Page 100 of Down and Dirty

The caterpillar nonsense was a not-so-great ending to a not-so-great week, with a two-day liberty looming ahead, but all Britta could think about was sleep. That plan was cut short when Commander MacLean intercepted her on the way to the women’s quarters.

“Madrene wants to talk with you,” he said, handing her a telephone.

“Greetings!” she said.

“Britta, how do you fare?” Madrene asked. In the background, she could hear Sammy clamoring, “Let me talk, let me talk.”

“How do I fare? I am sore. I am tired. I am dirty. I am hungry. And I smell. Other than that, I am just wonderful.”

Madrene laughed. “Well, I can take care of one of those. Wouldst join me and Hilda for dinner tonight? Ian could drop you off here at Pretty Boy’s on his way home. I am watching Sammy today, but one of the guards will be taking over.”

The thought of getting into a small vehicle space with the dour commander was daunting, but Britta relished the idea of meeting with these two old friends. Plus she yearned for news of Zachary, and going to his home might provide the information she wanted.

Several hours later Britta braved the guards surrounding Zachary’s keep, whilst Madrene brought her two children out to the automobile for the grumbling commander to take home so she could enjoy a “girls’ night out.” She noticed that the commander kissed Madrene sweetly afore leaving, which made her think that mayhap he was not as bad as he appeared.

Besides, on the drive there, the commander gave her news of Zachary and his comrades-in-arms. They might be home in a few days, she was told. Plus, she found out that they had not left the country but instead were fighting terrorists at a football stadium. Football was a ludicrous game in this country where grown men threw a leather ball and tackled each other with great force, often causing serious injury. Viking men would love it. In any case, Zachary could not be in such great danger at a game, she told herself.

The second Britta entered Zachary’s keep, Sammy launched himself at her, arms wrapped tightly around her neck and little legs hugging her waist. He was sobbing and talking a garbled message that seemed to indicate he was lonely and scared and wanted her to stay with him.

Madrene, who had been watching him that day, just shook her head with dismay. “I don’t know what to do with the boyling. The longer Pretty Boy is away, the more frantic he becomes.”

Madrene went to open the door for Hilda, who had just arrived. Britta sat down on a soft fabric, cushiony chair and pulled Sammy onto her lap, drying his eyes with the hem of his tea-ing shert. At the little-boy scent of his skin and the feel of his tightly clinging arms, Britta fought to control her tears… and a yearning for something she had never thought possible for herself: motherhood.

“Stay with me,” he wailed.

“I cannot, dearling. I must needs do my military training.”

“All the time?” His words were alternated with hiccups.

“Well, not all the time. Most times.”

“Stay now.”

“I am going out to dine with Madrene and Hilda.”

“You’re leaving me here… alone.”

That set off a new round of crying. And more aching in the region of her heart. “You are not alone. There is always someone here with you.”

“But they are different all the time. The only one who’s the same is Madrene, and she’s a witch.”

She and Madrene exchanged glances and grins.

“Come into the scullery, my little man,” Hilda said, taking him by the hand. “I brought you a surprise.”

She thought she heard Sammy mutter something odd — “It better not be more stupid underwear” — as they left the room.

“What was that all about?” she asked Madrene once they were alone and her friend sat in a chair next to her.

“The poor kid is distraught over his missing father. Thinks he’s never coming back.”

“Has he not been told this is his father’s job? That he has every intention of returning?”

“Yea, but the little boy has experienced much loss in his short life. He is convinced that Pretty Boy is going to die and leave him alone in this country. Plus he has had a parade of guards here to watch over him. They are good people but strangers. In time, I am sure Pretty Boy will find help that is steady and reliable, but for now at least the child is safe.”

“How about you?”

“I help when I can, but I have my own home and children to care for.”