The Forgiving Heart (The Heart of Minnesota Book 1) by Becky Riker Page B

for his cousins.
    Throughout the evening, she discovered he was actually in the Air Force. He had been stationed in Britain, but was occasionally sent to Sweden. Though he was not at liberty to discuss why he was there, he was able to visit family while in the area.
    Karlijna and Michael found themselves alone for a short while in the course of the evening.
    “Do you prefer English or Swedish?” he graciously asked.
    Her eyes rounded and she made a funny face, “Are you willing to listen to me speak your language so poorly?”
    The young man shook his head in mock sorrow, “It would be a tragedy.”
    “Yes,” she agreed, “but my Swedish is not much better.  I have only been learning it since April.”
    “You learn quickly,” the man seemed amazed.  “My mother has been trying to teach me Swedish all my life. Let’s speak English. Maybe I can help you a little.”
    Karlijna doubted the short conversation would much improve her skills, but she agreed nonetheless.
    “Why are you decided to join the Air Force?” the girl asked, “Or is it forced of young men?”
    “No,” he shook his head, “It isn’t required of all our men, though we do have a draft.”
    He had to stop and explain that word to her before Karlijna could ask any more questions.
    “If the war is end, do you go home or stay in job?”
    “I joined for a longer time. I hope the war ends long before my enlistment is over.”
    “What is your. . .” Karlijna searched for the right word, “You know,” she lowered her brow and leaned toward him, “the spot in the military?”
    Michael looked more confused than she, “Where I’m stationed?”
    She didn’t think that was what she meant, “Perhaps that is the word.”
    “I’m in London most of the time.”
    “No,” she waved her hands in a negative motion and laughed, “Not that. Are you low man or high man?”
    “Oh,” he threw back his head and laughed as well, “my rank.”
    “Yes,” she beamed at him, “your rank.”
    “I’m a Lieutenant.”
    “Lieutenant?” she repeated the word. “Is just like French word.”
    “Is it?”
    She nodded, “And do you fly the planes?”
    “Yes.”
    “Isn’t that hard,” then realizing that might sound like an insult, she hurried on, “Doesn’t it take many years to learn that?”
    “I took flying lessons before the United States joined the war. So I could be a crop duster.”
    Karlijna wondered if this helped him get a better position, but didn’t think she should ask.
    He spoke up first anyway, “Did you have longer hair when I met you?”
    The girl touched the golden tresses that curled around her face, “No. It was shorter, actually.”
    Michael gave a little chuckle and scrat ched his cheek, “That’s funny. My sisters are always telling me I don’t notice their new hairdos, that I never pay attention to those things. I guess it’s true.”
    Karlijna didn’t want to explain that she had been wearing her scarf before, so she grasped at the first question she thought of, “How many sisters do you have?”
    “Two,” he didn’t seem surprised by the change in topic, “both younger.”
    “Any brothers?” she asked, now interested in the subject.
    “Nope. How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”
    Instantly , two faces flashed through her mind, Bernard and Veronike.  A jumble of pictures raced one after another.  Images of the three playing together, of Bernard helping her with piano lessons, of Veronike’s face as she was pulled from their mother and thrown roughly on a truck.
    “Karlijna?” Leif ’s voice called her back to the present.
    The girl snapped out of her reverie, “I’m sorry, Leif,” she answered in English without thinking before turning to the younger man, “I ask your pardon. My thoughts left my mind.”
    Michael was astute enough to realize her discomfort, “That is fine, Miss Bergstrom,” he spoke again in Swedish, “I understand.”

CHAPTER NINE
    K arlijna did not stay long following