Chapter 5: I’ll Take Sweden!

July 4, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“Who put these in my bag?” I asked with an exaggerated frown, holding up two boxes, each containing a dozen condoms.

“We did!” Kara giggled.

“I thought we talked about this,” I said.

“We did,” Jessica said. “If the opportunity arises, use your best judgment.”

“What about the rules?” I asked.

“I suspect anyone who is available will be properly prepared,” she answered. “You’ve already made it clear you aren’t going to chase anyone.”

“Then why bother with the rubbers? And why two dozen?”

“Because opportunity always seems to fall into your lap,” Kara giggled. “So to speak! And we know you quite well!”

“And I’ll return with the boxes unopened,” I said.

“Only if you are SURE they’re on the Pill!” Jessica said, laughing. “Your vasectomy isn’t for another few months!”

“Now I know you’re just teasing me!” I said.

“Tiger, I’m deadly serious. If the opportunity arises, use your best judgment. We trust you.”

I shook my head and tossed the boxes back into my bag. I could honestly say that I had absolutely no intention of using them, and given the rules, it was unlikely a true opportunity would arise, even if there was an available girl. I’d get grief for bringing the boxes home, but so be it. I zipped the bag and slipped the luggage padlock through the two zippers and snapped it shut. I grabbed my carry-on bag and the suitcase, and the three of us headed downstairs. I put my bags in the trunk of the BMW, and then went into the coach house to get Jesse.

“He’s been bouncing off the walls!” Josie whispered when I walked in.

“I bet!” I chuckled, then called out, “Jesse, time to go!”

“Yes!” he shouted gleefully. “Sweden and Russia! Finally!”

“We’ll follow you in my car with Birgit,” Josie said. “You take Jesse with you and your wives.”

I’d made the mistake of suggesting that Jesse ride with his moms to the airport and I was lucky to have survived that foolish notion. Jesse had nearly exploded when I said that Birgit would ride with us. This was his trip, and he was going to be damned if he let his little sister interfere. And he had made that abundantly clear in the way only a five-year-old could.

“Yeah, I got THAT message loud and clear!” I chuckled.

An hour later, Melanie met us at the SAS departure desk.

“Sorry to drag you out here for no good reason,” I said. “I don’t think the FBI agents are here.”

“Me either, but Ben Jackson was adamant. I get his point - if you show that you’re prepared for anything they might try, they’ll be less likely to try. I’ll be here when you fly home as well.”

I nodded, “That’s more difficult. I know from last time they can detain me at passport control or customs and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Want to bet?” she laughed. “If you don’t come out in the appropriate time, phone calls will be made and we’ll get a Federal judge involved. Your friend Ben has his own friends in VERY high places.”

“So it would seem! Let me get our boarding passes, and you can walk us to security.”

Jesse and I got into the short line for SAS Business Class and less than ten minutes later were back with boarding passes in hand. My wives, Jesse’s moms, and Melanie walked us to security where we all exchanged hugs and kisses, including the predicted soul-searing French kiss from Melanie.

“I hope the FBI got photos of THAT,” I chuckled when she released me from the hug that accompanied the kiss.

Everyone said their goodbyes, I got an extra kiss from Birgit, and then Jesse and I got into the security line. Once we were through, we turned and waved to everyone, then headed for our gate. SAS was efficient as ever; we boarded on time and pulled away from the gate on time, only to have to wait in line for takeoff. Twenty minutes after we should have been airborne, the pilot finally pushed the throttles forward and we hurtled down the runway.

July 5, 1991, Arlanda Airport, Stockholm, Sweden

Jesse had finally conked out five hours into the flight. He hadn’t quite been bouncing off the bulkheads of the Business Class cabin, but it had been close. One of the stewardesses, a cute, young, blonde woman named Greta had made it her mission to keep him in check. She’d done a wonderful job, and in other circumstances, I’d have flirted with her and hoped to see her during her layover in Stockholm. I knew that wasn’t to be, because nearly every second of every day was planned.

“We’re here, Jesse!” I said as I got our carry-on bags from the overhead compartment.

“What do I do?” he asked.

“Just follow me. We have to show them our passports and then Karin, Kristian, and Kjell will meet us.”

“Your girlfriend?” he asked.

“She used to be, yes. But we haven’t kissed since before you were born.”

“And they have only one boy?”

“Yes. That’s Kjell. And you’ll meet my friend Pia and her daughter Marta.”

“She was your girlfriend?”

I chuckled, “Yes. A long time ago. When I was seventeen.”

We exited the plane and walked up the Jetway. We followed the signs to passport control and got in line. It didn’t take very long before it was our turn.

“Passports, please,” the uniformed officer asked.

I prompted Jesse and he handed over his passport.

“I’m Jesse Stephen Block! I’m visiting friends!” he said.

The officer smiled, “Hello, Jesse Stephen. Is this your dad?”

“Yes! His name is Stephen! The same as my middle name!”

I handed over my passport.

“How long will you be staying in Sweden, Mr. Adams?”

“About a week,” I said.

He flipped through the passports.

“You’ve been to Sweden before?”

“Many times. I had to renew my passport in 1984 after I’d been here four times.”

“Welcome back, Mr. Adams,” he said. “And welcome to Sweden, Jesse!”

He stamped our passports and handed them back. We collected our bags, put them on a cart, and then walked through the ‘Green’ line for customs to the arrivals hall.

“Steve!” I heard a very familiar, lilting Swedish voice call from across the hall.

I took Jesse’s hand and led him to where Karin was standing with Kristian. He was holding a cute, blonde, 3-year-old boy. Karin and I exchanged a tight hug and kisses on the cheek, then she knelt down.

“So this is what you were like at five!” she giggled. “Hello, Jesse! I’m Karin.”

“Hi!” he said. “You talk like me!”

“Jesse is worried about speaking Swedish,” I said, shaking hands with Kristian.

“I think we can manage in English! How was your flight?”

“No problems,” I said.

“Jesse, this is my son, Kjell,” Karin said.

“«Hej, Kjell! Hur mår du?»” Jesse said. (“Hi Kjell! How are you?”)

“Perfect!” I whispered.

We’d practiced that one phrase on the plane. It had taken thirty minutes to get it right, but Jesse was beaming now, which made it worth it. Kjell answered that he was fine, then reeled off a string of Swedish that Karin translated for Jesse.

“Let’s get to the car,” Kristian said. “Are you going to want to sleep?”

“No. The plan was to go to your in-laws apartment, then walk around Gamla Stan and Skansen. We’re still having dinner with them tonight?”

“Yes. Karin has your complete itinerary. I guess your friends from Göteborg and Östersund will be here tomorrow.”

“Sounds great!”

We headed to a Volvo station wagon that Karin had said they would be able to borrow to get us from the airport into the city.

July 5, 1991, Stockholm, Sweden

“«Hej, Steve!»” Lars Andersson said as we walked in. “«Hej, Jesse!»”

After greetings and introductions, Annika said to put my things in Birgit’s old room and Jesse’s in Karin’s while Lars talked with Jesse. I took our bags to the rooms, and paused, remembering everything that had happened in these two rooms over the years. I spent a couple of minutes reminiscing, and then went back out to the living room to join everyone.

“«Han är jätte söt!»” Annika said to me. (“He’s super cute!”)

I chuckled, “«Hans ego är lika stor som min!»” (“His ego is as big as mine!”)

She switched to English.

“Are you going to see Birgit while you’re here?” she asked.

“She’s at home! She’s not here!” Jesse said vehemently.

Back to Swedish.

“«Du har inte berättat om Birgit?»” Annika asked. (“You haven’t told him about Birgit?”)

I shook my head, “«Nej.»” (“No.”)

“Jesse,” Annika said softly, “Birgit was my daughter who loved your dad. She died long before you were born. Your sister is named for her.”

“Then how can we see her?” he asked, looking confused.

“I suppose that means we’ll take a walk by the cemetery,” I said.

“That won’t be a problem,” Karin said. “We have plenty of time to do that before we head to Gamla Stan and Skansen.”

About thirty minutes later, we arrived at the small churchyard where my first love had been buried thirteen years before. I had purchased flowers at the same small flower shop as I had during that first visit. I laid them on her grave, and stood quietly for a bit, while Karin told Jesse about Birgit, though the story was abbreviated. The thought passed through my mind; I wondered if Birgit - wherever she was - could see us and if I was closer to being the man she expected me to become. Quick flashes of happy memories passed by and I knew that someday I’d be having that same conversation with my daughter.

“Dad, she was supposed to be your wife?” Jesse asked as we walked back towards the Andersson’s apartment to catch the Tunnelbana to Gamla Stan.

“We thought so, Jesse. Mom One was sure that would happen.”

“Mom One knew her?”

“Yes. We all went to school in Milford, where Nicholas lives now.”

“‘Mom One’?” Kristian asked.

“Jennifer. His biological mother. Josie is ‘Mom Two’.”

“You have six kids now?” he asked.

“Seven by the end of next month!” I grinned.

“You lived in Sweden!” he laughed. “I’m sure you know about birth control!”

“If you were married to the two women he showed up with here five years ago, would YOU worry about birth control?” Karin teased her husband.

“Have you shown him a picture of Jennifer?” I chuckled.

“No!” Karin giggled. “We have some in Birgit’s old photo album. I don’t think there are any of Elyse.”

“No. We didn’t know her then,” I said.

We had a very nice afternoon and evening, and Jesse was running on pure adrenaline at the end. He finally collapsed about 9:30pm and I got him into bed in Karin’s old room, then rejoined the adults for another hour before I decided to hit the sack.

July 6, 1991, Stockholm, Sweden

True to my word to Jessica, I got up early to run before breakfast. I followed the same route I’d followed years before, though something led me to take a detour by the churchyard and stop for a few minutes at Birgit’s grave. I smiled, remembering our single, beautiful lovemaking session fourteen years earlier. With a smile, I turned to complete my run back to the Andersson’s apartment.

Later that morning, as each of my friends arrived, a ritual was repeated: hugs, handshakes, kisses, and introductions. First Tina Hoff and her boyfriend Nils arrived with their daughter Anna. Next were Torbjörn and Elizabeth, though she had left Lasse back in Göteborg. After them were Katt and Mikael, and finally Pia and her daughter Marta.

“I hope we’ll have some time to talk,” Pia said after we hugged.

“I think we can manage!” I said. “I’d love to catch up!”

Once everyone had assembled, we headed for Gröna Lund. We’d go on some rides, walk the park and have lunch there. Later, we’d head to a restaurant in Gamla Stan for dinner. The adults took turns translating for the kids, and they all seemed to simply take in stride that Jesse didn’t speak Swedish. After lunch, Mikael pulled me aside.

“Katt and I have been trying for a baby for two years,” he said. “She’s pretty bummed about it, though she won’t say anything to you.”

“Honestly, I didn’t notice. Is there a problem?”

“Probably me,” he said. “We’ve had a bunch of tests. One of the benefits of Swedish health care.”

“So will you adopt?” I asked.

“Katt really wants to have a baby of her own,” he said.

“Are there any treatments? I don’t know much about that kind of thing, despite being married to a doctor.”

“There are, but with very long waiting lists and the success rate isn’t that great.”

“So what will you do?”

“Katt suggested you help us,” Mikael said casually.

I choked on the sip I was taking from a bottle of Ramlösa.

“You OK?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, clearing my throat.

“Will you at least think about it?” he asked. “It’s not as if you two haven’t been together.”

“Mikael, I’m really sorry, but I can’t even ask that question of Jessica. Four years ago a young woman showed up at my door claiming I’d fathered her daughter. It wasn’t true, and DNA tests proved that, but that led directly to Jessica leaving me and nearly throwing away her medical career. It’s a long story, but the bottom line is that I can’t even ask.”

He nodded grimly, “We had no idea! I’m really sorry!”

“It’s OK. I didn’t share that sordid story with anyone here. You’re the only one who knows. Jess was gone for four months. It’s taken three years of marriage counseling to get things where they are.”

“Wow! I thought you were living in paradise!”

I chuckled, “Most days, yes. Some days, no. How are things going otherwise?”

“Work keeps me busy. I like it, which helps a lot. And Katt’s skating school has been going really well. She has a pair of students who are competing for a spot on the Olympic team for next year in Albertville.”

“Wow! That’s fantastic! Make sure she lets me know who they are if they make it!”

“We will!”

We moved back to where the others were finishing their lunches, and then we walked around the park. I had a chance to talk to each of my friends. Everyone seemed to be doing really well, though Torbjörn groused good-naturedly about the fact that I’d managed to sleep with Elizabeth and he never had. He did have a girlfriend, though, and seemed very happy. Elizabeth was still with Lasse, and they were talking about having a baby.

Tina and Nils were very happy, but I knew just about everything about them because Tina and I still wrote each other every month without fail. Their daughter was just as cute as in the pictures she had sent, and Jesse noticed. He also noticed Marta, who was only a year younger than he was, and favored her mother.

“Mikael told me,” Katt said quietly. “I didn’t know.”

“Nobody here knew,” I said. “Jesse barely knew anything because he was only two. He just knew Jess was gone and came back. I kept the information about the paternity claim as quiet as I could, though I wasn’t totally successful.”

“So if it weren’t for that... ?”

I smiled, “I don’t play the ‘What if?’ game. Though I do have to say I certainly wouldn’t mind helping YOU make a baby!”

“We certainly practiced enough!” she giggled.

“What will you do?”

“Stay on the waiting list, of course. And we’ll apply for adoption, but there aren’t many kids available in Sweden. We don’t have the same problems you do in America.”

Chapter 6 »