43
VIGGO
Dead Memories
An angel was singing.
That was the first thought that went through Viggo’s mind when he rounded the corner to his grandfather’s hospital room and heard a woman’s beautifully melodic voice singing the Swedish national anthem.
The angel sounded an awful lot like his angel. But it couldn’t be. Scarlett didn’t know Sweden’s national anthem…did she?
When he reached the door and looked inside the room, he got the shock of his life.
Scarlett stood to one side of the hospital bed, her eyes closed as she belted out “Du gamla, Du fria.”
In Swedish.
Unbelievable.
Gathered around the bed were Viggo’s mother, sisters and several nurses. They were beaming with pleasure as they held up their phones, recording Scarlett’s near-flawless rendition of the anthem.
But what really stunned Viggo was the sight of his grandfather listening to Scarlett with an utterly rapturous expression. He couldn’t have looked happier if he were seated on a heavenly cloud being serenaded by harp-playing angels.
Viggo stared in awed wonder at the old man and then at Scarlett.
When had she learned his country’s national anthem? The woman was an intoxicating bundle of surprises.
He listened, spellbound, a thick lump rising in his throat as she sang the last line, “Ja, jag vill leva, jag vill dö i Norden,” which translated to “Yes, I want to live, I want to die in the North.”
She held the last poignant note in a soaring vibrato that sent chills down his spine. As her voice faded away, the room exploded in applause.
Viggo watched in amazement as his hard-as-nails grandfather wiped tears from his eyes and beamed radiantly at Scarlett.
An excited buzz of conversation broke out as the others complimented her performance and told her how impressed they were. She smiled and blushed, looking both pleased and embarrassed by all the praise.
Everyone started to clear out of the room, still chattering animatedly. Freya, Astrid and Svea grinned at Viggo and told him, “Don’t ever let her go.”
He had no intention of doing so.
As his mother was leaving, he stopped her at the door. She was smiling, still basking in the glow of Scarlett’s singing.
“Wasn’t that just beautiful? What a treasure she is. And how gracious of her to sing the anthem twice—first for your grandfather and then an encore for the rest of us.”
Viggo narrowed his eyes. “Are you telling me you left her alone with him?”
His mother’s smile dimmed. “I did.”
He gave her a long glare. “Please don’t ever do that again.”
She seemed taken aback at first, but then she reached up and gently cupped his cheek. “I can see how much you and your grandfather are hurting. It’s not coronary disease that’s killing him. He’s dying of a broken heart.”
“That’s not my problem,” Viggo said harshly. “And he’s not a victim, so stop treating him like one.”
His mother studied his face for a long moment. “It’s time to put an end to this feud, my darling son. It’s time for both of you to lay down your swords and reconcile. One day you are going to become a husband and father. Don’t you want to be whole and healed for your family?”
When Viggo opened his mouth to argue, she silenced him with a finger to his lips. There was a steely glint in her eyes. “Someday soon, when you are ready, you will tell me what really happened. No matter how bad it is. No matter how painful. You will tell me the whole story, and we will go from there together. As a family. Do you understand?”
Viggo swallowed hard, hesitated, then gave a tight nod. She was right. She’d been kept in the dark too long. It was time to break the cycle of silence.
Her eyes probed his. “Maybe when you get back home—”
“No.” His voice was low. “After we win the Cup in June. We’ll talk after that.”
“Okej.” She smiled tenderly and stroked his cheek. Then she looked back at his grandfather with narrowed eyes, as if she were piecing together a great mystery. Her lips pursed for a moment, then she gave Viggo’s cheek a gentle pat before walking out the door.
Jaw hardening, his emotions turning to ice, Viggo turned to look at his grandfather. He was smiling and talking to Scarlett, complimenting her performance. They both turned to stare as Viggo approached the bed.
His eyes were trained on his grandfather. “Did you hear everything I said to you yesterday?”
The old man met his cold gaze and nodded tightly. “I heard enough.”
“Good. I meant every word.” Viggo looked at Scarlett. “Let’s go.”
She nodded without hesitation and allowed him to take her hand to lead her from the room.
“Vänta!” his grandfather called out.
Viggo froze, his chest so painfully tight he could barely breathe.
“Wait. Please.” His grandfather’s voice was low and tremulous. “Don’t go.”
Viggo turned and glared at the old man. “I’ve said everything I came here to say.”
“Yes. And now it’s my turn.”
Viggo let out a caustic bark of laughter. “What makes you think you deserve a turn?”
“I’m asking for one.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t always get what we ask for.”
“Please.” The old man’s imploring gaze went from Viggo to Scarlett. “I want both of you to hear what I have to say.”
Jaw tightly clenched, Viggo glanced down at Scarlett.
She nodded, her eyes soft with mercy.
He gave his grandfather a hard look. “You have five minutes.”
Olof looked humbled and grateful. This was new territory for him.
Viggo released Scarlett’s hand, then went over and closed the door. He didn’t want his mother or sisters to overhear any shouting.
Scarlett found a chair in the corner and quietly sat down, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
Viggo stood at the foot of the bed, folded his arms across his chest and glared expectantly at his grandfather. “I’m listening.”
“Are you?” Olof countered grimly. “You seem too angry to listen.”
“Does that surprise you? Don’t I have every right to be angry?”
His grandfather held his gaze for a long moment, as if he were trying to decide where to start. “I never meant to hurt you—”
“Stop right there,” Viggo growled savagely. “You used me as your fucking punching bag for six years. You held my head under water as a form of punishment. You tortured and humiliated me every time I didn’t meet your expectations. Don’t you dare sit there and tell me you never meant to hurt me, because we both know that’s a fucking lie!”
His grandfather stared at him, nostrils flaring. “I wanted to toughen you up, make you stronger—”
“Jag var bara ett barn!” Viggo roared. “I was just a child! How could you treat me like that? How could you do those things to your own grandson?”
Olof swallowed hard. “I wanted you to become the best hockey player you could be.”
“And in the process, you almost destroyed hockey for me! Do you understand that? It was the one thing I had always loved, and you nearly took it from me!”
His grandfather’s face went deathly pale. “Everything I did, I did to make you better—”
“Bullshit! You did it because you were a sadistic monster who enjoyed inflicting pain on the weak and defenseless. You did it because there was a part of you that regretted passing up your chance to play in the NHL. You saw my potential and you punished me for it.”
His grandfather grew even paler at the suggestion. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” Viggo jeered.
“Yes! I’ve always been proud of you! I’ve always wanted your talent to surpass mine! That’s why I pushed you so hard! And look where you are today. You’re one of the best players in the National Hockey League! If your team wins the Stanley Cup, it will be largely because of you and the early training I gave you!”
Viggo barked a harsh laugh. “Let’s get a couple things straight, old man. First, my teammates are the fucking best at what they do, and they will always deserve equal credit for any success we achieve as a team. Second, if I’m lucky enough to help the Rebels win the Cup, it won’t be because of you. It’ll be in spite of you.”
Hurt and anger flared in the old man’s eyes. He held Viggo’s unyielding glare for a long moment, then turned his head to look out the window.
Viggo stared him down, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“I know it’s long overdue,” his grandfather said very quietly, “but I wanted you to know how sorry I am for all the pain and misery I caused you. I couldn’t leave this earth without telling you that. I love you, Viggo Björn, and I am truly sorry for hurting you. I hope you can forgive me.”
Viggo’s heart fisted in his throat, causing his voice to come out as a harsh croak. “You’re right, old man. Your apology is long overdue. But don’t expect me to forgive and forget just because you had a near-death experience and now want to clear your conscience. You’re still spouting the same rhetoric from years ago, which tells me you still don’t fully grasp why your actions were so reprehensible. That’s a problem. So, yeah, just because you apologized doesn’t mean I’m ready to accept it.”
A single tear rolled down his grandfather’s face. “I don’t know how much time I have—”
“Cut that out,” Viggo snapped. “I spoke to your doctor earlier, and he says your prognosis is good as long as you complete your cardiac rehab program. So stop trying to manipulate my emotions with all your talk of dying. You’re not going anywhere. Or did I not make myself clear yesterday?”
His grandfather looked at him, a glimmer of hope lighting his eyes. “You came back,” he said softly. “When you heard about my heart attack, you rushed back home to see me. You still care.”
“Of course I care,” Viggo grumbled darkly. “Despite everything you put me through, I never stopped loving you. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive you and welcome you back into my life.”
His grandfather nodded solemnly. “Jag förstår. I understand.”
“Good,” Viggo said brusquely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some young friends to visit, then Scarlett and I have evening plans.”
“When are you going back to America?”
“Thursday. I don’t want to miss more than three games.”
“Of course.” There was a distinctly satisfied gleam in his grandfather’s eyes. “Congratulations on defeating Jöran. Well done.”
Viggo gave a wry grunt as he crossed the room to Scarlett, took her hand and pulled her out of the chair. As they walked toward the door, his grandfather said to him, “You chose wisely.”
Viggo glanced back at the old man, then looked down at Scarlett and said, “I know.”
Once they were out in the hall, Scarlett gave him a fierce hug. He hugged her back just as fiercely, burying his face in her soft hair and not letting go for a long time.
When they finally pulled apart, she gazed up at him and whispered, “Are you okay?”
“I am.” He hadn’t realized just how much baggage he’d been carrying around until that very moment. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. Like he’d been liberated from the burden of a past he’d never asked for.
He leaned down, resting his forehead against Scarlett’s with his eyes closed. “I don’t know what I’d ever do without you, min själ.”
She nuzzled against his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Slowly he opened his eyes, his hands dropping to her waist and pulling her closer as he smiled down at her. “When did you learn our national anthem?”
She laughed softly, her warm breath caressing his face. “I learned it last month. I’ve been practicing like crazy, waiting for the perfect moment to surprise you.”
His smile broadened. “You sounded amazing. And you did something I’ve rarely ever seen. You brought the mighty Olof Sandström to tears.”
Her expression sobered. “He asked me to sing at his funeral.”
“Jesus.” Viggo sighed, rubbing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry about that, baby. He’s being so fucking melodramatic.”
“It’s okay,” Scarlett murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck. “He heard me sing at the Tampa Bay game, and I guess he was really moved. He asked me to learn the Swedish national anthem so I could sing it at his funeral. I told him I already knew it. He didn’t believe me, so…”
“You proved him wrong.” Viggo laughed and cupped her head in his hands, then angled his mouth over hers and kissed her until two passing nurses whistled at them.
Grinning unabashedly, Viggo released Scarlett and held out his hand. She slid her palm into his, and together they headed off down the hall to tell his family they were leaving for the children’s hospital.