Daughters (Nordic Fairies, #4) (2 page)

When he reached them, he turned to Freja, but glanced at Svala with obvious anticipation. “They’re showing Emma the gymnasium and are heading into the locker rooms. I thought I’d come back and check up on you.”

Freja nodded. Viggo’s gaze shifted to Svala again and their eyes locked, neither one of them able to break the eye contact. Freja glanced from Viggo to Svala and a shy smile lingered at the corner of her lips. “I’m sorry, this is...” She trailed off and turned to Svala. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name, dear.”

Svala tore her gaze from Viggo and looked at their daughter. “Svala,” she said. “My name is Svala.”

Freja gestured a hand toward her, looking at Viggo, but quickly lowered it and turned her attention back to Svala, eyes narrowed. “That’s funny. Why do I recognize that name? It’s very unusual.”

Svala shrugged and shook her head. Viggo studied her with a crooked smile. She met his gaze again and couldn’t stop a smile from surfacing too. Freja picked up on their silent communication and bit her lower lip.

“So, Viggo, this is Svala,” she said. “She came into my store a while back. I believe it was the same day you came by, before we knew who you were.”

Viggo extended his hand to Svala, their eyes still locked. She accepted his strong hand shake and his energy surged through her, filling her with an immediate need to be with him. Judging from the longing in his eyes, he shared the emotion.

“Nice to meet you, Svala.” He held on to her hand, his eyes never leaving hers.

She swallowed hard and retrieved her hand, legs weakened. “Nice to meet you too,” she managed.

1980

New York

Freja had grown into a straightforward and self-confident teenager with a direct approach to life. Instantly drawn to Svala, it didn’t take long before the two girls became close friends.

Viggo watched them from a distance, and Svala often caught him smiling as they passed him in the school hallway. He never approached them together, but interrogated Svala when she was alone and no one would see them talking.

One day, he waited for her outside the school library. He stood leaned up against the brick wall, pretending to read from a book. Every now and then he glanced up, meeting Svala’s gaze through the tall glass door. Freja stood by the counter, sorting through some books for a history assignment on World War II. Svala excused herself and snuck out to talk to him.

“What’s she like?” Viggo asked, his gaze trained in the early edition of Hjalmar Söderberg’s
Doctor Glas
. He wore stonewashed jeans and a navy blue hoodie, unzipped, with the hood pulled over his head. A turquoise T-shirt peeked out underneath. He looked so different from a few weeks ago in Miami, dressed in that tuxedo.

“She’s amazing.” Svala stared at Viggo’s laid back outfit. The high school version of him intrigued her.

Freja waited by the receptionist desk as the librarian went through her pile of books. Viggo glanced at their daughter through the glass doors, and smiled. “She’s beautiful.”

When Freja searched for Svala, Viggo swiftly returned to his book, his smile lingering. Svala waved to their daughter, and as Freja found her, relief fell over her face. Then she rolled her eyes and nodded at the old librarian, who took her time stamping the tall stack of books.

“I want to know everything about her,” he whispered. “Can we meet up after school and talk?”

“Yes, but we have to be careful. Trym is watching me like a hawk.”

“Tell me about it. Alva interrogates me every day. It’s scary how easily she can tell when I’m lying.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be lying to her,” she said.

Freja stuffed the books into her backpack and headed for the exit. Svala cleared her throat to let Viggo know she was on her way. He straightened, and stole a quick glance at their daughter over his shoulder. “I’ll wait outside after school. Follow me and we’ll pick some place at random.”

***

Svala did as told, and followed Viggo to a coffee shop downtown as soon as the school day had ended. The place was crowded with customers and she wished he’d picked someplace more secluded, as she recognized several kids from their school. She walked down to the end of the aisle and slid into the booth across from him. He leaned over the white plastic table and reached out to clutch her hands between his. She closed her eyes, welcoming the warmth rushing through her by his touch. When she opened her eyes, she met his smile. “Fifteen minutes, then I have to leave,” she whispered.

He nodded and pulled one of her hands to his lips, kissing it before he released her. “Tell me everything you know about her.”

She pushed her long, blonde hair behind her ear and leaned closer. “She’s lived in New York her whole life. She told me her parents died when she was five, and she doesn’t remember us at all. It’s difficult to talk about it. I get the feeling my questions frustrate her since she can’t remember.”

He fidgeted with a blue napkin on the table, his face tensed. “How are her adoptive parents?”

“From what I can tell, they’re decent people. She seems happy, but she did mention once that she’s been with her current family since we died.”

Viggo snorted and released the napkin. “So, they lied to us when we came to see them after the accident. They told us she was dead.”

She nodded. “Seems like it.”

He tightened his fist. “You think that’s a decent thing to do?”

“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.”