A Modern Viking: Sveyn & Hollis: Part Three (The Hansen Series - Sveyn & Hollis Book 3)

by Kris Tualla

  Sveyn leaned over and kissed her. That definitely lifted her mood and she encouraged him to kiss her again.

  “Do not apologize.” He nuzzled her hair. “I had a fine time.”

  Hollis laughed. “I bet you did, Mr. Celebrity.”

  Sveyn chuckled. “I had no idea.”

  “Me neither.” Hollis started the car. “Now I just want to get home, get comfy, and tell mom and dad about Eli Meyer.”

  “I have a question for you,” Sveyn said once they were on the way. “Did people ask you about a date for our wedding?”

  “All night. Why?”

  Sveyn turned in his seat. “When are we getting married?”

  “Now that you have your documentation, we can get the license.” She glanced at him, his features chiseled by blue streetlights. “What are your thoughts?”

  He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I would marry you tonight, Hollis. I see no reason to wait longer than circumstances require us to.”

  “So, where do you want to get married?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In a church, outside in a park, in a hot air balloon…” She glanced at him again. “All we need are two witnesses and someone to perform the ceremony.”

  The Viking looked surprised. “We can get married in a balloon?”

  “Yep. It’s our decision.”

  “I suppose it depends on who you want to be there,” he observed. “George and Stevie had hundreds of witnesses, but a much smaller reception afterwards.”

  Hollis laughed. “I don’t want to get married on a stage.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “Who do you want to be there?”

  Sveyn leaned back in the seat. “George is my only friend, so I would have him stand up for me. Other than that, the guests would be your friends and family.”

  “Let’s elope, then.” Hollis felt guilty about cutting her parents out, but she didn’t want to wait anymore. Sveyn proved to be the same man with a body as he had been without one, only much sexier.

  She had to confess, watching other women fawn over him added to her urgency. Not that she thought for a moment that she would lose him after all they had gone through to find each other, but speaking the vows and putting a ring on his finger might dissuade the more overt propositions coming his way.

  Sveyn grinned. “Is there an Arizona version of Gretna Green?”

  “Yep. It’s called Las Vegas, Nevada.”

  “Really?”

  Hollis nodded. “Really. We could drive there the day after we get back.”

  Sveyn was quiet for several minutes before he responded. “I want something more respectful than running away. When I pledge my troth to you, I do not wish to appear flippant.”

  Hollis heart melted a little. “So you want to plan something, but soon?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  Hollis smiled. “We’ll start as soon as we get home.”

  “Speaking of home, you told your father you have enough money to buy a house.” Sveyn faced her again. “I think we should look for one. Your condo is not the right place for us.”

  That suggestion was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. “Okay, but let’s get married first. Then we’ll find a realtor to begin the search.”

  Hollis pulled into her parents’ driveway and parked. “It’s time to repack and relax.”

  *****

  Ian, Brianne, Hollis, and Sveyn sat around the kitchen table nibbling leftovers from the dinner.

  “How can I possibly be hungry?” Hollis groaned.

  Sveyn pointed a garlicky breadstick at her. “Talking to people and avoiding their questions kept you from eating too heartily.”

  “What questions were you avoiding?” Ian asked.

  “Wedding date, mostly.”

  Sveyn saw the warning look Hollis threw his way and so he changed the subject. “Tell your mother and father what you discovered today.”

  Hollis set down her steaming cup of hot chocolate. “You two are not going to believe this. If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t believe it.”

  Brianne used a fork to pick at the salad. “Did it have to do with the dispute over the painting?”

  “Not really.” Hollis told her parents how that situation played out, ending with Eli Meyer’s decision to split the money from the sale of the Max Liebermann painting.

  “After Mary has the high-quality copies made, of course. The museum will keep the painting in their custody during the whole process so nothing happens to it.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Ian wagged his head. “Can you imagine? Such a valuable piece tucked away and forgotten in a dusty pile in someone’s hoard.”

  Sveyn flashed a crooked smile. After seeing Ezra’s meticulous care of his collection, Sveyn doubted the man forgot about anything he owned.

  “And if the Ghost Myths, Inc. guys hadn’t filmed me in the Collections Storeroom,” Hollis continued, “none of us would know what was underneath.”

  Brianne yawned. “Sorry. So what else did you discover?”

  Hollis looked at her mother with a puckish expression. “Do you know Karen Mueller’s maiden name?”

  “Sure. It’s Meyer…” Brianne’s eyes widened. “No!”

  “Yep.” Hollis’s gaze bounced from her mother to her father and back again. “Her family was in Tomah, right?”

  Ian leaned closer to his daughter. “Are you saying that this Eli Meyer is related to Karen?”

  Hollis grabbed her father’s hand across the table. “Eli Meyer is Karen Meyer Mueller’s father.”

  Brianne was obviously stunned. “Kathleen’s grandfather?”

  Hollis nodded. “Yep. And my red-headed great-grandfather.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Tuesday

  February 16

  Their tearful good-byes accomplished, Hollis and Sveyn walked into the General Mitchell International Airport terminal for their flight back to Phoenix. Hollis decided not to tell her parents that she and Sveyn were going to marry in a planned elopement because she didn’t want them to spend the money on a last-minute flight.

  “I’ll tell them they can plan a reception for us the next time we visit,” she told Sveyn. “That way they can do what they want without any pressure.”

  Sveyn was not convinced that was the best plan, but Hollis was a Hansen, and Hansens were generally stubborn. “As long as we are married soon, I will be satisfied.”

  When the plane took off they were served assorted warmed nuts in their first class seats. Hollis selected a red wine and Sveyn a dark beer.

  The big jet climbed into the clouds, making the whitewashed Wisconsin landscape invisible. Sveyn felt a tug of sadness; walking through the crunching snow, feeling the chill on his skin, and the bracing cold of the air that filled his lungs was so much like his home that he did not want to leave

  He had felt none of that since he was stabbed in ten-seventy and it was the only thing he knew before then.

  Sveyn knew the Phoenix summers were brutally hot and he wondered what that was going to be like. Maybe once Hollis took him to the mountains and he was able to get the lay of Arizona’s high country, he might suggest a cabin of some sort where they could escape the heat when they were not working.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Sveyn smiled at his love. “Snow.”

  “I’ll find you some, don’t worry.” Hollis popped a huge cashew in her mouth. “Maybe we’ll go to the mountains this weekend.”

  Good. “What are you thinking about?”

  Hollis held the stem of her wine glass with one hand and the other hand fell into her lap. “How much my life has changed in the last week.”

  Sveyn understood her overwhelmed reaction. “You came ready to ask about your adoption.”

  “And I’m leaving having found my birthfather, one great-grandfather soldier whom you manifested to, and a great-great-grandfather killed in the Holocaust camps in Germany.” Hollis blew a sigh and twirled the wineglass
on her tray. “There is so much history packed into those men’s lives.”

  That was certainly true. “Do you want to know more about the soldier?”

  Hollis looked at him, her blue eyes wide. “Yes. Tell me everything.”

  Sveyn settled in his ample seat. “Tor Hansen went to the American army’s Camp Hale in Colorado to train American soldiers in Nordic skiing.”

  “Why?”

  “So they could ski the Alps and attack Hitler’s troops from behind.” Sveyn grinned. “You know we invented skiing, right? We taught the Swiss.”

  Hollis rolled her eyes. “Stick to the story. How many soldiers are we talking about?”

  “Three regiments.”

  “So did they attack?”

  Sveyn nodded. “They did. The Germans were taken by surprise and the Americans secured the ridge above their camp for the next day’s battle.”

  “When was this?”

  “February of nineteen-forty-five.”

  Hollis’s expression grew sad. “That’s where Tor died.”

  Images of those battles were burned into Sveyn’s memory. Blood on snow is a stark contrast, and there was an abundance of blood that day—both German and American. He hadn’t been with Tor for long and all he could do was warn the man when danger approached. That saved Tor the first night, but there was nothing Sveyn could do for him the next day.

  “It was a very hard battle, Hollis. And the Americans did win.” Sveyn took a sip of his beer, his throat was suddenly dry. “In the end, the Mountain Division served for just four months, but they had very high casualties.”

  Hollis dabbed her eyes with the tiny paper napkin which accompanied her wine. “At least you were there with him.”

  Sveyn’s brows pulled together. “I am not certain that an apparition was a comfort.”

  She seemed to realize that the idea was odd. “Okay, maybe not to him, but it is to me. What about my great-grandmother? Did you see her?”

  “Briefly. She was his translator.”

  Hollis looked surprised. “He didn’t speak English, then.”

  “He spoke fairly well by the time I got to him. And they were already married.”

  “But he never saw his son, Thor. Aleksander’s father.”

  “No.” Sveyn smiled. “And then I manifested to you and everything changed.”

  Hollis sipped her wine in silence for a while before she asked her next question. “Did Tor have brothers or sisters?”

  “I don’t know about sisters,” Sveyn answered truthfully. “But we can look on that ancestry site when we get back.”

  Hollis set her empty glass back on the tray. “But he had brothers?”

  “I know of three, because he got letters from them. One was in Bergen, one was in Telemark, and one was in a labor camp in Kirkenes.”

  Hollis looked shocked. “A labor camp? In Norway?”

  “Norway was occupied by the Germans, Hollis. The people resisted where they could, but they were a strong presence nonetheless.”

  Their smiling flight attendant appeared holding the open bottle of Bordeaux. “Would you like more wine?”

  “Yes, please.” Hollis handed the woman her glass. When it was filled, the attendant moved on. “I want to know more about that, especially now that I know I’m related to them.”

  Sveyn gave her a wry smile. “I expect they have interesting stories as well.”

  Wednesday

  February 17

  The weather in Phoenix was normal for February, which meant the days were sunny and generally warm, but the nights were forty degrees cooler.

  “Air-conditioning in the day and a heater at night,” Hollis said as she switched her car’s thermostat from cold to hot. “It’s kinda crazy.”

  “I don’t need either,” Sveyn said. “So don’t adjust it for me.”

  “I’m not.” She considered the Viking, looking good in his security guard’s uniform. “It’s going to be a long day for me after being gone a week. Are you sure you want to come with me now? Our visitors don’t arrive until six.”

  “I am very sure.” Sveyn leaned over and kissed her. His mouth tasted like the strawberry jam he piled on his toast for breakfast. “I do not wish to spend the day away from you.”

  Hollis smiled. “Your choice.”

  And I’m so glad you made it.

  Stevie was back from her honeymoon, tanned and giddy. “Cancun was great. I think I gained five pounds.”

  Hollis considered the petite blonde. “If so, I don’t know where you put it.”

  “Hollis, I thought I heard your voice.” Miranda strode into the staff lounge. “How was your trip?”

  “Absolutely incredible. Do you guys have a few minutes to hear about it?”

  “We sure do.” Stevie claimed a chair at the only table in the room. “Spill.”

  Hollis pulled out another chair just as Sveyn walked into the lounge. “I’m going to tell them about our trip. Do you want to join us?” she asked.

  “No, thank you. I was there.” He winked at her. She blushed. “I have been asked to watch some tapes from the security cameras. It seems there is a young man who has visited recently and has been acting suspicious.”

  Miranda perked up. “I saw your commercial, Sveyn.”

  “Me, too!” Stevie grinned. “Looking good.”

  Miranda looked suddenly shy. “So good, I decided to give Match Point a try.”

  Hollis looked at Miranda, astounded by her confession. “You did? Did you find anybody?”

  “I had trouble logging on. I’ll try again tonight.”

  “Huh.” Hollis waved Sveyn away. “Go do your job, then. I’ll see you at lunch.”

  Then she sank into her chair. “Where do I start?”

  *****

  Sveyn’s phone vibrated in his pocket. The caller was from the Robert Ford agency. He paused the video and swiped the answer icon.

  “Hello?”

  “Sveyn—how are you doing?” Rochelle’s voice held a tinge of doubt.

  That was odd. “I am very well, thank you. Is something amiss?”

  “Amiss? I love the way you talk.” Rochelle’s relieved laugh sounded tinny through the phone’s speakers. “The answer is yes. And no.”

  Sveyn hated it when people talked in riddles. “Please begin with what is amiss.”

  “They are actually both the same thing.”

  Sveyn refused to speak, forcing Rochelle to tell him.

  “Your commercial for Match Point was shown all over the country last weekend.”

  Sveyn nodded, though she could not see him. “I saw it.”

  “We-ell…” Rochelle succeeded in saying the word in two syllables. “So many people logged on to their site that they crashed the server.”

  That sounded bad. “Was anyone hurt?”

  Rochelle laughed again. “You’re so funny.”

  Sveyn rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out what he said that was funny. “How is this good news?”

  “It’s good because now they want to sign you to an exclusive contract.” Rochelle’s tone clearly indicated the he should be mightily impressed.

  Except he wasn’t. Yet. “What does an exclusive contract mean?”

  “It means they want you to work for them and only them,” Rochelle explained. “You can’t take any modeling or commercial jobs for anyone else.”

  “But I need to make money,” Sveyn said. “I am getting married.”

  “Honey, you made ten-thousand dollars in the last three days and crashed a server in the process. Trust me, you’ll make bank.”

  Ten-thousand dollars?

  Ten-thousand dollars?

  “I do not know what to say…”

  “Say yes. And I’ll negotiate the rest.”

  Sveyn hesitated. “Yes?”

  “Great! We get eighteen percent remember, so the more compensation I can get for you, the more money I make.”

  She has a good point.

  “What do I do now?”

/>   “Stay healthy and gorgeous. I’ll be in touch.”

  *****

  Hollis started her story with her blood type discovery and the realization that she was adopted. Then she moved through confronting her parents, their trip to Sparta, meeting her birthfather, and her connection to the painting Ezra had in his hoard.

  “So my birthmother is Eli Meyer’s granddaughter.” Hollis chuckled. “How’s that for a small world?”

  Miranda and Stevie remained unmoving, staring at her like she just claimed that she painted the Max Liebermann herself.

  Hollis leaned forward. “Do either of you have anything to say?”

  “I don’t even…” Miranda’s voice trailed off.

  “You’re really sure about all of this, right?” Stevie probed. “Not just jumping to conclusions.”

  “Samuel Meyer told me Karen is his sister—I didn’t ask. And besides, Eli knew about Kathleen’s disappearing act. I didn’t tell him.”

  “Wow…” Miranda breathed. “This is a great story.”

  “Don’t—”

  “Wait ‘til I tell Mr. Benton.”

  “—tell Benton.” Too late. Dammit. “Do you have to?”

  Miranda shot her an empathetic gaze. “It’s truly a great story, Hollis. So many moving parts coming together. We have to tell it.”

  “Oh, fine,” she growled.

  Maybe the media won’t care.

  Right. And I did paint the Max Liebermann.

  “So you’re a Hansen? Like Sveyn?” Stevie giggled. “Are you related?”

  Hollis’s expression must have made her answer clear.

  “You are?” The blonde’s eyes rounded. “How?”

  “Sveyn told me that he only manifested to direct descendants of his father, but I was so sure he was wrong about me.”

  “Until you realized you were adopted.” Miranda leaned on the table. “How closely are you related?”

  Hollis laughed. “Not too closely. His father and I are separated by nine-hundred-and-fifty years and thirty-eight generations.”

  Miranda sat back. “Yeah, that’s probably legal then.”

  Hollis paused, then said softly, “His manifestation right before me was to my great-grandfather during World War Two.”