After they shook hands, Ward turned to her. “Go, Leigh. Take your friend out and get him some dinner. I'll close up."
This time, Leigh didn't argue with him. She pulled on the blue fox jacket Erik had bought her in Norway, and together she and Knut stepped out into the frigid February evening.
Chapter 23
It seemed only natural to invite Knut into her apartment. He took one look at the cold stone fireplace and asked if he could build a fire. Leigh smiled, ignoring the pang in her heart. Typical Norseman. Erik had always headed straight to the fireplace, too.
"How did you ever find such a great apartment?” Knut asked as he lit the match.
"Connections,” Leigh said. “Ward owns the place. Are you hungry? I can heat up some leftover chili.” She was rather embarrassed there weren't more choices to offer him. Her eating and cooking habits had changed drastically now that she lived on her own.
"I'd love some,” Knut said.
In the small kitchen, Leigh put the chili in the microwave and reached up into the cabinet for soup bowls. All at once, she wasn't sure that seeing Knut was such a great idea. It was difficult enough to keep Erik out of her thoughts; with another Norwegian around to remind her of him, it would be impossible. Yet, she really liked him. On the flight to Oslo, he'd worked wonders in calming her down for the meeting with Erik. She opened the door of the microwave to give the chili a stir.
From their discussion on the plane, she knew they had a lot in common ... love of the symphony, art galleries and literature. Why not cultivate a friendship with him? It didn't have to be more. Lately, she'd found herself missing male companionship. And it wasn't just the sex. Somehow, she knew she'd never again have a sexual relationship like she'd shared with Erik. But there was a need in her just to have a male voice around ... a warm smile and an affectionate touch. Someone to talk to, relax with. Of course, she had that to some extent with Ward and Egan. They had been wonderful ... inviting her up to eat with them and sometimes to play trivia games, which she always lost because they were so damn intellectual. But Ward and Egan's company didn't quite fill the void.
All in all, she was glad Knut had shown up tonight. She guessed his age to be around the mid-forties. His blue eyes were covered by tortoise-shell glasses that gave him a distinguished professorial look, but it was his smile that really took away his mediocrity. His teeth were white and straight, attractive enough for a toothpaste commercial.
Leigh placed the steaming bowls of chili onto a tray and carried it into the living room; it would be more informal to eat in front of the fire. Knut was on the floor, perusing her compact-disc collection.
He looked up and grinned. “I see you're a well-rounded woman. Classical, country, jazz, rhythm & blues. Even some rock. Where's the hip-hop and heavy-metal?"
Leigh set the tray on the coffee table and shrugged. “I guess I'm not that well-rounded. What would you like to drink? Beer, wine or a soft drink?"
"I suppose it would be rude of me to ask if you brought any aquavit back from Norway?"
Leigh shook her head. “Not rude, at all. But sorry to disappoint you. I don't have any.” “To be honest, I wasn't real taken with the stuff. But it did do wonders in taking away a cough."
Knut grinned. “If you drink enough of it, it'll pretty much cure anything. Or at the very least, make you forget you've got something that needs curing. But since you don't have any, I'll have a beer."
Leigh turned back to the kitchen. “Why don't you go ahead and pick out some music. I'll be right back."
When she returned to the living room with two Killians, Handel's “Water Music” was playing. Knut ate heartily, praising her chili as if he hadn't had anything so good in years. Leigh knew better, but thanked him anyway. Afterwards, he leaned back against the sofa and sighed contentedly.
"Nothing like a hot dinner on a cold night,” he said. “I'm afraid I'm rather inept at cooking. I eat most of my meals out at this little cafe near my flat. It's not great, but it's better than sandwiches."
"I'll have you over for a real dinner sometime,” said Leigh, surprising herself. “That is, if I can remember how to cook one. It's been a long time since I had someone to cook for."
"How long have you been divorced?” He rummaged in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pipe. “Do you mind if I smoke?"
"Go ahead. It's been six months, but it seems longer."
"And you told me you have children, ja?"
"Three. Mark, Melissa and Aaron. Bob has custody of the younger two."
He raised an eyebrow at that, but made no comment.
"I moved back here to try to patch things up with them. It was pretty bitter for a while.” No need to get into the reason why. “They're having a hard time adjusting to the divorce."
"Ja. It's tough. My Kristin would barely speak to me the first time I returned to Tromso after the divorce. You know, no matter how fair the parent with custody tries to be, the child always seems to be bitter toward the other one. But it passes with time.” His eyes were warm with understanding.
"I hope you're right."
A brief silence fell. The sweet cherry smoke from Knut's pipe mingled with the scent of the wood-burning fireplace. Leigh found that she liked the smell. It felt homey. Outside, through the French windows, hidden floodlights illuminated a light snow that had begun to fall.
Snow. She should hate it ... with all the memories of Erik it evoked. Still, it never failed to give her a cozy feeling of security. Even during the violent blizzard at the cabin, she'd felt cocooned against the reality of the outside world.
"I hope you don't have to drive far. It's starting to snow."
Knut looked at her, amused. “You're talking to someone who used to live above the Arctic Circle."
"Sorry. I forgot.” She searched for a topic to cover her faux pas. Her eyes fastened upon his pipe. “You were sitting in non-smoking on the flight!"
Knut ruefully glanced at his pipe. “Ja, I was, wasn't I? I'm afraid I started again after my visit home. I hadn't smoked for over a year. But...” He shrugged. “Something snapped while I was home..."
"I guess it's a pretty stressful situation,” Leigh said. “How is it between you and your wife? Oh, I'm sorry if that's too personal."
"Not at all. As a matter-of-fact, Sigurd and I get along much better now than we did when we were married. Obviously, she's very happy back in her own country.” He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “I suppose I was wrong trying to make her adopt America. Just because I love it here doesn't mean it's right for everyone. I should've realized how strongly she felt about going back to Norway."
"But would you be happy if you'd gone back with her?” Leigh asked.
"I don't know. That's the trouble with life, isn't it? You never know if you've made the right or wrong decision until it's in the past. Sometimes, even then you don't know."
"But it's not necessarily too late, is it? I mean, you could still go back to Norway. Try and make a go of it with your wife."
Knut shook his head. “Sigurd is dating someone else. A widowed farmer who lives outside the village. She seems content with him. No, it's not possible to go back."
Leigh drew her legs up under her and turned toward him. “What about you? Have you dated much since the divorce?"
He shook his head. “Actually, Leigh, I haven't dated at all. I guess I'm too particular. To be perfectly honest, until I met you on the flight to Oslo, I just wasn't interested. But I enjoyed our conversation so much, and it made me realize how much I'd missed having that kind of stimulating exchange with a woman. That's one thing Sigurd and I always shared. Of course, we rarely agreed upon anything, but that was part of the fun."
He still loves his wife, Leigh thought. Why were people so stupid, not to be able to see what stared them in the face? And she was one of them. Believing she and Erik could make a life together. It was all so clear now, how impossible that dream had been.
"So, what about you?” Knut aske
d. “I seem to recall you were on your way to Norway to visit a lucky man."
Leigh stiffened, and couldn't find her voice.
"Now, I'm being too personal. I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay,” Leigh said. “It just didn't work out with him. And I'm still a little too close to the situation to be able to talk about it."
"I understand. So, you're not seeing anyone right now?"
Leigh shook her head. “Just you. I mean...” She grimaced at her bluntness. “If you want to, I'd like to see you again."
Knut flashed a delighted smile. “You don't have to ask. What about tomorrow night? Dinner here in Georgetown? You can pick the place."
"It's a deal.” Leigh returned his smile. “I know a great place a couple of blocks over. We can walk."
Knut stood up. “Well, speaking of walking, I'd better get going."
At the door, he paused before going out. “You know, I was really nervous about coming into the gallery to see you. It's been a long time since I've had to ... well, do anything of this sort. Now, after spending some time with you, I don't know why I was so nervous. You're just as easy to be with as I remembered."
"Thank you. So are you.” Leigh impulsively reached out and squeezed his hand. “I'm glad you did stop in, Knut."
"See you tomorrow night. Is seven o'clock all right?"
She watched him as he jogged down the steps of the brownstone and disappeared into the snowy night. After closing the door, she turned and walked back into the living room. She sat down in front of the hearth and stared into the flickering fire. Another Norwegian. Was she insane? How was she ever going to get rid of the memory of Erik with Knut around? Then, another disquieting thought occurred to her. Was that why she wanted to see Knut again? Because he reminded her of Erik?
* * * *
Erik pulled into the parking lot of Margit's apartment building. He sat in the Volkswagon a moment and gazed at the snowflakes falling softly on the windshield. With the engine off, the cold seeped into the car, gnawing at him. He knew he couldn't sit here much longer. He had to go in and face Margit. They hadn't been married a month yet, and already, he felt as if his life had fallen into a monotonous rut. The thought that he would face this same scenario every day for the rest of his life made him want to scream out in frustration. Dordei had been right. He'd made an awful mistake in marrying Margit. It wasn't worth it. Not even for Gunny.
The cold finally forced him to get out and trudge up the icy stairs to Margit's flat. He couldn't think of it as his. Her personality was written all over it, starting with the beige sofa topped with salmon-colored throw pillows and ending with the pale pastel watercolors on the beige walls. Immaculate. Sterile. Erik wondered how she managed to keep everything so perfect with an active child around. Even the glass-covered accent tables were unsmudged by tiny fingerprints.
When he walked in, Gunny ran toward him and wrapped his arms around Erik's legs. Chuckling, Erik swung the little boy into his arms and hugged him. As Gunny snuggled against him, Erik smiled. Thank God for him—the only good thing in his life right now. In the few weeks since he'd moved in, the little boy had grown very close to him. Yet, he still refused to call him father. Insignificant, perhaps, but it bothered Erik.
"Where's your mom?” he asked, ruffling Gunny's reddish-blond curls.
"The kitchen!"
With its cabinets of pine and gleaming copper pots and woven baskets hanging from the wood beams on the ceiling, the kitchen was the only room in the entire apartment Erik truly liked. Margit stood at the vintage-style stove frying lefse, the Norwegian version of potato pancakes. At their enticing scent, Erik's stomach growled in anticipation. Another good thing—Margit was a great cook. She heard him and turned, a smile on her lightly freckled face. “Hello, darling. Did you get everything straightened out at the university?"
"Yeah.” Erik dropped his portfolio on the kitchen table and went to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. He glanced back at her. “Oh, I dropped in at the center to take you out to lunch, but you were already gone."
An odd look flickered in her eyes. She turned back to the lefse and deftly flipped one over. “You did? No one mentioned it to me."
"Well, I had a couple of hours to kill before my appointment with Dr. Stalsett. Where did you go for lunch? I walked over to those fast food places close to the center. Thought you might be there."
Margit studied the browning pancakes intently. “Oh, one of the other girls wanted me to try this new restaurant over on Sorkedalsveien."
"How was it?"
"Not bad. Rather expensive, actually."
"Too bad I didn't get there earlier. I could've gone with you."
Margit moved the lefse to a warming platter and began frying sausage. “Perhaps next time. So, did you have a good conversation with Dr. Stalsett? Did he have any suggestions about your thesis?"
"Not exactly,” Erik said quietly. “I've decided to quit."
Margit turned and stared at him. “You're not serious?"
He nodded. “It's time for me to give up this idea of becoming a psychologist. I have you and Gunny to support now, and I can't do that and work on my thesis at the same time."
"Erik! I won't allow you to quit. You've put too many years into it to just give up now!"
"I've already made my decision,” Erik said. “I'm going to find a job in construction. Perhaps I can get one with the shipbuilders."
Margit stared at him, eyes wide with shock. “It's winter! What do you think you'll find in construction now? Erik! We can live on my earnings until you finish."
"That could take years.” Erik stood up and threw the remainder of his coffee down the drain. It suddenly tasted bitter. “And don't worry about money. I'll find something."
"Don't worry about it?” Margit's face contorted. He'd never seen her so angry. “I didn't marry a construction worker! You have a brilliant mind. You can't waste yourself in a menial job like that. I won't let you!"
Erik's lips tightened. “It's my decision, Margit. Let's just drop it."
"No, I won't! What kind of life can you give us if you're just a construction worker? As a psychologist, you would be respected, important ... like Bjorn! How can you do this to us?"
Fury swept over him, and he didn't try to contain it. “How can I do this to you? What about what you've done to me, eh? Does that mean anything to you at all? Christ, it's no wonder Gunvor chose to go up to the North Sea. Perhaps I should try to find a job there."
Margit's face paled. When she spoke, her voice was very quiet. “What have I done to you?"
Erik stared at her silently. Gunny walked into the room, blue eyes huge. “Uncle Erik, are you angry at Mama?"
He shook his head, already ashamed of himself. Margit still hadn't regained her color. He felt like the worst kind of scoundrel. God, it wasn't her fault he wasn't happy. Slowly, he went to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I'm sorry, darling. I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been in a rotten mood all day."
She snuggled against him, trembling. After a moment, she drew away and looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears. “Oh, Erik. That's the first time you've ever called me ‘darling.’ Could it be you're starting to fall in love with me?"
He tried, but couldn't look into her eyes. Instead, he pulled her head against his chest and caressed her reddish-gold braid. “You could be right,” he lied. He wished it were true. She was so alive and warm in his arms. And it was obvious she loved him. He would simply have to try harder.
* * * *
That night, Erik made love to Margit with an abandon that had been missing in the first weeks of their marriage. Once again, he'd grasped at the image of Kayleigh to shut out the reality of Margit beneath his hungry body. He'd come to the conclusion that if it worked, he'd do it. At least Margit wasn't left unsatisfied. And neither was he. It was only afterward when his senses had returned to normal that he felt the familiar letdown. Again, he vowed silently that their marriage wasn't going to work, th
at he had to escape this marital prison. Of course, only seconds later, he knew it was impossible. He was in this marriage for the duration, and his only choice was to try to make the best of it. If he could just forget Kayleigh, he knew he could force himself to be happy with Margit.
Chapter 24
"The birthday boy is here! Do you have a big kiss for your grandmother?"
Gunny reached up to give Grethe a kiss and then scampered off to join his cousins in the living room. She shook her white head and smiled at Erik and Margit. “It's hard to believe he's three today, isn't it?"
Margit sighed. “I don't believe he's left behind the ‘terrible twos'. He's been such a handful lately. Is everyone else here?"
"Everyone except Bjorn. He was called out on an emergency at the hospital."
Erik leaned down to kiss his mother's cheek. “Hello, Mother. I hear you have a bad cold."
"It's nothing!” She sniffed and stared at him disapprovingly. “Margit tells me you've quit working on your thesis and you're looking for a construction job."
Erik held in a sigh. “Yes, but I don't really wish to discuss it."
Margit and Grethe seemed to exchange a silent message, and then Grethe said briskly, “Well, go on in the family room and I'll bring in Gunny's cake."
Later, as the family sat chatting in front of the fireplace, Mags brought Erik a glass of aquavit and sat down next to him. “Skal,” his younger brother said and raised his glass.
Erik joined him, and both of them swallowed the burning liquor. Grimacing, Erik shook his head and grinned. “You should go easy on the aquavit, Mags. I don't think your coach would approve."
Mags laughed. “I know he wouldn't. But it's Gunny's birthday."
Erik looked at him closely. “You're awfully pleased with yourself about something. What is it?"
"I talked to the coach this morning. He thinks I'm his best prospect to make the Olympic team."
"All right!” Erik threw his arm around his brother, giving his shoulder a good squeeze. “Just think, this time next year, we may all be in Albertville rooting you on."
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