Midsummer Sweetheart (23 page)

His shoulders relaxed a little, and he crept to the rocking chair in the corner of the room by the windows. Without making a sound, he lifted it and moved it beside her bed, so close that his knees would almost touch her covers as he rocked. Then he sat down and waited. And remembered the last time he’d been in a sick room.

***

When Erik’s mother lay dying of cancer, her care had been left, primarily, to him and Jenny. They weren’t the sort of family who could afford much outside paid care, and anyway, they wouldn’t have wanted that for his mother. Once her diagnosis was terminal, it was all about making her comfortable in the few months she had left.

That long, hot summer they had re-read her all of her favorite books in the last lucid weeks of her life:
Pride & Prejudice, Persuasion, Jane Eyre, North & South, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.
When they weren’t reading, they were watching her favorite movies, twenty-one-year-old Jenny lying to her left on the bed, and when he wasn’t working, twenty-two-year-old Erik to her right.

In a strange way, mutually—if not verbally—agreed upon, he and Jenny had recreated their years in the schoolroom with their mother, reading the familiar words and discussing the Edwardian tales of love and longing. They were older now, but their mother was still the teacher, the adult, the voice of reason and experience, sharing her thoughts and life experience, an urgency to her words as she delivered final lessons to her children like a legacy, knowing that she was running out of time.

In those hot summer evenings, occasionally his father and brothers would join them for a movie, even ordering pizza a few times. They would all sit on her bed together, teasing each other, laughing about old memories, trying to ignore the fact that they were all sitting on their dying mother’s bed in the middle of what used to be their dining room.

His mother had turned a bad corner at the end of the summer, and the pizza and movies ended for good. His father suddenly spent more and more time in the park, leaving Erik and Jenny alone to care for her throughout the last terrible days.

It was then, in those terrifying, dark days of fall, that his father abandoned his dying mother, demonstrating with heartbreaking clarity for young Erik that vows are meaningless and nothing, least of all love, lasts forever.

***

Katrin slept peacefully and as Erik rocked in the quiet of her room, he sensed something changing inside of him. When other women had wanted to be half of an “us” with him, it had been unthinkable for him. Until now. Until Katrin. Looking at her, so little and red-cheeked beside him, made him wince, made him wish it were him, not her, lying there.

His head wasn’t having it.
That is crazy, Erik. Is that what you want? To care about someone so much it hurts? It leaves you unprotected? You don’t want that…You don’t want her.

His heart roared back,
Goddamn it,
I do. I can be a better man than
he
was.

It was a strong voice, deep inside, brooking no argument, firm and sure. He closed his eyes, bowing his head in total defeat, his eyes burning from unshed tears.

I’ve never felt this way before, I’ve only read about it. But I want her in my life, I need her in my life, and I just hope it’s not too late.

He heard her stir beneath the covers. His eyes flashed open and he leaned forward, the old encouraging, sick-room smile coming easily. She moved her head toward him, her eyes fluttering open, then closed, then open again, dreamy, only half awake.

“Erik,” she murmured, and her eyes closed again, her lips turned up slightly. Her voice was soft and thick and breathy. “You’re here. Where were you? I wanted you so much. So much.”

Just like that, in the blink of an eye, it wasn’t over. The relief he felt was so huge and so humbling, he shivered and wanted to weep. He hadn’t lost her after all.

Her throat must be on fire after being so sick for hours on end. He took the glass of water from the bedside table.

“Drink something,
Ӓlskling
.”

He put one hand behind her neck to prop her up and with the other he lifted the glass to her lips. Then he put the glass back on the bedside table and used a tissue to wipe her lips.

Her eyes fluttered open, and then closed again. She murmured something and he leaned in to understand her.
“…mig inte.
Lämna mig inte,
Erik.
Vänligen
.”

Don’t leave me. Please.
Erik’s heart clenched as he stared at her face, running the back of his fingers across her soft, warm, dry cheek. “I won’t. I promise I won’t leave you,
Ӓlskling
.”

“I won’t get too attached. I promise. Don’t leave.” Her voice was small and ethereal like a little child, a cross between a whisper and a sob. He was just able to make out her words, and they just about broke his heart. She was trying to reassure
him
as she lay so weak and tired, recovering from illness.

It made him ashamed of himself, of his words that had hurt her so.

He stood up, wiggling his feet out of his shoes and pulled down her covers, slowly, softly. When he lifted her, she stirred again, opening her eyes to look up at him and murmur nonsensically before closing them again. He moved her deftly, like he’d done it one hundred times before, settling her on the right side of the bed. He pulled the covers back over her and lay down on top of them beside her, on his side facing her, and put his arm over her gently.

“
Jag är här
, Katrin. I’m here,” he whispered. “
Söta drömmar
,
Ӓlskling
.
Jag är här
.
Somnar
,
Ӓlskling
, s
omnar
.”
Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I’m here. Sleep, sweetheart, sleep.

He murmured soothingly, lightly pushing her hair back from her temples, stroking the feather-light strands, made silver in the moonlight. In her sleep, she turned toward the sound of his voice, and his heart filled until he thought it might burst out of his chest.

I will be an “us,” if that’s what it takes.

I will figure out how to do this, because I’m not losing you again.

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then, pillowing his head on his flattened hands, he watched her face long into the night until he finally fell asleep.

***

The rising sun shining hot and bright on her eyelids made her stir from sleep, but she wasn’t ready to open her heavy eyes. As she roused herself from the cocoon of sleep, her body rebelled: one big ache. From the rawness of her throat to the muscles in her abdomen that felt like they’d taken a beating with boxing gloves. Even her shoulders and arms ached, and her belly too. She realized, with a cross between amusement and irritation, that she was hungry, but dreaded trying to keep something down.

She felt warm, not hot, thank God, but the covers were tucked especially tightly on her left side, and she could barely move her left arm from where it was almost trapped under the covers. She had a passing thought to remind Paca that military corners weren’t necessary stateside.

Erik.
Her dreams came over her like a wave. Erik had come to her in her dreams, speaking to her tenderly in Swedish, promising he wouldn’t leave, stroking her head like a feverish child. The sweetest dreams she had ever had. The more she woke up, the more she lost them, even as she fought to hold onto them.

She had been so terribly lonesome for him in the days that followed their fight on Sunday night, so sad that he didn’t seem to be able to overcome his fears, so angry with herself that she had allowed her heart to care for him. But, mostly lonely; for his funny texts and the promise of his company on Sunday, for the safe way he made her feel, for the touch of his lips on hers, and his hands on her body. She had grieved all of it with a startling sorrow, not realizing how deeply he had touched her heart, how terribly she had come to care for him in such a short time.

Don’t leave, dreams.
She struggled, clenching her eyes shut, trying to grasp onto them, slip back into them, if only to be with him again.
Come back…

They were gone. The sunlight won the fight as her dreams slipped away, pockets of dreamy darkness swallowed by the greedy sun. She sighed, that old heaviness of loss filling her heart. But it wasn’t for her father or for Wade anymore…it was for Erik Lindstrom who didn’t care for her
enough
, whom she missed, whom she grieved, who seemed lost to her.

Her eyes opened tentatively at first, partially because she hadn’t opened them for a while, and partially because they had burned almost constantly during so much violent vomiting and heaving, but mostly because the sun was shining directly into her eyes and blinding her.

As a cloud passed in front of her window, her vision started to clear, and a hazy image of Erik’s sleeping face, just inches from hers, came into focus. She blinked in surprise.
Have I fallen back to sleep
?
Am I dreaming again
?

Disoriented, she leaned into him and felt his breath on her lips as he slept soundly beside her. He moved a little in his sleep, taking a deep breath and shifting his legs. Her drowsy, half-lidded eyes flew open. This was no dream! This was Erik. Here. Sleeping. In her bed.

“Erik?” Her heart was pounding
.

Erik opened his eyes and looked at her, then closed them and a lazy smile spread out over his face. “Mmm. Morning,
Ӓlskling
.”

She shook him. “Erik. Wake up. What are you doing here?”

He rolled onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the sun. “Came last night to talk. You were sick. I stayed.”

“I…I told you not to come.”

“You didn’t get my last text.” His eyes were still covered by his arm, which muffled his voice.

“What did it say?”

“It said we needed to talk. It said I was coming for
us
.”

“Us?” she asked, her heart picking up speed as she began to understand his meaning.

Erik lowered his arm and turned to meet her eyes. “Us.”

Us.
She nodded back at him feeling happy, happy, happy, happy, happy.

***

Erik propped himself up too so they faced each other.

Katrin’s red, blotchy face was transformed by a grin that poked two huge craters in her crimson cheeks. “Are you, um, cold?”

He grinned back at her, understanding what she wanted. He got up, moved the covers aside and joined her underneath, pulling her body into his, loving the feel of her pajamed legs entwined around his jeans.

“Not anymore. Although when I told you I wanted to be in your bed, this wasn’t
exactly
what I had in mind.”

“This isn’t doing it for you?”

Erik pulled her as close to him as he could, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Um, you know, strangely enough, as I’m sure you can tell, this
is
, in fact,
doing it
for me, which is sort of weird, since you look…you look…terrible, Kat.” He laughed, shaking his head back and forth. “You are so very magenta.”

Katrin beamed. “Sick girls. Maybe a new fetish for you?”

“You are twisted.” He shook his head, unable to still his body’s response to having her so close to him, lying next to her in a bed, even though he knew nothing was going to happen. “I’ll tell you something, though. That, uh, raspy voice? Pretty sexy,
Ӓlskling
.”

“My poor voice.” She wiggled away from him and gestured to the glass of water on the bedside table. “Can you—”

He handed her the glass of water, watched her drink it all down.

“Want more?”

She nodded, trying to clear her throat and wincing from the effort.

He padded to the bathroom and filled her glass then crawled back into her bed, fluffing up a pillow behind him to sit comfortably beside her. She finished drinking, handed him the glass and snuggled back under the covers on her side, resting her head on his chest. He brushed her hair gently back from her temples, humming something softly.

“You did that last night.”

“Mm-hm.”

“What were you humming?”

“Some old lullaby my Mamma used to sing to me and Jenny.”

“Swedish?”

“Norwegian.”

“You miss her.”

“I do.” He took a shaky breath. “She died so alone.”

“She had you and Jenny. Your Pappa. Your brothers. Didn’t she have a full life?”

“I don’t know. They started out in love. I know that. But, it was hard for him, I guess, watching her fail. Watching her die.”
So he didn’t. He ran away. He left it all to me and my little sister.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and briefly stopped stroking her hair to run the back of his hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I think she died broken-hearted. He didn’t love her at the end, and she knew it.”

“Oh, no, Erik. I’m sure he did.”

I’m not.
He touched her hair again, allowing the miracle of Katrin in his life balance the terrible sorrow he felt for his mother.
I promise not to be like him. I can do better.
“Let’s not talk about it. It is what it is.”

“Is that why you’re so…”

“Why I don’t trust in love?” He shrugged. “I read all the books, but I never saw anything in real life that came close to the stories. Except my folks. I wanted what they had. Always did. But, then it turned out they weren’t…I mean, he didn’t…”

His voice broke and he looked down at her helplessly. She put her arm over his chest, holding him tightly.

“I promise you, it exists.”

He took a deep, shaky breath through his nose, exhaling slowly, warding off the lump in his throat, the encroaching panic.
I can do this. I can do this.

“Katrin, about us…”

“Mmm?” she murmured, still beside him.

“Yeah, I…” He started, but he found the words didn’t come easily. He stroked her hair, wishing they didn’t have to talk, wishing they could just stay like this forever, but she deserved to hear him say the words. “I want—um, I think I want to, to
be
with you.”