Page 112 of The Very Virile Viking

He shrugged. "She already does."

"Then is one more child really such a big favor for you to give her?" Jorund's voice was gentle with compassion.

"People will make jest of me… even more than they do now. Her cousin Carmen—you met her, Rolf…

the profess-whore—already makes dumb-man jokes about me."

"Since when does laughter hurt a big man like you?" Rolf scoffed.

"Well, the dumb-man jokes do not bother me as much as I pretend. In fact, I get great satisfaction in throwing back nipple jests at Carmen, so we are even… usually."

Jorund and Rolf stared at him, openmouthed. No doubt they were impressed with his great finesse in handling bothersome females.

"Actually, I have been thinking about this baby problem, and the more I think on it…"

"Yea?" his two brothers prodded.

"I really want to have a baby with Angela."

His brothers let out a whoosh of relief, as if they'd already known he would come to that conclusion.

"But just one," he quickly added.

"It is a gladsome thing that the three of us have been rejoined in this new land," Jorund said then.

"Yea, 'tis." Rolf nodded, deep in thought. "At one time, after deciding to stay here in the new world, I was convinced that I would be the last Viking in history, but now it appears there will be three last Vikings."

"And many more to come," Jorund added with a twinkle in his eyes. Jorund never used to twinkle. Must be Maggie who'd taught him to do that.

Magnus cared not about any of that other business, though, whether he was first or last Viking… or whether there were others to come. All he knew was, I am going home .

Home is where the heart is… he hoped…

Angela was in the vineyard with Miguel, checking the various varieties of grapes for ripeness. A wonderfully satisfying experience it was, too, knowing that all the hard work of many months was about to bear fruit. And soon it would all be over, and the cycle would start again. She knew from years of doing the same task with her grandfather how to tell from touch, taste, smell, and texture how many more weeks it would be till harvest. It was her and Miguel's opinion that it would be another week at least. He would begin hiring migrant workers this afternoon.

Angela needed something to do with her hands and body to dispel her out-of-control nervousness.

Magnus and the children were coming back today. He had left a message on the answering machine, telling her when their flight would arrive and asking that she pick them up. Angela had sent Juan and Grandma in her place with two vehicles, unable to bear the thought of being reunited with Magnus in a public place.

"Look! They're back," Miguel said with excitement, pointing down the hill to the house and driveway, where the cars were just pulling up.

Her heart began racing wildly. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her denim coveralls, she began to walk slowly down the vineyard aisle.

"I must go tell Juanita," Miguel said, rushing ahead of her toward the back door leading to the kitchen.

"She will want to have food and drinks ready."

Angela smiled, despite her somber mood. She understood Miguel's enthusiasm. Everyone had missed Magnus and all the children. The Blue Dragon had seemed quiet without them.

But it was a quiet they might have to become accustomed to if things went as Angela expected they would.

She saw Magnus hand Lida over to Juanita, who was already out in front of the house, welcoming everyone. She also saw him hold out his arms, halting his other children and pointing toward the house, as if ordering them inside. Uh-oh . She knew what this was about. He wanted to talk to her alone first.

That suspicion proved correct when Magnus began to stomp angrily around the side of the house and up toward the vineyards. She met him halfway.

Magnus was so angry at Angela he could scarcely breathe, and he was so happy to see her he could scarcely breathe.

She looked beautiful to him today, with her black hair drawn high on the back of her head in what modern people referred to as a ponytail. Her sun-bronzed face was clear of its usual paint and rouge.