Ch 6 - Morning Revelations

The next morning, golden sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window, casting soft light across the room. Tucker woke before the girls. He turned his head and froze.

The duvet had been kicked off during the night. Tuva and Eira were still asleep, curled against each other, utterly relaxed—and utterly naked. Their soft curves glowed in the morning light, skin against skin, arms and thighs tangled. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Endearing. Lovable.

And dirty.

His heart ached. His stomach fluttered. It was all so wrong—so terribly wrong—and yet it felt so good.

There was love here. Or something dangerously close to it. Something warm and enveloping in a way he had never known in his cold, rule-bound home.

If God is love, he thought, why had I never felt this before?

Were they even Christians?

He slipped quietly out of bed, dressed, and made his way to the kitchen.

Katrine was already there, apron-clad and radiant, stirring something on the stove. She greeted him with a smile that could melt glaciers.

“Good morning, sweetheart! You slept okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean—Katrine,” he corrected quickly.

She chuckled. “Waffles again? Or just cereal today?”

“Cereal’s fine,” he said, sinking into a chair.

She served it with a smile and a quick kiss on the top of his head. He took a bite. The milk was thick and creamy—really creamy.

“This is really good milk,” he said. “Norwegian milk tastes amazing.”

The girls had just wandered in, still stretching and yawning in their sheer nightshirts. At his comment, all four burst out laughing.

“Oh no,” Tuva giggled. “You got Mama’s titty milk!”

Tucker dropped his spoon.

“Girls!” Katrine scolded. “It’s nothing to laugh about. My milk is perfectly nutritious. He’s lucky to get it.”

“Sorry,” Eira said through her giggles. “Our mom’s a little weird. But you’ll get used to it.”

Tucker stared down into his bowl, trying to remember a Bible verse that could anchor him.

Before he could think of one, Tuva was at the table, pouring juice and casually asking, “What’s that book you carry around, anyway?”

“My Bible,” he said automatically.

Eira looked puzzled. “Bible?”

Tuva blinked. “Is that one of the American schoolbooks?”

“No, it’s the Word of God,” Tucker said.

All four girls looked genuinely confused.

“Ohhh,” Marte said slowly. “You mean, like… Jesus stuff?”

“Yes!” Tucker replied, feeling grounded again. “The gospel?”

They looked at each other and shrugged.

“We’ve never heard of it,” Tuva admitted.

“Is that another name for Freya’s book?” Eira asked, tilting her head. “Mama has poems she reads sometimes—blessings for love and fertility.”

“She does a little morning offering,” Katrine added, nodding. “To Freya, of course. Everyone does. She’s the goddess of fertility. You can make offerings in different ways—fresh flowers, a little honey, sometimes… other fluids.”

Tucker-James was shocked. He did not know anyone still worshipped old pagan Gods. "You believe Freya is a real Goddess?"

“We don’t really believe-believe,” Eira added. “It’s more like—well, it’s just what people do. You give thanks to Freya, you celebrate life, fertility, bodies. It’s not weird.”

Tuva nodded. “It’s just part of being Norwegian. Like waffles. Or sauna. Doesn’t everyone do it?”

The girls looked at him, puzzled.

Tucker hesitated. “So you don’t actually think Freya… is real? Like a god?”

Marte furrowed her brow. “Well… not real-real. I mean, nobody thinks she throws lightning bolts or something. That’s just old myths.”

“You mean Thor,” Eira giggled. “The man with the hammer.”

Tucker blinked. “So you don’t believe in any of it?”

“Do you?” Tuva asked, tilting her head.

“Yes!” Tucker said, clutching his Bible a little tighter. “This is real. God is real. Jesus is real. He died for our sins.”

The room fell quiet.

The girls exchanged uncertain looks.