Page 28 of Truly, Madly Viking

"Who says I am unhealthy?" His chin jutted out.

"Mentally healthy," she elaborated.

"Oh, that! The demented nonsense again," he scoffed.

"I never said you were demented, Joe. Just..."

"I know... just troubled. But why does being a time traveler—"

"Your belief that you are a time traveler, not your being a time traveler," she interjected.

"Aaarrgh! If you keep interrupting, I will forget what I was going to say. Then you will accuse me of being demented—I mean, troubled for that reason, also."

"Sorry. Continue then."

"Why does my conclusion that I have traveled through time affect your ability to cure me any more than my claim to being a Viking, or my arrival in your land, bare-arsed and wielding a sword?"

"There isn't enough time to work on all those problems. Oh, I'm really encouraged by your finally talking, and I'm sure we'll be making great progress, but not before..." She let her words trail off.

"You mentioned a deadline," he prodded.

She paused a moment, then disclosed, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but Rainbow Hospital may soon be sold. The prospective buyers will be here next week six days from now—to look everything over, and Harry—I mean, Dr. Seabold has given me my orders: everything has got to be shipshape for their inspection tour."

Jorund listened carefully, trying to comprehend all that the wench said. Although he was learning the language of this world day by day, he still had trouble with many of the words. What has she to do with ships? Finally he asked, "And I would not fit into this shipshape?"

"You would not fit into this shipshape," she agreed.

"So what will happen if I am not... uh, shipshape by then?"

"Well, the team—Dr. Seabold, me, and your head nurse, Gladys Hatcher—would sit down and decide whether to send you to a state-run hospital, or just release you."

Jorund inhaled deeply with surprise. "Glad-ass has a say in my fate?" he inquired. He would have to be nicer to the witch in the future. "Glad-ass?" the wench choked out.

"Yea, Norse Hatch-her... the sadist with the bed trencher."

Mag-he tried to suppress a smile, but he saw it nonetheless.

"Nurse Hatcher is a very nice woman... a dedicated professional."

He lifted both eyebrows in disbelief. "Are you speaking of the same person? The Amazon with the arms of a seasoned warrior?"

Mag-he smiled. "I wouldn't describe her in quite those words, but yes."

"Well, I am informing you here and now, that hatchet-faced, bed trencher-brandishing, smartmouthed woman is having naught to do with my fate," he told her in no uncertain terms. "Back to that other... all I have to do is stay here for six days and then I could be freed?"

She nodded. "Possibly."

"Well, why didn't you tell me this afore?" Six days? That is not an overlong delay. Really, Jorund had no desire to rush back to the place where the killer whale had deposited him. For some reason his instincts told him to sit back and study his surroundings, to try to understand why the gods, or the bloody whale, had chosen to interrupt his father's quest with this particular stop. He was convinced he would have to locate Thora in order to return to his own time. He sensed that Thora would be the key to his return home.

"Oh, Joe," she said in a voice wobbly with emotion. "Being free isn't the answer if you're not well."

He cocked his head to the side and studied her more closely. "Why do you care?"

"I don't know," she answered, clearly dismayed. Her lips were trembling and her eyes misting up.

"Oh, for the love of Freyja! Tears!" The wench was about to weep. Over him! He could not abide female tears under the best of circumstances, and definitely not in pity of him. Straightening, he emitted a low growl of outrage and jerked his restricted arms sharply to the sides—once, twice, three times. To his amazement, as well as hers,the torture shert split down the center.

She gaped at him.