Page 76 of Thawed Gladiator: Varro

I manage a smile, hoping it masks my nerves. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about meeting your family.”

She leans in, her voice low. “They’re going to love you, Varro. Don’t worry.”

As we begin our descent into what Laura calls “Missouri,” my stomach churns with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The forged papers in my pocket feel like a heavy weight, a reminder of the secrets we carry.

The airport is a whirlwind of noise and activity, but Laura navigates it with ease, guiding me through the crowds. And then, suddenly, we’re through the gates, and I hear a cry of joy.

“Laura!”

A group of people rushes toward us—Laura’s family. Her mother reaches us first, enveloping Laura in a tight embrace. Her father isn’t far behind, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

I hang back, uncertain, until Laura reaches for my hand. “Mom, Dad, this is Varro. Thanks for saying he’s welcome to stay with you.”

Laura’s mother turns to me, her smile warm and welcoming. “Varro! We’re so glad to meet you. I don’t know why Laura’s been so tight-lipped. It looks like she’s got nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Mom!” Laura’s embarrassed squeal is met with a hug as her mother sputters a half-hearted apology then challenges with, “But he’s sohandsome!”

Before I know it, she’s hugging me. The warmth of their welcome washes over me, easing some of my worries.

The drive to their home is filled with chatter as Laura catches up with her family. I listen as I try to take in every detail of this new world. The traffic is crushed together,so crowded we don’t go nearly as fast as on the boat. Then, as the city gives way to thesuburbium,the pace slows and the buildings become shorter. Finally, we’re in rolling hills with lots of trees and grass. It almost reminds me of Hispania.

At the house, more family members await. Laura’s siblings, their spouses, nieces, and nephews all greet us with enthusiasm. It’s overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

As we sit down to what Laura predicted would be a welcome home feast, I’m struck by the easy camaraderie, the laughter, and the love that fills the room. It’s been so long since I’ve experienced anything like this—not since before the Roman Legion destroyed my life.

Throughout the meal, Laura and I field questions about how we met, carefully skirting the truth. But as the evening wears on, I can see the weight of our deception weighing on Laura.

Back in Norway, we had discussed whether we should tell her family the truth, even going so far as making a list of positives and negatives. Finally, we left it up to Laura to decide when the time was right.

I lean close and whisper, “I can see you’re bursting to reveal our secret. I would feel more comfortable, too, if we didn’t have to lie to your family.”

Her shoulders sag with relief as she flashes me a thankful smile. As we’re finishing dessert, Laura clears her throat. “Actually, there’s something we need to tell you.”

The room falls quiet, all eyes turning to us.

“Varro isn’t just someone I met overseas,” she begins, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hand. “He’s…” She stops speaking and quits moving altogether as though she’s a stone statue. Finally, she shakes her head and says, “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Just blurt it out!” her sister, Jewel, says. “When’s the date?”

Date?

“You think I’m announcing my engagement?” Laura’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Well, duh! You can’t keep your hands off each other. Or are you pregnant?” That last part is said with disapproval. Laura had told me that is frowned upon in her religion.

“We’re not getting married and I’m not pregnant. It’s hard to believe.…”

“Spit it out, sis!”

“I need to tell you Varro is from the past. Ancient Rome, to be precise.”

For a moment, there’s stunned silence. Then Laura’s younger brother bursts out laughing. “Good one, sis! You really had us going there for a minute.”

“Aminute,” her dad scoffs, “how about a second? Your sister’s been serious and studious since grade school, not one for absurd flights of fancy.”

Her father certainly knows her well, but when Laura doesn’t laugh, it captures the family’s attention. She launches into our story—theFortuna, the ice, my awakening.

She peppers the story with so much detail, it would be hard not to believe it if it weren’t so bizarre. Their gazes flit to me from time to time, noting I have the same serious expression on my face as Laura carries on hers. The disbelief on their faces slowly gives way to wonder.

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