Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [47]
His youngest daughter watched, fearful, until she saw his chest rise and fall in the rhythm of natural sleep. Then she loosened the hand she still clasped and pulled the blankets over it.
“The physician gave him medicine to ease his pain,” Tordis told her, coming to stand by her side. She put an arm around the lass’s shoulders. “He said it would make him sleep.”
“Will he be all right?”
“Of course he’ll be all right,” Torst said, his voice gruff. His face was as white and strained as everyone else’s, but now he mustered a grin. “He just has to rest. That’s what the doctor said.”
But Hans Peter was frowning. “We should let him sleep,” he said abruptly, picking up his parka and heading out the door.
Frida and Torst followed him, but Tordis and the lass stayed by their father. A few minutes later, an efficient-looking woman with gray braids wrapped around her head and a long apron came in. She smiled at the two girls as she felt their father’s wrist for a pulse.
“Are you the nurse?” Tordis whispered.
The woman nodded and put her finger to her lips. Exchanging looks, the lass and Tordis slipped out of the room.
Still hushed from the sickroom, the two sisters made their way down the wide staircase in silence. Tordis led the way into a sitting room where the rest of the family was gathered.
The lass sat on a sofa beside Tordis and accepted a cup of tea and a slice of bread and cheese. She surveyed the room, which was luxuriously furnished, and then her family. Tordis looked much the same, in clothes that she had made herself, brightly colored and fancifully cut. Hans Peter was dressed in heavy, simple wool clothing, as usual, but there were no patches or frayed cuffs. Askel, Torst, Frida, and Einar were all in fine city clothes, though somewhat disheveled.
“Will Father be all right?” This time it was Einar who asked the dreaded question.
“Of course he will,” Askeladden said with false heartiness. He took too large a gulp of coffee and choked. Torst pounded him on the back.
“It will be a miracle if your father ever walks again,” Frida said. “He won’t lose his arm, but his hand may be of no use. Praise the skies that Askeladden is able to provide for us. At least one of my children was not a waste,” she sniffed.
“Father has sufficient means to care for himself,” Hans Peter said. He was still clutching the white parka in his hands. With one thumb he rubbed the blue ribbon that ran down the sleeve, and the lass wondered if he had noticed that it had been taken off and then reattached. “Of course, we had to sacrifice our youngest to an enchantment to get where we are. But I’m sure it was all worth it.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Yes, it was.” The lass put her chin up and spoke the words firmly. “Father will survive this accident. He will be treated by the best doctors and cared for by a professional nurse. Askel and Mother have a comfortable home—”
“You shall have one, too,” Askel interrupted her. “When you come back for good, you can come here.”
She knew how much it cost Askel to be generous, so the lass smiled at her brother, and thanked him.
“If I hadn’t gone with the isbjørn,” she continued, “we would all still be huddled in a little cottage with a leaky roof. And when Father had his accident, we would have been caring for him ourselves in front of the kitchen fire.” She finished this with a curt nod, and took a sip of her now-cool tea.
“You’re assuming that Father would have had this accident if the isbjørn had never come to us,” Hans Peter said, voicing the lass’s fears. “I’m going to get some sleep.” He stalked out of the room.
The lass hurried after him, catching her brother’s sleeve as he reached the bottom of the staircase. “Hans Peter,” she said in a low voice, “if you know something about this enchantment that would help me, I would very much like to hear it.”
“Be careful. Wait out your year. Come home,” he said. He shrugged out of her grip and took the stairs two at a time.
She followed more slowly, allowing Tordis to catch up to her. Upstairs,