Chapter 7

Astrid came home that Friday just before dinner, and there was general chaos in the Rasmussen home. My parents had been invited and arrived not long afterward, while Crystal ordered Chinese delivered from one of the local restaurants.

I got a bit drunk that night. Astrid was taking some kind of pills to keep her calm and couldn't drink, so I had her share. When she arrived, she looked worn and tired, but there weren't any signs of cuts or bruises and she was in good spirits as far as I could tell. We all had a good cry when she arrived and then got down to hearing what happened.

It turns out this so-called Wilderness Survival Force was nothing more than a bunch of left-wing college kids who had some crazy idea that they could save the province if all logging was stopped. They had managed to work themselves into a lather and decided that if one of them could get some guns, and another could figure out how to circumvent security systems, they could kidnap some big-wig and hold him to ransom.

The plan got refined, and then refined some more, and finally, a target was chosen. Crystal was the target, but Henrik was the objective. They had it in their minds that if they could control the biggest of the big, he could make all the others do what he told them to do. Astrid simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Astrid said that if she hadn't been so frightened, it would have been a comedy. They apparently argued day and night about what to do next. They had been successful beyond their wildest expectations, but were uncertain how to take advantage of their captive. As Astrid pointed out, they needed help in planning. She would know.

Finally, they agreed that the money would be the big thing and that's what they went for. When they called that Friday morning, they were hung over from pot, wine, beer, and god knows what else. They even argued about which of the two leaders was going to make the call and speak to Henrik. By this time, Astrid was really frightened because these people were so out of it, she thought anything could happen.

When the SWAT team broke down the door of the basement suite, they found the four dancing around in a pot-induced haze, celebrating the five million dollars that Henrik was supposed to give them. Astrid had been tied to the headboard of the bed for most of the week. Escorted by the one woman in the group for her bathroom breaks, she had neither showered nor washed properly for the entire time. Fortunately, they had fed her.

The three men and one woman were taken into custody, while Astrid was released and put in an ambulance and taken to Vancouver General for a thorough examination. Other than some rope burns and a lack of personal hygiene, she hadn't suffered any injuries, nor had there been any sexual assault. She told me that she doubted any of the men could get it up, they were so often stoned. I was just as happy she didn't have to test that theory.

We didn't have sex that night. Astrid was exhausted, I was drunk or something close to it, and all we really wanted to do was to hold and touch each other again. Making love wasn't on our minds yet.

Crystal made a big breakfast for us on Saturday morning. That's when I found out my parents had stayed overnight in one of the guest bedrooms. I guess Dad had had a couple of extra snifters of Henrik's cognac and Mom and Crystal made sure he wasn't driving anywhere that night. Somebody had to be in charge.

The breakfast was at the dining room table and it was a happy, loud, and fun occasion. Astrid was almost back to her old self already. She was teasing me about our outpouring of emotions on the phone the previous afternoon, but I really didn't mind. I thought it was something that told me a lot about myself and Astrid's importance to me. No one thought it was weak and no one made fun of me. I think my mother thought it was a sign of my true feelings for Astrid, and she was happy for me.

We didn't do much that Saturday. I made a quick trip to a nearby sport store and bought a swim suit. Astrid decided to tantalize me and probably any other male within viewing distance with her skimpiest bikini still in residence at the house. It was teal coloured and she looked absolutely fantastic in it. I didn't have my camera with me, but I took some pictures with my cell phone. My father was cross-eyed once more.

We lounged around the pool all afternoon. Mom and Dad had gone home to change, promising to come back that afternoon. We would be heading home to Little River on Sunday, but not until the afternoon.

In the meantime, the story of the kidnapping and rescue had not yet broken in the media. I wondered why, but didn't have any complaint. I couldn't imagine what was going to happen to us when everyone found out about Astrid's encounter with a life-or-death situation. I was sure it was going to be big news.

After dinner, the Rasmussens and the Campbells decided to play bridge. Both Astrid and I begged off, choosing instead to go back out to the pool and spend some private time with each other. I'm sure that was our parent's plan all along. I don't think they really realized just how much she meant to me until everything was at risk.

"My worst fear was that I'd never see you again," Astrid confessed. "I think I must have cried for the first three days. That woman, Therese they called her, she kept telling me to shut up. She thought I was afraid of what they were going to do to me. I never told them I was afraid I'd never see you again, never be with you, never hold you."

"It was the same for me," I admitted. "I couldn't imagine what I would do without you. I'm just so happy I didn't have to find out."

We were sitting on the edge of the pool, our feet dangling in the warm pool, each with an arm around the other's waist.

"Are you really OK?" I asked her after a long silence.

"I think so. I don't know if there will be any after-effects. They ... the police ... offered me counseling ... stress counseling ... if anything happens. I hope it isn't necessary. It would mean coming back to Vancouver every week for god knows how long. I'd really rather not have to do that. I just want to be with you," she finished, looking at me with a tired smile.

"We'll do what ever needs to be done to make sure you are OK, dear."

"I know. Let's just wait and see. There's probably nothing to worry about."

"Maybe," I answered, not quite as convinced.

We left Sunday noon to catch the mid-afternoon ferry to Nanaimo. Parting company with her parents and mine was a bit sad and we made a lot of promises about calling them often and seeing them. Henrik had talked about using the corporate aircraft to fly my parents, Crystal and him over to Comox and visiting us in a few weeks; perhaps the Victoria Day long weekend in May. I thought that would be great and so did Astrid. I think we both wanted them to see what a fine place we had chosen to make our new life.

As we sat in the ferry lounge, looking out at Vancouver Island in the distance, we talked about what came next for us.

"When do you see us getting married," I asked.

"How about August?"

"I have to wait that long?"

"Wait for what?" she grinned.

That stopped me. I guess it was really a matter of making it all official. Otherwise, we were living and acting as a married couple already. It was just a matter of choosing where to live.

"Good point," I conceded.

There was another silence as Astrid was thinking. Then, "I think we should start planning our new home."

"What new home?"

"The one we're going to build for ourselves and our future children." She had been thinking about this and it was another example of her inborn need to plan.

"Uhmmm ... I guess. But, that brings up a sticky point," I said tentatively.

"What sticky point?"

"Uhmmm ... about the money. Your money, I mean."

"Oh ... that. Does it bother you ... I mean ... does it bother you that I have a lot of money?"

"I'm not sure. I'm having trouble with the concept, I'll admit that."

She was quiet for a while and I didn't know what she was thinking. Was she upset because I was uncertain? Was she miffed that I was worried about her wealth? I couldn't tell. Finally, she turned sideways to me, placing her hand on my cheek and looking directly into my eyes.

"Rick, there isn't a single thing I can do about being wealthy. I didn't ask for it. I didn't even hope for it. For a number of years I did everything possible to avoid it. I've been rich since I was twenty-one. That's four and a half years ago. I really haven't spent a dime of it and every year it gets bigger and bigger. I can't think of anything better to spend it on than the man I love and the home I want us to be happy in. A shelter for us and our children."

I sat there, somewhat confused and uncertain.

"Astrid, I don't know how to handle this. I've never been rich, and I never contemplated being rich. It's something that just happened in the last few days. Like winning the lottery. I really don't know how to handle it."

She smiled at me and I felt a bit better.

"I don't either, Rick. But if we're going to have all that at our disposal, and we are going to make a life together for ourselves and our children, then we'll have a long time to figure it all out. Maybe we can start a charity, or a foundation or something. A way to help others. I don't know. It doesn't have to be a problem ... a burden. Many families spend most of their time worrying about making ends meet. We will never have to do that. What we need to do is make the best use of what we have."

I looked at her. I couldn't help but love this woman. She was so grounded ... so level-headed. Plus, it was all beyond my control. I leaned over and kissed her gently and she responded in kind. I sat back in the lounge seat, undoubtedly with a satisfied smile on my face.

The news broke Monday morning when the RCMP held a press conference in Vancouver at ten am, announcing the arrest of four suspects in the kidnapping of Astrid Rasmussen, daughter of Henrik Rasmussen. The kidnapping had taken place ten days earlier and with patience and full cooperation of the Rasmussen family, a successful rescue operation had been mounted and Ms. Rasmussen had been freed on the previous Friday.

The television and radio stations broke into their regular programming to carry the press conference live. It was the headline story for the next two days as every bit of the family history and the history of previous kidnappings were reviewed. Henrik attended the press conference and publicly thanked the RCMP Special Squad for their excellent work in rescuing his daughter unharmed. No mention was made of Crystal's ordeal, or of my presence.

The spokesman for the force indicated that details of the kidnapping would not be soon forthcoming as the Crown was still collecting evidence for the future trial. There would be no bail for the suspects. They were remanded in custody.

I reported to the school on Tuesday morning, but Astrid remained at her apartment. The news had been on everyone's mind and it wasn't hard for me to get our Principal, Daemon Hollingsworth, to understand she needed more time to recover. Naturally, he was shocked to discover one of his teachers was the daughter of a famous man. As far as her classes were concerned, a substitute was available and had been filling in for her.

My classes were a different story. They had been monitored by the assistant principal, Andrea Belisle, but no teaching was being done and no assignments were handed out. I was over a week behind and I had some catching up to do. I was a little upset that my class had been so neglected, and I wondered if it had anything to do with my unconventional methods. I would hate to think the administration was that petty, but you never know.

It didn't take long for Astrid and me to become celebrities in Little River. The media had tracked us down and were hounding us for interviews. A number of the tabloids were offering large sums of money for Astrid's exclusive account of the experience, but all were declined. It took over a week before the furor died down enough that we could return to some sort of normalcy.

She had moved into my apartment, primarily to dodge the media. It worked for a day, and then the pestering began again. We finally removed the phone from the wall jack and stopped answering the door unless it was someone we knew. The little peep hole was helpful for that. When they didn't have any luck with Astrid, they started on me.

What was my relationship to Ms. Rasmussen? How was I involved in the kidnapping? Did I see the kidnappers? Was I getting a reward for helping the Rasmussen family? How long had I known the family? And on, and on, and on. After a while, I just gave them a "no comment" and quit trying to be polite.

Astrid weathered the storm of publicity, but wondered aloud to me if it would all start again when our engagement was announced. That wouldn't happen until the wedding date was set, but I knew it wouldn't be that far in the future.

She was having some bad dreams at night and I was there to help her through them. The ones she could remember were variations of the confinement and restraint she suffered over that week. Fear of the future was mixed in with it as well. They didn't seem to have lasting effect on her during her waking hours, but in bed and asleep, I could feel her restlessness and I struggled to get a good night's sleep as well.

We couldn't help but hear the goofy stories the media invented to explain what had happened and who the main players were. You would have thought that some criminal mastermind had pulled this off and that the worldwide forces for good had rescued her just in the nick of time. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so frightening in its reality.

By the end of the week, much of the fuss had died down. The media people had us staked out, but weren't bothering us any more. We moved back to Astrid's apartment and I informed the landlord at my place that I wouldn't be renewing the lease when it expired on the first of July.

There were barely eight weeks left in the school year and we hadn't decided on what our plans were for the summer. It struck me that money was no longer an obstacle. We would be able to go anywhere and not worry about traveling "on the cheap." In the meantime, as I struggled with our summer plans, Astrid was still having some difficulty with her dreams. I wanted to help her, but I wasn't sure how.

I spent some time on the internet researching sleep disorders and various trauma counseling theories. An idea began to form the more often I saw one concept repeat itself in many of the therapies: yoga meditation. I remembered a woman on the faculty mentioning yoga and I decided to ask her about it, hopefully in confidence. I did not want Astrid's problems to once again be fodder for the rumour mill.