Still, he wasn't convinced. He waited a moment. “You're sure?"
The bathroom door swung open. Margit glared at him. “Damn it, Erik. I said I'm fine. Must you treat me like a child?"
Erik reached out and grasped her hands, gazing at her intently. “Margit, are you pregnant?"
Her mouth dropped open. “Where did you get such an absurd idea?"
"Absurd? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought we were planning on having a baby?"
"Yes, we talked about it, but I've never given you any reason to believe I'm pregnant now."
"But you went to your doctor yesterday!"
She looked at him oddly. “Yes. I went to see him because I haven't conceived. After the holidays, he wants to conduct a battery of tests. On you, too, if he can't find anything wrong with me."
"Well, why didn't you tell me?” Erik said. “You were being so secretive I thought you had good news."
Margit sighed. “I didn't want to ruin your holiday. I thought we'd discuss it afterwards. It's no big deal, really. Dr. Sjaastad suspects it's some kind of glandular problem."
Erik took her into his arms. “Oh, love, don't keep things from me. Don't you know I want to share everything with you? Even if it isn't good."
"Hey, you two lovebirds!” Mags appeared in the hallway. “Come on, the children are ready to open their gifts."
Erik guided Margit toward the living room. As they met Mags, he gave her a concerned smile. “Feeling better, Sis?"
She nodded, but her face was grim.
An hour later, all the gifts had been opened and Grethe brought out coffee and dessert. By this time, Bjorn was obviously and irrevocably drunk. Erik didn't remember ever seeing him like this. He lurched around the family room to the disapproving glares of Anne-Lise and his mother, once nearly falling into the Christmas tree. Shortly after that, he tried to maneuver his wife under the doorway where the mistletoe hung, but she deftly moved out of his grasp. He turned to Margit standing nearby. Before she could guess his intentions, he pushed her against the door frame and drunkenly bent down and ground his mouth into hers. With raised eyebrows, Erik rose from his chair to rescue Margit, but before he could move, she ripped away from him. Her hand lashed out against his ruddy cheek with a resounding slap. There was a dead silence as everyone in the room turned to look at Margit and Bjorn. Erik stood up.
"I think it's time we get going."
* * * *
As Johnny Mathis’ “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” flowed from the stereo speakers, Leigh looked around at all her close friends and said a silent prayer of thanks. How perfect this Christmas was turning out to be. Deanna had come down from New York, Ward and Egan were here and so were the kids. Even Mark had turned up, Vicki in tow. And of course, there was Knut. Dear sweet Knut.
This year was so different from last Christmas. On Christmas Eve last year, she'd been thrashing in a fevered delirium inside a small stone cottage on a snow-covered mountain. Thinking back, she could almost smell the scent of blue spruce, a scent she would always associate with Norway. And then, so vividly that she drew in a sharp breath, she saw Erik dressed in a red Norwegian sweater, his cheeks ruddy from the frigid air, his blond hair tousled by the wind. The thought of him brought a sudden wave of pain spearing through her. It was followed by anger. She'd thought the memory of Erik had lost its power to hurt her. But obviously, she was wrong.
Abruptly, she stood up and made her way to the kitchen, ostensibly to bring out more food. A moment later, Deanna followed her in and sat down at the table in front of the shuttered window. “Damn! It's getting warm in there."
"Yeah. Knut always has that fire blazing.” Leigh opened the back door. A blast of cold air swept into the room.
"Oooh. That feels better.” Deanna watched Leigh wrap a slice of prosciutto around a chunk of honeydew. “I really like Knut. Where do you find these great men?"
Leigh shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess."
"Damn right.” Deanna got up and sidled over to snatch a slice of prosciutto from the tray. She popped it into her mouth. “You do realize he's crazy about you?"
"Uh huh."
"And you?"
Leigh looked up at her. “I like him ... a lot. In fact, you could say I love him...” Her voice trailed off.
"But?"
"But nothing. I do love him."
Deanna stared at her for a moment. “So, is it wedding bells?"
Leigh shook her head. “I'm not ready to get married again. But I've been thinking about asking him to move in."
"I'm surprised he hasn't already."
"Let's just say I'm playing it cautiously this time.” Leigh assembled the last hors d'oeuvre and placed the rest of the melon into the refrigerator.
"Have you heard from Erik?"
Leigh froze. Slowly, she turned back to Deanna. “No, of course not."
"Jesus!” Deanna said. “His name still has the power to turn your face white."
Leigh grabbed a dishcloth and briskly wiped down the counter. “It's just that I was thinking about him tonight. About last Christmas. How different tonight is from last year."
"Yeah.” Deanna's face was rueful. “It wasn't a great Christmas for either one of us, was it? You were stuck in a cabin in Norway with pneumonia and I was recovering from a double mastectomy."
"I guess we have a lot to be thankful for this year, don't we?” Leigh said softly.
Deanna threw an arm around her shoulder and grinned. “You betcha. I have brand new reconstructed breasts, and you have Knut. Stick with him, Leigh. He's a good man."
"I know."
Deanna shivered. “Shit! It's colder than a witches’ tit in here. Come on, let's go in and celebrate."
Leigh laughed as Deanna disappeared through the swinging door. Still smiling, she closed the back door, grabbed the silver tray, and followed her.
* * * *
Knut walked over to the television set and turned it off in the middle of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's rendition of “Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella.” It was five minutes after one in the morning.
"Want a nightcap?” he asked.
Leigh had kicked off her shoes and was relaxing on the sofa with Rosie curled up on her stomach. She yawned. “Yeah, a little brandy would be nice."
Deanna had already gone off to bed in the spare room just after the last of the guests departed. Leigh knew she should do the same thing. There were no little kids to get up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, but she had a turkey to get into the oven so they could eat at a reasonable hour. Mel, Mark and Aaron were coming over for Christmas dinner. It would be like a real family with Knut and Deanna there.
When Knut arrived with the drinks, Leigh sat up to make room for him on the sofa. Rosie gave her an irritated look and jumped off to scamper out of the room. “How are you feeling?” Leigh asked as she took her drink from him. “I've noticed your cough isn't so bad tonight."
Knut took a sip of his drink. “Ja, maybe I'm finally starting to shake this cold."
The week before, Knut had missed a day of work because of a nasty cold. When Leigh checked on him after work, it had taken her about two seconds to coax him into coming back with her to her apartment. Luckily, it had been a Friday evening, so she'd had the entire weekend to nurse him back to health in time for the Christmas party.
"You're staying tonight, aren't you?"
He glanced toward the guest room. “I don't know. Should I?"
Leigh laughed. “Knut! It's Deanna, for God's sake. You can see she's not exactly the most conservative person in the world."
He smiled. “That, she's not. Well, if you want me to stay..."
Leigh leaned toward him and kissed him lightly on the lips. “What do you think?"
"Okay, you've talked me into it.” He rummaged into his pocket and brought out his pipe. “Just a little smoke and we'll go to bed, ja?"
"Knut, what do you say to making our arrangement permanent?"
Knut paused in l
ighting his pipe and raised his eyebrows. Leigh, feeling a sudden shyness come over her, focused on the way the pipe dangled between his lips. Finally, he spoke, “Are you proposing to me?"
Leigh gulped. “Not exactly. I'm proposing you move in with me."
Knut grinned. “You mean ... live in sin? Kristus, Leigh, I'm shocked! And I thought you were such a proper lady."
Leigh punched him gently. “Come on, Knut. I'm serious!"
"I'm serious, too.” He took the pipe out of his mouth and bent toward her to kiss her gently. He drew away and gazed into her eyes. “And I want you to know there's no other woman in the world I'd rather live in sin with. When would you like me to bring my things over?"
"How about the day after Christmas?"
"Then the day after Christmas, it will be.” He kissed her again, more hungrily this time. Afterward, he dropped his pipe to the end table. “To hell with the smoke. Come on, let's go to bed."
* * * *
On an evening in January, Knut came home from work wearing a bigger grin than usual. Leigh, who'd left the gallery an hour earlier, was putting a roast into the oven for dinner. He silently crept up behind her and grabbed her around the waist, kissing her lustily on the neck.
"Quit trying to startle me,” Leigh said, smiling. “Rosie heard you at the door and scampered out to meet you."
Knut sighed. “Cats aren't supposed to do things like that."
"She thinks she's a dog.” Leigh turned in his arms and kissed him. “Mmm ... that was nice. Let's do it again."
"You'll get no refusal from me.” Their lips clung together for a long moment. Knut pulled away first, an expectant smile on his face.
"Why are you grinning like the Cheshire cat?” Leigh asked, knowing something was up.
"How do you feel about a little holiday in February?"
"It sounds wonderful. What do you have in mind? Hawaii ... the Caribbean?"
"Well, actually, I was thinking of going to a high altitude. Maybe some place that can give me some relief from my allergies.” In the last month, Knut had been suffering from an extraordinary amount of coughing and wheezing.
"Skiing in Colorado, right?” She thought of the cute teal ski-bib and matching parka she'd seen at Ski Chalet the other day. This weekend, she'd get Melissa to go shopping with her.
"Skiing, ja. But not Colorado. And we won't be doing any skiing. I was thinking more of France. Albertville, to be exact."
"Albertville?” Leigh's eyes flashed with excitement. “Knut, do you mean it? You are talking about the Winter Olympics, aren't you?"
Grinning, he pulled two airline tickets from his jacket. “For you, madame."
"Oh, Knut!” She threw her arms around him. “Oh, you don't know what you've done for me! I've always dreamed of going to the Winter Olympics."
"I know.” Knut's voice was muffled against her hair. “You told me, remember? When we watched the U.S. Figure Skating Championships on TV. Do you think you'll have any problem getting off from work?"
"Are you kidding? With Ward?"
The phone interrupted them. Leigh reached for it. “Knut, would you look and see if I turned the oven on? You got me so excited, I can't remember ... Hello? Oh, hi, Mel. How's it going? I'm fine. You aren't going to believe what's happened. Knut and I are going to France for the Winter Olympics."
There was a small pause at the other end of the line. Then, Melissa spoke quietly, “That's great, Mom. Uh ... maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but ... well, I think you should be prepared..."
"What?” Leigh's eyebrows furrowed.
"Well, when I got home from school, I found a letter from Mags waiting for me. He's made the Norwegian ski-jumping team for the Olympics. It's possible you might run into Erik there."
Leigh felt the blood drain from her face.
Chapter 30
Leigh shivered as a frigid wind from the north blew into the stadium in Albertville. She snuggled closer to Knut, amazed that the cold didn't appear to be bothering him. He looked so Scandinavian in his heavy overcoat and the Russian fur hat pulled down snugly over his ears. Despite the blue fox jacket she wore and Knut's Christmas present, a matching imitation fur hat, Leigh was slowly growing numb. They'd been here at the opening ceremonies for two hours now, and the French were putting on a breathtaking show.
This was just the beginning of two weeks of exciting events. Leigh had so many favorites it was hard to decide which ones to attend. She had a feeling they would be spending most of their time at the ski-jumping events. That was fine with her, as long as they could watch the figure skating in the evenings. She also hoped they'd be able to take in some of the Alpine skiing. What could be more thrilling than watching those skiers hurtling down the mountain at breakneck speed while the sound of Swiss cow-bells reverberated through the crisp cold air?
Yet, Knut's heart belonged to one group of men ... the ones who flew through the air as gracefully as any bird—the ski-jumpers. Leigh was surprised to learn he'd done a little jumping back in Norway. But when he was eighteen, he'd taken a bad fall during a gusty wind and injured a knee badly enough to need surgery. That had been the end of ski-jumping for him. He admitted it had been one of the great disappointments of his life.
Knut unscrewed the cap from a thermos of coffee and poured some of the steaming brew into a plastic cup. He gave it to Leigh. “I wish I'd thought to put some aquavit in it. That would keep us warm. But then, you don't like our national firewater, do you?"
Leigh took a sip of the hot coffee, relishing the warmth of the cup between her gloved hands. “Mmm ... this is perfect ... even without the aquavit. God, my fingers are numb!"
Knut turned to her. “Here. Put the coffee down and take off your gloves.” He stripped off his gloves and took her hands between his, rubbing them briskly. “Better?” he asked after a moment.
Leigh nodded. “But you'd better get your gloves back on before you get frostbite."
"The only thing wrong with my hands is this damn swelling.” Knut held one out to her. “It's been like this for several days now. Could it be the altitude?” The knuckles and joints on his right hand did look swollen, but Leigh had never heard of high altitude causing it.
"Did it ever happen to you in Tromso?” she asked. After all, the area he came from was mountainous.
He shook his head. “Well, if it doesn't go down by the time we get home, I'll have it checked out.” He slipped his glove back on.
Leigh looked at him closely. “You know, even your face looks a little puffy. Do you think it could be something you ate? My mother is allergic to shellfish, and I can't eat fresh pineapple without having something like an asthma attack."
"No, I don't think so. Oh, look! The athletes are coming in."
A thrill of excitement coursed through her as she saw the flag of Greece coming toward them. By tradition, Greece was always the first country to march into the stadium even though the actual number of Greek athletes in the Winter Olympics was nominal. Leigh scanned the long line of athletes, and her heartbeat accelerated.
Erik's brother would be in there somewhere. In fact, Erik himself could be here. Her eyes swept the huge stadium. Over on the left, she saw a few Norwegian flags waving in the crowd. Was it possible? Still, she didn't ask to borrow Knut's binoculars. Maybe she didn't really want to know. She hadn't mentioned to Knut that she knew one of Norway's participants in the ski-jumping. It would just bring up difficult questions. Ones she still didn't feel comfortable answering. No, it was better just to leave it alone.
"You should get one of those,” Leigh said to him, pointing to the Norwegian flags.
"I will,” he said with a short laugh. “During the ski jumping. I want to be prepared when Norway wins the gold medal."
France's athletes passed by, decked out in red, white and blue. A tumultuous cheer shook the stadium as the partisan crowd greeted their countrymen.
Other countries passed by at a leisurely pace, or so it seemed to Leigh. A reunited Germany paraded by, sen
ding an emotional reaction sweeping through the crowd. For the first time since 1938, East and West would perform under the same flag.
South Korea. Tiny Luxembourg. The Netherlands. Leigh's heart jolted as she glimpsed the familiar red flag with the blue bars. And finally, there they were in front of her. The Norwegians wearing royal blue parkas and red knit hats. Leigh scanned their faces but it was impossible to pick out Mags from among them. Knut gazed through the binoculars.
"See anyone you recognize?” Leigh asked lightly.
He turned to smile at her, his face shining with pride. “Here. You look for a while."
Her hands trembled as she lifted the glasses to her eyes and began to move them over the waving athletes from Norway. It would almost be a relief if he weren't there. Perhaps then she could quit fantasizing about Erik being nearby. But two rows from the back of the group, she focused the binoculars on one young man. His hat was pulled down low over his ears, but it couldn't hide the long blond hair that fell from the back of his neck onto his shoulders. And his walk was uncannily similar to Erik's.
Leigh felt faint. That was Mags Haukeland. She knew it. And there was one other thing she knew with certainty. Because every fibre in her body was screaming it out.
Erik was somewhere in this stadium.
* * * *
The next day dawned sunny and windless, a perfect day for ski-jumping. Knut was beside himself with excitement; Leigh could barely get him to eat his breakfast before going out to the park where the ski-jump would be held. He didn't notice that her own hand trembled on her fork as she scooped up a bite of omelet. But there was another emotion mingled with her anticipation of the event. Fear. Fear of seeing Erik ... or worse, not seeing him.
* * * *
Mags was just about to take the lift up to the hill. He turned to Erik, his face pale. “Well, this is it. The moment I've been waiting for all these years."
Erik reached out and clasped his hand. “You'll do it, Mags. You're going to be great."
"Damn! I feel like I'm going to upchuck!"
"Just nerves. By the time you sit on that bar up there, you'll be fine.” Erik gave his younger brother a brisk hug. “I want to be the first to congratulate you on your medal win after that second jump, okay?"
East of the Sun, West of the Moon Page 32
