47. The Return
The Return
BETTY
As I raced to find Erik, I realized my face probably didn’t convey security. He was understandably panicked by the looks of it. Before I called to Mary’s family, I took a deep breath and channeled calm. I tried my best to keep my face neutral.
“Mr. Jensson,” I found him in the first row. “I’m sorry to bother you but wanted to tell you Mary is okay and we’re taking every step we can to secure safety.”
“Your Royal Highness!” He tried standing.
I knelt. “No, please, stay seated. It’s just Betty, okay?”
A woman stood beside him, looking to me either with fear or disbelief.
Before I introduced myself, Erik took my hands and asked in a panic, “What’s happening now?”
Once more, I channeled all my zen. “Mary is performing again, but at the end. They’re giving the band some time to settle. Right now, the team is making sure the stage is safe, but we’ll pick up again in about an hour. She sends her love.”
Relief washed over him as I turned to the woman beside him.
“I’m sorry, I’m Betty,” I said.
“I’m Marit’s Aunt Hildr,” she said in Swedish.
I realized she didn’t speak English.
“My Swedish is poor, but… I’m trying.”
“It is nice of you,” Hildr gave a kind smile. “Erik says you are a nice girl.”
I smiled, then noticed where we were in the hall. Erik and Hildr hadn’t been seated in the orchestra pit with the other contestants, families, and country sponsors. I wondered why that was.
I called Brita. “Brita, why aren’t the Jenssons in the pit?”
For a moment, she stared in disbelief, confused by my familiarity with this family. I could have stood, but I’d loom over Erik. That felt wrong. I was here with Mary’s family when she couldn’t be. I didn’t want them to feel walled off or delegated to.
“I was told they needed a spot for a wheelchair, and it took up too much space.”
“There is a lift, yes?” I asked, annoyed. “They should be down in the pit with the others. I wish you would have asked me. They are the only family excluded. Space can be made.”
She furrowed her brow. I half expected her to point out that it wasn’t my job to worry about the families of contestants, but she didn’t.
She nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I will see if we can make that happen.”
I turned back to Erik, “Let’s move you down there with everyone else. It’s basically a kiss and cry… like they have with the ice skating. We do the short interviews. Well, Astrid does. I just sit there and try to look pretty. I’d rather have you closer to me, if that is okay?”
“We’d love to be close to the action!” Erik announced, ever the social butterfly.
Hildr appeared nervous, but didn’t debate Erik. She wasn’t going to steal his shine.
Brita returned. “They will move seat fillers in, and we can take them down in a lift. Let’s follow along.”
“Great,” I said. “Let’s go.”
I pushed Mary’s father down to the orchestra pit where a few Swedes waved, probably recognizing him as the national treasure he was.
Her father’s notoriety never occurred to me.
She downplayed everything about her past. They were humble people, but Erik was a legend in his own right.
I noted that Max and his entourage were nowhere to be found, which was curious.
All the other committee reps were there.
Rather than put them with the Swedes, I settled them into the British section, taking time to chat with Nate who had been stuck for an eternity without explanation.
“Oh, Christ, good, you’re back!” He hugged me. “You didn’t answer my texts!”
“My assistant has my phone,” I said. “I am on a leash.”
I turned to Erik and Hildr. “Nate, this is Erik and Hildr. Hildr and Erik, this is my brother, Prince Nate.”
“Hi,” Nate said, still confused.
“Erik is Mary’s father. Hildr is her aunt.”
“Oh, the front woman?”
“Yes.”
“You are her brother?” Erik asked, confused, overly familiar.
I wondered if he assumed my family knew about Mary and was about to spill the beans.
“Well, we’re half-siblings, but yes. Our genetic tree is mostly a stick, I think,” Nate joked. “I’m here today, but you’ll get to meet my much more notable older brother, Keir, and his wife, Ingrid, tomorrow.”
“It is nice to meet you,” Erik said. “We appreciate Betty doing this for us. I asked when we arrived, but they kept talking about the wheelchair and space. It was all a blur getting here.”
“I know,” I said. “I heard you were stranded in Oslo.”
I tried not panicking as I noted that was too familiar. Now, I looked like I knew everything about Erik’s travel plans. Wasn’t that unusual?
If Nate noticed I was being friendly with the opposition, he didn’t respond.
He turned to Erik, “You’re The Zamboni, right? Which is why they named themselves that?”
Erik puffed his chest. “Of course!”
I left them refocused on sports, returning to my handler to sort this problem with a long-term solution.
I said to Brita, “Tomorrow, Mary Jensson’s family is to be seated with my brother and sister-in-law or I will walk. And the wheelchair? We should prioritize wheelchair users, not isolate them, okay? If that story got out, my uncle would be upset.”
“Yes, Your Royal Highness,” she responded. “I apologize.”
“Well, fix it and we’re good.”
“Your Royal Highness!” Astrid streamed over. “We’re on in five.”
And that was all she wrote. The show was back on sooner than expected.
We took our places and picked up where we left off.
We read the teleprompter and pretended like the big crash never happened and that my heart wasn’t still backstage with Mary.
I went through the motions until I introduced Mary.
During the commercial break, we waited for our call as the roadies assembled the Zamboneys’ set.
Astrid and I did a bit once we returned.
I tried to fake it the best I could, but I couldn’t help but picture Mary in the wings.
Was she nervous? Scared? Empowered? I’d know in only a minute, but waiting felt like torture.
Finally, we were done. Astrid turned and nodded. It was time for me to introduce them.
“And for the second time tonight—and hopefully the last,” I said. “The Zamboneys.”
We stepped off stage as the camera flipped to the band. My heart was in my throat as the lights came up. Unlike before, she faced away from the crowd—as she did in their submission video. Her voice rang with the first words of “Justice”, and I knew she would nail it. She was back.
Mary spun, intensity high. Her face was defiant, not giving even a bit of insight into her stress level.
For three minutes of perfection, Mary seemed to block it all from her memory.
I didn’t know how she managed it, but she could put on a show like nothing else mattered.
The crowd reacted with the highest energy.
As I watched the performance from beside the stage, my eyes drifted to Mary’s family and the kiss-and-cry. Erik danced in his chair. Someone gave him a Swedish flag alongside the Union flag he stole from the table. His pride spoke volumes and encouraged the reaction of the rest of those in the pit.
Everyone rode a high, cheering Mary in her hour of need.
Sweden swayed along. Norway hooted. Germany did a weird head bob.
Even the pot and pan band got into it. But even with this, I noted that Alia, Jason, and Max were all missing.
None had returned to their seats. Their entourage was going wild for Mary.
I wondered what any of it meant as Mary sang out her last note, strong and assertive, but didn’t have time. She threw her fist upwards, then bowed, and turned to the band who were living it up on their own. Together, I knew the Zamboneys made history. I knew Mary triumphed.
Then, my world came crashing down again.
My detail appeared swiftly by my side, popping out of nowhere before the Zamboneys were even off the stage.
The lead security officer barked, “Ma’am, I need you to come with me. It’s an emergency.”