7. 7
7
Hettie
B o’s admission sucks the breath out of me in a whoosh. He thinks—he told her—the queen died…
It’s as if the clouds suddenly part and the sun shines straight into my eyes, blinding me.
It all makes sense now.
The flight back to Battle Harbour had been painful, and not only because the cockpit is small, and Bo, with his broad shoulders spilling out of the seat, the harness barely containing him, takes up so much space. The memories of other flights with him haunt me; of Bo darting in and out of the clouds, of pointing out a pod of whales when we were over the Atlantic, of putting my hands on the controls and letting me fly for a few, glorious moments.
It’s hard being trapped with him for more reasons than that: we’re going back for him to meet Tema.
I never really planned for that, because I was never sure it would happen.
I wasn’t thinking of our time together; I left those memories back at the cabin because it was too much, but now, to find out that he told his mother, and just before she died…
It explains so much.
The day when he met me behind the high school, I thought he was going to bring me to the castle. I had a bag packed. I told Mabel I wasn’t coming home.
I didn’t bother saying anything to my father or my brothers.
Bo had been happy; we had been in love, planning our future. Before the wedding, he had practiced with me how he would tell his parents and there had been a nervous giddiness when he left me the day we came back from Wabush. He would tell his parents by himself, and then he would come and get me and introduce us.
“They’ll love you,” he had promised.
“They won’t love my family,” I argued. It had been my biggest fear—my dysfunctional family would rob me of this chance to be happy.
“You are not your family.”
But he never came to get me. The accident happened, and I thought he didn’t have the chance to talk to them.
I never imagined that for years, Bo had been blaming himself for Queen Selene’s death.
“Let’s go,” Bo says gruffly now, leaning over to pop the handle on my door. “Careful when you climb down.”
“We have to talk about this,” I protest as the door swings open. Cold air rushes into the cockpit.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Bo’s tone is as icy as the wind but I won’t let that deter me. It’s not right that—
“But, Bo, there is . You can’t think—”
“Did you tell Abigail we’re coming to see Tema?”
The abrupt veer into Tema territory has my thoughts come to a screeching halt. “Tema?”
“I’m meeting her. Now. ”
This is more urgent than sorting out the brainwash that Bo has been doing to himself for all these years. “You can’t,” I tell him, my voice high-pitched with fear.
“Why not?” Bo has never been anything other than a gentle, considerate man, but there’s none of that Bo left. Dealing with the guilt of his mother dying—at least the perceived guilt—is enough, but throw in a child that he never knew about might be too much.
I didn’t think enough about what this would do to him. Is doing to him.
“You can, but you need to wait. I need to prepare her,” I counter quickly. “She needs time.”
“You don’t think I deserve time? This is why I came back.”
“Bo, she’s seven . She’s—” But it’s the look in Bo’s eyes that stops me. There’s anger and confusion, but also fiery determination—the same determination I saw when he proposed to me.
When he told me he wanted to marry me, that he wanted a life with me, he looked like nothing was going to stop him. My protests, my arguments that it wasn’t a good idea fell on deaf ears. I always thought it was because I didn’t really want to protest, that I didn’t really believe my arguments, but maybe Bo has more determination than anyone ever gave him credit for.
“Seven years, Hettie. I don’t want to waste another minute of not knowing our daughter.”
I can’t hold out any longer. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Bo had always been quiet—introverted, great one-on-one or in small groups, but he hated crowds. I understand that because I’m the same way. Both of our families had been full of big personalities, and being with Bo meant I was never pushed into the background.
We met when we were fifteen; it took him over two years to convince me that a Crow could be the girlfriend of a prince of Laandia. My family is… The Crows are known around Laandia and not in a good way. The daughter of a woman who abandoned her family and a father who cared more about his boat and how much fish he caught never ended up with Prince Charming in any of the fairy tales I read.
It wasn’t until I was almost twenty that Bo told me he always considered himself like Rapunzel, trapped in the tower and I was the princess who rescued him.
It was an interesting way to look at his life.
I don’t remember when he first talked about getting married, but he talked about it like it was a done deal. I never really believed it would happen, mainly because I wanted it so much and I was brought up never to trust that you’ll get what you want, unless you take it. But then there was the summer when Bo turned twenty-one, and still kept talking about it. Kalle was playing baseball then, and it was all the family could talk about, as well as Odin’s historical projects and Gunnar starting to race cars.
Bo didn’t feel like he had a place in his family and he talked about having his own family, with me.
And finally when the summer blended into the fall, I gave in. “Okay. When? ”
Less than a week later we were married in a secret ceremony at the cabin in Wabush with only Spencer Laz, my best friend Abigail, and Jean and Buck Marsden in attendance.
Two days after that, we came back. And then the crash that killed Queen Selene happened and changed everything.
Bo changed. Gone was the sweet and funny guy who always told me about the books he was reading, and who loved to challenge me in chess to see who picked the next movie we would watch. Who taught me about trees and the animals who lived in them, and would borrow planes to go flying early in the morning to see the sun rise.
Who wielded an ax like one of his Viking ancestors; only he attacked trees rather than his enemies.
Bo was haunted by his mother’s death; the entire family was. The royal family was close, much closer than my family. They were all grieving.
But it was something more with Bo. He never let me comfort him. He wouldn’t see me, talk to me. For four whole days after the funeral, I couldn’t get hold of him. This was my brand-new husband and I couldn’t find him. The castle didn’t know we were married, and no one would tell me anything. I was frantic.
When he finally called, I burst into tears. I raced to meet him, so I could hold him. Comfort him.
Love him.
But instead, he told me that marrying me had been a mistake.
Looking back, I can see he didn’t mean it, that he was hurting and pushing everyone away, but at the time, it literally broke my heart. Unable to eat, too numb to cry, write a best-selling-song-heartbroken .
But just like Bo, I didn’t show him what I was really feeling because deep down, I agreed with him. I loved Bo more than anyone, but I couldn’t see how we would work. And if he didn’t believe in us…
I knew I needed to leave because it hurt too much to be around Bo. I picked the furthest spot to get away from him, following my grandfather to the west coast of Canada. Abigail came with me—my best friend since birth. We moved to Victoria, British Columbia, found an apartment, jobs, and I tried to move on from Bo.
And then I found out I was carrying his baby.
That was a very bad six months.
I wanted to tell Bo every single day, but I hadn’t heard a word from him. Radio silence. Not even a text, or a DM, or a phone call. It was as if he had totally blanked out my existence.
The hurt was almost unbearable but it strengthened me—if Bo didn’t want me, then he wouldn’t want our child.
There was a bad moment when I was in labour, crying because I wanted Bo there, and Abigail held out my phone to call him but then the baby was coming and the phone was forgotten.
Holding Tema in my arms made everything better.
It was difficult, being a twenty-one-year-old single mother, but with Abigail’s help, I managed. I had my grandfather as well, and Abigail’s parents came to visit as often as they could. Mabel came twice, my brother Tommy stopped in once when he was in Vancouver, and that was my family. That was my daughter’s family.
I told myself that was enough.
I have a wonderful little girl who I love more than anyone in the world, and I have kept her from knowing her father because he broke my heart. I convinced myself it was best for her, but the silence thickens as Bo drives us from the airport to the Lockes’ house, and the guilt of keeping him from her almost makes me vomit. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway.
Watching Bo’s face, watching the emotions pass over it—the clench of his jaw, the flutter of his eyes when tears threaten—I have never felt like such a horrible person.
How could I have never told Bo that he had a child?
How can I ever make this up to him?