by Kris Tualla
Hollis and Aleksander stared at Sveyn, who had remained silent since their introduction.
“What do you mean?” Hollis asked, knowing full well what he meant.
Sveyn addressed Aleksander. “Would you write down the names of your father, and your grandfather? Great-grandfather as well. If you know it.”
“Of course I know it. I have a whole family tree constructed on Ancestry.” Aleksander chuckled. “You probably want to make sure you two aren’t related before the wedding, right?”
Hollis turned startled eyes to Sveyn. What made him say that?
Sveyn chuckled as well. “That would be awkward, would it not?”
Hollis pulled the men back to Sveyn’s initial query. “Would you be willing to share that family tree with me?”
“Sure. Why not. Write down your email address and I’ll send you a link.”
While Hollis complied with the request, Aleksander asked, “So will I see you again?”
“I actually live in Phoenix now.” She handed her father the slip of paper. “I’m a collections manager in a museum there. But we can be in contact. If you don’t mind, I’d like that.”
Aleksander rubbed the paper between his finger and thumb as he considered her, his daughter. “You know, Karen has hair like yours.”
“No, I didn’t. Did Kathleen?”
He shook his head. “And she was glad she didn’t. But I always liked it.”
Sveyn stood. “Thank you for speaking with us. I know how much Hollis appreciates it.”
Hollis stood as well. “I do have one last question to ask.”
Aleksander clasped his hands behind his back. “Go on.”
“What’s your blood type?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“O-negative,” Hollis said to Brianne. “That’s where I got it.”
Brianne sat in the drawing room sipping tea and nibbling homemade scones. Hollis sat next to her, her legs tucked under her, while Ian read a newspaper in a nearby chair.
“These are amazing.” Hollis turned to Sveyn. “Taste them.”
Sveyn obeyed. And Hollis was right.
“I’m going upstairs to get your laptop,” he said. “I want to see if Aleksander invited you to the family tree yet.”
Hollis smiled knowingly. “Okay.”
Sveyn returned with the computer. He set it on the coffee table next to the plate of scones and opened it. He clicked on Google, then on the email icon. Hollis’s inbox opened.
“Is it there?” Hope colored her voice as much as it colored his mood.
“No—yes! It just arrived.” He looked at her. “May I continue?”
“Sure. You’re going to be my husband, so we have no secrets.”
Sveyn wondered what Ian and Brianne would think if they knew the extent to which that statement was true. He opened the email and clicked the icon which opened the site.
He turned the laptop toward Hollis. “You need to create an account.”
While she did, Sveyn noticed Ian watching him. “Does something concern you, Ian?”
He set his newspaper down. “How much will you make from the commercials?”
“Dad!” Hollis barked.
Ian’s gaze moved to hers. “You mentioned that he’s going to be your husband and I have some concerns.”
Sveyn looked at Hollis as well. “As your father, he has the right to ask these things.”
Then he spoke to Ian. “I do not know what the total amount will be, but I do get paid something each time the commercial is on television, multiplied by the number of stations that show it.”
Ian looked impressed. “That could be some serious money.”
“I hope so.”
Hollis unfolded her legs and leaned forward. “Dad, I need to tell you something.”
“Hollis, please don’t start an argument,” Brianne pleaded.
“I’m not.” Her consideration moved to Sveyn. “But something happened that I didn’t tell you guys about.”
Sveyn knew what that was; as an apparition he heard every word that came out of Hollis’s mouth, no matter how loud or soft, and there was one glaring omission in her conversations with Ian and Brianne.
He leaned back on the settee and rested his hand on the small of her back.
“When I was attacked back in November, I was actually drugged and kidnapped,” she began. When Ian’s eyes moved to Sveyn, Hollis noticed. “Not by Sveyn—he saved me!”
“Were you badly hurt?” Brianne asked.
“I would’ve been if Sveyn hadn’t intervened.” Hollis tried to give an explanation that would make sense. “You just couldn’t see him on the YouTube video the museum posted.”
Hollis then proceeded with a very stripped down version of Everett Sage’s actions, ending with his plea bargain while her stunned parents stared at her.
“So because he pled guilty, I was able to sue him for damages in civil court.” Hollis shrugged. “And I won.”
“How much?” Ian asked. “If you don’t mind saying.”
Hollis looked like she did mind somewhat. “Enough to pay cash for a nice house in a nice Phoenix suburb, and tuck away a generous retirement fund after that.”
“Oh.” Ian cleared his throat. “Was this before Sveyn proposed?”
Hollis looked like a mother bear protecting her cub and Sveyn was afraid Ian was about to get the worst of it.
“Yes, Ian, it was,” he said to forestall the feminine outburst he anticipated. “And that is why I agreed to do the commercials. I want to bring my own financial worth to the marriage.”
“Dad. Sveyn probably saved my life. Do you get that?” Hollis growled.
“Honey, I just—”
Hollis swung her arm around to point at him, nearly planting a finger in his eye socket. “I’d give him half the money even if he hadn’t proposed! Because he deserves it!”
Sveyn gripped her hovering hand and set it in her lap. He would never have accepted that money, but to say so now would only fan Hollis’s fire.
“I believe your point is made,” he said calmly.
“Dad?” Hollis prodded. “Do you have anything else to say?”
Ian looked older all of a sudden. “I forget that you’re a grown woman, Hollis, and capable of handling your own life. I apologize.” His gaze jumped to Sveyn. “To both of you.”
Hollis’s body relaxed. “Apology accepted.”
Sveyn smiled his acceptance. “Ian, I hope that when Hollis and I have a family, that I will be as diligent a father as you are.”
Brianne patted Hollis’s hand. “I’m sorry about what you went through, but I wish you would have told us.”
“I didn’t want to worry you, Mom.”
Sveyn reached forward, woke up the laptop that had gone black, and changed the subject. “Shall we look at Aleksander’s family tree?”
“Yeah. Let’s.” Hollis leaned against his shoulder. “Click there.”
When he did, a sort of maze appeared on the screen. “Here is Aleksander. He has a wife and children.” Sveyn slid his gaze sideways to Hollis. “You have two half-siblings.”
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll look them up on Facebook, but not until I’m sure he’s told them about me.”
Sveyn moved up a level. “Aleksander’s father, Thor Hansen, was born in nineteen-forty-five. His wife, Elsie Baumann was born in nineteen-forty-seven.”
“How many children did they have?”
“There are four names.”
“And Thor’s father?” Hollis asked.
Sveyn moved up a level. What he saw should not have been a surprise, but it was nonetheless.
“Thor’s father, Tor Hansen, was born in Arendal, Norway in nineteen-fifteen.” Sveyn’s throat thickened and he rubbed his eyes before tears could fall. “He died in nineteen-forty-five.”
“Sveyn?” Hollis whispered.
He nodded.
He was with Tor when the man died—only six months ago in his own warped existence. Tor was the soldier he had follow
ed in his last manifestation during the war with Germany.
And he was Hollis’s great-grandfather.
Sveyn cleared his throat and squinted at the screen. “He was married to Kyle Solberg, an American born in nineteen-nineteen. She passed in nineteen-eighty-nine.”
Hollis laid a hand on his arm. He rested his palm over it.
“We have to drop off those yearbooks,” Hollis said. “How about we do that on the way to dinner?”
“Dinner?” Brianne laughed. “I’m full of scones.”
“I didn’t mean now.” Hollis squeezed Sveyn’s arm. “I want to lie down for a little while. I’m done in.”
Sveyn closed the laptop. “I’ll come up with you for a while.”
“Dinner at five?” Hollis asked as she stood.
“Sounds great,” Ian answered. “Let’s try the German Haus. I always liked that place.”
Hollis crossed the room and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
He kissed the top of her head.
As Sveyn followed Hollis out of the room, he saw his face on the muted television.
Hi, I’m Eric. Are you my match?
*****
Hollis was stunned to discover that Sveyn knew her great-grandfather, and judging by his sudden emotions he must have liked Tor.
She also wanted to ask him about the electrical tingle she felt when he shook Aleksander’s hand, though after discovering the direct connection the men had, she assumed that was what caused it.
Hollis and Sveyn laid close on the bed so they could speak softly. This conversation was not one she wished for anyone to overhear and ask her about.
“First of all, did you feel anything funny when you met Aleksander?”
Sveyn nodded. “I wondered if I would still recognize my father’s descendants if I was to meet one in this body. But as soon as he spoke, I felt it. I knew.”
“When you shook his hand I felt the same kind of electrical tingle I used to feel when we tried to touch—back before all this changed.” Hollis frowned. “Why do you think that is?”
“I have no idea. Perhaps I have changed you.”
“So.” Hollis turned on her side to face Sveyn. “Tor Hansen was your last manifestation?”
“Yes.”
“The World War Two soldier who died in Italy?” Hollis looked stricken. “Oh, no! Did he ever see his son?”
Sveyn sighed heavily. “No. I am afraid he did not.”
“How long were you with him?”
“I manifested to him when he was getting on the plane to fly from Colorado to Europe.”
Hollis wiped away a tear rolling over the bridge of her nose. “Did he say anything to you?”
Sveyn smiled sadly. “He asked if I was his guardian angel.”
Monday
February 15
Yesterday’s drive from Sparta to Milwaukee was exhausting. The snow which Sveyn said he smelled on Saturday came down in a constant but thankfully windless flurry. Even so, the roads were slippery and Hollis’s arms were stiff when she finally pulled into her parents’ driveway.
“Not a very romantic way to spend Valentine’s Day, huh?” she muttered to Sveyn as she navigated around a slow semi-trailer.
“We have many years ahead to celebrate,” he reminded her. “And when we do, we will be married.”
Hollis slept late this morning, burrowing under the covers until Sveyn came in and rousted her out just before eleven.
He kissed her soundly before asking, “Do you still have a meeting at the museum about the painting?”
“Yes. At one.” She groaned and stretched. “I guess I should get to it.”
Sveyn came with her to the museum again, stating that he found it fascinating to explore. “If I am going to spend the rest of my life with a collections manager, I should become familiar with different methods for display, should I not?”
Hollis laughed. “You just don’t want to be home where my father can grill you with more questions.”
“No, but if he would grill more brats I would be very happy.”
Hollis stepped back while he opened the museum door. “They do sell brats in Phoenix, you know.”
Sveyn’s cheeks split in a wide grin. “I did not. Now I am even happier to return.”
The same gal was working at the front desk.
“Would you please let Mary Oberman know that Hollis McKenna is here?”
“Hello, again.” She smiled at Sveyn. “I saw you on TV.”
“I’m still over here.”
The girl’s irritated gaze shifted to Hollis. “Sah-reee,” she warbled.
Hollis lifted her cheeks in an admittedly insincere smile. “I’m here to see Mary Oberman.”
She picked up the phone with a sigh. “And you are?”
Hollis spoke slowly yet again. “Hollis. McKenna.”
“Is she expecting you?”
“Yes.”
Hollis shook her head. Sveyn laughed outright.
Mary appeared from a different direction this time. “Oh good. You’re here.”
Hollis looked at her watch. “I’m early.”
“So were they.”
“Text me when you finish,” Sveyn said. “And take all the time you need.” Then he walked toward the twentieth-century wing. World War Two.
Welcome to the current focus of my life.
Hollis returned her attention to Mary. “Have you said anything to them yet?”
“No. I was hoping you would.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you said you figured it out.” Mary leaned closer. “And Gerhardt won’t argue with you.”
“Wanna bet?” Hollis scoffed. “So did the mediation people send anything written?”
“Yeah, it’s in my office.” Mary linked her arm through Hollis’s. “Come with me and together we can brace for the storm.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hollis walked into the conference room to find both the Kunst and Meyer family members sitting in the same places as their last meeting. Once again, Mary walked to the head of the conference room table, leaving Hollis standing alone in the line of fire.
“First of all, I want you all to listen carefully to everything I have to tell you, because there is more to the story than any of you know.” Hollis pinned her gaze on Gerhardt. “Does everyone understand that?”
Heads bobbed over anxiously clasped hands and not one person’s eyes moved away from Hollis.
“First, I will say that I agree with the mediations committee. They made the right choice as to who has provenance over the painting.” Hollis drew a steadying breath which did not slow her heart or keep her hands from shaking. “And that choice is the Meyer family.”
Gerhardt’s fist hit the table while a weeping Eli embraced his son Samuel. Amelia Kunst looked inexplicably unconcerned.
“It was a gift!” Gerhardt bellowed. “This decision is wrong.”
“The thing is, Mr. Kunst, it wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?” He flung a pointed finger toward the painting. “My father’s name is on the back!”
“And that’s what gives it away,” Hollis said. “Who inscribes a painting like that, and then hangs it back up on their own wall?”
Gerhardt’s mouth flapped soundlessly. Eli and Samuel returned their attention to Hollis.
“That is a very good question,” Eli ventured. “Do you know why, Ms. McKenna?”
Hollis gave him a soft, empathetic smile. “I have a very good idea, Mr. Meyer.”
“Please,” Gerhardt growled. “Enlighten us.”
Hollis tried to maintain her composure as she outlined the only explanation that made tragic sense. “Benjamin knew what was happening to Jews in Germany in nineteen-thirty-eight. First, to the poor and uneducated, and for a while, he believed that his connection to the Neues Museum offered him protection.”
“And then, he realized it wouldn’t…” Samuel offered.
“He truly held out hope that it would,”
Hollis said. “But he was a smart man. He knew he had to prepare for the worst.”
Gerhardt’s shoulders fell. “So he wrote my father’s name on the back of the painting in case, well, what happened—happened?”
“Yes. The inscription to Wilhelm was there in the event that Benjamin and his family disappeared. So it was less a gift, than a plan B.”
“To save both the painting and Rachel’s memory.” Gerhardt nodded somberly. He glanced at Eli. “I have to admit, that does make sense.”
Hollis switched her tack before revealing the final chapter. “I understand that for both of you, the painting of Rachel has deep personal significance.”
Gerhardt and Eli met each other’s gaze, and for the first time without any animosity.
“It is the only piece left of our fathers,” Eli murmured.
“Our only piece of beauty to survive an ugly time,” Gerhardt agreed.
“I don’t know if any of you know this,” Hollis said carefully, “but with modern technology we can scan a painting and print it with amazingly accurate raised brushstrokes on a new canvas.”
“By all means, make one for Mr. Kunst,” Samuel said without hesitation. “I’ll gladly pay for it. Without his father’s intervention, this painting would have been destroyed.”
“That’s very kind, Samuel. Thank you.” Hollis smiled. “And I especially thank you for your words.”
“It is true.” Eli looked at Gerhardt. “Rachel is here with us because Wilhelm was not afraid to go after her and carry her to safety.”
Hollis looked at Mary.
Mary was grinning like a hyena.
Hollis pulled Rachel from her leather satchel and set it on the easel which was apparently a permanent piece of the conference room’s furniture. Then she faced the family members again.
“When you make the copy, Samuel, you are going to want to make two.”
Samuel gestured toward Amelia. “I have no problem with that, but she will inherit her father’s you know.”
“I do.” Hollis wanted to drag the moment out as long as possible; it was just too delicious. “But that’s not why.”
Eli turned to Mary his wrinkled brow pulled up like purse strings. “Does the museum want to display her?”
