Chapter 20: The Vikings Have Landed.

The week quickly passed. My classes were going well, and no one was causing me headaches. I received a few queries concerning the bruise on my temple. It had turned a very dark purple with green tinges. I told everyone I walked into an open cabinet door with the lights turned off. I received the same admonition each time: I should know better than to go about the apartment with the lights switched off.

I wasn’t going to tell them that my elderly landlady smacked me because I didn’t follow her request to stay seated. It would have traveled around campus in hours. I didn’t need that to add to the speculation about why I was leaving school.

Friday at noon, after my final class, I rode my motorcycle home. My future in-law was waiting near my car, tapping her foot. I got off the bike and walked around the car, opened the driver’s door. I peeked over the top of the automobile just in time to catch Grandma Jorgenson’s stink eye. I think she expected me to open the door for her. I was beginning to question if it was worthwhile to remain in her good graces. But then, she was carrying her large handbag, which possibly contained the wooden spoon.

I went around the car and opened the door for her. I waited for her to settle in before closing the door after her. Then I went around the car, got in, and started it. Looking behind to make sure the path was clear, put the car in reverse and back out onto the street. I shifted into first, and we were on our way to the airport to pick up her granddaughter. The ride to the airport was silent.

I parked in the short-term lot. Mrs. Jorgenson frowned at me as we stepped out of the car and added, “Don’t disappoint me.”

I wasn’t about to. Looking at the purse, I was convinced the wooden spoon was on top.

We arrived at the airport an hour early. My stomach was grumbling, and I was about to inquire if she wanted anything from the food court.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “Their prices are atrocious here.” She opened her handbag and offered me something wrapped in foil.

“Here, nibble on this,” she said. “That should tide you over to supper at home. I have a pot roast cooking in the slow cooker; you can eat.”

Oh, pot roast! That’s something I could wait for. I unwrapped the foil, unsure what to expect. Inside, there was a little loaf similar to a quick bread. To taste it, I pinched a corner off. I had never eaten a baked quick bread that tasted that amazing. It tasted like blueberries at first, then almonds, cinnamon, and nutmeg. It was an unusual mix, yet it worked really well. I savored each mouthful like it was my last.

“To hell with meeting your granddaughter, I’ll marry you!” I grinned.

She glanced at me and snickered. “Oh, honey, you wouldn’t last the night.”

We both chuckled when she commented on my marriage proposal. If only her granddaughter could cook as well as she did, Grandma had already set the hook, and all the grand daughter had to do was reel me in.

The flight from Chicago was delayed by one hour. There had been heavy thunderstorms above Minneapolis, delaying the trip to Minot. The plane had to stay on the ground until the storm had passed.

Grandma Jorgenson studied the board intently and fidgeted. She stood up and began pacing 15 minutes before the airplane arrived. She gazed out the window, anxious, toward the runway. I wish the plane had already arrived. My instincts told me she was reaching for the hidden wooden spoon, and I would be a prime target.

Soon the board changed, and she became more animated. It became humorous watching her move about the waiting area. She continued casting nervous looks toward the gate.

With no notion what she looked like, I looked for another Celtic clone of Sadie with ginger hair and freckles. I watched, unable to spot one, speculated on her appearance. My imagination had run wild. I was convinced she was a doppelganger of the wicked witch from The Wizard of Oz.

I heard “Grandma!” and this Nordic six-foot beauty rushed towards my adopted grandmother. No way! This could not be the granddaughter. She’d demand to get back on the plane with a single glance at me. I stood nearby, observing the family reunion of grandma and granddaughter.

This one was well out of my league, beyond my species. She would be pleasant to me around her grandmother before pretending to receive a phone call from her place of employment. The hospital was in jeopardy, and she needed to return because of an emergency. Then she would return early in the morning.

“Honey, this is the man I want you to meet. He possesses all the characteristics of an excellent spouse. He’s a lot like your grandfather—modest but intelligent, sensitive but very much a man. He has all the qualities you have been looking for,” Grandma Jorgenson said.

For a moment, I assumed she was selling wine. Modest but intelligent, compassionate but masculine. I sounded more like Riesling than a college lecturer. Where did she come up with this?

Mrs. Jorgenson barked, “Get over here and meet my granddaughter. She has flown all the way here, specially to meet you.”

I jumped and nearly double-timed the eight feet that separated me from them. I put my six years of college education to use, and my most brilliant welcome was, “Ah, hi.”

I looked over to my soon-to-be grandmother-in-law to see what she was saying to me. “Don’t disappoint me!”

After my “Ah, hi,” I observed her roll her eyes and shake her head in disappointment.

Her granddaughter looked at me and remarked, “You are adorable.” My granny told me everything about you. Is it true that you’re working with the FBI on a case? That sounds really intriguing. You’ll have to tell me about it after we eat. I’m Karen, by the way.

“We better go get your luggage before they claim it as lost luggage. My car isn’t far from the terminal.”

We strolled up to the luggage carousel and waited for it to arrive. We didn’t have to wait long before the flight’s luggage appeared on the carousel. We were on our way to my car after collecting two canary yellow suitcases. As we approached my car, I chuckled.

“If your grandmother’s plan comes to fulfillment, I won’t need to buy another automobile. “Your luggage matches my car,” I joked. I loved it! Mrs. Jorgenson’s ears were getting pink.

Karen added to her grandmother’s embarrassment: “Oh, and which side of the bed do you prefer to sleep on? I need to know so that I can determine how compatible we are together.”

The pink turned a lovely shade of scarlet. Yes, I’ve been patiently waiting for this girl.

Karen sat in front with me on the way back into town, while Mrs. Jorgenson sat in the back seat. Karen probably wouldn’t have felt at ease back there. A Volkswagen Bug has minimal rear seat legroom.

I brought Karen’s bags into the home while she and her grandma set the table and prepared the dinner. I was famished, and having Karen at the table was a welcome addition. Her appearance and size resembled that of a Viking princess. I was amazed to be in the same house with her.

We decided to go for a walk after our dinner. It would be an opportunity for us to get to know one another. Much to the distress of an elderly woman, no one would be able to hear our conversation. We decided to go to the ice cream shop a few blocks away and share a sundae. I doubt each of us could have eaten one on our own after such a large supper.

We had just sat down to eat our strawberry sundaes when I noticed Evelyn Cristman approaching us. Evelyn was on the faculty where I taught. She was in the English Department, teaching journalism, but I assumed it was a college course on how to be a busybody. She had her nose in everyone’s business and was the leading source of campus gossip. If you wanted to know anything on campus, go to Evelyn; she was the source of all the gossip. If she didn’t know, she’d make something up that would make it seem incredible.

There was no rumor on campus about the real reason why I was leaving in a few weeks. “What are you doing out and about, Evelyn? Are you not worried about a house falling on you?” I asked.

“Ha-ha, really hilarious. You want to do better with your insults. And who are you?” she asked, turning toward Karen.

I knew this was going to be ugly. It would be a regular catfight. I was in Karen’s corner. I was certain she would pound Evelyn to a pulp.

“Oh, I’m his fiancee. I traveled up from Chicago to spend my vacation with him. When we’re not together, I miss him so much. I will be overjoyed when he relocates to be closer to me. It is quite stressful to be apart from him.” Karen volunteered, “I can’t wait until we marry this summer. Now, if you excuse us, we would like to have some quality time, we so rarely see each other.”

Evelyn slipped out the store door, bobbing like a bobble head doll.

“Jeez, Karen, didn’t you put it on a bit thick? After all, we just met a few hours ago,” I uttered in amazement. “Though I thought the top of Evelyn’s head would come off with the scoop you gave her, you are aware that she is the campus gossip source. By tomorrow, everyone on campus will be informed.”

“I know what I was doing. With my appearance and blond hair, I am the focus of every bimbo story in the hospital. I’ve bopped every doctor on staff. Nonetheless, it’s all falsehoods. I am waiting for one man, and when I find him, he will have all of me.”

I choked on my spoonful of ice cream sundae.

She looked at me and giggled. She had me terrified.

Karen wanted to see where I worked so we went over the university on Saturday morning. I showed her around my office and the building where I lectured. She appeared impressed. A coworker stopped us on our way out of the building.

“So is this the fiancee I heard about?” he asked. “She is a looker, my friend.”

He was harmless, so I agreed with him and thanked him for the compliment.

“You were courteous to him; you didn’t quarrel or confront him with it. That’s the sign of a real man, not escalating a situation that doesn’t need to be and letting it go,” she remarked.

Then she kissed my cheek and took my hand as we strolled across campus. We spent over two hours touring the campus. Karen enjoyed herself. I know I liked our time together.

When we returned home, Karen decided she wanted to dine out and give her grandmother a break. I knew just where to go. We listened to the customary moans and groans about the cuisine during our time at the restaurant. At the same time, she devoured her selections. It was an excellent source of fun. Karen was exhausted from spending the day with me, and the memories of the previous night’s travel had her fading. We decided to end the evening early.

The next morning, a knock at my door woke me up. They kept at it till I got up to see what they wanted. It was Karen all dressed up.

“Why aren’t you ready for church?” she inquired. “We have to leave in 30 minutes, according to Grandma. She said to remind you of her wooden spoon.”

“OK, I am up,” I said. “I’ll take a quick shower and get dressed. We will be on time.”

She kissed me on the lips before heading back down the stairs.

“Yuck, make sure you brush your teeth.”

After a quick shower and getting dressed, I made it with five minutes to spare.

So it was off to church, all of us crammed into my little bug. I endured through the two-hour service. The grandma and granddaughter were unconcerned by the duration of the service. This was definitely something I would have to think about if I wanted to become serious with Karen. I felt really at ease with her after knowing her for roughly forty-eight hours. More so than any other woman in recent memory. I was hoping things would work out and we could start a relationship.

After lunch, which was Mrs. Jorgenson’s usual wonderful meal, I headed up to my apartment to change and take a little nap. I set my alarm for thirty minutes. I dozed off as soon as my head hit the pillow. When the alarm went off, it appeared that I had closed my eyes. I was trying to think of something enjoyable to share with Karen. Then I considered riding in tandem on the motorcycle. As an emergency room nurse, she may protest because she has seen the aftermath of a motorbike accident far too many times.

I got my helmet and spare before heading down to the garage for the motorcycle. Playing it by ear, I decided not to ask her if she wanted to ride. I wanted Karen to make the first move. If she inquired, it showed she accepted my riding and didn’t feel compelled. This was a deal breaker. Motorcycle riding was a part of me. If she would not accept my riding or attempted to discourage me, we would have no future.

I pushed the motorcycle out of the garage as I heard someone approaching from behind. It was Karen, and I waited for her to say something about the risks of motorcycle riding. Instead, I got the opposite of what I expected.

“You got a helmet for me to wear?” she asked. “I won’t ride without one, and no riding in heavy traffic. I refuse to be an organ donor; we have too much to live for.”

We? What message was she sending me? I was not going to ask, but I was sure she would tell me what she meant when she was ready.

I handed her the helmet and then waited for her to put it on. Karen put on her helmet as I started the motorbike. I climbed the Triumph, holding out my hand to help her climb behind me. She settled in and patted me on the shoulder to indicate that she was ready. I placed it in first gear and released the clutch. For the first half-hour, I wanted us to become acclimated to riding together. Riding double is different from riding alone; it is an acquired talent. You must know when to shift to maintain your balance when turning; else, you will fall. Karen appeared to love the ride.

I decided we’d had enough of riding about town, so we took the less traveled roads I was familiar with. We spent the next two hours riding through the countryside, admiring the ranches and farms we saw. While we were cruising, a large B52 from the adjacent air base made its final approach to land. It was still far above us, but we could feel it as it went overhead. Those huge planes never failed to astonish me. They were old in military life cycles, but they were still in use. Piloted by the sons of former crew members. Some of these planes were in service as early as the 1950s.

We continued riding for another hour before returning. It was nice to have her on the motorcycle with me. Things seemed right after only a brief time together. When we got back, supper was ready. Karen and I volunteered to clean up after supper, allowing her grandma to rest.

Monday was an office day for me, and I left early to prepare for my eight AM class lecture. The instructor, not the students, arrived to class weary. I went through the motions without giving my customary impassioned lecture. Following class, I returned to my office and shut the door. I hoped to hide there and snooze on the office couch. I had barely fallen asleep when I heard a persistent knock on my office door. I intended to murder whoever it was. I needed that nap to get through the remainder of my day. That afternoon, I had a departmental meeting, which lasted two hours and was lengthy and dull. The meeting’s topic was to create a departmental budget, and everyone had their hand out for their share.