Giants of the Frost (14 page)

"I don't know anyone named Gunnar."

"Your clothes—"

"Are muddy and cold," he said. "Could you help me, Victoria?" I took him to Gunnar's cabin. I couldn't think what else to do. Leaving him outside in the dark while I fetched him clothes did not occur to me, though obviously it would have been more prudent. Yet I had no sense of vulnerability or of a threat to my safety. So I took him to Gunnar's cabin because I thought some of Gunnar's clothes might fit him—he said he had slipped in the mud near the lake—and I wanted to see him in a better light.

"Would you like a warm shower?" I asked as I led him in through Gunnar's back door.

"A shower?"

I indicated the bathroom. "Through there. I'll find you some clothes." I went to Gunnar's bedroom and in his drawers found a pair of dark track pants and a crumpled white shirt that looked larger than the others. Vidar was about Gunnar's height, but not so skinny. I emerged from the bedroom to see Vidar standing in the bathroom, considering the shower with a confused expression.

"Oh, it's a strange one," I said, walking in and handing him the clothes. My fingers brushed his wrist; his skin was very warm. "Here, you have to wind this dial up to the right temperature, then… pull this tap." Warm water sprayed from the showerhead. "There. When you're done, push the tap in and turn the dial back to zero."

His gaze went from the tap, to the clothes in his hand, to me. He looked bewildered and, in this better light, tired. Dark circles shaded his eyes.

"Are you all right?" I said.

"Yes, yes," he answered quickly. "I'll go in the shower."

"Fine. Towel there, soap there. I'll wait in the lounge room." I left him, closing the door behind me. I collapsed into Gunnar's sofa with a groan. What was I doing? Would I be kind to any homicidal lunatic in need as long as he was handsome? But that wasn't fair. Vidar wasn't a homicidal lunatic. I don't know how I knew that for certain, but I
was
certain. Oh, doubtless he was in some kind of trouble. Why else would he hide on an island in the middle of nowhere? But I was more intrigued by him than I was frightened. There was something vulnerable about him—something unsure about his eyes, something hesitant about his lips before he spoke—in spite of his obvious physical strength. I rubbed my wrist where he'd held it. My most violent struggle hadn't been enough to break his grip. I went to the window, pushed the sash up and leaned out to breathe in the deep, still air. Far off in the forest a rustle and a thud echoed among the trees. I wasn't afraid of it, as I would have been just hours before. I had met the bogey—not some supernatural monster, just a man.

I heard the shower turn off and held my breath. Delicious images formed in my mind: the plane of his bare back, the hard curve of his shoulder… I shook my head to dispel them. My attraction to Vidar was completely puzzling: he was far from my type. Patrick and Adam had both been clean-cut, well dressed, aspirational. The kind of men who paid for manicures.

A minute later Vidar stood in the lounge room, dressed in Gunnar's clothes, his hair damp.

"They fit then?" I said, standing up to greet him.

"Just." He smiled at me. "I've imposed too much on you. I should go."

"Go? Go where? Stay a while, talk to me." A stem voice, much like my mother's, echoed in my mind, telling me not to sound so desperate.

He brushed his damp hair from his face. "Could I?"

"Of course, sit down. Would you like something to eat? You must be hungry."

"I brought supplies with me. I've eaten already." He sat in the armchair opposite me, glancing around the room.

"A glass of wine, then," I suggested brightly, hoping that Gunnar's supply had not been polished off.

"Wine? No," he said slowly, "no thank you, Victoria." He gazed at me for a few moments, then said,

"Why are you being so kind to me?"

"Because you… because I…" Words simply would not spring to my tongue. Then he broke the gaze and his eyes turned to the window and I could speak again. "You seem so familiar to me," I said softly.

"Do I?" he said, his gaze far away.

"I know we haven't met, but—"

"Perhaps I remind you of somebody. Your brother or your father."

"I have neither."

"An old friend."

"We haven't met, have we?"

He turned to me. "You know the answer to that."

A silent moment grew between us. It felt like the moment before a roller coaster dips over a curve. I laughed to break the tension. "I guess I do. Sorry if it sounded like a pickup line." He looked puzzled, and I realized that perhaps his English wasn't as good as Magnus's or Gunnar's. I apologized again, but he didn't hear me.

"What do you do here, Victoria?"

"I'm a scientist. I watch the weather." I drew my legs up under me on the sofa. "And you? What do you do?"

He tilted his head to one side and pressed his lips together thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "I'm a woodworker."

"Ah. And what are you doing on Othinsey?"

"I can't tell you." He leaned forward and lowered his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Victoria, but I can't tell you."

"You're in trouble, aren't you?"

"You could say that."

I shivered. "Have you done something bad?"

"Some would consider it bad. I don't. You wouldn't."

"Are you sure?" I said softly.

"I have committed no crime," he said. His eyes were intense, almost desperate. "But I have broken a rule."

"Now I'm even more confused."

He waved a hand, dismissive suddenly, all intensity evaporating. "You are very kind, Victoria, but I should return to my camp and dry out my clothes by the fire."

"Your camp?"

He gestured toward the window. "In the forest."

"But it's cold out there. You could sleep in—" My tongue was galloping along without the assistance of my brain. I paused. I thought. I couldn't offer him Gunnar's bed. I still didn't know if he was Othinsey's resident thief and it wasn't fair on Gunnar to leave Vidar alone with all his computer equipment and CDs. I couldn't offer for him to stay in my cabin because, despite my recent behavior, I wasn't a complete fool; supplying a fugitive with warm clothes was one thing, going to sleep while locked in a small space with him was another altogether.

"Victoria?"

I remembered the storeroom. An internal door locked it off from the rest of the admin building. "You could sleep in the storeroom," I said.

Vidar needed a little persuasion. Although the night was mild and clear, I assured him that the rain clouds around Othinsey blew in at an instant's notice. I fetched him blankets, pillows and a quilt from the linen store at the back of the rec hall, locked everything that I could, and made up a bed for him in the storeroom. I glanced around, assessing the risk of him stealing anything from there. Weather balloons, cleaning supplies, spare parts of obsolete equipment, old record books growing mildew, Magnus's blue folder. Good luck to him if he thought anything there had any market value.

"I won't take anything," he said, guessing that I was counting with my eyes. "I'm not a thief."

"I'm sure you're not," I said quickly.

He smiled at me gently. "Thank you, Victoria. You're a good person. I hope that one day I can repay you."

I hesitated at the door. "No repayment necessary. I just hope you sleep well."

"I'm certain to," he said, his gaze lingering for a moment. "Good night."

"Good night."

I closed the door behind me and hurried back to my cabin. I predicted a sleepless night: my thoughts were moving like wildfire, my heart burst with guilt and excitement And yet, safely locked in my cabin and tucked in my warm bed, I thought of Vidar and a sense of peace and happiness stole over me. Nothing else troubled me. Until morning.

I took a little more care choosing my clothes in the morning. I pulled on a warm dress, and even scraped on some makeup for the first time in nearly a week. I trembled as I locked up my cabin: my knees felt rubbery and my heart was in my mouth. I didn't know if it was fear or desire, but the two together were a potent combination and I felt faintly sick, as though I'd drunk too much coffee and stayed up all night. I made my way over to the admin building. The smell of ocean bristled on the air. I opened the back door to the storeroom and peered in.

It was empty.

A tumble of realizations: Vidar had left and he had taken Gunnar's clothes and the linen I had loaned him. Magnus's blue folder was open on the bench and…
that's right, oh my God
… his Mont Blanc pen was missing.

I tried the door through to the station, but of course it was locked. I ran out the way I'd come and quickly scanned around. I glanced toward the forest. He was in there, no doubt. Hiding. All at once, I guessed his plan: a ring of thieves dropped him off on the island and picked him up later with the swag. I raced over to the rec hall to see if he'd broken in to steal the television. It was still locked, but I let myself in, checked around (nothing missing) and went through to the galley (nothing missing, but the chicken breast I'd left out to thaw two days ago was getting stinky).

"Well, I hope your trip was worth the damn pen," I muttered as I headed back to the admin building. I was keenly irritated with myself. What kind of an idiot would trust him? As I sat down at the desk in the control room, a darker thought occurred to me. Was I safe with him on the island? I had been so enamored of him that I might have overlooked crucial signals. Perhaps he intended far worse than just stealing expensive pens.

I put my head on the desk. My breathing echoed loudly in my ears. My intuition told me that he wouldn't hurt me, but since when had I believed in intuition, let alone listened to it?

The phone rang, jerking me back to reality.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Victoria, I hoped I'd find you there."

"Oh. Hi, Magnus." I felt guilty and ashamed all at once; it made my face hot.

"I'm back in Oslo, meeting the others at Ålesund tomorrow. We're going to have drinks, we'll miss you." Ah, life used to be so uncomplicated. Drinks with the staff. I sighed.

Magnus chuckled. "Don't worry, we'll have drinks when we arrive back on Wednesday too. How is everything there?"

I opened my mouth to say what I should have:
There's a strange man on the island and he stole your
gold pen and I'm locking down immediately
. Instead, I said, "Everything's fine. Nothing to report."

"Good girl. You're doing a fine job, Victoria."

"Um… thanks," I said. "I appreciate your saying so."

"I'm giving credit where it's due, Victoria. You're a smart girl, a capable girl. All in all, I think I displayed very good judgment in hiring you," he said, without a trace of humor. "Now, I need to ask you something important."

I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. "Go ahead."

"Do you think it's a bad thing for a boss to become romantic with a member of his staff?" Words failed me. "I'm sorry?" I managed to choke out.

His loud laugh in the receiver spiked my ear. "Don't worry, Victoria, I'm not asking you out. It's Maryanne."

"Maryanne?"

"We met yesterday for lunch at Bygdøy, and took a romantic walk along the beach. She kissed me." I realized I should gather together some kind of bluster and tell him off for being unctuous, but it seemed impolite to do so after I'd just lapped up his praise. "Magnus, I'm not sure that I'm the right person to ask about this," I said.

"Victoria, you're a woman, and I'd value a woman's opinion."

"Well, I… if she's… I mean…" I trailed off into silence, wondering why I was embarrassed when clearly he should be. I tapped my pen violently on the desk.

"Young people have it so easy." Magnus sighed. "You and Gunnar, you're at the age when you can think about love and talk about love and nobody shrinks from you. Nobody finds it distasteful."

"What's that? Me and Gunnar?"

He sniggered. "Victoria, it's obvious to all of us that there's something between you… some spark."

"No, no. We're just friends."

"Gunnar doesn't see it that way," he said, channeling the spirit of a naughty schoolboy. "He told me that—Oh, that's right, he asked me not to mention it."

I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to know what Gunnar had said about me.

"Anyway, I was saying," Magnus continued, "that romance is not reserved for the young. Do you know how old I am, Victoria?"

I was guessing somewhere around his mid-creepies. "No."

"I'm fifty-one," he declared in a revelatory tone.
Voilà
!

I realized this was my cue to express astonishment. "Oh," I said.

"I know I don't look it, I like to take care of myself, keep myself trim. But I'm not a young man anymore and I want to grab romance with both hands."

"Then perhaps you should pursue Maryanne," I said, hoping this would be an end of it.

"But I don't know if she's right for me."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't. Magnus, I have some bad news for you." The only way to change the subject.

"Bad news?"

"Your Mont Blanc pen. I took it out to the instrument field and now I can't find it. I think I dropped it out there."

"What! Oh, Victoria, what were you thinking, taking it out in the forest?"

"It was with the folder. I didn't realize until I was out there. I'm really sorry."

"That pen was worth a fortune. It was a collector's edition! A Meisterstuck!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"Can you go out and look for it?"

"I'll try."

He had forgotten about Maryanne and romance for the over fifties, and babbled some instructions about meaningless tasks I was to perform until he returned, a penance I'm sure. I jotted them down and thankfully hung up the phone.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling strangely deflated. The thrill of fear (negative though it had been) was gone. Vidar wasn't a romantic hero, just a common thief, my boss was a jerk and the island would be inhabited again in just two days. My own company weighed on me; I was bored with the endless monologue of numbers and rationalizations in my head.

Most of all, I felt let down by Vidar. I realized this was ridiculous. I didn't know him, but he had asked me to trust him and I had, and now I would probably never see him again.