Daughters (Nordic Fairies, #4)

by Berg, Saga

  “No.” She reached for his hand again, forcing him to loosen his fist. “But we did kidnap her, so it’s not strange for them to be careful when we came asking about her years later. From everything she’s told me, they seem to treat her right.”

  Viggo drew a strained breath. “Seem to? Is that good enough for you?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Honey, she’s confident and strong. If they treated her wrong, she wouldn’t be the person she is today. I know it’s not right, I know she should have lived with us, but under the circumstances we should be grateful. She’s had a good life.”

  His gaze remained vacant. He sighed and turned his head toward the aisle, covering his lips with one hand. She squeezed his other hand tight, drawing his attention. “She’s fine. She reminds me so much of you.”

  He leaned closer, and the blank look in his eyes slowly faded. “Really? How so?”

  She intertwined her fingers with his, holding his gaze. “Her smile is exactly like yours, and sometimes, when she is lost in thought, she looks so much like you, it scares me.”

  Viggo’s eyes glittered with an inner light and his shoulders relaxed. “Tell me more. What does she like to do? Does she have any hobbies?”

  She studied his hand with a shy smile, then looked up. “She likes to paint. She told me the smell of paint gives her a sense of security.”

  They shared a smile.

  ***

  Another two months passed before Viggo dared to approach his daughter. Svala stood in the cafeteria line when he slid his tray next to hers on the cold metal bars. Freja had already left to secure a table.

  He lowered his voice along with his gaze. “Anything new?”

  The noisy cafeteria drowned out their conversation. Svala forced herself to focus straight ahead and not on his beautiful hands resting against the plastic tray. “Why don’t you come and sit with us? Talk to her yourself.”

  They fell silent as the woman behind the counter asked if Svala wanted mashed potatoes with her fried fish. She reached out her plate with a short nod. Viggo fiddled with his tray. “You think it would be okay if I did?”

  “I think it would be fine.”

  Freja studied him when they approached her table. She glanced at Svala with interest, eyebrows slightly raised. Svala placed her tray on the table then motioned toward Viggo. “Freja, this is Viggo. He’s an old friend of mine. Is it okay if he joins us?”

  Freja observed her father, her lips slightly parted. When he met her gaze, her cheeks turned bright red. “Of course,” she said.

  Svala froze, fixating on the sparkle in their daughter’s eyes as she sat. Viggo took the seat next to Svala but couldn’t keep his eyes off Freja. If he picked up on her reaction, he couldn’t have read it the same way Svala did.

  “Nice to meet you... Freja, was it?” he said.

  Freja nodded, and kept staring at him. “Yeah.”

  He met his daughter’s gaze across the table once more, and she glanced down at her plate with a shy smile. He observed her, but seemed oblivious to her infatuation.

  “So, do you like it here?” he asked.

  Freja blushed harder. She glanced at Svala, then turned to him and frowned, as if she didn’t understand the question.

  “At this school,” he clarified.

  “Yeah.” She nodded quickly.

  All through lunch, Svala considered ways to divert any romantic feelings Freja might develop toward Viggo, without losing their friendship. She’d often heard young girls fell for men who reminded them of their fathers, but this was ridiculous. During the painful twenty minutes they sat in the cafeteria, Viggo answered each love sick glance his daughter offered with his irresistible smile.

  Svala closed her eyes with an inward sigh.

  ***

  Present time

  Washington

  Freja glanced from Svala to Viggo in the corridor outside the principal’s office, smiling as if she picked up on the attraction between them.

  “It’s funny,” she said. “Svala bought the same necklace you did in New York. See, she’s even wearing it now.”

  He glanced at her necklace before resuming eye contact. “It suits you.”

  Freja shifted on her feet, as if thinking about stepping aside to give them some privacy. Students crowded the hallway around them, but the security guards kept everyone at a distance.

  “We’re heading out for lunch. You’re welcome to join us if you want,” Freja said.

  Svala turned to her daughter, surprised by the offer. “Uh.” She glanced at Viggo. He smiled. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he said. “I insist.”

  Before she could respond, Emma came back and squeezed in between Svala and Viggo, blocking her view of him. Emma tossed back her hair, and her blonde strands whipped against Svala’s face. Unconcerned, Emma reached out to grab Viggo’s arm. “Sorry, it took a little longer than expected, but I met some friends. Is it okay if they join us for lunch?”

  He nodded slowly, searching Svala’s gaze over Emma’s shoulder. “Of course. I’ll call and change the reservations, it shouldn’t be a problem. Should we leave?”

  Emma nodded, then stepped back and bumped the back of her head into Svala’s face with such force, Svala’s lip cracked open. With a muffled whimper, Emma reached around to massage the sore spot, then turned and glared at Svala, her face contracted into a grimace. “Hey! Watch where you’re going, bitch!”

  Svala touched her throbbing, broken lip as her jaw dropped open. Viggo’s brows drew together.

  “Emma!” Freja warned.

  Emma turned to her mother and threw her hands in the air in a defensive gesture. “What? It’s not my fault. If these people weren’t so damn desperate to get close to him, this would never have happened.”

  “Emma!” Freja’s warning grew harsh. “Apologize right this second.”

  Emma crossed her arms over her chest and studied Svala with a condescending smirk. “No.”

  “Emma!” Freja repeated.

  “What? She’s the one who should apologize to me.” Emma drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

  “Go and wait by the car!” Freja ordered.

  “What did I do?”

  Freja stared at her daughter. “Now!”

  Svala tasted blood in her mouth and wiped her broken lip with the back of her hand as Emma turned to Viggo with a pout. “Will you walk me there?”

  Viggo tore his gaze from Svala for one second, his voice strained. “No, you go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Emma offered Svala a quick glance, eyes narrowed, then turned and walked down the hallway to a group of senior girls waiting for her. The three girls nodded toward Viggo, and Emma gestured with her hand into the air, as if telling them he was on his way.

  Viggo reached out and placed his hand on Svala’s arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She kept her hand over her bleeding lip.

  “I’m so sorry.” Freja fumbled in her purse to get a napkin, handing it to Svala. “I will talk to her. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Thanks. I’m fine.” She pressed the napkin against her lip. “I’ll just need to get some ice, I’ll be fine. You go ahead and have your lunch before you lose your table. I think I’ll pass on the offer. Thanks anyway.”

  Freja sighed and watched Emma disappear around the corner with a disappointed look on her face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Sometimes she acts so much like her father, it scares me.”

  Svala locked eyes with Viggo and shared his thoughts. Her father? What did that mean?

  “I promise I’ll talk to her. Again, I’m so sorry.”

  Chapter 3

  Present time

  Washington

  Emma’s bad manners had surprised Viggo from the first day he met her. He’d excused her behavior though, due to their unusual situation and her admiration of him as a movie star. Past year’s experience had dampened his reactions to how teenage girls a
cted around him, and more than that he didn’t want to see it. He wanted his grandchild to be perfect. What happened in the school hallway earlier made her behavior harder to ignore, and he couldn’t accept Emma’s treatment of Svala.

  During lunch, while Emma’s friends took the opportunity to interrogate him about his personal life, curious to know more about his tattoo and his relationship with Amanda Jones, Freja stayed silent, watching him with her calm blue eyes. There were moments he could swear she recognized him from her past, but she never said. Even if she did recall him, she probably didn’t trust her own memories.

  When they arrived back at school, Viggo pulled up outside the building, relieved to get rid of the girls and all their questions. He switched off the engine. “Emma, could I have a word with you before you leave?”

  Her friends were halfway out the door but paused when Viggo spoke. He ignored their searching glances, and eventually they continued out of the car. The door closed behind them and Viggo turned in the driver’s seat to face Emma. “Could you do me a favor, Em?”

  Emma leaned forward against the black leather seat, eyes sparkling. “Of course.”

  “Could you apologize to the girl you bumped into earlier today in the hallway?”

  Emma’s smile vanished, and instead, a grimace formed on her pretty face. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. Freja glanced at Viggo, with a grateful but slightly apprehensive expression.

  “Please,” Viggo added.

  “But, why?” Emma frowned.

  Freja closed her eyes, as if Emma’s response disappointed, but didn’t surprise her.

  “Well, you were a bit rude to her,” Viggo said.

  “But she interfered. She had no right being there in the first place.”

  Freja sighed. “Emma, she didn’t interfere. I was talking to her. In fact, both Viggo and I were, and Viggo’s right, you were rude to her. You should apologize.”

  Emma frowned again. “I don’t see how it matters. She’s a nobody. She probably knocked her face into my head to get your attention. You shouldn’t encourage that kind of behavior, Viggo.”

  Viggo struggled to keep his cool. “I doubt she did it on purpose.”

  “You’d be surprised what some people would do to get your attention.”

  He forced a smile. “Well, nonetheless, I’d be grateful if you did this for me.”

  Emma sighed. “I don’t understand what good it’ll do, but sure. If you really want me to.”

  “You promise?”

  She smiled. “I promise.”

  Freja studied Viggo as he pulled out from the curb. Emma stood on the sidewalk in her tight blue miniskirt and white tank top, waving to them.

  “She won’t do it,” Freja said.

  “She won’t do what?”

  “Apologize.”

  Viggo glanced at her. “But she promised she would.” Liosálfar didn’t lie, unless they really had to.

  Freja smiled and looked at him. A line formed between her eyebrows. “How in God’s name did someone like you turn out like this?” she asked.

  “Like what?”

  “You have such faith in people. Considering your background and the way people act around you, I never would have guessed.”

  He smiled. “You mean to say you don’t have faith in people?”

  She shook her head, lips pursed. “I lost my faith in people a long time ago. I think they call it life experience.”

  Viggo silenced as guilt stabbed him. She hadn’t forgotten.

  “At Emma’s age, I thought I could save the world. I guess young people today are much more realistic that way.” She paused and cringed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not. For some reason you strike me as older. Or more mature anyway.”

  He smiled. “No worries.”

  The traffic light up ahead switched to red. Viggo slowed the car to a stop and glanced at her, not sure if he crossed the line by asking, but too curious not to. “You mentioned earlier that Emma reminded you of her father. What did you mean by that?”

  Freja’s face tensed and she turned to stare out the side window. “I don’t know if I should talk about it. I try to stay positive about him, for Emma’s sake. A girl needs a father, regardless of the situation.”

  Her comment did nothing to settle neither his guilt nor his worry, but he feared asking more questions would appear strange. Freja fingered the strap of her purse as the traffic light shifted. He turned left, and bit his tongue to prevent himself from asking more questions about Emma’s father. They drove in silence as it started to rain, and the raindrops drummed on the roof of the black Mercedes, creating a soothing rattle.

  “Can I give you some friendly advice?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  Despite his acceptance, she waited before she spoke. “It’s never too late to change your mind about something, no matter how scary it seems.”

  He didn’t want to know what that meant, but her vague statement called for clarification. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “Well, sometimes you realize you’re about to make a mistake, but you go through with it anyway because you think it’s too late to change your mind. It’s not. It’s never too late to do the right thing.”

  He smiled, despite the nausea her statement triggered. He’d tried so hard to suppress the memory of that day all those years ago.

  She studied him again and her scrutiny confused him. Was this not a reflection of the horrible thing that happened to her in the past? Was this about something else?

  “Is that what happened with Emma’s father?” he asked.

  She shrugged and looked out the window again. “It’s never just one thing, is it? It’s the little choices we make that lead up to the bigger ones. The ones that change your life. We all focus too much on the bigger picture, but it’s really the small choices that make all the difference in the end.”

  Viggo frowned. She hadn’t answered his question. “I’m not sure I follow. Are you referring to something specific?”

  Freja shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  They’d reached another traffic light. Viggo stopped the car and turned to her. “Please, I don’t mind.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know.” Another longer pause followed. “This is probably completely out of line, but there was something about the way you looked at that girl earlier today, the blonde. Something in your eyes, I’ve never seen you light up like that.” When he didn’t respond to her comment she grimaced, as if she thought herself silly. “I’m sorry, this really is none of my business.”

  “No, do continue.”

  Her brows furrowed, like she couldn’t make sense of his reaction. Then her face relaxed. “I don’t know. I just picked up this intense feeling from both of you, almost like an energy field. I can’t explain it. It was something in the way you looked at each other. She was different. Not like those other girls, the ones who joined us for lunch. They look at you as an object they want to possess, but this girl... her interest in you seemed...well, honest. Did you not feel it?”

  He smiled. “Maybe a little.”

  “So I’m not imagining things? There was an attraction?”

  “Well, it’s difficult not to look at someone that pretty.” He ignored her accurate analysis.

  The traffic light shifted to green. He placed the car in gear and pushed the gas pedal. Freja lowered her gaze and he could tell she had more to say.

  “Amanda is very pretty too,” she said.

  He stayed silent, already aware of the point she was about to make. Part of him felt proud his daughter was so perceptive.

  “Funny how I’ve never seen you look at her the same way.”

  He fought a smile, amused that Freja tried to fix up her own parents without even knowing it.

  “Then, again, it’s none of my business.” She stared straight ahead, but offered another quick glance. “We all have to make our own mistakes.”

  H
e seized the opportunity. “Are you talking about Amanda, or Emma’s father?”

  Freja stayed silent for a while. The wiper blades swept the rain off the windshield, and Viggo waited for her response. She sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. Sometimes I talk without thinking things through. It’s presumptuous of me to assume you’re anything like me. We’re not even that closely related.”

  He turned to her, urging her to explain.

  “Your relationship with Amanda reminds me of my relationship with Emma’s father. I never once felt for him what I sensed between you and that girl and I never thought to question why.”

  “But now you know?”

  “Well, yes. He’s an idiot,” she smiled.

  Viggo smiled too, to be polite, but wasn’t satisfied with the answer. What did that mean? Did he hurt her? Did he cheat on her? Or did they simply not love each other?

  “I don’t know Amanda that well. I’m sure she’s lovely once you get to know her.” Freja’s tone of voice told him she didn’t believe her own statement. “Besides, you seem too secure in yourself to make the same mistakes I did. I really shouldn’t have brought it up and I shouldn’t have compared the two situations. They are probably very different.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, for one, you’re much more confident than I was. You believe in yourself.”

  He shifted the position of his hands on the steering wheel. “You don’t strike me as someone with a low self-esteem.”

  “Not anymore. But I went through some things in my youth that made me doubt myself. Made me question my own value, and it took a long time and a lot of heartache before I came out the other side.”

  Viggo tightened his grip on the steering wheel and forced a smile. It had taken thirty years to stop thinking about that day, but one mention of it send him back in time and e remembered every detail of what happened. He never could shake those words or the look in her eyes. It was all their fault.