Page 13 of Viking
“That’s thoughtful,” Karoline said, that surprised tone creeping into her voice again.“Thank you.”
Athena had released her aunt’s hand and was examining a handmade quilt draped over the back of a kitchen chair.Her tiny fingers traced the pattern, those watchful eyes taking in every detail.The quilt was a gift from an old lady I’d helped last winter -- payment for fixing her roof.
“Let me show you the bedrooms,” I said, conscious of the ticking clock.If someone was tracking them, we had a limited window before they’d trace Karoline to the compound.Better to get them settled quickly.“Down this hallway.”
The first door on the right opened to reveal my study -- computer, more books, gun safe, club paperwork I’d need to secure now.“My office.Off-limits unless there’s an emergency.”
I continued down the hall, pushing open the next door.“This will be Athena’s room.”
The space had been my guest room, rarely used except when a brother needed to crash after a party.But I’d shot off a text to Jed before heading to Karoline’s place and asked him to fix up the two bedrooms for Karoline and Athena.He’d found a twin bed and rails in one of our storage buildings.For now, it just had a plain gray comforter, but we could fix that.
“I know it’s not much,” I said, suddenly aware of how inadequate my efforts might seem.“We can get more stuff, make it more… kid-friendly.”
Karoline’s eyes filled with tears as she took in the room.“You did all this today?How?”
I shifted uncomfortably.“Just some basics.Didn’t want her sleeping in an adult bed.Safety hazard.We keep some stuff on hand for emergencies.This seemed to qualify.”
Athena had moved past us into the room, her rabbit still clutched in one arm as she approached the bed.Somewhere, Jed had found a few stuffed animals and placed them on the bed.
“That’s an elephant,” I said, squatting down to her level but keeping a respectful distance.
She didn’t respond verbally, but her eyes flicked to mine briefly before she placed her rabbit next to the elephant, arranging them as if introducing old friends to new.
“She likes it,” Karoline said softly.“I can tell.”
I straightened up, oddly pleased by this small victory.“Your room is across the hall.”
I pushed open the door to reveal a queen-size bed with fresh navy sheets and a thick comforter, a dresser with an attached mirror, and a small writing desk beneath the window.Simple, functional, but comfortable.
“Bathroom’s attached,” I said, pushing the door wider to reveal the en suite.“And there’s a lock on both doors.For your… you know.Peace of mind.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks, but she nodded.“Thank you.”
“You can get settled,” I said, eager to escape the sudden awkwardness.
I retrieved the luggage from the entryway, giving them a moment alone.When I returned, Athena was opening drawers in her room, peering inside with cautious curiosity, while Karoline stood in the doorway watching her.
“Where would you like these?”I asked, holding up the bags.
“I can manage,” Karoline said, reaching for them.
“I’ve got it,” I insisted, carrying them into her room and setting them on the bed.“Need help unpacking?”
The question sounded ridiculous even to my own ears.What did I know about helping a woman unpack?But some part of me wanted to be useful, to do something beyond providing walls and locks.
“That’s okay,” she said with a gentle smile.“But thank you for offering.”
I retreated to the kitchen, giving them space to settle in.From there, I could hear Karoline’s soft voice as she helped Athena arrange her belongings in the drawers, the occasional creak of the floor as they moved around the room.
Twenty minutes later, Karoline emerged from the hallway.“She’s exploring her room.I think she might be warming up to the elephant.She’s arranged all the animals in a circle on the bed.”
“Good,” I said, not sure what else to say.“That’s good.”
An awkward silence fell between us, filled with all the things we weren’t saying.She wasn’t the girl I remembered, and I certainly wasn’t the young man who’d ruffled her hair and called her “Little Kringle.”We were strangers connected by grief and danger and the memory of someone we’d both loved.
“I put a photo of Kris on the nightstand,” she said suddenly, her voice catching.“The Christmas one.”
I wanted to reach for her, to offer some comfort, but I didn’t know if I had the right.Instead, I gripped the edge of the counter, anchoring myself against the wave of shared grief.
