bouquet of fresh flowers they'd bought at the florist that afternoon.
"Tusen takk. Please, come into the family room and meet everyone."
The Haukeland's home was comfortably furnished in the sleek, no-frills style common to Scandinavia, and complemented with a variety of large leafy plants growing in every available spot. As they followed Grethe down a short hallway, a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen, making Leigh's stomach growl in anticipation. They entered a large room and her eye was immediately drawn to the tall blue spruce Christmas tree in the corner, alight with what appeared to be antique ornaments of glass and wood and tiny Norwegian flags. Adjacent to the tree, a hearty fire crackled in a stone fireplace. Her attention turned to Erik's relatives and she was struck by how much the scene resembled a family Christmas card. Conversation halted and blue eyes and blond heads turned in unison to inspect the newcomer. Leigh suddenly felt as if she were on display.
Erik came to the rescue. “Everyone, this is Kayleigh Fallon,” he said in English. “Kayleigh, this is my brother, Bjorn and his wife, Anne-Lise, their daughters, Marit and Inger-Lise. My sister, Dordei, and her husband, Hakon. And my brother, Mags."
Erik's older brother, Bjorn, stood up and extended a hand to Leigh. This seemed to be the signal for everyone else to move. They gathered around her, all of them smiling and talking at once. A feeling of relief settled over her. It was going to be okay. She liked them, and she was sure they felt the same way. Bjorn, who was tall and balding, had a smile that was uncannily like Erik's. His wife, Anne-Lise, an elegant bespectacled blonde, greeted Leigh warmly, saying she hoped to visit the United States someday. Erik's sister, Dordei, was a somewhat washed-out version of her mother. She stood quietly nearby, eyeing Leigh curiously, but speaking very little. Leigh smiled politely, her mind awhirl with everyone talking to her at once. She was sure she would never be able to put names to faces.
"Erik?” Grethe spoke to her son in a voice that instantly put a stop to all the conversation around them. “Aren't you going to introduce Margit to Mrs. Fallon?"
For a second, Leigh saw a strained expression on Erik's face, but it was gone so quickly she thought she must have imagined it. “Of course, Mor,” he said smoothly, drawing a young topaz-headed woman to Leigh's side. “Kayleigh, meet Margit Lovvig, an old friend of the family. And that adorable little boy with her is her son, Gunvor."
Margit stretched out her hand as Erik moved away to the other side of the room. “I'm happy to meet you, Kayleigh.” She smiled warmly. “Erik has told me so much about you and your family since he returned home."
Just as Leigh opened her mouth to respond, a loud clinking sound came from behind her. Erik's father grinned, tapping a spoon against a large brandy snifter to draw everyone's attention. Erik appeared at Leigh's side, handing her a snifter of her own. Arne lifted his glass and solemnly gazed around the room. An expectant silence had fallen.
"Skal,” he said softly.
Immediately, everyone else repeated the same word and drank the contents of their snifters. The smooth brandy slid down Leigh's throat. She wondered how she was ever going to make it through the evening without getting dog-faced drunk. Boy, would that make an impression on Mother Haukeland!
After they'd finished their brandy, the party moved into the dining room and Leigh found herself seated between Mags and Dordei's husband, Hakon. On the other side of Hakon sat Anne-Lise, looking stunning in a red velvet jump-suit with rhinestone buttons. Leigh felt almost dowdy in comparison, even though she wore a new emerald silk dress she'd bought at Bloomingdales before leaving New York. As if reading her insecure thoughts, Erik's eyes met hers across the table where he sat opposite Anne-Lise. At his reassuring smile, she felt a bit calmer.
Bjorn was seated opposite Leigh between Margit Lovvig and Dordei. Arne and Grethe rounded out the long table at each end. The children had been relegated to the kitchen where their voices rang out occasionally in outbursts of excited Norwegian.
Amazed, Leigh gazed at the array of food on the table. Most of it was unfamiliar, but she did recognize various cheeses on the relish tray. The aroma of the unusual Norwegian dishes tantalized her senses. She couldn't wait to try them. If only she weren't so nervous about skal. She knew it would be coming up any time now.
Almost immediately, the dreaded moment arrived. Arne lifted his tiny glass of aquavit and looked directly at her. “Skal,” he said, his eyes firmly fixed upon hers.
With trembling fingers, Leigh picked up the shot glass near her beer chaser and glanced at Erik. He gave her an encouraging nod. God, what if she screwed up? Everyone in the room watched. Leigh raised the glass and looked squarely into Arne's friendly blue eyes.
"Skal,” she said in a near-whisper. In a synchronized movement with Arne, she threw back her head and downed the contents of the shot glass.
Liquid fire burned down her throat and into her lungs, finally hitting her stomach with a smoldering explosion. Gasping, she grabbed the beer and gulped it down, praying she wasn't going to embarrass herself any further. Through the roaring in her ears, Leigh heard a warm applause from around the table.
"Very good, Kayleigh,” Bjorn said approvingly. “There are not many Americans who could do that
like you just did. You must have some Viking blood."
Through blurred eyes, Leigh looked at Erik and saw him grinning at her proudly. Everyone at the table smiled their approval at her, but Leigh didn't miss Grethe's expression of remote skepticism. Dimly, she wondered why Erik's mother seemed so cool toward her, but then she forgot about her as the warm glow of the aquavit spread through her body. Everyone began helping themselves to the food.
By the time dinner was finished, and several more skals had become history, Leigh's head buzzed with all the liquor she'd consumed. As she stood to help Grethe and Anne-Lise clear the table, a wave of dizziness engulfed her. She sat down again abruptly. Anne-Lise smiled and placed a light hand on her shoulder.
"Sit, Kayleigh. Dordei and I will take care of the table. You aren't used to the aquavit. Margit, why don't you take her into the library for a few quiet moments before we join the men for coffee."
"Of course.” Margit smiled and stood up. “Kayleigh, I hear you're an artist. You must see Dordei's charcoals. She was very dedicated to her art before she married Hakon."
Feeling disoriented, Leigh followed Margit into the library, a beautiful room with a soft mauve sofa and several dove grey chairs. Except for one corner where Dordei's charcoals hung, the walls were lined with books on all sides. Like Erik, the other Haukeland's were voracious readers, judging by the amount and variety of the books. Leigh politely admired Dordei's charcoals, wishing she could fall onto the inviting sofa and give herself up to sleep. Jet-lag had caught up with her.
"You'd better sit down,” Margit said. “That aquavit is quite potent. Especially if you're unused to it."
Gratefully, Leigh sank onto the sofa. Margit snuggled into a chair and kicked off her shoes with a sigh. “I'm very tired myself. I work at a child care center. The children wore me out today."
"You must really enjoy children if you can spend all day with them,” Leigh said. “How old is your son?"
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