Page 61 of The Christmas Mittens
“No disrespect, Your Majesty, but I’d rather not subject her to any more outbursts laced with bigotry. She’s not used to such behavior. After the last meal we shared, she ended up in tears.”
Magnus sighed deeply. “That’s upsetting. I was not aware that our discussion upset her so.”
“Well, it wasn’t actually a discussion, Father. It was an assault on myself and Mitchell as well as our sexuality, so of course the girl would be upset,” Anders said, his tone harsh.
“I am aware I handled things poorly that night,” Magnus conceded, the fire in the mighty hearth leaping and crackling with green wood that spat like bacon on a skillet.
“That, Papa, is an understatement,” Harold said around his bite of tart.
Magnus nodded softly. “I never meant to drive either of you away,” the king said softly, and it seemed with much difficulty. “You two are just so different from Frode and Ivar. They never once created scandals or scenes.”
“Well, Papa,” Harold piped up. “That is because they were groomed to be good little princes. The heir and a spare, while Anders and I were just two little boys who weren’t reallyconsidered all that important, and so we decided at a young age to become queer just to rile the status quo.”
The king’s lips flattened. “That is far from the truth. Your mother and I love you just as much as we do your elder brothers.”
“Harold, stop provoking him. We did not choose to be queer, Father,” Anders patiently stated as I sat staring at food going cold as no one other than Harold was touching a thing. The porridge looked exceptionally tasty with brown sugar and butter melting over it.
“I know, Anders. I’ve never fully grasped the whole LGBT world, but I do know that people are born homosexual, and that they have no more choice of being gay than they do of having blue eyes or writing with their left hands.” The king sat back, his dark eyes growing sad while Harold chewed with veracity. “I never meant to drive you two away from the family. Change is hard for some people, and while I clung to my beliefs and those of our church, I pushed you and Harold from us. I did not mean to do that. I love you both.”
“That sounds like Frode’s words falling out of you,” Harold snapped and tossed what remained of his flaky pastry into his mouth.
“Frode, Ivar, and your mother have spoken with me on the matters of how the queer people of this kingdom are treated, and mostly how you two have been made to feel unwanted. I wish to apologize for that. I am still concerned about the changing morals of your generations, and those of my grandsons, but I was made to see that even if we don’t agree, we can and should talk openly and respect each other.”
“Oh, that isdefinitelyFrode’s verbiage.” Harold sniffed as he toyed with another tart.
“Either take the pastry or stop fingering it,” Anders said to his brother. Harold picked up a tart, blueberry by the looks, anddropped it onto the fine China plate in front of him. “Father, it’s not easy being here. There are so many bad memories of things said to me, and I suspect to Harold now that I know he’s bisexual like Mitchell.” Magnus glanced at me. I tried to work up a smile, but it probably looked like a grimace. “I know we see the world very differently. I’m not asking you to change your beliefs, just to listen to mine. Don’t dismiss them right off or scorn them because you think that I’m less than because I am not straight. I’m still the same person you’ve always known. The same son you took fishing and skiing. Nothing has changed but your attitude toward me and the person that I love. Perhaps now would be a good time to try to reach out to embrace those who differ from you instead of persecuting them.”
“I am willing to listen and to be more accepting. It will be hard, but you have proven to be a good example of a gay man with respect for the ways of Östermon and yourself. I was pleased with the way you and Mitchell carried yourselves at the baptism.” He gave me a tiny smile that I did manage to return.
“Thank you. I never planned to have gay sex with my boyfriend on the steps of the cathedral,” Anders tossed out. Magnus made a soft grunting sound.
Harold tittered and sobered. “And what of me, Papa? What do you think of my behavior at the baptism?”
“I think you were admirably respectful, and for once did not drive a car into a fountain, fence, or lake,” Magnus replied so dryly it was a wonder sand didn’t tumble from his lips.
“I’ll do better next time,” Harold said as he slathered butter over his tart.
Anders and Magnus both rolled their eyes. “Please let’s eat. The food is growing cold,” Magnus declared and forked some eggs onto his dish.
Only then did I spoon up some food and begin eating. The food was delicious, and the atmosphere passable. Magnus wastrying, and I could see that Anders was as well, so I did my part by filling in the king about my profession and my life back in the States. Harold, well, he ate heartily, but his jabs at the king were pointed just enough to open the flesh but not cause deep bleeding. Neither son was fully ready to open their arms and dive into things, but Anders did seem willing to wade out to his knees. It was a start. An awkward one, but a start, and all things had to begin somewhere. As Pastor Pete has quoted Zachariah many times, “Do not despise small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.”
It felt like work was starting here this morning.
Chapter Twenty-three
Friday, January 1
Sometimes it takes big things to make reality truly sink in.
The New Year’s show at the Östermon Opera House cemented the fact that I was, indeed, dating a prince. Not that the baptism hadn’t poured the cement flooring but wearing a tuxedo and sitting in the royal box? Yeah, that was next-level fancy pantsery. Looking down at the packed seating on the ground floor, I couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, if this was really my life now. How? Why? Why would someone as worldly and refined as Anders want to be with me? A working man who often smelled of gas and car oil.
Then Anders would whisper something to me or take my hand, and I would jolt out of that pit of low self-esteem. I reallywasin love with a prince. Charming? Oh yes, he was. Handsome, kind, strong, and tender. Everything that I could have asked for in a partner and so much more. He adored Gilda, and she him. Even with the subtle sadness of long nights clinging to me, I felt great joy most of the time. Today was a funny day in many ways. Seated up here with the king, the queen, the crown prince andhis wife, Ivar and his Lady Alva, Harold arriving stag and late, which made Magnus frown, and my beautiful Gilda, I should be elated. And I was no doubt. I was beside myself. Yet, the realization that this lifestyle was about to end filled me with a mix of emotions.
As the famous aria “Un bel di vedremo” filled the domed ceiling of the grand opera house, I felt a desire to linger on this cold island a little longer. We’d done some fun things, taken some rides on horseback, played rugby in the snow—I was terrible and got a bruised knee, which Anders kissed many times to make it feel better—and made fat snowmen with felt hats. The queen had taken Gilda to Finland for a day of pampering and, of course, more shopping. Relaxed afternoons watching old TV shows, cold days just walking or lobbing snowballs at Rani and Harold, and long nights spent in bed making love to Anders or he to me. It was idyllic. Like most vacations, you wished it would never end.
While on the other hand you were anxious to return home. School resumed in three days, so we were leaving bright and early tomorrow morning. I did miss Grouse Falls, my shop and my customers, and of course the Woolverines. We all chatted during our trip, but it wasn’t quite the same as being there in person. Anders seemed firm in his desire to come back to the States even though things with the king were slightly better. That was thrilling, but it set off a whole other series of worries, which nipped at me at night as I lay beside him.
“Are you not enjoying the performance?” Queen Linnea asked in a soft whisper that yanked me from my thoughts.
