Page 56 of Viking Unchained

Dimple!

Dave didn’t have a dimple.

Blinking away the tears, she saw now that it was not Dave after all, but Finn with a haircut. The disappointment was palpable. The pain was excruciating.

Running up to him, she began to pound him on the chest. “How could you? How could you?”

“What in bloody hell . . . ?” He dropped his bags to the ground and picked her up bodily by the waist, feet dangling off the ground. Being held tightly against him didn’t stop her; she pounded at his shoulders and head, sobbing the whole time. Somehow he managed to get her arms within his embrace so that now she was held tightly against him, feet still dangling. Against her ear, he was attempting to soothe her with shushing sounds and words of comfort, “Shhhh, sweetling. Do not fret. Shhhh. ”

When her sobs finally subsided to sniffles, he set her feet back on the ground and practically dragged her to the car. Once inside, he turned to her, waiting for an explanation of what must seem bizarre behavior.

“I thought you were gone.”

“I did not realize how much time had passed. And you were that angry over my being late?”

She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “I was upset . . . worried . . . that you were gone, but when I saw you . . .” She stopped herself and glared at him. “You got a haircut,” she accused him.

“And you are angry because you do not like my haircut? ” He was incredulous, and he deserved to be.

“No! Why would you get a military haircut? Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s just that at first . . .

oh, hell, from a distance, you looked just like—”

He put a hand over her mouth, and he was the angry one now. “Do not dare say one more time that I looked like Saint Dave.”

“Dave was no saint.”

“What a wonder! The way you worship his memory I thought for a certainty that he was. And just so you know, I am beyond sick of being compared to your dead husband. ”

His surly attitude annoyed her, but first she needed to continue her explanation. “At first, I thought you were Dave, but then when I saw that you weren’t, that you had just gotten a haircut, I was devastated all over again.”

“And that is supposed to make me feel better?” He appeared to be gritting his teeth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Let us depart.” He didn’t even look at her.

As she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward home, she said, “I need to stop at the grocery store on the way home.”

He didn’t respond.

“Be in a mood, then. See if I care.”

“Mood is a mild description of the emotions battering my already beleaguered brain. I was almost happy this morning, happier than I have been in years. I had resolved to try to fit into this country, to make a new beginning for myself.”

“Oh, I see. Your haircut was the first step toward fitting in,” Lydia concluded, though why it had to be a high and tight was beyond her. It didn’t have to be that short. But she’d better watch how much she criticized; so, all she said was, “And I cut you off at the knees for the effort. I really am sorry.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “’Tis past time I concentrated on the most important thing. Finding Miklof. When will you be going to Minnesota to get your son?”

Lydia stiffened, but managed to curb her first instinct denying him access. “On the twenty-seventh. As I told you before, there’s going to be a ceremony the next day honoring . . .” She stopped midsentence.

Any mention of Dave could set him off again.

He was deep in thought before he added, “I will go with you.”

“No! Oh, no, no, no! That would not be a good idea.”

“You cannot keep me away from the child forever.”