Festive Fling with the Single Dad

by Annie Claydon

  Suddenly Aksel grinned. ‘Kari...’

  The dog raised her head, moving from relaxed fireside mode to work mode immediately. In response to a command in Norwegian, she trotted over to the box and inserted her paw into a semi-circular hole cut into the side, under the lid. Flora heard a click and the lid swung open smoothly, its motion clearly controlled by a counterbalance mechanism.

  The ease of opening was just the beginning. As the box opened, light flooded the inside of the box, and Flora could see that there were small LEDs around the edge, shaded at the top so that they would shine downwards and not dazzle Mette. The contents were carefully arranged in plastic baskets, so that she would be able to find whatever she wanted.

  ‘That’s fantastic! Wherever did you get this?’

  ‘I made it. There was nothing on the market that quite suited Mette’s needs.’ Aksel was clearly pleased with Flora’s approval.

  She knelt down beside the box, inspecting it carefully. The lid opened easily enough for a child...or a dog...to lift it and the counterbalance mechanism meant that once open there was no danger of it slamming shut on small fingers. The lights came on when the lid opened and flicked off again as it closed, and they illuminated the contents of the box in a soft, clear light.

  And the box itself was a masterpiece, made of wooden panels that were smooth and warm to the touch. It was quite plain but that was part of its beauty. The timber had obviously been carefully chosen and its swirling grain made this piece one of a kind.

  ‘Mette must love it.’ It was a gift that only a loving and thoughtful father could have made. And someone who was a skilled craftsman as well.

  He nodded, looking around the room restlessly as if searching for the next thing that needed to be done. Aksel’s response to any problem was to act on it, and he was obviously struggling with the things he could do nothing about. No wonder he was carrying some tension in his shoulders.

  ‘We could go and do some shopping, if you wanted. It won’t take long to pick out a few things to brighten Mette’s bedroom up.’

  ‘Would you mind...?’ He was halfway towards the door, obviously ready to turn thought into action as soon as possible, and then stopped himself. ‘Perhaps another time. Whenever it’s convenient for you.’

  Flora allowed herself a smile. ‘Now’s fine. I’ll go and get my coat.’

  * * *

  Aksel had been struggling to get the fantasy out of his head ever since he’d opened his eyes this morning. Rumpled sheets and Flora’s cheeks, flushed with sleep.

  Yesterday had shown him how easy it would be to slip into loving intimacy with Flora, but her reaction had told him that she didn’t want that any more than he did. The word impossible usually made his blood fire in his veins at the thought of proving that nothing was impossible, and it had taken Flora’s look of quiet certainty to convince him that there was something in this world that truly was impossible.

  He could deal with that. If he just concentrated on having her as a friend, and forgot all about wanting her as a lover, then it would be easy. When she returned, wearing a dark green coat with a red scarf, and holding Dougal’s dog coat and lead, he ignored the way that the cottage seemed suddenly full of light and warmth again.

  ‘Why don’t you leave him here? They’ll be fine together.’ The puppy was curled up in front of the fire with Kari, and didn’t seem disposed to move.

  ‘You think so?’ Flora tickled Dougal’s head and he squirmed sleepily, snuggling against Kari. ‘Yes. I guess they will.’

  She drove in much the same way as she held a conversation. Quick and decisive, her eyes fixed firmly on where she was going. Aksel guessed that Flora wasn’t much used to watching the world go by, she wanted always to be moving, and he wondered whether she ever took some time out to just sit and feel the world turn beneath her. He guessed not.

  For a woman that he’d just decided not to be too involved with, he was noticing a great deal about her. Flora wasn’t content with the just-crawled-out-of-bed look for a Sunday morning. She’d brushed her hair until it shone and wore a little make-up. More probably than was apparent, it was skilfully applied to make the most of her natural beauty. She wore high-heeled boots with her skinny jeans, and when she moved Aksel caught the scent of something he couldn’t place. Clean, with a hint of flowers and slightly musky, it curled around him, beckoning his body to respond.

  ‘So... Mette’s never lived with you before?’ She asked the question when they’d got out of the winding country lanes and onto the main road.

  ‘No.’ Aksel couldn’t think of anything to say to describe a situation that was complicated, to say the least.

  ‘Sorry...’ She flipped her gaze to him for a moment, and Aksel almost shivered in its warmth. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘It’s all right. It’s no secret. Just a little difficult to explain.’

  ‘Ah. I’ll leave it there, then.’

  Flora lapsed into silence. ‘Difficult to explain’ didn’t appear to daunt her, she seemed the kind of person who could accept almost anything. He imagined that her patients must find it very easy to confide in her. All their hopes and their most secret despair. Suddenly, he wanted to talk.

  ‘I didn’t know that I had a daughter until after Mette’s mother died.’

  Nothing registered in Flora’s face, but he saw her fingers grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Maybe she was wondering what kind of man hadn’t known about his own daughter. He wouldn’t blame her—he frequently tormented himself with that thought.

  ‘That must be...challenging.’

  Her answer was just the thing a medical professional would say. Non-judgemental, allowing for the possibility of pain and yet assuming nothing. Aksel wanted more than that, he wanted Flora to judge him. If she found him wanting then it would be nothing he hadn’t already accused himself of. And if she found a way to declare him innocent it would mean a great deal to him.

  ‘What do you think?’ He asked the question as if it didn’t mean much, but felt a quiver deep in the pit of his stomach.

  No reaction. But as she changed gear, the car jolted a little, as if it was reflecting her mood.

  ‘I’d find it very difficult.’

  Aksel nodded. Clearly Flora wasn’t going to be persuaded to give an opinion on the matter and maybe that was wise. Maybe he should let it drop.

  ‘In...lots of ways.’ She murmured the words, as if they might blow up in her face. Flora wanted to know more but she wasn’t going to ask.

  ‘Lisle and I split up before either of us knew she was pregnant. I was due to go away for a while, I was leading an expedition into the Andes.’ Suddenly his courage failed him. ‘It’s a fascinating place...’

  ‘I’m sure.’ Her slight frown told Aksel that she wasn’t really interested in one of the largest mountain ranges in the world, its volcanic peaks, the highest navigable lake on the planet or the incredible biodiversity. To her, the wonders of the world were nothing in comparison to the mysteries of the human heart, and she was the kind of woman who trod boldly in that unknown territory.

  He took a breath, staring at the road ahead. ‘When I got back, I heard that Lisle had gone to Oslo for a new job. I think that the job might have been an excuse...’

  Flora gave a little nod. ‘It does sound that way.’

  There was compassion in her voice. Most people questioned why Lisle should have gone to such lengths to keep her pregnancy a secret from him, but Flora didn’t seem disposed to make any judgements yet.

  ‘I never saw her again. The first I knew of Mette’s existence was when her parents called me, telling me about the accident.’

  ‘That must have been a shock.’

  It had changed his world. Tipped it upside down and focussed every last piece of his attention on the child he’d never known he had. ‘Shock is an understatement.’

 
She flipped a glance at him, then turned her gaze back onto the road ahead. But in that moment Aksel saw warmth in her eyes and it spurred him on, as if it was the glimmer of an evening campfire at the end of a long road.

  ‘Olaf and Agnetha are good people. They never really agreed with Lisle’s decision not to tell me about Mette, although they respected it while she was alive. When she died, they decided that Mette needed to know more than just what Lisle had told her. That she had a father but that he was an adventurer, away exploring the world.’

  Flora nodded, her lips forming into a tight line. ‘And so you finally got to meet her.’

  ‘Not straight away. Mette was in hospital for a while. She had no other serious injuries, she was still in her car seat when the rescue services arrived, but one of the front headrests had come loose and hit her in the face. The blow damaged her optic nerves...’

  The memory of having to stand outside Mette’s room, watching through the glass partition as Agnetha sat with her granddaughter, was still as sharp as a knife. He’d understood the importance of taking things slowly, but reaching out to touch the cool, hard surface of the glass that had separated them had been agony. Aksel gripped his hands together hard to stop them from shaking.

  ‘Olaf and Agnetha were naturally anxious to take things at whatever pace was best for Mette and I was in complete agreement with that. I dropped everything and went to Oslo, but it was two weeks before they made the decision to introduce me to her. They were the longest two weeks of my life.’

  ‘I imagine so. It must have been very hard for them, too.’

  ‘Yes, it was. They knew me from when I’d been seeing Lisle, but they wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t hurt Mette any more than she’d already been hurt. Letting me get to know her was a risk.’

  ‘But they took it. Good for them.’

  ‘Not until I’d convinced them that I wouldn’t walk in, shower Mette with presents and then leave again. That was why Lisle didn’t tell me about her pregnancy. Because I was always leaving...’

  Aksel could hear the bitterness in his own voice. The helpless anger that Lisle hadn’t known that a child would make all the difference to him. She’d only seen the man who’d wanted to go out and meet the world, and she’d done what she’d felt she had to do in response to that.

  ‘She must have cared a lot about you.’

  That was a new idea. Aksel had been more comfortable with the thought that the only emotion he’d engendered in Lisle’s heart was dislike. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘If the thought of you leaving was such an issue to her, then it must have hurt.’

  Guilt was never very far from the surface these days, but now it felt as if it was eating him up. ‘I didn’t think of it that way.’

  ‘You’re angry with her? For not telling you about Mette?’

  Yes, he was angry. Rage had consumed him, but he’d hidden it for Olaf and Agnetha’s sake. And now he hid it for Mette’s sake.

  ‘Mette loves her mother. I have to respect that.’

  He was caught off balance suddenly as Flora swerved left into the service road that led to a large car park. That was the story of his life at the moment, letting other people take the driving seat and finding himself struggling to cope with the twists and turns in the road. She caught sight of a parking spot, accelerating to get to it before anyone else did, and turned into it. Aksel waited for her to reverse and straighten up, and then realised that the car was already perfectly straight and within the white lines.

  ‘I’d want to scream. I mean, I’d go out and find a place where no one could hear me, and really scream. Until I was hoarse.’

  So she knew something of the healing nature of the wilderness. Aksel hadn’t told anyone why he’d taken the train out of Oslo towards Bergen, or that he’d set out alone in the darkness to trek to the edge of one of the magnificent fjords, roaring his anger and pain out across the water.

  ‘I didn’t scream, I yelled. But apart from that, you have it right.’

  She gave a soft chuckle, regarding him silently for a moment. ‘And then you went back home and read all the manuals? Did your best to be a good father, without any of the training and experience that most men get along the way?’

  That was exactly how Aksel felt at times. He’d loved Mette from the first moment he’d seen her. But sometimes he found it hard to communicate with her.

  ‘I’ve made a career out of dealing with the unexpected.’

  Flora smiled and the warmth in the car turned suddenly to sticky heat. If he didn’t move now, he was going to fall prey to the insistent urge to reach forward and touch her. Aksel got out of the car, feeling the wind’s sharp caress on his face.

  Flora grabbed her handbag from the back seat, getting out of the driver’s seat, and Aksel took his notebook from his pocket, skimming through the list he’d made. ‘I should get some Christmas-tree decorations as well while we’re here.’

  She turned to him, a look of mock horror on her face. ‘You don’t have any?’

  Aksel shrugged. ‘I’m used to moving around a lot. Whenever I’m home for Christmas, I go to my sister’s.’

  ‘Perfect. I love buying tree decorations, and if I buy any more I won’t be able to fit them on the tree.’ She scanned the row of shops that skirted the car park, obviously keen to get on with the task in hand. ‘It’s a good thing we came today, all the best ones will be gone soon.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IT WAS UNLIKELY that anything would be gone from the shops for a while yet. The stores that lined the shopping precinct were full of merchandise for Christmas, and rapidly filling up with people. Flora ignored that self-evident fact. It was never too early for Christmas.

  Unlikely as it might be, Aksel seemed slightly lost. As someone who could find his way to both the North and South poles, a few shops should be child’s play. But he was looking around as if a deep crevasse had opened up between him and where he wanted to be and he wasn’t sure how to navigate it. Flora made for the entrance to the nearest store.

  ‘What sort of decorations did you have in mind?’ The in-store Christmas shop shone with lights and glitter, and was already full of shoppers.

  ‘Um... Can I leave myself in your hands?’

  Nice thought. Flora would have to make sure it stayed just a thought. She smiled brightly at him and made for some glass baubles, finding herself pushed up against Aksel in the crush of people.

  ‘These are nice...’

  ‘We’ll take them. What about these?’ He picked up a packet of twisted glass icicles.

  ‘They’re lovely.’ Flora dropped a packet for herself into the basket, despite having decided that she already had too many tree decorations.

  As they left the shop, Aksel gazed longingly at the entrance to the DIY store, but Flora walked determinedly past it, and he fell into step beside her.

  An hour later they’d filled the shopping bags that Flora had brought with her, and Aksel was laden down with them.

  He peered over her shoulder as Flora consulted the list he’d torn from his notebook, ticking off what they already had and putting a star next to the more specialised home-support items that the clinic could supply him with. That left the bedspread.

  ‘I saw a shop in the village that sells quilts. They looked nice.’ He ventured a suggestion.

  ‘Mary Monroe’s quilts are gorgeous. But they’re handmade so they’re expensive. You can get a nice bedspread for much less at one of the big stores here...’

  Aksel shook his head. ‘I liked the look of the place in the village.’

  ‘Right. We’ll try that first, then.’

  Aksel was shaping up to be the perfect shopping companion, patient and decisive. He didn’t need to sit down for coffee every twenty minutes, and he was able to carry any number of bags. Maybe if she thought of him that way, the nagging thump of her heart
would subside a little. It was a known fact that women had lovers and shopping companions, and that the two territories never overlapped.

  It wasn’t easy to hold the line, though. When he loaded the bags into the boot of the car, Flora couldn’t help noticing those shoulders. Again. And the fifteen-minute drive back to the village gave her plenty of time to feel the scent of fresh air and pine cones do its work. By the time they drew up outside Village Quilts she felt almost dizzy with desire.

  A little more shopping would sort that out. Shopping beat sex every time. And this was the kind of shop where you had to bring all your concentration to bear on the matter in hand. Mary Monroe prided herself on making sure that she was on first-name terms with all her customers, and if they could be persuaded to sit on one of the rickety chairs while she sorted through her entire stock to come up with the perfect quilt, then all the better.

  But Aksel wasn’t going to be confined to a chair. The introductions were made and he sat down but then sprang to his feet again. ‘Let me help you with that, Mary.’

  Mary was over a foot shorter than him, slight and grey-haired. But she was agile enough on the ladder that she needed to reach the top shelves, and never accepted help.

  ‘Thank you.’ Mary capitulated suddenly. Maybe she’d decided that sixty was a good age to slow down a bit, but she’d never shown any sign of doing so. And when Flora rose from her chair to assist, Mary gave her a stern glare that implied no further help was needed.

  Aksel lifted the pile of heavy quilts down from the top shelf and Mary stood back. Maybe she was admiring his shoulders, too.

  ‘Your little girl is partially blind...’ Mary surveyed the pile thoughtfully.

  ‘Yes. Something that’s textured might be good for her.’ Flora decided that this didn’t really fall into the category of help, it was just volunteering some information.

  ‘What about a raw-edged quilt?’ Mary pulled a couple from the pile, unfolding them. ‘You see the raw edges of each piece of fabric are left on the top, and form a pattern.’