Meet Mathias

In my last post, I introduced you to my protagonist’s teenage son, Erling; one of the four points of view from which the story is told.

This time, I want you to meet my great-grandfather, Mathias. Or “The Mister” as he was known in my family. There are a few ways to pronounce his name: “MA-tee-us” and “math-I-us,” the former being the way my mother and grandmother Katinka pronounced it. When my parents named my younger brother Matthew, Katinka accused them of naming him after her deadbeat, no-good father, but that’s not at all what they’d done. They just liked the name.

It was a challenge to write from Mathias’s point of view and make him somewhat sympathetic. In real life, Mathias’s actions forever impacted his children and, as a result, his grandchildren, and it was important to me to get the emotional trauma of his abandonment right.

In this excerpt, Mathias and the family have returned to Minnesota after two years in Norway. Mathias still plans to leave (abandon) his family, but he hasn’t worked out the details yet. This is how I fictionalized the first time he met his mistress, Raghnild.

Jasper, Minnesota 2022

After breakfast, Mathias goes to the shed to search for his work clothes and boots in the family’s trunks. He knows that in order for his new plan of escape to work, he’ll need to contribute what labor he can in order to keep suspicion at a minimum.

In the first trunk are quilts, cloth, knitting needles, yarn, and the envelope of cash he’d placed at the bottom. For a split second, he considers taking the money back. After all, Alexandra doesn’t know it’s there, and he can use it to help him get back to Norway. But as irritated as he is with his situation, he leaves the envelope where it is.

In the second trunk he finds his book, Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Seas, given to him by the captain of the first commercial fishing boat he’d worked on. Mathias had helped him navigate through a narrow straight between two islands in the Lofoten archipelago during a storm, which had earned him both the book and accolades from even the most seasoned sailors.

Mathias sets the book aside and sifts through paper-wrapped items stored between layers of clothing. He finds his dungarees and two muslin shirts that he hasn’t worn since he lived on the farm.

He brings the stack of meticulously folded clothes to his nose. They smell like the soap Alexandra makes.

Reaching further down into the trunk, he finds his overalls, boots, cap, and an apron—starched and with hardly a stain visible—that he used to wear in his butcher shop.

He hadn’t bothered to take off his apron that day four months ago when he’d brought a brisket over to the bakery to welcome the new owners to the Kabelvag business community.

“How may I help you?” the woman behind the counter had asked. Her throaty voice matched her flaming red hair, red lips, and red apron, and for a moment, Mathias forgot why he was there.

“I’m…um. I am Mathias Petterson. I own the…um…butcher shop. I brought…” He walked up to the counter. “I brought this for you.”

The woman stroked the length of his hands as she accepted the package.

“I’m Mrs. Kling,” she said coyly. “But please, call me Raghnild.”

A short, pigeon-toed man of considerable size and with a protruding eye walked up behind the woman.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice small and shrill.

“This is our neighbor, Mr. Petterson,” Raghnild said, her eyes not leaving Mathias’s face. “He brought us a housewarming gift.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’m Emil Kling.”

“It’s…ah…nice to meet you,” Mathias replied and shook the man’s hand. “I hope you do well here.”

Raghnild winked and said, “Oh, I think we’re going to like it here very much.”

Her entire being was so electrifying that Mathias had been grateful he was wearing his apron.

“Well…I… I need to get back. Stop by anytime,” he replied before sprinting out the door.

Back in his shop, Mathias brought his hands to his face to breathe in Raghnild’s perfume, then he rubbed them against his apron, as if to preserve their meeting in cloth. But the blood and sinew of his work day diluted the intoxicating aroma, and now, the apron is void of Raghnild’s scent, cast out by Alexandra’s soap.

Mathias sets down the apron and fingers the shirt. The familiarity of the soft muslin both disturbs and delights him. He’d loved this farm once, but he hadn’t intended to be a farmer all his life. Or a butcher, for that matter, but there had been less risk and more reward in owning a butcher shop; the reward being a steady income.

He changes into his work clothes and walks out to the barn.